The ruins were colder by morning, though "morning" had lost all meaning in this place where shadows clung stubbornly to every stone. Blaze stirred awake on the cracked steps of the ancient hall, his senses already alert before his eyes opened. His body felt… different again. Stronger. Restless.
And then he noticed the figure beside him.
Kael knelt silently a few paces away, head bowed, crimson-tinged eyes half-lidded but watchful. His presence was unnerving in its stillness; he hadn't moved all night, as though he needed neither rest nor warmth.
Blaze sat up slowly. The bond pulsed faintly in his chest, a thread connecting him to Kael. When he focused, he could feel the warrior's emotions—calm, submissive, waiting. It was like having a heartbeat that wasn't his own echo faintly in the background.
"…You really stayed there the entire night," Blaze muttered.
Kael lifted his head slightly. "A spawn watches when the master sleeps. That is our place."
The words landed with the weight of simple fact, not flattery. Blaze studied him in silence. He'd expected resistance, or at least questions. Instead, there was only obedience. Total, unwavering.
A part of him recoiled. Another part—the part the ring kept feeding—thrilled at it.
"Stand," Blaze said at last, testing.
Kael rose smoothly.
"Sit."
Kael sat cross-legged, without hesitation.
"Speak your name."
"Kael."
Blaze narrowed his eyes. "Strike me."
For the briefest flicker of a moment, Kael's expression twisted. Not with anger, but with horror at the command. His hand trembled as he raised it, only to halt inches from Blaze's chest. His whole body shook with the effort of resisting.
"I… cannot," Kael rasped, jaw tight. "The bond… forbids it."
Blaze leaned back slightly, heart pounding. The loyalty wasn't just compulsion—it was an iron chain. Even direct command couldn't override the law of blood.
He exhaled slowly. "…Good."
Kael lowered his hand at once, relief shuddering through him.
Blaze stood, pacing. His mind whirled with calculations. One man, loyal to the bone, was useful. But an army of such creatures? Stronger, faster, immortal—bound to him alone. His pulse quickened at the thought.
But fantasies meant nothing without proof. He needed to test what Kael had become.
"Draw your sword," Blaze said.
Kael retrieved the battered half-blade from where it had fallen the night before. The steel was chipped, cracked, hardly a weapon anymore. But Kael held it with familiarity, a warrior's grip that spoke of years of training.
Blaze raised his fists. "Attack me. Don't hold back."
Kael hesitated. "Master—"
"Now."
Kael obeyed.
The blade came fast—too fast. Blaze barely ducked as it hissed over his head, the wind of its swing brushing his hair. Instinct screamed, and he leapt back, just as Kael pressed forward with frightening speed.
The next strike came low. Blaze twisted aside, his hand shooting out on reflex. Fingers closed around Kael's wrist like iron. Both froze for a moment, eyes locking.
Blaze realized he was holding back Kael's strike easily. No—more than that. His grip was stronger. His reflexes sharper.
A rush of exhilaration filled him.
He shoved Kael away, who stumbled back but landed light on his feet, already readying another strike. They clashed again, and again, the ruined courtyard ringing with the sounds of impact. Blaze's fists struck like hammers, Kael's blade flashed like lightning.
Minutes passed in a blur of motion. When Kael's sword finally nicked Blaze's shoulder, the wound knitted itself shut within breaths. When Blaze's punch cracked into Kael's jaw, the spawn staggered but straightened almost instantly, no blood left behind.
Finally, Blaze raised a hand. "Enough."
Kael lowered the blade at once, chest heaving though his wounds had already closed. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the gloom.
"You're stronger than before," Blaze said, breath rough but steady. He glanced at his healed shoulder. "Faster. Tougher. The ring wasn't lying."
Kael bowed his head. "Your blood remade me. I am yours, body and soul."
Blaze stared at him, words unspoken. He'd expected a servant. What he had was more—a weapon, sharpened and unbreakable.
And yet… what else could his new abilities do?
