Greywick was not a town that welcomed dawn. Its streets were built for shadows—narrow, crooked, lined with leaning timber houses whose roofs seemed to stoop inward, conspiring to block out the sun. At best, the morning light trickled through in sickly, broken shafts. But that day, the darkness recoiled.
A glow, pure and merciless, spilled over the cobbles. It wasn't the sun—it was brighter, sharper, and it hurt to look at. A flame not born of wood or oil, but of faith.
People stirred from their doorways like rats disturbed in their nests. Eyes widened, whispers spread fast.
"They sent one."
"A Hero… here? In Greywick?"
"Not just a hero… Kaelen Ardent."
The name ran through the town like wildfire. Greywick's cutthroats and thieves were no strangers to fear, but this was something heavier, holier. Even the gangs who bent the knee to Blaze's Crimson Court exchanged uncertain looks. No blade or shadow could gut a man faster than divine fire.
At the town's southern gate, Kaelen Ardent strode in at the head of a small, gleaming procession. Six paladins marched behind him, each clad in polished armor that caught the flame of his blessing. Two priests walked in the middle, hands clasped in constant prayer, murmuring invocations to the gods. Together they were a wedge of light stabbing into Greywick's throat.
Kaelen himself was unmistakable. Tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair catching the fire he conjured like it had been spun from sunlight itself. His armor bore no dents, no dirt. His tabard was white and crimson, spotless despite the mud of the road. In his right hand, he carried a greatsword. It wasn't raised, but every flicker of the flame dancing along its blade hissed against the cobbles as if the very earth feared to touch it.
He looked exactly as Blaze remembered him.
The image stabbed through the haze of memory like a hot knife—back to the empire's throne room, when the summoning circle spat them all out. Back to that moment when the priests had declared Blaze empty, useless. Kaelen had been the first to laugh. The loudest. His words had carried across the room: "Even the gods don't want you, Carter."
That voice still rang in his ears.
From the balcony of a leaning guildhall, Blaze watched. Shadows clung to him, but even they wavered under Kaelen's light. It burned against his skin, a reminder that every moment spent near it was a moment closer to ash. His spawn—Mira crouched beside him, Garrick further back—shifted uneasily.
"Master," Mira hissed, her voice sharp with instinctive fear. "That one… he reeks of the gods."
"He's more than a priest," Garrick growled. His wolven eyes were narrowed, teeth bared. "That's no ordinary blessing."
"No," Blaze murmured. His voice was calm, but a thread of old venom wound through it. "That's Kaelen Ardent. Hero of the Light. Radiant Flame. Golden boy of our class."
He let the words hang, as much for himself as for them. Old classmates—once his equals—now paraded across this world as saints and champions. And here he was, the nameless monster they hunted.
Kaelen reached the heart of Greywick's square, where the fountain was little more than a cracked basin collecting dirty rain. He planted his blade into the cobblestones with a ringing clang. Fire leapt up its length, scattering sparks into the air. The square flooded with light.
"People of Greywick!" Kaelen's voice boomed. He had always been good at it—commanding attention, drawing eyes, making others feel small by sheer force of presence. The kind of charisma that once made him class president back home, that won teachers' admiration, girls' sighs, boys' envy. It carried here, too. "You shelter a monster in your midst. A leech that feeds on your blood and fear. His name is Blaze Carter—though he hides now like the coward he's always been."
Blaze's jaw tightened. The coward line wasn't new—it was just sharper with the memory of how often Kaelen had thrown it around. Back when Blaze had been the quiet one in the back row, Kaelen had been the first to call him weak, useless, spineless.
"I call him out," Kaelen continued, lifting the greatsword. Holy fire bled upward until it crowned him in light. "No more hiding. No more shadows. Blaze Carter—face me, if you have any shred of manhood left. Or prove once and for all that you are nothing but a parasite."
The square fell silent, trembling under the weight of divine challenge. Even the most hardened thugs of Greywick dared not breathe too loudly.
On the balcony, Garrick leaned forward, snarling. "Master. Let me tear him apart. One against one, he's just a man—"
"No." Blaze's hand shot up, palm flat, silencing the wolf-blooded spawn. His crimson eyes locked on Kaelen below. He could feel it—the way the holy fire gnawed at his aura, tried to unravel the shadows that clung to him. This wasn't like the priests or even the paladins. This was worse. This was someone marked by gods.
Mira's voice was lower, almost afraid. "Can you… can you win against that?"
