Chapter 15 – The Ash-Crowned King
The battlefield was hell.
The sky churned with oily black clouds, thunder rolling like war drums. Crimson lightning danced across the heavens, illuminating the shattered earth below. The last of the ridge burned, its once jagged cliffs now leveled by the rampaging horde. Screams echoed through the air—both human and not.
Kael stood at the center.
His body was carved with fresh wounds, blood slick on his arms and chest, mixing with ash. His breath came in short bursts, but his eyes were alive—glowing faint gold. Beside him, Vyrmclaw crouched low, hissing through broken fangs. Across the field, hybrid monstrosities prowled forward: Maulborns, Brutes, Carrionlords. Dozens. A wall of teeth, claws, and engineered hatred.
[Codex Sync: 87%. Echo Stage 3 — Overdrive Engaged.]
[Warning: Overuse of Codex may result in irreversible strain.]
Kael ignored the warnings.
He wiped the blood from his mouth, raised his blade, and whispered, "For Ravager. For the fallen."
Then he charged.
The first Maulborn lunged with a roar. It was massive—eight feet tall, tusks of fused bone, claws like scythes. Kael ducked under its swipe, driving his blade through its throat in one savage arc. A geyser of black ichor sprayed as it collapsed.
Another closed in. This one had two heads, stitched from hydra DNA and armored in plated scale. It lashed out with twin jaws.
Kael rolled to the side, slashing through the knee. Vyrmclaw slammed into its flank, claws ripping through tendon. The beast screeched—and fell.
[Target Neutralized.]
[Echo Signature Absorbed: +1% Sync.]
Kael leapt onto its corpse and vaulted into the air—just as a Carrionlord descended from the sky. Wings like torn leather, claws dragging across the wind.
He met it midair.
His blade plunged into its chest. They fell together.
He crashed through shattered stone, landing hard. Ribs screamed. Blood bubbled from his mouth. But he stood.
The swarm slowed.
Not out of fear. But calculation.
From the edge of the cliff, a massive figure emerged.
Clad in crimson armor, a man strode forward, flanked by two Siegeborn hybrids. His face was hidden behind a metal helm shaped like a dragon's skull. His voice, when it came, was ancient and cold.
"You were not meant to survive."
Kael spat. "Neither were you."
The figure stepped forward. "I am General Tarsak. Heir of the Ruinfront. Conqueror of Eleven Provinces."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You're a fossil."
Tarsak raised his hand. The two Siegeborn charged.
Kael braced.
They collided.
Steel met scale. Kael was driven back, Vyrmclaw caught in the jaws of one beast. Bones snapped. Kael screamed. He drove his blade deep into the first hybrid's eye—twisting, gouging. It thrashed. He was thrown into a boulder, breath lost.
[Codex Stability: 63%. Critical Threshold Approaching.]
[Emergency Protocols Engaged. Echo Fracture Detected.]
Through the blur of blood and fire, Kael saw Vyrmclaw crushed beneath the weight of a Siegeborn, pierced—but still breathing. Barely. The hybrid gurgled weakly, pinned.
Time slowed.
He remembered Ravager.
He remembered pain.
And rage.
The Codex surged.
[Override Accepted. Hybrid Protocol: XENOVORAX — Partially Awakened.]
His veins lit up with black fire. His pupils split. His hands flexed—and claws erupted from them.
Kael roared.
He became more.
He tore through the Siegeborn like paper. Ripped one open with his bare hands. Slammed the other into the earth, driving his mutated claws into its chest until it stopped moving.
Tarsak approached slowly, removing his helm.
He was old. But not weak. Eyes glowing red. Skin laced with circuitry.
He smiled.
"You're just the beginning."
Kael stepped forward. "And you're the end."
Their blades met.
Steel screamed. Sparks danced. They traded blows like gods—each strike shaking the earth. Kael ducked, weaved, drove a claw into Tarsak's ribs. Tarsak retaliated, stabbing him through the shoulder.
Blood poured.
But Kael did not fall.
He shoved his head forward—smashing Tarsak's nose.
Then, he ripped the blade out, spun, and cut off Tarsak's arm.
The general screamed.
Kael didn't wait.
He drove his clawed hand into the man's chest—and tore out his hybrid core.
Tarsak gasped. Fell to his knees.
"You… were never supposed to… rise…"
Kael stood over him. Ash swirling. Codex pulsing.
"I didn't rise."
He looked around.
The battlefield was silent. Smoldering. Broken.
"But I remain."
He turned.
A throne—twisted from bone and ash—stood behind the wreckage of the ridge. Shaped not by human hands, but by the echo of death. Of sacrifice. Bones fused with metal. A burnt Codex shard embedded in the crown.
Kael walked toward it.
He passed corpses of enemies and friends alike. He passed Vyrmclaw's battered body—still breathing, unconscious but alive. Kael paused, knelt, and rested a hand on his hybrid's head.
"You held on," he whispered. "So will I."
Then, he stood.
And sat upon the throne.
A gust of wind scattered the ashes.
The Codex flashed.
[Codex Notification: Designation Updated.]
[Echo Host: KAEL SORRÉN. Status: Ascended. Title: ASH-CROWNED KING.]
[New Echo Tier Unlocked. Global Resonance: Active.]
Somewhere across the world—Codex Hosts stirred.
VAREN. IXCHEL. SAMAEL.
They all felt it.
One of them had claimed a throne.
And the world would never be the same.
Kael didn't smile.
He closed his eyes.
And the world watched.
Author's Note:
You made it, mutants. The end of Volume 1: Ashes of the Hybrid Throne. Thank you for the blood, the theories, the hype.
But this isn't a victory.
This is just Kael claiming the first seat.
The war's only beginning.
From ash we rise. From genes we conquer.
— EchoWomb