Volume 2, Chapter 1 — The Sky That Dimmed
The mountains were silent, save for the whisper of the morning wind brushing past jagged cliffs. Rigorus knelt on the cold stone, fingers entwined, eyes closed, the pale light of dawn bathing him in serenity. Every breath drew the crisp air deep into his lungs; every exhale carried the weight of sorrow and reflection. For a fleeting moment, he was nothing more than a man, a prayer, and the wind.
A sharp thud broke the stillness.
A bird fell beside him, its wings splayed unnaturally, chest rising no more. Its warmth betrayed the suddenness of death. Rigorus opened his eyes. The silence that followed was unnatural, suffocating, as though the mountains themselves held their breath.
Something was coming.
A sickness raced through the air, invisible yet oppressive. His bones ached, his chest constricted as if the wind itself were trying to crush him. He did not need to see it—he could feel it, pulsing, racing, and inevitable.
The clan square. He had no choice.
The Draeven square teemed with life—merchants calling out prices, soldiers inspecting formations, children chasing each other through stalls. But Rigorus's presence drew attention like iron to a magnet. Eyes followed him, curiosity and unease rippling through the crowd.
Naelira emerged, worry etched into her face. "Rigorus… what's wrong? You look…"
"I don't know what it is," Rigorus said, voice low, almost a whisper carried by the wind, "but it's coming. And fast. If you wish to live—leave."
Laughter and murmurs rose, some mocking, some panicked. Mothers clutched their children, merchants hurried to salvage wares, and soldiers gripped their weapons. Naelira, trusting him without question, turned to gather the cautious and fled.
Then, the world shifted.
The sun dimmed, a slow, unnatural eclipse that chilled the heart. Clouds thickened, roiling and black, swirling like a storm born of malice. The air pressed down on every chest, heavy as iron, while a metallic, blood-laced scent slithered through the wind.
All eyes instinctively tilted upward.
A figure hovered against the blackened sun. Tall, impossibly broad, radiating power that felt like suffocation made flesh. Kaelvron.
He spoke—neither loud nor soft, yet every ear caught it.
"Celestia."
Silence, complete and absolute. Not a whisper, not a breath. Rigorus froze, heart hammering.
"Celestia. I will not repeat myself."
From the shadows of her home, weakened, drained of all her eternal energy, Celestia rose. Her voice was thin, fragile, yet resolute. "Kaelvron… I'm here. Please… don't hurt them. It's me you want, isn't it?"
A laugh split the air. Hollow. Chilling. Reverberating.
"Want you? Why would I want you, you wretched whore? After I gave you my heart… my love… you left me! For what?!"
The laughter crescendoed into shockwaves, shaking the very stones of the square.
Rigorus could not—would not—stand idle. The moment Kaelvron's insult fell on his mother, he vanished, leaving the center of the square empty.
In the next heartbeat, he reappeared before Kaelvron, fist inches from his face, halo blazing, light spilling like divine wrath.
But Kaelvron moved faster.
A blur. A hand clamped over Rigorus's face. Lightning followed. The ground erupted as Rigorus's head smashed against stone, a crack spiderwebbing from the impact.
"Tch. Brat… who gave you permission to move?"
Humiliation came next. Kaelvron grasped Rigorus by the hair, lifting him like a ragdoll, twisting him toward Celestia.
"Is this brat yours?"
Rigorus's vision blurred. Darkness clawed at the edges of his mind. For a fleeting heartbeat, he was unconscious, weightless, adrift.
When his eyes finally fluttered open, the sight that greeted him made his chest seize. His mother—frail, emaciated, skin drawn tight over bone—stood trembling, tears carving clean paths down her face.
"Stop… Kaelvron… stop!" she screamed, her voice raw, breaking across the square like a blade.
For a moment, Rigorus's mind could not process her words. Fuzzy thoughts collided with the roaring chaos. Then, clarity snapped him back to the present. The haze vanished, replaced with the burning, furious focus that had always defined him.
Before Rigorus could unleash Red Baptism, Kaelvron held him high, lifting his head for all to see. Blood streaked his face, hair falling over his eyes, the world around him a haze of horror and rubble. Kaelvron turned his gaze toward Celestia, presenting Rigorus like a trophy.
Rigorus's hand shot for his sword, aiming at the arm that gripped him—but the blade barely scratched Kaelvron's iron-like hold. It was like trying to cut down a tree with a twig.
"Tch, brat… you don't learn, huh?" Kaelvron sneered, and with a blur of disgusting speed, he flung Rigorus through the air. His body smashed into fleeing villagers, stalls, and buildings. Limbs, faces, cries—they all became part of the chaotic storm.
Rigorus tumbled through the debris, blood and dust clouding his vision. He raised his head. Horror surrounded him—bodies, blood, the wide-open eyes of the innocents caught in Kaelvron's merciless assault. And then, ahead, he saw Kaelvron moving toward his mother.
Time slowed. In his mind, Rigorus whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek:
"Oh… Father… how cruel you are… to let these innocents die…"
One step forward.
Before his next foot touched the ground, he vanished. In the next heartbeat, he appeared in front of Kaelvron, sword in hand, blood from his palm dripping onto the blade like molten lava. His blood evaporated, steam rising as the blade glowed with wrath.
"Red Baptism," he said, voice cold, precise, a blade of ice cutting through the chaos.
The sword slashed toward Kaelvron's head. Kaelvron froze, just for a moment, stepping back in recognition of the power wielded against him. The shockwave from the strike tore through the dark clouds above, and for a fleeting heartbeat, the sky brightened again before darkness reclaimed it.
Kaelvron's face twisted in disgust. "Bastard… don't look at me with those fucking eyes… as your father!"
And then he vanished, reappearing directly in front of Rigorus, fist cocked like a strike to shatter the earth itself.
Rigorus didn't dodge. He didn't run. His own blood-covered fist met Kaelvron's punch midair, the clash exploding in a shockwave that leveled debris and scattered terrified villagers.
And in that instant, Rigorus screamed with all his might, commanding every soul within earshot:
"EVERYONE! NOW! RUN AWAY!!"
The square erupted. Children cried, mothers fled, merchants and soldiers scattered, but Rigorus stood, halo blazing, sword alive with Red Baptism, ready to meet Kaelvron head-on—ready to turn the tide of chaos into war.