Chapter 25: Whispers in the Flame
The Crimson Bastion had grown quiet in the days following the massacre on the ridge. It wasn't fear that kept the halls subdued — it was anticipation. Every Broken, every Nullbound, every survivor could feel it in their bones.
Something was coming.
Beneath the fortress, in a chamber lit by red crystal sconces and broken chains, Lyss Everhail stood before a pool of fire. The flames didn't burn. They whispered.
She traced a glowing sigil in the air, one of the old Storm Accord's forbidden rites. Not to summon, but to see.
"Reveal what approaches," she murmured.
The fire shifted. Images flickered: a gathering of High Seers beneath a silver spire. Scrolls burned. Blood dropped into ritual bowls. They were summoning someone — or something.
The flames shrieked.
Lyss staggered back, eyes wide. "No... not him…"
---
Rayden sat cross-legged in the courtyard, the Berserk System humming like a living pulse through his veins. Around him, ten new initiates practiced with makeshift weapons — broken halberds, reforged spears, jagged scythe-staves.
He wasn't training them to be soldiers.
He was training them to survive rage.
"You want to use your pain?" he called. "Control it. Don't let it drown you."
One boy, younger than the rest, screamed as he swung his axe too hard and lost control. It spiraled away, cracking against the stone.
Rayden rose and walked toward him.
"Why did you fail?" he asked calmly.
"I-I don't know," the boy stammered.
"Yes, you do. Tell me."
"I was angry," he admitted. "Too angry."
Rayden nodded. "Good. That's where it starts. But if you don't chain it, it will chain you."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger forged from Nullsteel — the same kind used to suppress Systems.
"Hold this while you fight," he said, handing it to the boy. "Let it remind you what it's like to be powerless. Let it focus you."
Lyss appeared at the edge of the courtyard, pale, shaken.
"We need to speak. Alone."
---
They entered the war chamber. Kaelri was already there, waiting.
"What did you see?" Rayden asked.
Lyss hesitated, then spoke. "They've summoned a Harbinger."
Kaelri cursed. "That's a myth."
"No," Lyss said. "It's not. The High Seers have access to the Sealed Vaults. They're bringing back one of the ancient enforcers from the Pre-System Era. A weapon. A hunter."
Rayden's fists clenched.
"Do we know its name?"
"Yes," she said grimly. "It calls itself Ashthane."
The Berserk System pulsed cold.
[System Notice: Hostile Relic Signature Detected – Class: Extinction]
[Threat Level: Cataclysmic]
Rayden stared at the sigils appearing in the air, his expression unreadable.
"So," he murmured, "the Seers want war."
Kaelri leaned forward. "Then let's give them one."
---
That night, as the wind howled through the jagged teeth of the mountains, the Crimson Bastion didn't sleep.
Every torch was lit.
Every blade was sharpened.
And in the heart of the old prison, where chains once bound the broken, Rayden knelt before the tombstone of the Warden, now engraved with a single phrase:
"Strength without restraint is chaos. Rage with purpose... is power."
He smiled faintly, then rose.
"Let them come."