Night draped itself over the wasteland like a heavy, star-stained cloak. Kael's boots dug into the cracked earth, every step crunching against dust that had not felt rain for centuries. The wind whistled a single song: loneliness. But Kael had grown used to it. Loneliness had raised him like a second father.
His cloak fluttered behind him as he walked under a sky glowing silver. He finally stopped near a bare patch of ground where the warmth still lingered beneath the soil. Exhaustion hit him like a hammer. He sat, leaned against his bundle, and closed his eyes.
Sleep arrived fast.
Inside Kael's mind, a divine voice echoed like thunder rolling through the cosmos.
"Veldurs…"
Shadows formed into visions: monstrous figures descending on Earth from the heavens. Not angels. Not demons. Something worse.
They stood tall, grey-skinned with bone-like armor plating their faces. They arrived when humans still crawled in the mud. They enslaved early humanity, forcing them to mine, fight, and die for their alien empire hidden beneath the crust of the planet.
The voice continued.
"When the Veldurs took dominion, hope had no light. Humanity would have suffered forever. Until… a Valeryan emerged."
Kael saw fiery wings, a golden mask reflecting godlike power. That ancient warrior drove the Veldurs underground and sealed their existence deep under the Earth, erasing their memory from human minds so humans could evolve without fear. But the Veldurs had not forgotten. They were waiting.
And now… the gods had birthed Kael to finish the fight.
Kael jolted awake, breathing hard.
Morning sunlight warmed his face as a quiet voice whispered into his head:
"It was not a dream…"
Kael stared at his trembling hands. That voice. That prophecy. That truth. His destiny was not a bedtime story. It was a countdown.
He rose, brushed dirt off himself, and resumed walking.
Hours passed. No birds. No water. Just a lifeless desert spread to the horizon like an endless punishment. Eventually, sharp cliffs towered before him. He strapped his cloak tight and began climbing.
The rock face slashed his palms. Gravel slipped under his boots. But he continued. Because failure wasn't an option. A Valeryan didn't stop until his bones refused to move.
After almost five hours of brutal ascent, he finally reached a ridge. Kael collapsed for a moment, ate a few silver berries from his pouch, and drank the tiniest sip of water. His creature companion (the silver-furred fluff named Sylph) curled beside him, offering warmth with a soft glow of fur.
Kael whispered, "We have no time. The world doesn't wait."
He stood, stretched his aching muscles, and began climbing the opposite side downward.
Halfway down, Kael froze.
In the distance… an iron gate taller than any castle wall scraped the horizon. Rusted… but unbroken. A symbol of a flame-wreathed warrior marked the entrance.
Kael's heart pounded. He recognized it.
The Tomb of Dracel.
Legend said Dracel was a warrior forged in hellfire. An unkillable beast. The only man who ever defeated him was Fujimura, but even he had paid a price: his soul taken by a demon just to win.
And Fujimura had waited centuries only for Kael… to pass the sword so his soul could finally depart this cursed world.
Kael placed a hand on the hilt of Fujimura's katana. The metal hummed like it sensed danger approaching.
The sun dipped toward evening as Kael reached the gate. The air shifted… heavier… like the desert itself was afraid.
He pushed the gate open. Screeching metal echoed through the endless silence.
The tomb swallowed him whole.
Dust silenced his footsteps. Torches sputtered to life on their own as he walked deeper, flames illuminating the stone walls etched with battles Kael could barely imagine. Sylph hid inside his hood, trembling.
Finally, Kael reached the heart of the tomb. A sarcophagus lay cracked open. On its lid… resting like a prize… the third fragment of the mask: the right eye. It pulsed with faint, ancient power.
Kael stepped forward and reached out.
A chilling laugh ripped through the chamber like claws dragging across bone.
Stone crumbled. The corpse inside the sarcophagus sat up. Eyes ignited in blazing crimson.
Dracel.
"Not that easily, little godling…" His voice was a growl soaked in molten fury.
Kael stepped back, katana drawn. "I came for the fragment. Nothing else."
Dracel smirked, teeth like charred steel. "You think destiny bends to desire? No. Destiny demands sacrifice."
He snapped his fingers.
The world shattered.
Suddenly, Kael was standing beneath a red sky on a planet that burned. Rivers of lava cut through the blackened soil like veins of a dying titan. Dracel's flaming greatsword hovered behind him, dripping molten sparks.
"This is my domain. My strength. My rules." Dracel spread his arms wide. "You want the fragment? Escape this hell. Defeat me. Survive."
Kael wasn't scared. Fear died the day Erik did. Kael leaped forward, blade slicing for Dracel's neck.
The katana passed right through him like smoke.
Dracel's laugh echoed. "So predictable. So weak."
A flaming punch smashed Kael across the chest. He rolled across the scorching ground, steam rising from his armor. Sylph whimpered inside the hood, barely hanging on.
Kael bit his lip, tasting blood. He examined his sword. Physical attacks wouldn't work. Dracel wasn't a man anymore. He was a soul of fire.
He closed his eyes.
Use your mind. Not just muscle.
Kael remembered a simple truth: every flame needs air.
Dracel's fire… still depended on something to burn.
Kael stood tall and stared dead into Dracel's molten eyes. "You brag too much."
Dracel rushed forward, sword swinging arcs of heat. Kael dodged left, rolled beneath the blade, then grabbed Dracel by the throat. Divine strength surged through Kael like lightning.
Dracel's eyes widened. "Impossible. A child?"
"No. A Valeryan."
Kael launched them both upward in a single impossible leap. The atmosphere tore away. Flames began to flicker and die.
Dracel screamed.
Then space claimed him. Without air, without fuel, his fire soul turned into stardust. Cosmic radiation burned what remained. His body disintegrated with one final echo of rage.
Kael fell.
The world flickered again.
He was back inside the tomb, gasping, hand still clutching the fragment. Sylph bounced out of his hood, chirping anxiously.
Kael pressed the fragment against his mask. The pieces fused, glowing brighter than the sun. The mask tightened on his face with new power, and Kael felt a surge of strength pulse through every cell of his body.
Only one-third completed… yet already unstoppable.
Kael exhaled, steady and cold.
He turned toward the exit without celebration. Because one thing was certain now:
The Veldurs were coming back.
And Earth wasn't ready.