The wilderness stretched before them like a jagged wound carved into the land. Harsh cliffs bit into the skyline, and dark forests whispered with unseen predators. To the church knights and beastfolk scouts who traveled alongside the Heroes of the Light, this was just another dangerous march. To Lucius Vale, blessed champion of the Flame, it was little more than a stage waiting for his performance.
His boots crunched on gravel as he strode at the head of his small party, his crimson cloak catching stray embers that curled off his enchanted torch. He walked with the swagger of a man who was untouchable. The fire responded to him almost eagerly, rising and flickering whenever his temper or pride flared.
"We should slow down," murmured one of the knights behind him. "The terrain grows treacherous, and—"
Lucius cut him off with a scoff. "Treacherous? To mortals, maybe. But do you not see?" He lifted a hand, and flames rippled across his palm, illuminating the darkening woods with an arrogant glow. "The light of the Flame burns away treachery itself. Beasts, shadows, whispers of the dark—it matters not. All will cower."
The others fell silent. Not from agreement, but because challenging Lucius was pointless. His blessing was real, his arrogance backed by divine fire itself.
They did not know that something else listened.
From the bough of a twisted oak, Blaze crouched in silence. His crimson eyes reflected faintly in the firelight, though none below were sharp enough to see. He had followed this splinter party for two nights now, trailing them as a wolf might stalk a fattened deer.
He had not expected to see Lucius so soon.
The boy was exactly as Blaze remembered: tall, broad-shouldered, his blond hair catching firelight like a halo. Back in their world, Lucius had been the loudest voice of scorn. In the throne room of the Empire, when Blaze had failed to awaken any divine gift, Lucius's laugh had been the first to echo. "Pathetic," he'd said. "Even the gods want nothing to do with you."
Blaze's jaw tightened at the memory, though outwardly he remained still, his breathing controlled.
"Lucius Vale," he murmured, the name tasting bitter and electric all at once.
The cursed ring pulsed against his finger, as if savoring the recognition. A whisper coiled through his mind, velvet and sharp. Drink his flame. Let his blood teach you. One by one, devour them until only ash remains.
Blaze did not answer the voice. He never did. But he didn't reject it either.
The Heroes made camp near a clearing, their fire burning bright enough to ward off lesser beasts. To Blaze, the blaze was like a beacon—arrogant, careless, a declaration that they feared nothing. Perfect.
From the treeline, Seren, his shadow-eyed spawn, whispered across their link. "Shall we strike now, my lord? Their guard is thin."
Blaze considered, watching Lucius bark orders at his men. The Hero wasn't even subtle about his disdain, treating his knights as servants rather than comrades. Each arrogant gesture added fuel to Blaze's hunger. But no—this was not the time for a slaughter. Not yet.
"Not all at once," Blaze replied. "I want him isolated. Pull him into the dark. The others must believe he left by his own will."
Seren's assent rippled through their bond, and the shadows at the edge of the camp deepened in anticipation.
Night thickened. The knights dozed uneasily, their armor glinting faintly by firelight. Lucius remained awake, tending the flames with idle gestures, clearly reveling in the warmth that bent to his will.
Then he heard it.
A whisper. Faint, indistinct, drifting just beyond the circle of firelight.
Lucius frowned. "Who's there?"
The whisper came again, this time a little clearer. His name. Drawn out, caressed by the night. "Lucius…"
His pride swelled immediately, drowning out caution. Of course someone would seek him out. Of course shadows themselves would tremble at his name. He rose, gripping his torch, and strode toward the treeline.
"Stay here," he ordered his men without looking back. "Some spirit dares to mock me. I'll show it the flame."
The knights hesitated, but none dared oppose him. He vanished into the dark, fire trailing like a comet through the trees.
Blaze moved silently from branch to branch, guiding Lucius deeper, pulling him away from his allies with calculated flickers of illusion—shadows that bent just enough to draw the Hero's eyes, whispers that promised confrontation.
Every step was deliberate. Every heartbeat brought Lucius closer to solitude.
And Blaze remembered.
He remembered the throne room, the laughter, the scorn. The way Lucius had slapped his back hard enough to bruise, smirking as he whispered: "Guess you'll be monster fodder, huh? Don't worry—we'll remember you."
