The sky burned crimson above the shattered skyline of Vel'Tharon — once a prosperous kingdom built upon waterfalls and wind bridges, now reduced to a crucible of fire and ruin. Its spires smoldered, streets choked with ash, and every gust of wind carried the scent of scorched stone and blood. Flameheart Drax had taken Vel'Tharon weeks ago, converting it into a key stronghold — a fortress-factory where his elite fire legions were trained and forged.
Raizen stood at the helm of the Vigilant Ember, the flagship of the rebel fleet, his eyes locked on the horizon where fire danced above the ruined capital like a crown of flame. Behind him, ships of every shape and nation gathered — pirate vessels, rogue nation warships, even captured World Government frigates repainted with the crimson Phoenix sigil of the Flameheart Fleet.
This was no stealth mission.
This was a reckoning.
"Signal the charge," Raizen said. His voice was steady, but his heart thundered like cannon fire. "Today, we take Vel'Tharon back — or die trying."
The horns of rebellion blared across the sea.
Explosions ripped through the shoreline as the Ember Order struck from the skies, the sea, and the undercity tunnels all at once. Massive steam mechs rolled ashore, unleashing salvos of smoke bombs and flame-resistant nets. The mechanical warbeasts of the Southern Alliance surged forward, their hulls glowing with anti-fire plating. Meanwhile, rebel skyriders dove from above, blades drawn, using updrafts and the city's fractured airways to rain chaos from the heavens.
Flint, Raizen's demolitions expert, led the vanguard through the industrial district, where Drax's war machines were built. Every step was a trap. Automated flame sentries, proximity mines rigged with voidfire, and walls that collapsed without warning. Flint's hands worked fast, defusing bombs mid-sprint, tossing back fire grenades with gritted teeth and bloodied knuckles.
"Push through!" he roared. "Every second we waste, Drax makes another monster!"
To the east, Zuri faced off against one of the Flameguard Captains, a towering brute wielding twin flame-blades. The two danced through burning courtyards, their blades shrieking against steel and fire. Her strikes were swift, deadly, but this was no ordinary opponent. The Captain had been branded — body infused with heat-born strength and voidfire resilience.
Zuri fought harder than she ever had before.
For the kingdom she once passed through in peace.
For the innocent buried beneath the ash.
For Raizen.
Meanwhile, Tama — the crew's engineer and one of the last surviving survivors of Vel'Tharon — hacked into the city's broken wind-grid, reactivating the massive turbines buried beneath the city. Using old schematics and salvaged keys, she redirected the current into Drax's foundries, blowing molten slag pipes from within and slowing the enemy's reinforcements.
"Initiating overload!" she shouted into her communicator. "Hope you like lava fireworks!"
In the sky above the capital's palace, Raizen clashed midair with a Firecaller Priest riding a flame wyvern — one of Drax's inner circle. With Cinderfang ablaze in his hands, Raizen cut through the beast's fire breath, diving and dodging with bursts of focused will. Their duel raged over the city's broken tower — every blow a shockwave, every scream a crack in the heavens.
Raizen had never fought like this — with desperation, yes, but also with something else: fury.
Not anger at Drax.
But rage at himself — for not stopping this sooner.
For the innocents lost.
For how far they'd been pushed.
As the Firecaller raised his staff to summon another inferno, Raizen struck through the heart of the blaze, Cinderfang glowing white-hot with defiance.
The wyvern howled. The priest fell. And the tower exploded into shrapnel and smoke.
But victory would not come easy.
At the city's heart, the Infernal Crucible — Drax's central forge — burst open, and out marched his personal guard: soldiers in obsidian armor, fueled by void-infused fire. They were nearly unstoppable, moving like demons, burning anything in their path. For every inch the rebels gained, they paid with blood.
One by one, the crew regrouped at the base of the palace steps, wounded but alive. Flint was bleeding from a gash across his ribs. Zuri's armor was scorched and cracked. Tama's arm was wrapped in a temporary brace. Around them, rebel forces pushed forward, cries of war echoing through the ashstorm.
And then, the enemy horn blew.
Drax wasn't here.
But his voice carried through the air in a booming, inhuman growl — broadcast through war totems scattered across the city.
"You think you've won because you took my bones and not my breath? Vel'Tharon is yours to burn… but I promise you this, Raizen… every fire you put out, I will light three more. And soon, your rebellion will choke on its own smoke."
The message ended.
And the palace — the last bastion of Drax's control in the city — began to self-destruct.
Booby-trapped.
The rebels had won the ground, but Drax had prepared to scorch the sky itself.
"Tama!" Raizen shouted. "Can you stop the overload?!"
"I can't!" she screamed. "It's chained to the city's core! If I shut it down, it'll ignite everything under the capital!"
Raizen looked around.
His crew was exhausted. His allies were broken. But they had come too far to lose this victory.
He ran into the heart of the collapsing palace.
Within minutes, with fire collapsing the roof and molten debris falling around him, Raizen found the override switch — a hidden mechanism tied to an ancient Vel'Tharon artifact.
He activated it with his blood.
A pillar of water erupted from the depths of the palace, dousing the core. A flood, summoned from the city's ancient aquifers, burst through the fire traps. And just like that, the inferno waned.
Silence fell.
The rebels had won.
Vel'Tharon was free.
But it was only the beginning.
The war had begun with sparks.
Now, it raged with a kingdom ablaze.
END OF THE CHAPTER 10