The world was trembling.
Gautam could feel it beneath his boots — the heartbeat of a dying forest. The crystal trees that had once glowed softly now flickered like candles before a storm. Every breath he took carried the metallic scent of ash.
"They're coming," the Sage said, his voice low but steady.
Gautam glanced up. Across the violet horizon, red streaks fell like fire rain. Each one struck the ground with a sound like a heartbeat cracking stone. And from each crater, something rose — tall, armored figures wrapped in shadow and silver flame.
The Sage's eyes glimmered faintly. "The Hunters of the Abyss. The Shadow King's elite."
"Elite?" Gautam asked, forcing his trembling voice to steady. "You mean… they're stronger than the ones I fought before?"
"They don't hunt for power," the Sage replied. "They hunt for purpose. And right now, their purpose is you."
Gautam clenched his fists. The ember veins beneath his skin glowed faintly. "Then they'll have to fight for it."
The Sage gave a small smile — proud, almost sorrowful. "Good. Hold on to that fire. You'll need it."
---
The first Hunter appeared through the smoke. Its armor was obsidian-black, etched with crimson runes that pulsed like veins. Its helmet bore no eyes — only a slit filled with red light. In its hands, it held a weapon that seemed half-sword, half-scythe, humming with the whispers of the dead.
Behind it, five more emerged, each different — one with wings of bone, another with a serpent coiled around its arm. Their presence warped the air itself.
The lead Hunter's voice came like a chorus of echoes.
"By command of the Shadow King, surrender the heir of flame."
The Sage stepped forward, planting his staff in the earth. "The heir answers to no darkness."
"Then perish with him."
The Hunter vanished — no, moved. Faster than Gautam could see. One moment it was standing yards away; the next, its blade was inches from the Sage's chest.
But the Sage didn't flinch.
A ring of light burst from his staff, catching the blade mid-swing. Sparks of black and white energy collided, shattering the ground beneath them.
"Move, Gautam!" the Sage shouted.
Gautam darted aside just as another Hunter lunged, claws glowing with purple venom. His instincts screamed — and the fire answered. A burst of golden flame erupted from his palms, slamming the creature backward into a crystal tree.
The explosion sent shards flying, glowing like meteors.
But the Hunter rose again — untouched. Its armor cracked, revealing shadows swirling beneath like liquid night.
"Flame magic," it hissed. "Pure. Ancient. Delicious."
It lunged again.
Gautam ducked, rolled, and unleashed another blast of fire, this time shaping it into a spinning arc. The Hunter crossed its claws, deflecting the blaze, and retaliated with a burst of dark mist that seared through the air.
Gautam jumped aside — barely. The ground where he'd stood melted into black tar.
"Too slow," it whispered.
Gautam's heartbeat roared in his ears. His body was moving on instinct, not training — every motion raw, unrefined, but driven by something fierce. The fire obeyed emotion, not logic, and his emotion was survival.
He thrust both hands forward, roaring — the flames surged, turning into a spiraling wall of heat that engulfed three Hunters at once.
They screamed, but the screams twisted into laughter.
Their shadows detached — and reformed behind him.
A blade grazed his shoulder. Blood spilled, sizzling against his own fire.
Pain flared. And with it — anger.
The world slowed. The fire inside him pulsed faster. His eyes glowed faintly golden.
The air shimmered.
When the next Hunter struck, Gautam caught its blade — with his bare hand. The weapon burned through his palm, but the flame around him burned hotter. His grip tightened until the weapon cracked.
"I said," he growled, "you'll have to fight for it."
He spun, his body surrounded by golden fire. The flames expanded outward, forming the shape of a phoenix's wings. The blast sent the Hunters flying, burning holes through their armor.
The Sage turned, eyes wide — for the first time, truly seeing what lay within the boy.
"That power…" he whispered. "It's not just the flame. It's alive."
Gautam panted, falling to one knee. The world spun. The fire receded, leaving trails of smoke rising from his skin.
The Sage raised his staff, muttering ancient words. Light flowed from the ground, forming a circle that expanded around them. The remaining Hunters screeched as they hit the edge of the barrier — the light burned them like acid.
For a moment, there was silence.
Gautam looked up. "Did we… win?"
The Sage didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the horizon.
There, in the distance, shadows twisted together — forming something enormous. A single figure stepped out, larger than the others, its armor lined with molten cracks, its weapon a massive spear that radiated darkness.
