The final gate towered before them—taller, older, and colder than the rest.
Where the others had opened with ceremonial grace, this one growled open like a beast waking from slumber. A storm wind howled out, thick with the stench of burnt iron and static.
Dreyl didn't flinch.
He just cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and stepped through the threshold.
No words.
No warnings.
Saint and Viper stayed behind—there were no rules left to explain.
This trial… was for Dreyl alone.
The moment he crossed over, the ground beneath him changed. Gone were the bone platforms, the hanging vines, the ancient symbols.
Now he stood in a vast open plain of ash.
Grey skies thundered above, casting the world in flickering red light. Obsidian cliffs framed the horizon like teeth. And in the dead center of the scorched earth…
…stood a single figure.
A boy. His age. Maybe younger by a year or two.
Bare-chested. Wrapped hands. Black tattered pants. Crimson flame burned across his arms like tattoos come to life.
His back was to Dreyl.
But Dreyl already knew.
The feeling in his gut told him before the voice did.
"So… they finally sent you."
The boy turned.
His eyes burned red—just like Dreyl's.
But colder.
Wilder.
Unchained.
"You gonna say anything, brother?" the boy asked.
Dreyl's breath caught.
He had no memory of a brother. None. Not from Earth. Not from Hell. Not from the in-between where he'd spent most of his cursed life.
But he recognized the aura.
It was just like his.
More refined. More brutal.
"…Who the hell are you?" Dreyl asked, fists clenched.
The boy laughed. It was broken glass and wildfire. "Guess they kept it from you. Typical. Even Dad didn't want you knowing."
He stepped forward, slow and casual, but the earth cracked beneath his bare feet.
"My name… is Riven."
He raised his hand. Black flame curled around his fingers.
"First-born of the Devil. Your older brother."
The sky boomed above.
Dreyl didn't hesitate. "You're lying."
Riven grinned. "Try me."
And then he moved.
The ground exploded beneath him as Riven launched into the air, fists blazing, coming down with a brutal haymaker.
Dreyl met it—barehanded.
The clash sent shockwaves through the ash field, dust flying into the sky like a volcanic eruption. Both skidded back across the earth, digging trenches with their heels.
Dreyl wiped blood from his mouth, grinning now.
"You're fast," he muttered.
Riven rolled his neck. "You're slower than I expected. Kinda disappointing, baby brother."
Dreyl rushed in.
This time, he struck first—low sweep kick, uppercut, flame punch combo.
Riven parried two of them, tanked the third, and caught the fourth with a bare palm.
Then he twisted Dreyl's arm and headbutted him in the face.
Dreyl staggered back.
Riven didn't let up.
A knee to the gut. A hook to the jaw. Then a brutal burst of black aura that launched Dreyl across the field.
He hit the ground, skidding through ash and stone, coughing.
But he got back up.
"Not bad," Dreyl said, cracking his neck. "But if you're gonna claim to be my brother, you better hit harder than that."
Riven grinned wider.
"You want proof?"
He stabbed his hand into the ground.
From the ash, a chain burst upward—black metal, glowing with the same infernal aura Dreyl had always felt within himself.
The same kind he summoned from his ring.
He held up his chain now—glowing crimson, pulsing with rage.
Riven held his up—black, longer, jagged, spiked.
The two weapons reacted.
Twisting. Pulling toward each other like magnets.
Same blood.
Same power.
Dreyl's stomach sank.
"…No way."
"You think you're the only one cursed?" Riven said, eyes glowing hotter. "I was the first failed experiment. You're just the cleaner version. The one he hoped would survive."
Dreyl's fists trembled. The truth twisted in his gut like broken glass.
"What do you mean… failed?"
Riven's grin vanished.
"I mean I died, Dreyl. The moment I was born, my body rejected the blood. I wasn't strong enough to contain it. It broke me."
He raised his arms, showing the scar-tattoo flames etched into his skin.
"But I survived. Through pain. Through rage."
Riven's aura burst outward, creating a crater beneath his feet.
"I've waited in this hell-pit for years. Watching. Waiting. Knowing I'd face you."
Dreyl stepped forward. His eyes now glowing too—flickers of red lightning dancing in the whites.
"I didn't ask for this."
"Neither did I!" Riven roared. "But one of us walks out of here. And I'll be damned if it's the Devil's favourite."
The sky cracked open above them.
Bolts of red lightning rained down.
The battlefield shook.
Then, with matching cries, the two brothers charged.
Chain against chain. Flame against flame.
They clashed in the air, fists colliding, aura exploding outward in twin spirals of red and black.
Each strike carved into the earth.
Each movement screamed with fury and fire.
And for a moment—it looked even.
But Riven was faster.
And stronger.
He landed a brutal knee to Dreyl's ribs, then whipped his chain around Dreyl's neck midair, slamming him into the ground with a seismic crack.
Dreyl gasped, blood flying from his mouth.
Riven descended slowly, dragging the chain.
"Tell me, brother," he said coldly. "Did he ever once tell you my name?"
Dreyl didn't answer.
Riven leaned in, whispering in his ear.
"Of course not. Because I'm the one he abandoned. I'm the mistake."
Dreyl's hand twitched toward his chain, but it was kicked aside.
"I'm the one who should've been you."
Riven raised his hand, flame building.
Dreyl's eyes widened.
Then—
Boom.
Black fire erupted across the field.
The screen of ash blinded everything.
And as the smoke began to clear…
Riven stood tall, his arm smoldering.
Dreyl was gone.
Not dead.
Vanished.
A voice echoed from behind him.
"You made one mistake, Riven."
Riven turned.
Dreyl stood there—bloodied, battered… smiling.
"You hit me too hard."
He raised both hands.
The crimson aura flared.
His shadow widened.
Eyes glowing.
Then—
Chains burst from the earth, hundreds of them.
Twisting.
Howling.
Engulfing both brothers in a cyclone of fury.
And everything went white.
To be continued…