Jay ran like his old bones would break. Behind him, the rescued children flitted between his legs, coughing from smoke but alive. The road from Aurora to Biringan was long, but the light army guarded them. Aurora was only a nearby city — a safe haven where the kids first appeared after Jay cracked the prison wall. Now they were going home.
"Keep close," Jay told them, his voice rough. "Don't wander. Stay by the banners."
The children nodded. One of them held a small bundle — a torn toy. They were quiet, tired, but their eyes were bright with fear and relief. Jay felt the ache in his ribs again and forced his legs to keep moving. He had to get them home. He had to know that Luz and the others were safe.
At the front of the marching column, Den walked with purpose. He had argued with Jay earlier.
"I should go help my father," Den said to Jay while they walked. "Fuhkiko is fighting Julius. I can't just watch."
Jay looked at him, tired and steady. "Fuhkiko is a strong man, Den. He knows chains like we know breath. He can handle Julius. Your place now is with these kids and with Luz. If your father needs you later, he will call."
Den's jaw tightened. He wanted to stay. He wanted to help. But he also saw the small faces behind Jay — children who had lost so much. Slowly, Den nodded. "Alright. I follow you. But if—"
"If something happens, you run back," Jay said simply. "Understand?"
Den swallowed and agreed.
They passed hills and burned trees. Far away—beyond the ridge where the sky was lit by a war they could not ignore—Bin and Malakar fought like two storms. Their clash threw light and darkness over the land. Soldiers on both sides tried to keep distance. Everyone felt the world tilt.
On a thin mountain path above the ruined city, a figure sat in shadow beneath a pine. He watched the two brothers fighting below. He saw the shockwaves. He saw the villages tremble. He watched as fire and light turned homes into ash.
"Foolish fight," the man muttered to himself. His voice was low and cold. "You tear the world for your pride. Innocents die for your anger."
He stepped from the tree line and looked down at Argos. He did not move closer. He did not shout. He only watched as if measuring them, like a judge counting heartbeats.
"I will end them both," he said softly, almost a promise. Then he vanished into the pines like a ghost swallowed by fog.
Jay and the group did not see the watcher. They only hurried on.
---
Back closer to the ruined gate, chains screamed through air. Julius stood tall, his burning chains coiling like live iron. He laughed, sharp and bitter. Across from him stood Fuhkiko, Den's father, steady as an old mountain.
Julius spat out words like flames. "You always had it easy, brother. Father adored you. Everyone praised you. He made you his hero. I stood in his shadow, and he never called my name."
Fuhkiko's face did not move. He braced his palms on his twin blades — forged in their family style — and tightened his grip until his knuckles were white. "Family rules are not law to be broken, Julius," he said. "Our ancestors taught us to test, to protect, but not to use chains against our own. You know this."
"Protect?!" Julius barked. "You call that protection? They let me wait. They let me hunger for a word that never came. Father lost his sight long before he chose you. I asked, I begged, I fought to be noticed. You got it all for nothing. You got his hand. You got his respect. Why should I follow rules when the world stole my fate?"
Fuhkiko's eyes were iron. "Because we are not monsters, Julius. Because power taken by hatred becomes a curse. Father taught us to bind people, not burn them."
Julius's chains writhed. Sparks of fire licked outward. "Words," he spat. "I used to listen. But I learned to take. I learned to make them see me. First father. Then you. Then the boy you named your son. I will carve your name out of the world and make them all kneel before me."
Fuhkiko's voice broke, quiet and full of sorrow. "You are my brother. If you truly believe you will take everything—then you must die. Not for me… for what you were."
Julius laughed like a cracked bell. "I will kill you and take it. And after you, your son will follow."
They leapt together. Chains met chains. The sound was like thunder. Julius's chains burned hotter, wrapped in black flame that seared the air. He struck with speed and hate, each lash meant to shred bone and pride.
Fuhkiko blocked with calm. His chains were different — heavy, reinforced, tempered with old family secrets. Each link held weight and history. The burning chains hit and flew off, sparks scattering, but the links of Fuhkiko's chains did not break. He held steady.
"This won't work on me, brother," Fuhkiko said, grunting as he slammed the butt of his chain forward. "Our people forged these links to hold truth, not to burn friends."
Julius howled and drove his chains in a wide arc. Fuhkiko caught the chains, sliding his own through with precise pulls. For a moment the wind died.
"You should have asked me," Fuhkiko said quietly while their chains wrapped and unwrapped like a dance. "You should have said what you felt. We could have fixed this. Father's choice hurt you. I won't deny it. But killing me will not heal that wound."
Julius's face twisted. "You speak as if words will save you. I speak with force."
Fuhkiko's eyes focused, brimming with old grief. "If force is what it takes to wake you—then so be it."
They struck again and again. Chains collided, clanged, and sparks flew. The air around them shimmered with heat and light. Even at distance, Den felt the blow on his chest as if the world breathed in.
Den watched from behind a shattered wall, heart thudding. He could hear his father's voice and Julius's. He wanted to leap forward. He wanted to help. But Jay's steady hand on his shoulder held him back.
"Your father can fight," Jay said softly. "He fights for more than pride. He fights for family."
Den's eyes burned. "I know. I know I should be there. But I promised—"
"You promised to keep the kids alive," Jay said. "Keep that promise, Den. Be the man your father taught you to be."
Den swallowed hard. He watched the two brothers fight—one man full of rage and hurt, one man full of sorrow and duty. He watched his father hold ground. He watched Julius scream and lash and burn.
And he made a choice. He would not leave Biringan exposed. He would not let the kids be swept away. He would stand where Jay needed him.
A great crack sounded as chains snapped and met again. The fight would not end there. Flames and iron flew. Fathers and sons, brothers and strangers — all tangled in the long, ugly song of war.
Above them, the cloaked watcher watched still, making a silent plan. The fight below would burn many things before sunrise. And there would be other names to call, other debts to settle, before peace could be imagined.
Jay tightened his grip on the last child's hand and hurried on. Biringan waited ahead, tall and battered, a place to hold what survived. The road was long, and the night was not yet done.