Chapter Two: One Spark Survives
The air cracked with sudden pressure.
The man who stepped from the shadows didn't roar. He didn't posture. He simply moved—and the battlefield trembled.
One of the Abyss zealots blinked. In that instant, the man in white vanished.
CRACK.
The first attacker was sent flying, crashing through a burning wall in a spray of debris.
Another zealot turned, trying to swing his glaive, but a blur of movement swept past him.
WHAM!
An open palm slammed into his chest, sending him skidding backward across the courtyard like a skipping stone. His weapon flew from his hands. He didn't get back up.
The man stood again in the center of the firelight, barely winded. Frost curled from his boots and fingertips. His blue hair glowed faintly under the moonlight, and in his golden eyes—pure intent.
"Who are you?" one of the remaining zealots demanded, voice shaking.
The stranger tilted his head.
"Name's Caelum."
He raised his hands and exhaled. The temperature dropped instantly. A fine layer of frost slithered across the ground.
"You attacked a place that housed children," he said. "I'm not feeling merciful."
One of the zealots growled and rushed forward, greatsword swinging in an arc of black fire.
Caelum sidestepped it like it was slow motion, palm striking the attacker's elbow mid-swing—snap—and then hammering a frost-coated fist into his gut.
The zealot vomited blood and collapsed.
Another leapt over the rubble behind him, twin daggers flashing with shadow mana.
Caelum spun. Ice formed along his forearm as he parried one dagger, then the next, then kicked upward.
His boot met the attacker's jaw. The man flipped midair and landed in a heap.
Only two remained.
One was tall and armored in layered obsidian with glowing red cracks pulsing through his skin. A war hammer crackled with crimson lightning in his hands.
The other was small—cloaked, hood pulled low, standing still at the edge of the chaos.
Caelum's eyes flicked between them. "Let me guess. You're the muscle," he said to the armored one, "and you're the one with the shiny toy."
The cloaked zealot smiled under his hood and held up a glowing object—a relic, shaped like a shard of crystal flame, humming with dark energy.
Orion, slumped against the wall, gasped. His vision swam, blood still seeping from the wound in his side. But he clung to consciousness, eyes locked on the battlefield.
The one with the war hammer roared and charged.
BOOM.
The ground split beneath him with each step. He brought the hammer down like a meteor.
Caelum raised one hand, fingers glowing white-blue.
CLANG!
Frost exploded outward in a shockwave as hammer met open palm.
Dust and debris flew in all directions.
When it cleared, the two were locked in place—Caelum holding the hammer's head in one hand, unmoved.
He raised his other hand and touched the zealot's chest.
"Sleep."
A burst of freezing light surged from his palm, engulfing the attacker in a sheath of holy frost. The zealot staggered back, encased from neck to toe, struggling—but then fell over with a thud.
Only the cloaked zealot remained.
He didn't run.
He lifted the relic, and darkness rippled outward.
The air bent.
Shadow gates tore open around him, and from their swirling centers emerged three Abyss-born summons—demonic beasts with jagged limbs, mouths of flame, and eyes like pits of hell.
Orion's breath caught.
Even Caelum took a step back, expression cooling.
"Alright," he muttered. "You want a real fight."
He brought his palms together. A soft chime rang out, like bells in a cathedral.
Divine Frost: Mirror Bloom.
A massive sigil lit beneath his feet, and five glowing runes spiraled around him. Behind his back, a shimmering halo of frost-formed blades appeared, each suspended in midair.
The demons attacked.
The first—a giant with claws of molten stone—lunged.
Caelum raised one hand, fingers spread.
A frost blade launched.
It struck the creature square in the chest and exploded into spears of ice that pinned it to the wall behind.
The second beast, serpent-like and wreathed in smoke, tried to slither low and bite from below.
Caelum raised a foot and stomped.
Ice exploded outward in a shockwave—Frozen Domain.
The serpent froze mid-lunge, encased in crystal, then shattered from within by a second flying blade.
The third demon, airborne with wings of ash, screamed and dove.
Caelum smirked.
He leapt straight up to meet it.
In midair, their clash was a ballet of light and death. The demon's claws missed by inches. Caelum twisted mid-spin and drove his fist—now wrapped in pure white lightning—into the creature's chest.
BOOM.
It disintegrated into ash and shadow.
He landed lightly.
The cloaked zealot stared in stunned silence, breathing hard.
Caelum took a step forward. "You're out of tricks."
"No," the zealot hissed. "You just don't understand…"
He held the relic close and whispered something.
The relic pulsed.
A tear opened in space—a shadow gate—and the zealot sprinted toward it.
"No you don't," Caelum growled.
He hurled a frost spear.
It missed by inches.
The zealot vanished into the gate. It collapsed behind him.
Caelum swore under his breath, then turned.
The battlefield had gone still. Embers floated through the air like snowflakes from a cursed winter.
And among the ashes—
A boy.
Caelum rushed to Orion's side and dropped to one knee.
The wound was bad. The blood loss worse.
But the boy was alive.
Just barely.
"Stay with me," Caelum whispered, pressing a glowing palm to the gash.
Holy frost flowed from his hand—cooling, sealing, stabilizing. Not a full heal, but enough to stop the bleeding.
Orion groaned faintly. His golden eyes fluttered open.
"Who… who are you…?" he rasped.
Caelum hesitated. "...A friend."
He scooped Orion up into his arms, standing slowly.
Around them, the orphanage was no more—just broken beams, burned-out walls, and smoldering silence.
Orion looked back weakly, tears brimming.
"They're all gone."
Caelum said nothing at first.
Then quietly, "You're not."
He turned toward the distant lights on the horizon— Sanctaris city.
Without another word, he began to walk.