Blaze didn't answer right away. He could feel the cursed ring pulsing on his finger, whispering in hungry tones: Blood of the chosen… drink him, make him yours…
He ignored it. For now.
Instead, he smiled faintly, a cold curl of his lips. "He wants me in the open. He wants a duel. He thinks he can burn me to ash with all these eyes watching."
He turned, shadows rippling around him as if feeding off his mood. "Then let him think it."
Mira blinked, then caught the edge of his smile. A cruel smile. Garrick gave a wolfish chuckle, low and dangerous.
Blaze looked back down into the square. Kaelen stood there still, radiant, every inch the Hero the church promised. And all Blaze could think was how satisfying it would be to strip that radiance down to ash and fear.
For the first time since the summoning, he would face one of his own classmates. And this time, he wasn't the boy who had nothing. He was the monster the gods feared.
The square's silence stretched. Blaze stepped back from the balcony, shadows swallowing him.
"Prepare the outskirts," he murmured to his lieutenants. "He wants a stage. I'll give him one."
The outskirts of Greywick were a jagged scar of broken stone and old ruins. Centuries ago, a fortress had stood on the hill, but time and neglect had reduced it to a skeleton of cracked walls and toppled towers. Blaze chose the battlefield deliberately: a place of shadows, broken lines, and jagged ground where Kaelen's holy fire would struggle to burn everything at once.
Yet as Kaelen entered, torching away the gloom with every step, Blaze realized even here the radiance pressed too strong.
The Hero walked boldly through a crumbled archway, his paladins spreading behind him in a perfect formation. Two priests clung to the rear, their voices a constant thread of prayer, weaving a curtain of light around the group.
"Come out, Blaze!" Kaelen's voice thundered, echoing against the ruined stone. Fire flared from his greatsword, spraying sparks into the wind. "No tricks, no hiding. Face me. Prove you're more than a rat skulking in darkness."
Blaze stepped from the shadows at the far end of the ruin. No cloak this time—he wanted Kaelen to see him clearly. His crimson eyes caught the flicker of fire, his pale skin marked by veins of black that pulsed faintly with the cursed ring's hunger. He looked every bit the monster Kaelen wanted him to be.
The paladins stiffened, but Kaelen held up a hand. "He's mine."
"Still the same," Blaze said, his voice carrying cold and sharp. "Always so desperate to stand in the light, Kaelen. Always so desperate to be seen."
Kaelen smirked, though his grip tightened on his hilt. "And you—still clinging to shadows. Do you even hear yourself? You sound like the villain in some cheap story. A parasite playing at power."
The words cut like they were meant to, but Blaze only tilted his head. "And yet, here you are. Sword drawn. Flames burning. You came for me. That means the parasite has become the disease you can't ignore."
The cursed ring pulsed, whispering at Blaze's ear: Drink his light. Make him scream. Break him.
He ignored it. Focused. Calculated.
Kaelen pointed his blade forward, and the ruined courtyard filled with the heat of a summer sun. "Then I'll burn you out of this world myself."
The ground cracked as he charged.
Kaelen moved like a spear of fire. His greatsword swept in a blazing arc, the air itself hissing as divine heat seared through it. Blaze darted aside, his speed leaving afterimages in the dim ruins. The strike missed—but not by much. Flames licked across a toppled wall, igniting it in an instant.
Blaze retaliated with a burst of shadows, spears of darkness shooting from the ground to impale Kaelen. They struck, but the flames on Kaelen's blade flared brighter, incinerating them mid-air.
"Pathetic!" Kaelen roared, spinning his sword in a wheel of fire.
Blaze lunged low, slipping beneath the wheel, shadows trailing him like smoke. His claws lashed for Kaelen's chest, but the greatsword came down with divine precision. Sparks and shadows exploded as claw met steel.
The force of the impact hurled Blaze backward. He crashed into a crumbling pillar, stone exploding around him. Smoke hissed where the holy flame had seared his flesh—wounds that his regeneration struggled against, the fire clinging to him like a poison.
Not good. The thought ran cold in his mind. This was no priest. No paladin. Kaelen's flame burned at the soul itself.
Kaelen stalked forward, fire swirling around him like a storm. "This is what you've chosen, Carter? To play at being a monster? You could have been nothing. You should have been nothing. And yet you crawl here, thinking fear makes you strong."
Blaze rose slowly, licking blood from his lips. He smiled, thin and cruel. "Fear does make me strong. Fear makes men break before they bleed. Fear turns heroes into prey."
