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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5 — A Whisper Beneath the Stars

The cosmos had shifted.

 

Whispers scattered across galaxies like embers on the wind—carried by those who still dared to speak against the divine. Across collapsing moons and fractured altars, only one truth remained constant:

 

The gods feared something.

 

And that something now had a name.

 

Two brothers.

Drifters.

Symbols.

Weapons.

 

But once—they were just boys.

 

 

Ten years had passed.

 

Ten years of endless battles, cryptic teachings, and dimensions warped by conflict. And now, Ryu and Luto stood at the cusp of something greater. No longer fugitives or students… but forgers of a new myth.

 

Ryu, now twenty-two, carried himself with a wildness veined in purpose. His dreadlocks were longer, twisting like stellar storms. His grin still existed—careless, chaotic—but it masked the echoes of something ancient beneath. Something even their master, Caelivar, couldn't name.

 

That something, once called Ember Vow, had a truer name.

 

The Crimson Vein.

 

It ran through his bloodstream like molten sunfire—erratic, explosive, adaptive. It surged to life when emotion struck like a war drum. On his journey, Ryu had discovered its origins not through training…

 

…but through fire.

 

On a planet called Pyrrhion, known to the cosmos as The Eternal Blaze, the brothers arrived seeking shelter—and left with revelation.

 

A world of burning soil, lava rivers, and skies painted in wildfire orange. Its people were not a civilization but a clan. They didn't worship gods.

 

They worshipped flame.

 

Not as destruction… but as divine memory.

 

When the Pyrrhians saw Ryu's power, they knelt—not in fear, but reverence.

 

They called it The Crimson Vein—not an ability, but a blessing.

 

A gift from an unnamed Creator—one they claimed existed before the gods, one who gave fire as a reminder, not a weapon. A fragment of something that still lived, perhaps… or had died igniting the first star.

 

But that was all they knew.

 

The rest was lost in time, burned into myths carried only in song.

 

 

Since then, Ryu's battle style had evolved—becoming what he called:

 

Gravity Mirage.

 

A blend of chaotic impact and impossible movement. He could collapse the ground with a single leap or bounce between broken realms like skipping stones. Misdirection laced with cataclysm. Trickster and calamity.

 

But he wasn't alone.

 

Luto had changed, too.

 

Now twenty-two, he stood sharper than a blade wrapped in logic. His silver eyes no longer searched—they calculated. Every battle was a test. Every moment, a potential simulation.

 

His style: Echelon Logic.

 

A dance of prediction, dismantling, and spatial cruelty. He wielded a hex-blade that hummed with dimensional code, supported by Snare Rings that fractured terrain, sealed techniques mid-cast, or disoriented enemies within collapsing proximity fields.

 

He'd even begun experimenting with opening dimensional rifts, though only between nearby star systems. He hadn't mastered it fully yet—each rift left strain on his body—but it was progress. Dangerous, uncharted progress.

 

He also still carried snacks.

 

Always.

 

 

Now they stood before a lone temple, cloaked in the umbra of a dying red star.

 

The structure had no doors—only whispers.

 

Cracks lined its walls like scars, and the scent of scorched time hung heavy in the air.

 

Luto ran his fingers along the markings, eyes narrowed. "This language predates most divine records."

 

Ryu looked up at the strange constellations etched above. "You ever wonder if temples are just graves with ambition?"

 

"No. Because you always say dumb stuff like that before touching cursed things."

 

"Just say you're scared," Ryu smirked.

 

"I'm not scared. I'm annoyed."

 

They stepped deeper, the temple humming beneath their feet. Then… it revealed itself.

 

A wall—scorched black by something ancient—held a carving that burned without flame:

 

"Beware the Hand of No Soul.

The Executioner walks."

 

Beneath that…

 

A name.

 

ONYX. THE VOIDWRAITH.

 

 

Ryu froze.

 

His fists clenched. His heartbeat echoed in his ears.

 

"That's not him. That's not who he is."

 

Luto stared at the name, expression unreadable. "Maybe not anymore."

 

The air shimmered—Ryu's frustration distorting gravity around them in a subtle pulse.

 

"You're floating again," Luto noted dryly.

 

Ryu let out a long breath, grounding himself. "Sorry."

 

"Don't be. Just remember why we're here."

 

"I am," Ryu said quietly. "I'm going to find him. Even if the whole multiverse calls him a monster… I'll bring him back."

 

"To do that, we'll need more than fists and feelings."

 

Ryu cracked a grin. "That's where you come in."

 

Luto rolled his eyes. "I hate you."

 

"Love you too."

 

 

That night, they left the temple behind.

 

Not as wanderers.

 

But as men with a vendetta.

 

Not just to find Onyx.

Not just to rescue him.

But to remind the gods why they feared what they could not control.

 

The stars above blinked in approval… or warning.

 

 

As they traveled onward, the space around them began to shift—subtle at first.

 

A neon haze thickened in the cosmic air. Fluorescent streaks licked the edges of their path like rumors in light.

 

Ryu raised an eyebrow. "You sure this is the right route?"

 

Luto tapped his map crystal. "Welcome to the dimension known as Veltraxis."

 

Ryu blinked. "Sounds… festive."

 

"Famous for its food. And secrets. And possibly assassination markets."

 

"Perfect."

 

They didn't know it yet, but Veltraxis would be where the next storm began.

 

Where whispers hid in the steam rising from alien food carts…

And old regrets resurfaced through glasses clinked in dim-lit taverns.

 

And somewhere in that mess…

 

A clue waited.

 

To Onyx.

To the gods.

To the endgame.

 

To the truth.

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