Morning sunlight pierced through the thinning mists of Nevrak as Cain stood atop the ridge overlooking the ruined village. Below, the twisted shadows had been purged, the corrupted seal shattered and sealed anew with Laurifer's guidance. What had once been a burial ground for ancient darkness had finally found peace.
Syl, the boy they had rescued, now slept soundly beneath Hellfang's warm shadow, wrapped in a cloak too large for him. His dreams, at last, were untainted by fear.
Cain remained still, arms crossed, gazing at the road that curved away from the village and into the deepening wilderness. The sun touched his pale skin, the heat stirring the essence within him.
Laurifer's voice echoed softly in his mind.
"Are you ready to meet him?"
Cain nodded slowly. "The one you called your student... Azreal Siegfried, the Emperor of Vulcan."
Laurifer chuckled, nostalgic and distant. "Yes. That fool with a heart of molten fire. He was only a boy when I took him in. Now he rules an empire."
Cain turned, brushing the cloak from his shoulder. "You believe he'll train me?"
"He will. He owes me more than his title. And more importantly... he believes in fire. Not just the element, but its truth. Destruction. Renewal. Tempering. Pain. He'll make you a blade."
Cain nodded again and stepped forward. With Hellfang beside him and Syl still asleep across the direwolf's back, they departed from Nevrak. The road to Vulcan stretched before them, winding through canyons, ash-stained forests, and valleys carved by lava long cooled.
As they traveled, Laurifer spoke often—not just of history or cultivation, but of things more personal.
"Azreal wasn't the strongest," he said one night as they camped beside a stone spring. "But he was relentless. Just like you. The fire in your veins will speak to him."
Cain looked into the flames before him, his voice low. "And what if he sees the Azaroth name and refuses to help?"
"Then give him the phrase. 'I seek true death.' He'll know it. Only three people in all of Drimos know those words. Two are dead. One waits for you in Vulcan."
Cain memorized it.
The journey took five days. Along the way, they avoided patrols and bandits. Cain learned to control the outward flow of his essence using the Unique Essence Circulation skill Laurifer helped him develop—masking his presence when necessary, radiating power when threatened.
On the sixth day, the red walls of Vulcan rose on the horizon—tall, jagged, and bathed in a heat haze. Smoke rose in thin plumes from the distant forge towers. The air here was dry and heavy, crackling faintly with elemental Fire Essence. Cain inhaled, and his core stirred in recognition.
They approached the main gate—a fortress-like structure manned by elite Vulcan guards in red and obsidian armor. Their halberds gleamed with runic inscriptions, and their expressions were sharp with discipline.
Cain was stopped immediately.
"Halt. State your name and purpose," the leading guard commanded.
Cain lifted his head, voice calm.
"I seek true death."
The man blinked. Then paled.
"…Wait here."
He vanished through the gate.
Minutes passed. Then the doors opened—not with formality, but urgency. A squadron of guards appeared, escorting a man dressed in deep crimson robes. His face bore a scar across his cheek, and his eyes studied Cain with barely concealed awe.
"You... say it again," the robed man said, stepping closer.
Cain repeated, "I seek true death."
The man swallowed. "Follow me. His Majesty has been waiting."
They were escorted through the city—a sprawling landscape of molten bridges, towering forges, and crimson banners flapping in the sulfur-scented wind. Vulcan was a city of heat and order, of fire and iron.
Finally, they arrived at the palace.
Inside the throne room, surrounded by flame-lit pillars, stood a tall man in black and red armor. His hair was streaked with silver at the edges, and his golden eyes blazed with recognition as he turned.
Azreal Siegfried.
He dismissed the guards and descended the steps, his gaze never leaving Cain.
"So... you're his heir."
Cain offered a slight nod. "Cain Azaroth. Or, if needed, Cain Siegfried."
Azreal's eyes narrowed—then he laughed. Not mockingly, but like a man embracing long-awaited truth.
"You've got your grandfather's eyes," he said. "And that shadow behind them... That's him, isn't it?"
Cain didn't answer.
Azreal nodded. "Good. You'll need him. And me."
Behind him entered a woman with deep brown eyes and elegant bearing—Siora, Azreal's wife. Beside her were two young figures: Aildris, a lean boy with a subtle smirk and a blade on his hip, and Aurora, with wild flame-colored hair and eyes like a storm.
"This is my family," Azreal said. "And now, you'll be part of it."
Cain said nothing, but the fire behind his eyes stirred.
Azreal turned serious. "You'll stay here, but train under my watch. However, you'll also attend Mystic Falls Academy. Under the name Cain Siegfried."
Cain nodded. "Understood."
Azreal's tone dropped lower. "But remember this... One day, your name will shake the world again. Prepare for that."
That night, Cain began his life in Vulcan—not as a hunted heir, but as a student, a blade in the making.
He didn't know what the academy held. But already, the shadows moved.
And fire awaited.
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