Not orange.
Not red.
It was the color of something screaming.
Rain crouched beneath the remains of a shattered wall, the world collapsing around him. Wood cracked. Roofs caved in. Fire devoured everything it touched. Heat pressed against his skin until breathing felt like swallowing knives.
His arms were wrapped around a cracked bronze bell.
His fingers were burned raw. Skin split. Blood slick against the metal.
He didn't let go.
The bell was the only thing left.
"Hey! Kid!"
The voice tore through the roar of flames.
Rain lifted his head slowly. Ash stung his eyes. Everything blurred. He blinked hard, forcing the world back into focus.
A man walked through the fire.
Not ran.
Not rushed.
Walked.
Tall. Broad shoulders. A long coat singed at the edges but never burning. In his hand, a sword glowed silver-white — and wherever its light reached, the flames bent away.
Like they were afraid of him.
"Can you stand?" the man asked.
His voice was firm. Controlled. Like the fire wasn't even there.
Rain tried to move.
His legs failed instantly. Pain shot through his body and he collapsed back onto the rubble, gasping.
"M-my mom…" His throat scraped raw. "…she's—"
The man's jaw tightened.
But his posture didn't change. His sword didn't lower.
"Not right now," he said. "Right now, you take my hand. You move."
Rain looked down at the bell.
The crack across its surface. The scratches. The chipped handle.
"…It's all I have left."
The man's gaze dropped briefly to the bell.
Only for a heartbeat.
"Then bring it," he said. "But you have to stand."
A shriek cut through the air.
Not human.
Something dragged itself out of the flames.
Tall. Twisted. Ash-black skin split open with glowing veins. Horns curled from its skull — one broken at the tip. Its claws scraped slowly against stone.
Its eyes locked onto Rain.
His body froze.
The man moved.
The world exploded into motion.
Silver steel clashed against black claws in a burst of sparks. The impact shook the ground, throwing Rain backward. Heat and force slammed into his chest.
The man didn't retreat.
He stepped forward instead.
One precise twist of his wrist.
The demon's arm hit the ground before its scream finished.
Black blood sprayed. It hissed where it touched the fire.
"You got a name?" the man asked calmly, already shifting his stance.
"…Rain." His voice barely existed. "Rain Ardent."
"Good."
The man's sword blurred. A clean slash carved across the demon's jaw.
"I'm Captain Theron."
The blade drove straight through the creature's chest.
Silver light burst outward from inside its body. The demon convulsed once, then crumbled into drifting ash.
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
Rain stared.
Then he saw more.
Shadows moving through the fire.
Multiple.
Too many.
"There's more—!" he choked.
"I see them." Theron stepped in front of him. "Stay behind me."
Three demons circled slowly.
Theron's voice lowered, steady and cold.
"They never stop. They don't talk. They don't forgive."
A slight shift of his feet.
A tightening of his grip.
"So you stand, or you burn. Got it?"
Rain tried to answer.
No sound came out.
Theron didn't wait.
He surged forward.
First demon: one thrust. Dead before it could react.
Second: horn severed, then head gone in the same motion.
Third lunged—
"Behind—!" Rain cried.
Too late.
Theron's shield snapped upward, crushing its face mid-leap. His sword followed instantly, punching through its chest.
The demon shrieked once.
Then went still.
Ash drifted in the silence.
Theron looked back at Rain.
"Good," he said quietly. "You saw it. Remember that."
Rain's hands tightened around the bell.
It pulsed.
Not ringing.
Not sounding.
Just a faint vibration — like something deep inside it had stirred.
Theron grabbed Rain's wrist and pulled him upright. Pain flared, but this time… his legs held.
They moved into the street.
A wagon waited there, crammed with survivors. People sobbing. Children clinging to each other. Faces empty.
Another demon leapt from the fire.
Theron's blade flashed once.
The demon split cleanly in two midair and dissolved before touching the ground.
"Move!" Theron shouted to the driver. "Get them out!"
The horse screamed. The wagon jolted forward.
Theron glanced down at Rain one last time, sword still glowing faintly.
"Stay close," he said. "The fire's not done yet."
Rain stumbled after him, lungs burning, every breath agony.
Behind them, the village collapsed into a sea of flames.
The bell pulsed again in his hands.
Faint. Sharp. Certain.
Rain tightened his grip.
And for the first time since the fire began…
he forced himself forward.