Chapter 5
Three nights passed since Nezutsu first spoke the word — Elaruh — and changed everything.
They had left the Hollow Thread behind, climbing through veins of dormant mana crystal, through ancient catacombs untouched by time. Velgrim's face had grown wearier with each step, as though the weight of history was stitching itself to his bones.
But Nezutsu… he felt alive. Afraid, yes, but no longer empty.
His body still bore no mana flow, yet wherever he stepped, faint flickers of violet fire lingered in his footprints. He had not called them. They simply appeared — like shadows remembering their master.
Now they reached a forgotten city beneath the surface: Caldrith Nohr, also known in old tongues as The Ashen Heart.
It had once been the capital of the Celestarch — mages who could alter reality with mere thoughts. Now, the city lay in ruins. Towering spires melted sideways. Statues wept smoke. The sky above — a hollow dome of stone — pulsed with trapped starlight.
"This place was buried after the Second Fracturing," Velgrim said. "To silence what it knew."
"What did it know?" Nezutsu asked, staring at a statue missing its face.
"The truth of what happened to the Old Gods. And who really cast them into sleep."
They approached an altar — one shaped like an eye missing its pupil. At its center sat a black urn sealed with seven silver wires. Velgrim placed a trembling hand atop it.
"Inside this… is the memory of the Flame you carry. The one they tried to erase."
Nezutsu leaned closer.
"If I open it—"
"It will show you a piece of the truth. But it may take something in return."
"Like what?"
"Memory. Sight. Your name. Or perhaps… your soul."
Nezutsu's fingers hovered over the seal. The violet fire stirred faintly in his chest.
"I need to know what I am. Even if it hurts."
With that, he broke the first wire.
Then the second.
With each snap, the world grew quieter.
On the seventh wire, everything stopped.
Even time.
Suddenly, Nezutsu stood not in Caldrith Nohr — but in a battlefield of stars.
The sky bled ash. The ground was made of celestial bones. Towering figures of light and fire warred above — gods fighting other gods.
In the middle of the field stood a small boy, no older than eight, screaming a wordless cry — flames bursting from him in every direction, devouring gods, sky, and even silence itself.
"That boy is you," said a voice beside Nezutsu.
He turned. A woman cloaked in starlight stood there. Her face changed every time he blinked — sometimes young, sometimes old, sometimes missing.
"Who are you?"
"A Witness. I was there when the Flame was born."
"What is the Flame?"
"It is Will. Not mana. Not element. It is magic made from defiance. The boy who refused to die. The cry that changed the rules. That fire tore through the Veins and carved a hole in fate itself."
"But why is it in me?"
"Because you are not just Nezutsu. You are the Echo of the Flame. The shard the gods feared the most."
She touched his chest — and the battlefield vanished.
He collapsed near the altar, breathing hard, Velgrim catching him.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Nezutsu nodded.
"I was there. I think… I caused something terrible."
Velgrim's voice was grave.
"You didn't cause it. You are it. Or rather, what's left of it. The Celestarch tried to contain the fire, to erase your past life, but something survived. That something is you."
The altar trembled.
Suddenly, a pulse of darkness spread outward — a shockwave that shattered every ruined window in the city.
Velgrim pulled Nezutsu down.
"They found us. The Obsidian Circle sent their Warden."
A figure descended from the hollow ceiling — tall, robed in silver chains, no face beneath its helm.
"Ashless One," it said in a voice made of echoes, "you are now marked."
Nezutsu felt a searing pain on his hand — a black brand shaped like a closed eye.
"What does that mean?" he gasped.
"It means," Velgrim said, unsheathing a blade made of crystallized mana, "you can't hide anymore."
The Warden raised a hand, and time itself began to slow.
But before the spell could bind, Nezutsu breathed — and the violet flame erupted from his mouth like a dragon's roar.
The Warden staggered.
"Impossible…"
Velgrim grabbed Nezutsu. "RUN. You're not ready for a Celestarch Warden."
They sprinted into the crumbling tunnels of Caldrith Nohr.
And behind them, the ancient city began to collapse.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]