The sky above them bled embers as Ryu and Luto landed on a floating obsidian cliff, its jagged edge crackling with heat. This was the Fyr Domain, a searing dimension caught between flowing lava rivers and constant eruptions—where fire itself had a will, and everything burned with purpose.
The path had been long.
A week of laying low. No cosmic signatures. No portals. Only drifting between unstable dimensions, sailing on shattered astral trails with minimal energy output. Ryu complained the entire time.
"Bro, if I have to eat one more grain-slab, I'm going to snap. We were gods of snacking and now we're chewing on dimensional cardboard."
Luto didn't respond. He was too focused—eyes constantly flicking across the fluctuating thermals, scanning for traps or sudden shifts in cosmic pull.
Caelren had mentioned a possible ally—The Sovereign of Scorch, a warlord who ruled this realm of flame with absolute command. If anyone could help them find a way to rescue Onyx and survive what was coming, it was him.
But the figure who approached them wasn't the sovereign.
He was massive—nine feet tall at least, coated in dark bronze skin and glowing ember tattoos that shimmered with internal heat. His eyes were pits of magma, and on his back rested a greatsword shaped like a molten fang.
"This is sovereign land. Speak your purpose or perish."
Ryu raised his hands casually.
"We're just passing through—got invited by your boss."
The guardian's blade flared.
"Prove it."
Luto sighed and stepped forward, resting his hand on the hilt of his upgraded kaskara sword, Nulvyr.
"Of course… it's never simple."
"Let me handle him," Luto muttered.
"What, and rob me of the fire show?" Ryu smirked, stepping back.
The guardian lunged.
Meanwhile: In the Halls of The Divine
The divine amphitheater pulsed with auric light. The Seven Voices—the most powerful beings in existence—floated around a projected construct of Deravak's core. Sentences folded across multiple languages simultaneously.
Above them flickered a hologram of Onyx the Voidwraith, chained to his own shadow. Unmoving. Staring into nothing.
"The bait is prepared," spoke the Voice of Fate.
"If the other two anomalies appear during the execution, they will be pulled into the Wraith Seal Zone—a temporal snare."
"There, they will face their brother alone."
A minor god scoffed.
"They're brothers. They won't fight."
"Then they will die," said Azroth, his voice cold. "And Onyx will live."
A masked decree priest transmitted the command through the divine matrix. In his cell, Onyx heard only one whisper, like poison in his mind:
"If any anomalies appear… kill them. And you may live."
His void-black eyes flickered. A single tear—memory or hallucination—fell and vanished in the heat. But his expression remained blank.
Back in the Fyr Domain
The guardian dragged the massive Molten Fang sword across the floor, liquefying the stone. He moved like thunder given form.
CLANG!
Luto met the strike head-on. Nulvyr glowed silver-blue, slicing through heatwaves in a perfect arc. Sparks hissed and bent the air around them.
"Ryu. Don't just stand there."
"I'm observing," Ryu said while biting into a fire-fruit. "Very fluid form… I'd give him an 8 out of 10 on dramatics."
The guardian swung again, this time unleashing a tidal wave of heat. Luto slid back, boots sparking against obsidian.
"He's strong," Luto admitted. "But not invincible."
Ryu grinned.
"Time to get spicy."
In a blink, he vanished—reappearing mid-air and slamming his heel into the guardian's sword. The impact cratered the ground. Ryu followed with a flurry of palm strikes, each one launching kinetic echoes that popped like magma bubbles.
The guardian slid back, smirking.
"You dance well, stranger."
"Thanks. Luto taught me."
"No I didn't," Luto muttered.
But the Flames Knew More Than They Let On
The lava began to move unnaturally—rivers twisting in a spiral around a jagged temple deep in the basin. Something was awakening beneath the molten skin of the world.
"Ryu," Luto said.
"Yeah… I feel it too."
From the edge of the caldera, glyphs flared—Titanic runes, older than the gods. The guardian froze mid-strike, blade hovering inches from Ryu.
"That seal… it shouldn't activate."
Suddenly, a colossal column of black fire burst from the center of the caldera—like ink bleeding across the sun. A silhouette stood within, half-formed.
Ryu tensed. Sweat trickled despite his high heat resistance.
"That's not a summon," Luto said.
"No," the guardian whispered. "That's a buried will. One the Sovereign sealed long ago."
The Caldera's Whisper: "He has returned."
A voice emerged from the fire—not through ears, but through memory:
"Where is the boy who bears the Crownless Flame…?"
Luto's eyes widened.
"It's not looking at us. It's looking at you."
From the inferno emerged a being of chained molten armor and scorched bone. Its eyes—pure white—locked onto Ryu.
"So the bloodline wasn't erased after all…"
Ryu blinked.
"Yo. I don't remember subscribing to creepy commentary. Who are you?"
"I am the one your power once destroyed. And I've burned… to return the favor."
Luto grabbed Ryu's shoulder.
"That's a Myros-Class Remnant—a godkiller. Before the gods."
"Why does that sound really bad?"
"Because if it recognizes you… your power is more ancient than we thought."
"You've been burning for centuries just to fight me?"
Ryu cracked his knuckles, then smirked.
"That's adorable. I barely warmed up."