The Sage's expression hardened. "The Warlord."
The name alone carried weight. The barrier trembled under its steps.
Gautam's pulse raced. "He's one of them?"
"He leads them," the Sage said grimly. "The Shadow King's right hand. You are not ready for him."
"Then what—"
Before he could finish, the Warlord raised his spear. The air screamed as a wave of shadow burst from the weapon, slamming into the barrier. The light shattered like glass.
The Sage barely had time to react. "Run!"
The next blast hit. The ground split apart. Gautam was thrown backward, crashing against a shattered tree.
He coughed blood, vision blurry. Through the smoke, he saw the Sage still standing — barely.
The Warlord approached, each step shaking the earth. "You cannot hide him, Lightbringer."
"Perhaps not," the Sage said, voice hoarse. "But I can delay you."
He slammed his staff into the ground. The world exploded in light.
The flash was blinding. Gautam shielded his eyes. When he looked again, the Sage was gone.
The Warlord stood in the crater, armor scorched but unbroken. He turned slowly, scanning the area.
Then his gaze locked on Gautam.
Their eyes met — and in that moment, Gautam felt it.
Not just fear — recognition.
The Warlord tilted his head. "So… you live."
"What?" Gautam whispered.
The giant stepped closer. "I see the fire. I smell the blood. You are his image."
"Whose?"
The Warlord's voice was almost reverent. "The Flame King."
Gautam froze. "You… knew him?"
"Knew him?" the Warlord rumbled, lowering his spear. "I killed him."
The words hit harder than any weapon.
Gautam's mind reeled. The image of the woman's voice, the dreams, the fire — all of it collided. Rage flared in his chest, burning away confusion.
"You lie!" he shouted, raising his hands. "He died protecting this world!"
The Warlord's chuckle was low, cruel. "Protecting? Is that what they told you? The Flame King was no savior. He was a monster who tried to consume both realms."
"Stop!" Gautam shouted. The fire erupted again — wild, desperate. "You're twisting it!"
"Am I?" the Warlord said. "Ask the fire in your veins whose side it truly belongs to."
Before Gautam could react, the Warlord vanished — and reappeared behind him. The spear pierced the ground beside his head, missing by an inch.
"Not yet," the Warlord murmured. "The Shadow King wants you alive."
Gautam struggled, fire flickering weakly. The Warlord's hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him effortlessly.
"Burn all you wish, boy," he said. "But soon, you will burn for him."
A burst of light shot through the air. The Warlord snarled, dropping Gautam as a beam of energy struck his shoulder.
The Sage stood on a nearby cliff, staff blazing. His robes were torn, but his eyes burned like twin suns. "You will not touch him!"
The Warlord turned. "You persist, old man."
"As does the light," the Sage replied, thrusting his staff forward.
The sky tore open. From the heavens rained spears of pure radiance, striking the Hunters below. Screams echoed as their shadows burned away.
The Warlord raised his hand, forming a dome of darkness that deflected the rain. "You think light can kill what was born of night?"
"No," the Sage said softly. "But it can delay it."
He slammed the staff once more — and a rift opened beneath Gautam's feet.
The world blurred.
"Wait!" Gautam shouted as he began to fall again. "What are you doing!?"
"Survive!" the Sage yelled back. "Find the Lost Citadel! There you will learn the truth!"
And then Gautam was gone — swallowed by light.
---
When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.
The sky was white, endless, filled with drifting shards of glass. He was lying on a bed of sand that shimmered like stars. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but exhaustion clung to him like chains.
He sat up slowly. The silence was suffocating.
"Where… am I?"
His voice echoed — and echoed again, too many times.
Then the ground beneath him shifted. The sand rippled.
Something massive moved below.
He stumbled back as the surface cracked — and from it rose a colossal structure: a ruined tower, spiraling endlessly upward, its top lost in the clouds. Symbols glowed faintly on its surface — the same flame and chain sigils he'd seen in the shrine.
The tower called to him.
And within that call, a whisper:
"Welcome home, Gautam."
He froze. "No… who are you?"
The whisper became a voice — deep, resonant, familiar.
"You already know. You carry my fire."
A figure began forming within the tower's light — a silhouette of a man, tall, cloaked in flame, face hidden.
Gautam took a step back. His hands trembled. "You're—"
The figure smiled faintly.
"Yes. I am the Flame King."
The air shuddered. The tower pulsed with light.
"And you, Gautam… are my reincarnation."