The sky tore open.
Leon and Mira stood at the edge of the Burning Valley—once a dormant rift, now pulsing with heat, fractured light, and a soundless tension that made the world feel like it was holding its breath.
Above them, clouds churned like boiling oil. Between the cracks, something moved.
No—descended.
Its wings stretched across the sky, feathers like blades of obsidian fire, each one radiating heat that distorted space. Its body shimmered between physical and ethereal, as if the laws of this realm struggled to contain its presence.
Mira's voice dropped to a whisper. "Sky-born... That's a Seraph-class spectral wyrm."
Leon's eyes glowed faintly. "That's not just a wyrm. That's a sentinel."
The beast circled once, its wings scattering embers that didn't fall—they hovered, each ember containing a fragment of soul-pressure strong enough to crush a mortal mind.
Then it roared.
The valley cracked.
Trees bowed.
A mountain slope crumbled like sand.
Leon activated his Qi field instantly, shielding them both from the shockwave.
Mira flared her own spiritual aura. "Why would a sentinel-class creature appear here? This realm isn't high enough tier."
Leon didn't answer.
Because something inside him had already awakened.
The ring on his finger pulsed. His veins glowed blue-white. The flame in his chest surged upward, forming a corona around his spine.
And then a voice—calm, eternal, unshakably ancient—echoed from deep within his soul.
"It remembers me."
Leon's heart froze.
"You've fought it before," he muttered.
"I killed it once."
Mira looked over. "What did you say?"
Leon blinked, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. We don't have the full truth. We deal with what we can see."
He stepped forward, onto the crumbling valley floor.
The sentinel's eyes locked on him.
Challenge accepted.
—
The wyrm dove.
It didn't fly so much as it collapsed the distance between sky and ground.
In a single breath, it was upon them.
Leon surged upward, flames bursting from his back in a spiral that coalesced into wings—not physical, but made of spiritfire. He met the beast midair, fist drawn back, soul force condensed around his knuckles.
The impact cracked reality.
A ripple of white noise spread outward, vaporizing clouds, searing through space.
Mira leapt onto a nearby stone pillar, fingers racing through incantations.
"I'll stabilize the perimeter," she called. "You focus on its core!"
Leon darted behind the creature's neck, aiming for a fracture in its spirit-form.
The wyrm twisted, spinning midair, its tail slicing through sky like a sword. Leon ducked, countered with a twin-flame burst, and forced it higher into the stratosphere.
They rose beyond the clouds.
Here, the stars were visible.
And one of them blinked.
Leon felt it.
A presence.
Watching.
Judging.
And whispering:
"Ignarith watches his lost kin."
Leon's blood froze.
Not from fear—but recognition.
Ignarith.
He didn't know the name.
But Seraphis did.
—
Below, Mira completed her array.
A hexagonal shield bloomed around the valley, sealing the battle from interfering realms.
The wyrm screeched, its wings pulsing with a pale flame that reversed gravity.
Leon began to fall upward.
Fast.
But he grinned.
"Too late," he muttered.
With a single twist, he activated his core flame.
White. Blinding. Ancient.
It wrapped around him, forming a burning armor of pure soul-fire.
The beast reached him first—but Leon didn't dodge.
He dove straight into its open maw.
A burst of light erupted like a second sun.
—
Inside the creature, time slowed.
Leon floated in a void of shattered stars and lingering echoes.
In the center, a crystalline heart throbbed with fractured memory.
Visions struck him all at once:
- The wyrm serving as a mount to a golden figure.
- Skies falling beneath war banners written in flame.
- His own hand raised in defiance—not as Leon, but as Seraphis.
Then—pain.
The heart pulsed.
And tried to consume him.
Leon screamed.
His flame pushed outward.
I am not your prey.
The heart cracked.
I am your judge.
The heart shattered.
—
Outside, the beast roared one final time—then turned to flame.
The sky cleared.
Silence returned.
Leon descended slowly, flame-wings folding behind his shoulders, eyes glowing faintly with a ring of white fire.
Mira met him on the scorched floor of the valley, breathless.
"You went inside it," she said.
He nodded. "It remembered me."
"And you remembered it?"
"Not fully," Leon said. "But enough."
She looked toward the sky. "So… Ignarith?"
Leon looked up too.
"Not a name," he said.
"A throne."
And someone was still sitting in it.