The bone-masked figures stood still as statues, radiating menace like a funeral at a fireworks show.
Kairon felt the heat building in his chest, the godseed pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. Fire crept up his arms, golden and wild, casting flickering shadows across the cracked stones of the ruins. Beside him, Vela summoned her veil-flame—blue smoke wrapping around her like a second skin, masking the edges of her body in shimmering distortion.
'Okay, okay, don't panic. Just three creepy armored zealots demanding submission. This is fine. Totally manageable. Just breathe. And try not to die.'
"You had your chance," the masked leader said again. The voice wasn't a sound—it was a scraping sensation inside their skulls, like a whisper from the bottom of a well.
And then they attacked.
The first two figures lunged, silent and fast. One went for Vela, blades unfolding from its wrists like mantis limbs. The other leapt at Kairon, cloak trailing behind it like smoke.
Kairon didn't think—he burned.
A wave of radiant fire surged from his core, forcing the attacker back. The figure twisted in midair, landing with impossible grace. No footsteps. No voice. Just movement like a marionette without strings.
'Okay, that was cool. Do it again. Less screaming this time.'
He ducked a slash, the blade cutting through air with a hiss. He countered with a burst of fire, shaping it into a spear mid-motion. It hit the masked figure square in the chest, exploding in a flash of heat and gold.
The figure staggered but didn't fall.
"Of course you're fireproof," Kairon muttered. "Why wouldn't you be?"
Meanwhile, Vela fought like a ghost. She flowed around attacks, her blade appearing and vanishing with flickers of blue light. Each strike left glowing lines on her opponent's armor, like burning scars.
"This isn't their first raid," she shouted. "They're Hunters! Seed-killers!"
"Well that's reassuring!" Kairon yelled back. "How many of them are there?"
"No idea. But if we die here, the answer becomes zero."
The leader finally moved.
One moment it was standing behind the other two. The next, it was in front of Kairon, fist slamming into his chest with the force of a landslide. He flew backward, skidding across the stone floor, fire sputtering as pain blossomed across his ribs.
The godseed flared in protest. Golden veins lit beneath his skin.
'That one hurt. Okay. That's it. No more Mr. Nice Blacksmith.'
Kairon rose, fingers sparking. He closed his eyes, focused—not on rage, but on clarity. Heat obeyed thought. Flame bent to will.
His arms ignited.
He dashed forward, leaving burning footprints in his wake, fists wreathed in divine fire. He punched. The leader blocked. Fire and bone met with a thunderous crack. Stone shattered beneath them.
Vela joined him, slashing with a veil-blade that burned like silence itself. They moved together—improvised, uncoordinated, desperate.
But effective.
Together, they knocked the leader back. For the first time, it faltered.
"I grow tired of this," it said. It raised one hand—and from the trees around them, more figures stepped into view. A dozen. Two dozen. All masked. All silent.
Kairon's heart sank. 'Oh come on. There's a backup choir of death monks? That's just rude.'
Vela gritted her teeth. "We're not winning this."
"Could've said that five minutes ago!"
Then something changed.
The air trembled. The trees shook. And from the edge of the forest, a wave of blue lightning crashed into the nearest Hunter, sending it flying like a rag doll.
A figure emerged from the smoke—tall, hooded, staff crackling with energy.
"You're late," Vela snapped.
The newcomer shrugged. "Fashionably. You know how it is."
Kairon blinked. "Friend of yours?"
"Depends if he gets us out of this alive."
With the newcomer's arrival, the tide shifted. Arcs of energy danced through the ruins. Hunters were blasted apart, scattered like leaves in a storm. Kairon fought beside Vela and the mage, fire and veil and lightning weaving a symphony of chaos.
But the leader was still standing.
Still watching.
Finally, it raised its hand—and the other Hunters retreated, vanishing into mist and shadow.
Kairon lowered his fists slowly. "They're just… leaving?"
"For now," Vela said grimly. "They never attack twice in the same day."
"Well that's convenient."
The hooded newcomer approached and pulled down his hood—a young man with a wild mane of silver hair and sharp eyes that glowed faintly green.
"Name's Aelric," he said. "Godseed of the Stormfather. Nice to meet you, Emberlight."
Kairon frowned. "Wait, how do you know—"
"You glow," Aelric said, pointing to his chest. "All Scions do. Not to mortals, but to each other. Think of it as... divine spam detection."
'Wonderful. I'm a walking magical torch for every divine weirdo out there.'
They retreated to a cave nearby—Aelric's hideout, apparently. Inside were maps, journals, weapons, and an unholy amount of half-eaten fruit. The place smelled like ozone and stubbornness.
As they rested, Vela explained more.
The godseeds were fragments of divine power left after the Fall—when the gods died, their thrones shattered. Some seeds found mortals strong enough to inherit them. Those mortals became Scions.
