The sound of breaking chains echoed like thunder across the dead city.
Each link that shattered unleashed a surge of light so blinding it painted the night sky in molten gold. The heavens themselves seemed to recoil.
Rondan stood at the center of the storm, his cloak whipping wildly as the shockwaves tore through stone and flame alike. The colossal figure before him—Erythros, the Flame That Devoured Heaven—was no longer bound.
Its wings of fire unfurled with a roar that split the air. Every movement radiated divine fury and ancient grief.
But then… something changed.
The god's flame twisted, coiling inward like a serpent. Its eyes—those suns of wrath—locked onto Rondan.
> "You woke me… and now you will burn with me."
Rondan gritted his teeth, feeling his veins ignite with unbearable heat. His mark pulsed violently, the lines crawling up his arm and across his chest like living fire.
He could feel it—the will of Erythros pressing against his soul, trying to seize control.
Memories that weren't his began to flood in: a thousand years of divine conquest, the agony of imprisonment, the taste of godly blood.
> "Stop fighting," the voice boomed inside his mind. "Become my vessel. Together we will scorch the heavens and erase their false order."
Rondan dropped to one knee, the ground beneath him cracking. Sweat and blood mixed as his own aura erupted—a crimson blaze clashing against golden flame.
"No…" he hissed. "I won't be your puppet."
> "Then you'll die as a spark trying to defy a star."
The air quaked. A wave of divine fire crashed toward him. Rondan raised his sword—its edge glowing white-hot—as he slashed through the inferno. The impact sent him hurtling back, smashing through the ruins.
He rose again, coughing blood, but his eyes were blazing.
"Flames don't fear other flames."
He planted his sword into the ground. The mark on his arm exploded in light, spreading across his body in a web of fire. His aura began to twist—not consumed, but reshaped.
Erythros growled, a sound that shook the earth.
"What are you doing, mortal?"
"Taking back what's mine."
With a roar that shook the stars, Rondan leapt forward. The divine and the mortal flames collided, merging into a single cataclysmic sphere of light.
The world around them vanished in brilliance.
When the light faded, the colossal form of Erythros had begun to flicker—its essence pulled inward, drawn into Rondan's body.
> "Impossible…" the god's voice echoed, fading into the embers. "No mortal can contain me…"
Rondan's silhouette stood amidst the smoke, his eyes now twin infernos—one crimson, one gold.
He whispered, "Then I'll stop being mortal."
The wind howled.
The city of the chained gods was silent once more—except for the steady beat of a single heart that burned like a sun.