That memory had festered. That wound had never closed.
Now it was time to press it open.
Lucius entered a narrow clearing, flames licking hungrily at his torch. "Show yourself, coward!" he bellowed. "You think shadows frighten me? I burn brighter than the sun itself!"
Blaze's voice slid from the darkness, calm and cold.
"Still so loud, Lucius."
The fire-bearer spun, his torch blazing higher. His eyes widened at the figure that emerged from the treeline—a man draped in black, crimson eyes glinting like coals in the night. For the briefest instant, recognition crossed his features.
Then denial drowned it.
"You—?" Lucius sneered, his arrogance snapping back like a shield. "No. You're nothing. You were nothing. A failed summon. A joke." He raised his hand, fire roaring to life in his palm. "And now you dare to mock me? I'll incinerate you where you stand!"
Blaze smiled faintly, the curve of his lips sharp as a blade.
"Try."
The clearing shuddered as Lucius's fire blazed higher, swallowing the night in its furious glow. Sparks leapt into the air like fleeing stars, and heat warped the very air between them. For a heartbeat, Blaze felt as though he stood at the mouth of a furnace.
But his expression never changed. His crimson eyes narrowed, calm, almost mocking. Shadows writhed at his feet, thickening like oil, resisting the light's command.
Lucius snarled. "What are you staring at, vermin? You think hiding in tricks of darkness will save you?" He jabbed his torch forward like a spear, flame roaring from its tip in a whip of fire.
Blaze leaned back, the fiery lash missing his chest by inches. The ground where it struck hissed, earth blistering black. Shadows surged upward, tendrils wrapping around the burning streak, choking it into embers.
Lucius's grin widened, manic. "Good! You're not just some nameless ghoul. That makes it sweeter when I burn you down."
Blaze's reply was quiet, almost lost under the crackle of flame. "Still as arrogant as ever."
Lucius charged.
His boots hammered the earth, each step leaving seared footprints. Fire flared along his arm, enveloping his sword in a radiant blaze until it glowed white-hot. With a battle cry that shook the clearing, he swung down in a flaming arc meant to cleave Blaze in two.
Blaze slid aside, the blade scorching his cloak but finding no flesh. Shadows coiled, clinging to Lucius's wrist, trying to bind him. The Hero tore through them with raw heat, sparks scattering like blood.
Steel clanged against air. Fire met darkness.
The two forces collided, one hungry to consume, the other eager to suffocate. The clearing became an arena of elemental violence—each heartbeat marked by a blast of heat or a surge of suffocating black.
Lucius pressed the attack, his strikes wild but overwhelming. Each swing of his sword vomited fire, trees igniting in their wake. The night trembled beneath his fury, forest creatures scattering far into the dark.
Blaze gave ground, his movements fluid, serpentine. He didn't try to overpower the Hero. Not yet. Every dodge, every sidestep, every shadowy veil was a calculation, a test. He wanted to see how Lucius moved, how recklessly he overextended, how the flames bent with his pride.
"You were always desperate to be seen," Blaze murmured as he slipped under another flaming cut. His hand shot out, claws of shadow scraping across Lucius's arm. "Still screaming for attention, even now."
Lucius roared, the wound searing shut instantly under holy fire. "And you were always nothing! A failure who needed my scraps! Look at you—crawling in the dirt, hiding in shadows like a rat!"
Blaze's smile sharpened. "Better a rat that survives than a fool who burns."
Lucius's fury peaked.
He thrust both hands skyward, fire gushing from his body in an inferno. For a moment, the clearing became daylight, brighter than noon. Shadows shrieked, recoiling, trees combusting where they stood.
Blaze staggered back, his cloak igniting, flesh blistering beneath the divine fire. Pain lanced through him, holy radiance gnawing at his unnatural veins.
The cursed ring pulsed violently, hissing in his mind. Take him. Take his blood. Devour the flame before it devours you.
Blaze clenched his jaw, smothering the agony with sheer will. His hands spread wide, shadows convulsing like a living storm. They rose, weaving into walls, tendrils, spears. He forced the dark to drink the fire, to smother its brilliance, though every inch felt like he was holding back a flood with bare hands.