Some, like Kairon, inherited benevolent gods. Others... did not.
"The Hunters are tools," Vela said. "Sent by the Masked Court. They want to erase the Cycle. Wipe the slate clean. No gods. No Scions. Just silence."
"And what's their deal with masks?" Kairon asked. "Is it like, a dress code?"
Aelric smirked. "You're funny. I like you."
"Thanks. I bleed when I'm stabbed, too. Very relatable."
Aelric grew serious. "You're strong, Kairon. But you're raw. You need training. Control. The godseed inside you is ancient. Dangerous."
"And I'm supposed to just... become a god someday?" Kairon asked.
"No," Vela said. "You're supposed to survive long enough to choose."
A silence settled over them.
Then Aelric added, "The Infinite Throne is real. At the end of this path, only one Scion can ascend it. And the others..."
"Die?" Kairon asked.
"If they're lucky."
---
Later that night, unable to sleep, Kairon stepped outside the cave. The wind whispered across the cliffs, carrying distant howls and the scent of ash.
He looked up at the stars.
'So this is it. From blacksmith to pawn in a god war. All I wanted was a quiet life. Maybe open a forge. Have a dog.'
The seed pulsed again—warm, steady.
'You picked the wrong guy,' he thought. 'I'm not a hero. I just hit things with metal.'
A voice answered—not in words, but in feeling. A presence ancient and flickering.
Not wrong. Just early.
Behind him, a figure moved in the dark.
He turned—and saw another Scion.
Alone. Watching. Cloaked in black. Eyes glowing violet.
"Who—" Kairon started.
The stranger lifted a hand.
The world exploded in violet flame.
---
The violet flames roared like a furious storm, swallowing the cave's entrance in waves of searing light. Kairon barely had time to shield his face before the blast hurled him backward, chest burning with the aftershock of divine power.
He hit the jagged rocks hard, the wind knocked out of him. His vision swam in shades of purple and gold, flickering between the glow of the godseed in his chest and the smoldering remnants of flame at the cave's mouth.
When the smoke cleared, the cloaked figure stood at the edge of the ruins, eyes glowing with eerie violet light.
"Who—" Kairon gasped, but the figure's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"I am Seris," the stranger said, voice calm and cold. "Veiled Scion. Hunter turned hunted."
Vela and Aelric appeared behind Kairon, weapons ready, eyes sharp.
"Veiled Scion?" Vela repeated, disbelief twisting her lips. "You were... one of them?"
Seris nodded slowly. "Once. I wore their masks, executed their will. But I saw the truth. The Masked Court isn't cleansing the Cycle—they're enslaving it. And soon, none of us will be free."
Kairon struggled to his feet, burning ribs protesting. 'Great. Just when I was getting comfortable with 'possible death by flame,' now it's 'possible betrayal by godspawn.''
"What do you want?" Kairon asked, fire flaring weakly in his palms.
"To warn you," Seris said. "The Court has dispatched a hunter for each seed. Soon, they'll come for you all. One by one."
Aelric frowned. "How do we fight something that's always watching?"
Seris's eyes gleamed. "By turning the hunt into a war."
She stepped forward, lowering her hood. Her face was pale, almost translucent, and her eyes—so violet they seemed unreal—held a story of pain and rebellion.
"I'll help you. But first, you need to know what you're truly up against."
---
That night, around a fire smoldering with blue embers, Seris told them everything.
She spoke of the Masked Court, an ancient order born from the ruins of the gods' fall. Their mission was no longer to protect the world, but to control it—by erasing the power of the Scions and ending the Cycle forever.
"They believe no mortal should wield divine power," Seris said, voice low. "But their methods are brutal. They hunt us like animals."
Kairon listened, mind racing. 'So it's not just about power or glory. It's a cosmic war on everyone who's alive. No pressure.'
Vela's hand found his. "We're not alone anymore."
'Good,' Kairon thought. 'Because I'm really bad at solo heroics.'
---
Over the next days, their small group trained harder than ever.
Aelric taught Kairon to harness the storm energy pulsing faintly in his veins, combining it with Emberlight's fire to create devastating combos. Vela sharpened his combat skills, pushing him past his limits until his body felt like molten steel and burning ash.
Seris taught them to listen—to the whispers of the godseeds, to the rhythms of the world, and to the silence before the storm.
Kairon learned that power was not just destruction—it was control, restraint, and will.
One evening, as twilight bled into night, Kairon sat alone outside the cave, staring into the flickering flames.
The seed inside him hummed softly. A voice, clear and strong, spoke without words.
You are not alone.
He looked up to the stars, searching for answers.
'Maybe one day, I'll sit on the Infinite Throne. Or maybe I'll just survive long enough to tell the story.'
Suddenly, the air shimmered beside him.
A shadow moved. Not human.
A whisper of smoke.
From the darkness, a pair of violet eyes glowed.
"Looking for me?"