He thought back to the way Kael had frozen at the mere sound of his command. Not just frozen—subjugated. There had been something in that moment, a flicker of power in Blaze's gaze.
He stepped closer. "Look at me."
Kael obeyed.
Blaze held his eyes. Deep red met his own, and for an instant Blaze felt the tether thrum, like a plucked string. He let instinct guide him, pushing—not with hands, not with voice, but with will.
*Obey.*
Kael went rigid.
Blaze swallowed. "…Raise your left hand."
Kael's left hand rose immediately.
"Clench your fist. Harder."
The muscles bulged, veins standing out, bones creaking—but Kael didn't hesitate.
Blaze narrowed his eyes, pressing harder with his will. "Remember the fight before I found you. Speak it."
Kael's voice emerged flat, toneless. "Two tusked bears ambushed me at the river's edge. I killed one. The other struck me down. My chest broke open. I bled into the soil. I knew death was near."
His face didn't change. His voice didn't falter. He spoke as though the memory itself belonged to Blaze.
Blaze released the push, and Kael blinked rapidly, swaying slightly before steadying again.
The sensation had been intoxicating. Like fingers digging into another's soul and rearranging it at will.
But also dangerous.
Blaze clenched his jaw, shaking off the thrill. He needed to test further. On someone not bound to him.
---
The chance came hours later.
Blaze and Kael moved deeper through the forest, tracking the scent of blood Blaze had caught on the wind. Eventually, they came across a bandit trudging alone through the trees, humming off-key, his sack jingling faintly with stolen coins.
"Perfect," Blaze murmured.
Kael's hand drifted to his blade, but Blaze raised a hand. "Alive. For now."
They struck quick. Kael lunged from the shadows, slamming the bandit to the ground before he could cry out. Blaze crouched beside him, fangs itching, hunger gnawing, but this time he restrained it. He needed answers.
The bandit spat, struggling. "B-Bastards! Do you know who—"
"Quiet," Blaze said.
The man froze. Not out of fear—at least not yet—but because Blaze's gaze had already locked onto his.
Blaze inhaled slowly, then pushed. The world narrowed. The bandit's eyes widened, then glazed. His muscles slackened against Kael's grip.
"Tell me," Blaze said softly. "Where are your companions?"
The bandit twitched, jaw working as though fighting invisible chains. "C-camp… east… by the gorge."
"What numbers?"
"…T-ten… maybe twelve."
"What do you take? What do you do with captives?"
The man whimpered. "Steal… kill… sell them…"
Blaze leaned closer, pushing harder. He wanted to see how deep the power went. "Feel pain," he whispered.
The bandit screamed suddenly, thrashing against nothing. Kael held him firm, expression unreadable. Blaze didn't touch him, yet the man writhed as though his body burned from within.
Blaze released the pressure. The scream cut off into choking sobs. Tears streaked the man's dirt-smeared face.
For a long moment, Blaze only stared. The horror on one level, the thrill on another, both at war in his chest. He had bent a man's mind like clay.
"…Kill him," Blaze said at last, voice low.
Kael snapped his neck without hesitation. The body slumped limp to the ground.
Blaze rose slowly, heart still hammering.
He had expected guilt. Instead, what lingered was a shiver of exhilaration. The knowledge that he could break men without steel. That words and will alone made them his playthings.
Not prey. Never again prey.
A predator.
He looked at Kael, who knelt over the corpse awaiting his next command.
"We'll use this," Blaze said finally, tone measured. "Not just blood. Not just strength. Fear. Obedience. Minds are weaker than bodies, and both can be mine."
Kael bowed his head. "As you will, master."
Blaze glanced back at the ruined hall in the distance, the broken temple that had birthed this new path. His lips pressed into a hard line.
He had begun as nothing. Scorned. Exiled. Left to die.
Now? He walked with power in his veins, a spawn at his side, and the taste of dominance still fresh on his tongue.
The world wanted a hero. It would get a predator instead.