The sun barely brushed the crimson horizon when Richet, cloaked in a worn velvet robe bearing the faded crest of Kar'Thael, stepped onto the cobbled streets of Arxlan Quarter. The air buzzed with a silent desperation, homes shuttered, and laughter long dead in the wind. Yet, Richet's boots did not falter.
He knocked on the first door. A boy answered, eyes wary. Behind him, an old woman peered from her rocking chair.
"Prince Kar'Thael is back," Richet said, voice trembling not with fear, but with hope. "So we have to unite again for our prince."
The words echoed.
The boy blinked. Then his eyes widened. The old woman gasped, her hands pressed to her lips.
A single tear broke down her cheek. "Kar'Thael? Our flame?"
Richet nodded. "The true blood returns. This time... to reclaim Arcana."
Like wildfire, the words burned through the district. Richet moved from house to house, repeating the sacred line: "Prince Kar'Thael is back... unite again for our prince." Each time he spoke it, the people's hearts kindled.
People wept openly. Some fell to their knees. Others gripped one another, the pain of the years washing into sudden rivers of hope.
Tears met prayers. Smiles returned to once hollow faces.
The alleys of Arcana filled with murmurs. Fire lit in windows that had long remained dark.
And so, the news spread.
From the broken farmlands of Western Hollow to the hanging bridges of the Eastern Rise, through underground tunnels still echoing with resistance chants and across deserted temples now revived with offerings — the name "Kar'Thael" was spoken as a promise.
Even in the darkest, coldest place — the Blackthorn Castle, once his father's seat — the message found its way.
It reached the ears of the usurper.
Kar'Thael's uncle.
Sitting on the obsidian throne, draped in shadows and adorned in blackened gold, the man leaned forward. His blood-red eyes narrowed.
"Find him," he hissed.
His voice coiled through the chamber like a serpent.
"Find Kar'Thael. I want him brought to me... dead if possible."
The room tensed. Dozens of his followers bowed their heads.
The uncle's long fingers clutched the edge of the throne. "Increase the security around the Binding Center. Double the demon guard. No one gets near it."
A new war had just been declared.
---
Elsewhere, on the edge of the Shattered Veins — the forgotten ruins of old Arcana — Kar'Thael stood tall, watching the crimson clouds drifting above.
His silver hair whipped in the air. The flames dancing within his eyes now seemed calmer. Sharper. Focused.
Arslan stood beside him. They had traveled through the night, through screams and fire, through joy and rage.
Kar'Thael clenched his fist.
"I have to do it... I have to free Arcana," he said, his voice like molten steel.
Arslan turned to him, hesitant. "You want to get the Binding Portions, right? That's what we planned."
Kar'Thael shook his head.
"I've changed my plan."
Arslan's brows furrowed. "What?"
Kar'Thael's eyes burned red now. The fire within him raged, but his expression was calm.
"First, I will kill my uncle. And all his corrupted followers. And every last demon guarding him. Only then will I retrieve the Binding Portions."
Silence stood between them. Then Arslan nodded. Slowly, grimly.
"You want vengeance before salvation."
Kar'Thael didn't deny it.
"If he lives, he will keep coming. He will keep poisoning the world. He is the source of this rot. I will end him."
Then, distant screams rose.
Both turned.
The people of Arcana had taken to the streets. They had risen like a tide.
Wooden swords, old spells, crude weapons in hand, they were cutting down demons one after another. Some were injured. Some died. But they did not stop.
The commoners, the exiles, the forgotten and the cursed — they fought for their prince.
Demons howled, retaliating with cruel savagery, and even as some fell, more emerged. Smoke trails in the sky began to spiral. Cracks opened across alleys and ancient doorways.
Arslan narrowed his eyes.
"They're coming from somewhere."
He spotted the glow beyond the skyline.
"The portals," he muttered. "Demon portals. They keep opening. We kill ten, they send a hundred."
Kar'Thael followed his gaze.
Then he stepped forward, his aura flaring. Fire coiled around his limbs. The chains of his blood-bound magic glowed from beneath his coat.
"We need to separate," he said.
Arslan looked at him sharply. "What?"
"You destroy the portals. I'll stay and hold the
demons back"
Then Arslan rushed toward the Portals .....