The morning sun barely rose over the horizon when the first flames reached the shores. The sea was aglow, not with the soft amber light of dawn, but with the scorching red fury of war.
Raizen stood at the helm of the Ashwake, staring out at the smoke rising from the horizon, where a fleet of ships — a fleet unlike any he had ever seen — came into view. These ships weren't just vessels of war; they were weapons. Their sails, singed and blackened by fire, caught the wind like the wings of demons. Every hull was a fortress, every deck a battleground. And at the center of it all, the banner of Flameheart Drax fluttered in the violent gusts, emblazoned with a burning crown.
The man himself, Drax, was a figure out of nightmares — a towering tyrant, his body scarred and burned by the fires of his own making. His skin was marked with tribal tattoos of flame, and his eyes glowed with the fierce intensity of a predator. A warlord born from the ashes of destruction, Drax was more than just a man. He was an embodiment of fire, of rage, and of a ruthless ambition that could not be quenched.
The Flameheart Fleet, as they called themselves, was a force of destruction. Fire-benders, men and women who had mastered the art of controlling and manipulating flames, formed the heart of his army. On the decks of his warships, they conjured infernos from thin air, turning the sea itself into a battlefield. Any ship caught in their path would be consumed, burned to cinders in moments.
"We have to move," Lyra said, her face grim as she studied the growing smoke. "He's not here for alliances. He's here to burn everything down."
Raizen nodded, his eyes hardening with resolve. This wasn't just a threat to the World Government anymore — this was a threat to everything they had fought for. Drax had made his intentions clear: he would burn the old world to the ground, and he cared not for the cost. He cared only for domination.
"He doesn't want to rebuild," Raizen muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "He wants to erase it all. The World Government, the revolution, everything."
"We can't let him," Rook growled, his hands tightening around the ship's wheel. "We can't let him burn everything to the ground."
But as the Ashwake moved into position, another message came through the communications network, sharp and urgent.
"Drax is not just targeting the World Government," Lyra read aloud. "He's declaring war on everyone — including us. He wants to be the last power standing, no matter the cost."
Raizen's heart sank. They had barely managed to stabilize the rebellion after the Crown's revelations, and now, this new tyrant had arrived to tear it all apart. This was not the unity the world needed. This was a man whose flames would scorch every bit of hope until only ashes remained.
"Gather the crew," Raizen commanded, his voice calm but filled with determination. "We're going to have to fight back — or this world will burn in Drax's name."
The crew scrambled to prepare, but Raizen found his thoughts drifting back to the words Lyra had spoken: We can't let him burn everything to the ground.
Drax wasn't just a tyrant. He was a test. A test of Raizen's resolve, of his beliefs, of the very foundation of the rebellion they had worked so hard to build. If he fell to Drax's fire, then the rebellion — and perhaps the world — would be lost forever.
As the Ashwake sailed toward the heart of the Burning Sea, Raizen couldn't help but wonder: would he be able to withstand the fire, or would he be consumed by it, just like everything else?
The war was coming. And Raizen knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning of the flames.
END OF CHAPTER2