Shadows coiled tighter around him, rising like serpents. He swept an arm wide, and the ruins darkened. Illusions shimmered—the outlines of a dozen Blazes slipping into existence, all moving at once.
Kaelen sneered. "Tricks."
He swung. A fan of fire erupted, devouring half the illusions instantly. The others swarmed around him, darting from angles, claws raking, whispers clawing at his mind.
Kaelen pivoted, his greatsword lashing out in blinding arcs. Every strike was fire and faith combined, burning illusions to ash and scattering shadows. But Blaze had already moved, slipping behind him in the chaos.
His claws sank into a paladin's throat instead. The man gurgled, light flaring from his eyes as Blaze ripped it out. He drank deep, blood searing hot from holy blessings, but still fuel. He flung the corpse aside, crimson dripping from his mouth.
The priests cried out, chanting louder, their barrier of light strengthening.
"Monster!" Kaelen roared, spinning with fury. His blade carved a crescent of fire that forced Blaze back again.
The battle shifted. Kaelen pressed hard, each strike a hammer of fire meant to crush Blaze into nothing. The ruins themselves began to glow, stone heating, shadows shrinking before the divine blaze.
Blaze countered with speed—always slipping just beyond the arc of the greatsword, striking from angles, clawing at Kaelen's armor, summoning spikes of darkness from the ground. Each time, fire met shadow, and the clash rang like thunder.
But Kaelen wasn't just strong. He was relentless. Every missed strike bled into another, his movements disciplined, drilled into perfection by church training. And with every flare of his flames, Blaze felt his skin sizzle, his regeneration taxed further.
He's forcing me into defense.
The cursed ring pulsed hotter. Use me. Use the blood. Stop playing. Break him.
Blaze hissed between clenched teeth, forcing the hunger down. He needed clarity, not frenzy.
A sudden burst—Kaelen thrust his sword into the ground, and a pillar of fire erupted outward. The courtyard blazed white-hot. Illusions died instantly. Blaze shielded himself with shadows, but the blast still hurled him across the ruin. He landed hard, his claws digging trenches into the stone to slow his skid.
His flesh smoked, parts of his skin burned black. He panted, his breath heavy.
Kaelen straightened, golden light wrapping him like a halo. "This is all you are, Carter. A leech scrambling in dirt. You'll never beat me. You'll never beat the light."
Blaze's laughter was hoarse, but it carried. Low, mocking. "Funny… you sound afraid."
Kaelen snarled, his fire surging hotter.
Blaze shifted tactics. He didn't need to overpower Kaelen—he needed to unbalance him.
He struck at the priests. Shadows darted, blades of darkness spearing toward them. Kaelen shouted, turning to defend—but Blaze was already on the move, darting in the opposite direction. Kaelen's squad split, some defending the priests, others charging Blaze.
That was the opening.
Blaze slipped through the paladins like mist, his claws shredding their throats, his eyes gleaming crimson as he fed on their blood mid-motion. He didn't drain them dry—he left them twitching, screaming, for Kaelen to see.
Kaelen roared, fury boiling over. He charged, fire erupting in a great wave meant to annihilate everything in its path.
Blaze braced, shadows flooding outward. The two collided—fire and shadow, light and darkness smashing together. The shockwave rattled the ruins, shattered stone, and lit the night sky like a false dawn.
Blaze staggered, part of his arm charred to the bone. Kaelen too had blood dripping down his jaw, a gash across his armor where Blaze's claws had scored deep.
Both men panted, glaring.
"You're still the same, Kaelen," Blaze rasped. "Arrogant. Blind. Always thinking you're the chosen one."
"And you're still nothing," Kaelen spat, fire flaring again. "A useless nobody. And I'll end you here."
He charged once more, fury in every step. Blaze's eyes narrowed. The fight wasn't finished—not by far.
The ruins burned.
What had once been broken stone walls and cracked pillars now blazed like a pyre, holy flames devouring every shadow they touched. The air stank of scorched stone, blood, and burning flesh, a grim perfume of divine power and undead resistance.
Kaelen stood at the center of it all, his chest heaving, his sword ablaze like a second sun. Every breath he took sounded like fury itself. His surviving paladins gathered behind him, shields raised, while the priests' chants rang sharp, reinforcing the aura of light that cocooned him.
Blaze staggered near the far wall, a plume of smoke trailing from his body. Parts of him were charred black, his skin cracking to show the raw, crimson glow beneath. His regeneration struggled against the divine fire—it was slower, a pained, stuttering process.
