Night fell like a burial shroud over the Ashen Marches, but Cindervault was never truly dark. The great fortress-city roared with volcanic flame from its forges, its molten rivers threading between battlements and smoke-stained towers. It had withstood wars, betrayals, and the fall of Sovereigns.
But tonight, it would burn from within.
Kael stood at the front of the outer ridge, his crimson cloak stirring in the sulfur wind. Behind him, the mercenaries of the Ashen Pact stood uneasy, glancing between him and the rumbling fortress.
"It's already begun," Darric muttered, nodding toward the smoke belching from within the walls.
Veilspawn.
Hundreds.
No… thousands.
Lyra's gaze narrowed. "The Oracle said something stirred in the Deep Cinders. They've breached the city from below."
Isryn stepped forward, eyes flaring faintly with light. "The Black Host is moving faster than expected. If Cindervault falls, so does the entire Ashen March."
Kael drew Ashreaver.
Its edge shimmered with the new energy granted by the Oracle — Crimson Ascendance.
"I'll carve us a path."
He didn't wait for approval. With a single leap, Kael shot forward, black lightning coiling around his boots as the ground behind him cracked from the force. His blade swept horizontally through the first wave of Veilspawn at the city gate — their shrieks cut short as they burst into flame.
"Blazing Fang — First Form: Ember Sever!"
A searing arc of red flame followed the blade's path, slicing through twisted limbs and armored flesh alike. One of the larger beasts, a horned brute with coal-colored plates, charged at him.
Kael met it head-on.
His blade plunged into its chest. Flame surged. The creature detonated in a blaze of molten bone.
The mercenaries rallied behind him, emboldened. Darric charged in with twin axes, flanked by Lyra's whirling glaive and Isryn's cold, piercing incantations.
Inside the gate, the streets of Cindervault were chaos.
Fires raged across rooftops. The sky bled smoke. Citizens fled as Veilspawn emerged from sewer grates and collapsed tunnels. The city's defenders, clad in brass armor, were overwhelmed — barely holding the central plaza.
Kael didn't stop moving.
Second Form: Flame Rend — Crimson Wheel.
Ashreaver spun with brutal precision, cleaving in a circular arc that dismembered three Veilspawn mid-leap. Their bodies scattered in burning chunks across the cobblestone.
"Kael!" Lyra shouted, pointing toward the keep. "Something's rising from below!"
The stone cracked.
A massive clawed limb tore through the square, followed by a screech that split the air. The beast that emerged was no ordinary Veilspawn. It wore the remnants of royal armor and bore a cracked obsidian crown.
The Wyrm of Deep Cinders.
Ten meters tall, its molten scales rippled with living fire, and black blood oozed from between its armored plates.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"You're the one that broke the seal."
The Wyrm roared, magma dripping from its fangs.
Kael raised Ashreaver, his voice steady.
"Then let me show you what the Crimson Spark truly is."