The sky cracked.
Morning light filtered through clouds scorched by arcane fire. Above Arcane Academy, lightning webbed across a swirling vortex that churned reality like a whirlpool.
Rael stood atop the central tower, his coat flaring in the wind. A chill spidered down his spine.
That feeling.
Familiar. Foul.
He stepped forward as the air distorted.
A rift split open with a shriek that shattered windows across campus. Dozens—no, hundreds—of black-winged demons poured out, their howls piercing the dawn.
Students screamed below. Spells misfired. Barriers failed.
Rael drew his sword.
The obsidian blade glimmered with golden-orange inscriptions—burning with the mark of his bloodline. He raised it to the sky, voice low but resolute:
"Ignite—Ember Ascension."
Flames exploded from his core.
His hair flared backward like golden fire. His body was enveloped in burning light. A phoenix-shaped aura spread from his back—wings of living flame.
First Awakening: Ember Ascension.
"Come," he whispered—and leapt into the storm.
---
The battlefield below was chaos incarnate.
Students ran. Professors barked incantations. Upperclassmen rallied to form defensive lines—but they were overrun.
Then, a meteor of flame crashed into the center of a demonic phalanx.
Rael.
He spun, slicing horizontally with his flaming blade. A trail of fire followed his arc—three demons split in half before they could react.
Another lunged.
Rael ducked low, drove his sword through its gut, twisted, and kicked it off the blade. His foot landed hard—and he launched upward, flipping over a spined demon. A downward cleave took its head clean off.
"One…" he muttered.
Another charged—larger, horned, armored.
Rael raised his sword to his chest, eyes narrowing.
"Two."
He vanished in a burst of heat.
Reappeared behind the demon.
Slash.
A molten line glowed across its chest before it exploded into ash.
He didn't stop.
He blurred across rooftops and courtyards, flame trailing his every step. Every motion was honed, efficient, deadly.
But even gods had limits.
---
Seven hours in.
Rael's breathing grew heavier.
Ten hours.
His sword hand trembled.
Fourteen.
His robes clung to sweat-soaked skin. His blade dimmed.
Still no sign of breaking through to the Second Awakening.
Behind a crumbling marble wall, Rael leaned heavily, drops of blood dripping from his fingertips.
"Why... why can't I ascend again?"
He gritted his teeth.
Flames sparked uncontrollably from his limbs. His aura flickered—unstable, raw.
His heart pounded erratically. The sword weighed like stone in his grip.
Then—
He closed his eyes.
It's not about more fire… it's about focus.
He slowed his breathing.
The flames steadied, hugging his skin. The chaos around him dulled.
"Control it. Don't burn—refine."
The sword in his hand responded—its edge burning brighter, steadier. The glyphs on its surface pulsed.
First Awakening: Stabilized Form Achieved.
Stamina consumption reduced. Efficiency increased.
Rael stood again.
His flames didn't roar anymore.
They whispered.
---
Night fell.
The air smelled of blood and ash. The ground cracked beneath the weight of corpses.
And then, from the rift—
The archdemon.
It emerged like a living nightmare—eight feet tall, black carapace like obsidian glass. Its horns curled like sickle blades. A scythe of shadow in its clawed hand.
"Ascendant…" it growled. "We remember your kind."
Rael said nothing.
He sheathed his sword.
Then drew it again in one clean motion.
A burst of flame surged across the broken plaza.
The demon struck first—its scythe tearing a crater in the stone.
Rael leapt over it, spinning mid-air.
His sword carved a burning line across the demon's shoulder.
It roared, swinging wildly.
Rael parried, slid under its swing, stabbed upward—sparks flew as the blade glanced off armor.
They clashed again.
And again.
Flame met abyss.
Sparks danced like fireflies in a storm of death.
Each time Rael's blade met the scythe, the ground trembled.
The demon slammed him through a wall.
Rael groaned, wiped blood from his lips.
Then, with a defiant cry, he unleashed everything.
He dashed forward, sword blazing, and struck a dozen times in one breath—each blow fueled by precision, not rage.
Final Strike: Ember Spiral.
Rael twisted through the air, spinning like a firestorm.
His blade drilled into the archdemon's chest, embedding deep.
The creature let out a final, strangled roar—then exploded in a geyser of hellfire and ash.
Rael fell to one knee, gasping.
Flames gone.
Sword dim.
Body broken.
He looked up.
And heard it.
"Rael!"
---
Eris.
She ran toward him, wearing his spare academy uniform—the one he gave her after their spar. She had kept it.
His lips parted.
But then—a flicker.
From behind her, a demon cloaked in shadows appeared.
Rael lunged—but his legs betrayed him. His body gave out.
Too slow.
The demon grabbed Eris, blade to her throat.
"You slew our champion," it hissed. "Now we take something of yours."
Rael's flames sputtered.
His sword fell from his hand.
"Eris…"
Her voice was faint, hurt.
"Why… didn't you choose me?"
Then the demon vanished with her—into a swirl of shadows.
Gone.
Rael collapsed fully.
"No…"
---
Later.
Evelyn sat beside Rael's unconscious form in the infirmary. His chest rose shallowly, limbs bandaged.
Lyra sat nearby, legs crossed, biscuit in hand—but uneaten.
"He burned everything," Evelyn whispered, brushing damp hair from his face. "All of it—to save us."
Lyra looked away. "And still couldn't save her."
---
Elsewhere.
In the heart of a shadowed fortress beyond the rift, Eris sat alone in a cold obsidian cell.
Her once-pristine academy uniform was torn, stained with soot and blood. She gripped a piece of cloth tightly—Rael's spare uniform jacket—the one he had given her after their duel.
She held it to her chest like a lifeline.
"…Rael…" she whispered.
The silence of the prison pressed in around her.
She trembled.
Then her shoulders began to shake.
A small sob escaped her lips.
Then another.
And another—until the dam broke.
"I didn't want this… I didn't want to fight you. I just… I just wanted you to see me."
Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the jacket tighter.
"Please… just let me see him again. Just once… just once more…"
Her voice cracked as she buried her face in the fabric.
"Rael… save me…"
Outside the cell, a demon watched with a sneer.
But even it paused.
Because something stirred in her aura—something not born of despair.
But of awakening.
Her cries weren't just grief.
They were fuel.