Still, he smiled. A bloody grin split his lips, and his eyes gleamed like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
"You're slowing," Blaze whispered, his voice rough but mocking. "That flame of yours… it's burning you, too."
Kaelen's jaw clenched. He tightened his grip on the sword until his knuckles turned white. "Don't act like you've seen through me," Kaelen snapped, though a thin trickle of sweat at his temple betrayed the cost of his power. "I still have enough to reduce you to ash."
Blaze chuckled low. "Yes. Enough to kill me. But not enough to kill me and protect them." He gestured lazily at the priests, his movements dripping with contempt.
Before Kaelen could react, the shadows moved. Not illusions this time, not tricks—they surged from the cracks in the stone like living serpents. Blades of pure darkness shot toward the priests.
Kaelen swore and pivoted, his sword flaring. The flames cut through the shadows, burning them into smoke. But Blaze had already moved—faster than Kaelen's eye could track.
When Kaelen turned back, Blaze stood in front of a priest, his claw buried in the man's chest. The priest gasped, blood pouring from his mouth. Blaze's crimson eyes glowed as he drained him, the holy aura sputtering with each pull of blood. He dropped the husk before Kaelen could reach him, shadows yanking him back out of range.
"You bastard!" Kaelen roared, fury finally shattering his composure. Fire erupted around him in a sloppy, uncontrolled wave.
Blaze hissed as the heat scorched his skin again, but the grin never left his face. "Now you're mine."
Kaelen charged. Every step cracked the stone beneath him, every swing of his sword a storm of fire. But Blaze no longer fought him head-on. He moved like smoke, slipping past each blow, darting through the flames.
Every miss cost Kaelen more energy. His breathing grew ragged, his swings heavier. Blaze kept the pressure—slashes across his armor, shallow cuts that bled Kaelen further, whispers that gnawed at his focus.
Then came the opening.
Kaelen overextended, his sword burying in stone as Blaze slipped aside. Blaze's claws raked across his side, tearing through his armor, drawing a spray of blood.
Kaelen stumbled, fury burning hotter than the wound. "You think this matters?! I'll kill you if it burns my soul away!"
Blaze was suddenly in front of him, his face inches from Kaelen's, his crimson eyes boring into gold.
"That's the difference between us," Blaze hissed. "You fight to prove yourself to others. I fight to feed. To survive. And survival will always outlast pride."
Kaelen swung wildly, desperately, but Blaze caught his wrist. Shadows surged up Kaelen's arm, binding it in place. His sword flared, burning them away, but not fast enough.
Blaze's claws dug into Kaelen's throat—not enough to kill, but enough to hold. The fire raged around them, but in that instant, Kaelen couldn't break free.
Blaze leaned close, whispering into his ear.
"Kneel."
The word carried power. Not magic—pure malice, pure venom of the soul. For a heartbeat, Kaelen froze. The memory of Blaze's old, beaten form flickered in his mind—the classmate he'd mocked, laughed at, dismissed. And now that same "useless nobody" had him by the throat.
Kaelen's teeth clenched, fury burning through the cold humiliation. "Never—!"
Blaze's claws tightened. Blood welled, the shadows thickening like chains. He could have ended it. Could have torn out Kaelen's throat and drained him dry right there.
But he didn't.
Instead, Blaze smiled a cruel, chilling smile and shoved him back, letting the shadows explode outward in a storm that flung Kaelen across the courtyard. The Hero crashed into stone, coughing blood, his sword dimming in his grip. The surviving paladins rushed to him, dragging him back toward the priests.
Blaze stood in the flames, his silhouette monstrous, his crimson eyes cutting through the smoke. His body was battered, burned, but he stood tall, a victor in spirit if not in flesh.
"This isn't over!" Kaelen roared, his voice cracking with rage. "I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth, Carter!"
Blaze tilted his head, a gesture of disdain. "Then keep chasing shadows. But remember this night, Kaelen. Remember the taste of your own weakness. Because next time, I won't stop."
With that, the shadows swallowed him, and he was gone.
Kaelen staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his side. His paladins steadied him, the surviving priest trembling as he whispered healing prayers. The fire dimmed slowly, leaving only scorched stone and the stench of blood behind.
Kaelen's fist clenched so tight it bled. His pride burned worse than his wounds. Blaze hadn't just survived—he had humiliated him. In front of his men.
And somewhere in the dark, Blaze was smiling, knowing he had cracked the Hero's composure and for the first time since their summoning, Kaelen felt the cold bite of doubt.