Lucius laughed over the roar. "You see? This is what the gods give their chosen! Light that no darkness can swallow!"
Blaze's voice came ragged, but steady. "No light… lasts forever."
Shadows burst from beneath Lucius's feet, coiling up his legs, dragging him down like tar. The Hero snarled, fire blazing brighter, burning away one restraint after another. But Blaze was relentless, every destroyed tendril replaced by three more, each writhing tighter, hungrier.
Lucius hacked at them, his sword slashing wildly, his torch flaring—but in his rage, his precision faltered. Blaze saw the opening.
In one fluid lunge, Blaze closed the distance, his claws raking across Lucius's chest. Blood hissed on contact with the fire, sizzling as it stained Blaze's hand.
Lucius bellowed, staggering back, his chest scorched but not broken. His healing flared immediately, his skin knitting with painful light. His eyes, however, burned brighter with wrath.
"You dare wound me?!" He swung again, his blade whistling past Blaze's cheek, searing a line across his skin.
Blaze tasted his own blood, metallic and hot. The hunger surged. His fangs ached. For one mad instant, he nearly lunged to bite the Hero outright.
But he held back. He needed more. More openings. More knowledge. This was not a kill—it was a study.
Lucius roared again, and fire exploded from his back like wings, launching him into the air. He descended in a blazing dive, his sword outstretched like a falling star.
Blaze rolled aside, the impact blasting a crater into the earth. Fire licked his arm, devouring flesh. He bit back a growl, shadows pouring to cool the wound.
"Run all you like!" Lucius shouted, stalking forward, his aura blazing like a miniature sun. "The gods gave me their strength. You're nothing but carrion."
Blaze tilted his head, wiping blood from his mouth. "The gods gave you fire," he said quietly. His eyes glowed, his voice cold as the grave. "But fire burns out. Shadows endure."
The duel raged on.
Lucius's strikes grew more reckless, his pride demanding a swift victory. Blaze remained measured, using every dodge, every counter, to catalog his enemy. Fire flared strongest when Lucius's temper spiked. His healing was fast, but not perfect—it slowed if the wounds were deep enough. And above all, his arrogance blinded him, forcing him into overcommitments that left him open.
Blaze bled. Burns and cuts seared his skin, his cloak reduced to tatters. But he smiled still, his crimson eyes burning with cruel patience.
Finally, as Lucius roared and charged for another flaming strike, Blaze whispered:
"Thank you for showing me your flame."
Then he melted into shadow, vanishing before the blade connected.
Lucius stumbled forward, caught off guard—just long enough for darkness to coil around his throat, squeezing. Blaze's voice hissed in his ear, though his body remained unseen.
"And soon, I'll take it."
Lucius snarled, flames exploding in every direction, shadows tearing apart in the blast. Blaze withdrew, reappearing at the treeline, smoke rising from his scorched form.
Both men stood, panting, fire and shadow writhing around them like living beasts. Neither victorious. Neither willing to yield.
The clearing stank of scorched earth and burning sap. Flames licked at the blackened trees, sending waves of heat across the ruined battlefield. The knights back at the camp had long since woken, but none dared to rush into the inferno. They had seen the fire spread, heard the thunderous clashes, and felt the ground shake. To interrupt Lucius in his fury was to court death itself.
In the center of the devastation, Lucius stood with his chest heaving, sweat streaking soot across his face. His cloak was torn, his once-pristine armor cracked, though it still glowed faintly with divine blessing. He gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles whitened beneath the flames dancing along the blade.
But Blaze was gone.
Shadows had swallowed him at the treeline. Not the broken retreat of a coward, but the calculated step of a predator who had already decided the hunt was over.
Lucius let out a roar that startled even the flames. His voice cracked against the night, a mixture of rage and disbelief. "Come back here! Do you hear me, parasite? You don't get to crawl away!" His sword slammed into the earth, blasting a ripple of fire across the ground. The blaze consumed nothing but air.
The shadows at the edge of the clearing pulsed once in answer, like an amused heartbeat.
