Days turned into weeks in the mountains. Maverick's training grew harsher with each sunrise. The cat, though small in size, was merciless as a teacher.
"Again," he ordered as Kael's fists glowed faintly in the night air.
Kael gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. "I've already done this a hundred times!"
"Then do it a hundred more," Maverick snapped. "Your enemies will not wait for your body to rest."
Through sheer repetition, Kael's crimson spark began to obey him. Maverick pushed him to master two new techniques.
The first was Flame Step—learning to compress his spark into his legs until every leap carried him twice as far, every movement blurred like fire itself.
The second was Ember Guard—a defensive veil of red sparks that hardened around his body for a brief moment, enough to deflect claws, arrows, even blades.
Monsters from the wild became his training dummies. Wolf-beasts fell to his blazing fists, taloned birds were dragged from the skies, and even a scaled boar fled when Kael's spark burst against its hide. Each fight sharpened him further.
But one evening, as the sun dipped into crimson clouds, Kael climbed a high ridge and froze.
From the distance, below the mountain slopes, the city of his birth was burning.
Flames licked the night sky, screams carried by the wind. The once bright spires of the city crumbled in smoke and fire. Kael's heart stopped.
"No… no, no, no…!" His voice cracked.
He turned to Maverick in panic. "What's happening?! We have to go! My mother—!"
The cat's eyes narrowed, his tail twitching. "Calm yourself. Panic will only dull your blade."
But Kael could not be calm. The sight of his home in ruins made his blood boil. He leapt down the mountain path with reckless speed, sparks igniting under his feet. Maverick followed silently, shadows clinging to his paws.
When Kael reached the outer streets, the horror struck him like a hammer. Knights in black masks moved through the firelit alleys, slaughtering men, women, even children. The clang of steel and the wails of the dying filled the air.
One of the masked knights turned toward him. "Another rat. Kill him."
Without hesitation, Kael charged. His fist flared red, smashing through the knight's helmet and skull. Another lunged at him, but Kael's Flame Step carried him behind the man, and his Ember Guard blocked the retaliating blade. With a roar, he struck again—this time, the crimson flame burst out fully, burning the knight to ash.
Bodies fell, but Kael never slowed. He ran through blood and fire, cutting down every masked knight in his path, his only thought—Mother.
Finally, he burst into the mansion's courtyard. The doors stood broken, smoke curling from the halls. His heart pounded as he pushed inside—
—and froze at the sight before him.
At the center of the hall, his mother knelt, her dress stained in blood. Towering over her was a man clad in dark armor, a crimson cape flowing behind him. His face was hidden beneath a mask of silver, carved with cruel lines. A greatsword gleamed in his hands.
Kael's world shattered as he watched the blade sink into his mother's chest.
"You are not needed in this world," the knight captain said coldly. Then he leaned down, whispering something only she could hear.
Blood filled her lips, yet her eyes blazed with defiance. With her final breath, she rasped, "You… will not succeed."
Her body went limp, the sword sliding free.
Kael stood frozen, his hands trembling, his vision red. A sound rose from his throat—not a scream, not a word, but a raw, broken roar that shook the hall.
The knight captain turned slowly, silver mask glinting in the firelight. "Ah. The boy arrives."