Far beyond Lucius's sight, Blaze materialized in the hollow of a charred oak. His body trembled from burns that had not yet fully closed, patches of scorched flesh stubborn against regeneration. Each breath rasped through clenched teeth, but his eyes gleamed—bright, calculating, viciously alive.
Seren emerged from the dark beside him, her features pale in the faint glow of dying flames. "Master…" Her voice trembled between awe and worry. "You fought the fire itself and walked away."
Blaze exhaled slowly, leaning against the oak. "Not unscathed." He flexed his fingers; skin cracked, pain flared, but the cursed ring pulsed soothingly, knitting him back together in slow, cruel stitches.
The ring's whisper licked across his mind like a tongue of flame. His blood is fuel. His arrogance, a gift. You saw the cracks in his fire. Next time, drink deeper.
Blaze ignored it for now. Instead, he replayed the duel in his head, every step, every swing. Lucius's reckless charges. His reliance on overwhelming fire to mask sloppy technique. The way his healing faltered when deeper wounds were inflicted.
Yes. There were weaknesses. And Blaze had seen them all.
Back in the clearing, Lucius paced like a caged beast. His knights hovered at the edges of the camp, too afraid to speak. The Hero's fury radiated hotter than his flames.
Finally, one knight dared a whisper. "Sir Vale… was it truly him? The Nameless Vampire?"
Lucius spun, his eyes blazing. "It was Blaze Carter. That pathetic worm we left behind." His voice dripped venom, spitting the name like poison. "He should have died crawling in the dirt. Instead, he thinks he can mock me? ME?" His torch flared violently, nearly searing the knight where he stood.
Another knight shifted nervously. "If it was truly him… then the church will—"
"The church will know nothing!" Lucius snapped, silencing them all. His chest rose and fell with ragged fury. "This isn't about their crusade. This is mine. I'll find him. I'll burn him until there's nothing left but ash. Do you understand?"
None dared answer.
Lucius's pride had been wounded in a way fire could not heal. And for a man blessed by flame, humiliation burned hotter than any wound.
Blaze, meanwhile, slipped further into the forest, his spawn trailing silently. Every step hurt, but every throb of pain sharpened his thoughts.
He had survived divine fire. He had tasted the blood of a Hero. And though he had not yet killed Lucius, the duel had given him what he wanted most: knowledge.
Blaze paused on a ridge overlooking the burning clearing. From here, Lucius looked small, his tantrum visible even from a distance. A smirk curved Blaze's lips despite the burns.
"Still the same boy," he murmured. "All light, no thought. You'll be mine, Lucius. Piece by piece."
The shadows stirred at his feet like hounds eager for the chase. Seren lowered her head reverently. "What will you do, master?"
Blaze's eyes never left the flickering blaze below. "Wait. Watch. Let him burn himself out." His smile sharpened, cruel and patient. "And then… I'll take everything."
By dawn, the fire had died. The clearing was a wasteland of ash and smoke, the scent of charred earth heavy in the air. The knights busied themselves with stamping out embers and repacking supplies, but they moved in fearful silence.
Lucius sat apart, sword across his knees, staring into the horizon with fever-bright eyes. His pride demanded vengeance. His blessing promised victory. But the shadow that had slipped through his fingers haunted him like a phantom pain.
He clenched his jaw, whispering to himself. "Next time, Blaze. I'll end you."
Miles away, in the hollow of a ruined temple, Blaze finally allowed himself to rest. His wounds were knitting, slowly but surely, his strength returning with each drop of stolen blood. Garrick stood guard at the entrance, silent but alert, while Seren knelt at his side, her eyes filled with quiet awe.
Blaze leaned back against cold stone, his crimson eyes closing briefly. He was tired. Burned. But beneath the exhaustion, something else swelled: certainty.
The world had thrown its flame at him, and he had endured.
The ring pulsed once, approving, and whispered: The fire is not your enemy. It is your feast. Soon, you will not endure it—you will consume it.
Blaze's lips curved faintly. Whether by blood, by shadow, or by patience, he would have Lucius. And when he did, the Hero of the Flame would kneel as nothing more than a thrall to the darkness.