Chapter 968 – The Seed and the Starfire
Kael
At first, there was only the hum — a deep, endless vibration that shook the void around him. He couldn't tell if he was breathing, or if breath even mattered anymore. His body had been erased; his soul burned to a whisper.
Then he saw it.
A seed. Small. Suspended in the dark.
It pulsed with crimson light — his light.
The hum deepened.
The seed split open.
From within, roots burst out like lightning veins, threading through the black. A trunk followed, ancient and raw, its bark dark as obsidian and veins glowing faintly with molten chaos. The branches stretched in every direction, piercing the void with blinding, blood-red light.
Kael felt it. Every root, every limb, every leaf. It was him.
The Daemon Lord Seedling — finally awake.
His mind flooded with sensation — power ancient and feral, coursing like wildfire through his veins. His heart began to beat again, each pulse shaking the unseen ground beneath him.
Then came the pain.
He opened his eyes.
He was back on the battlefield — his body nailed to the earth, the god's burning hand still lodged in his chest, divine light searing straight through muscle and bone. The world quaked around them, molten glass bubbling beneath the divine radiance.
Kael gritted his teeth, coughed blood, and muttered through his pain in his ancestral tongue — the rough, guttural speech of daemon lords long past.
"Vrak'shar… ten va'ithal… ael'kur draen va'rahl…"
The words dripped with venom.
You overgrown lantern of arrogance.
The god froze, its radiant expression flickering. "You speak the forbidden tongue?"
Kael's eyes opened fully now, burning like twin stars. "Better than you ever did, you gilded corpse."
With a surge of chaos, his hand shot up and grabbed the god's forearm — the same divine limb buried in his chest. Kael twisted, his claws igniting with seething energy.
"Let me return the favor."
He ripped the arm free, his body healing as fast as it tore. Flesh knitted. Bone regrew. The hole in his chest filled with black fire, sealing shut until only a glowing scar remained.
The god roared, retreating a step — its own arm now dissolving into divine motes. But before the god could react further, Kael moved.
Faster than before.
Stronger than before.
Threefold the strength — the power of the awakened tree coursing through him like a storm given flesh.
The god blinked once. That was all the time Kael needed.
One strike.
Then another.
Each blow thundered like a mountain shattering.
"You dare challenge divinity?" the god thundered, regrowing its arm with blinding light.
Kael spat to the side, crimson flames burning in his wake. He replied again in the divine tongue — this time fluent, his voice rumbling with an otherworldly resonance.
"Draen var hal'thar tuun."
(You bleed like any mortal.)
Their powers collided, divine light against chaos flame. The world around them distorted, sky cracking like glass, the air itself breaking under the strain.
And then Kael smiled — wide, bloodied, and wild.
Lyria and Eris
Far from the epicenter, the Hollow's survivors knelt in the darkened woods. The air still trembled with the echoes of godly power, and the horizon burned like dawn made of fire.
Lyria clasped her hands, her usually calm voice breaking. "Please, Kael… come back to us…"
Beside her, Eris's face was pale, her glowing eyes dim with worry. "He's fighting something beyond us… something I cannot comprehend."
Lyria lowered her head, her hands shaking. "He always said no god or king should decide the worth of a man. But this…" she whispered, tears streaking her cheeks. "He's not fighting for pride this time. He's fighting to protect us."
Eris hesitated, then copied her — kneeling, pressing her hands together. "Then… I'll pray too."
Her voice, though mechanical at first, softened into something human. "Kael… you said gods and daemons are both bound by their own nature. Please… prove to me that mortals can rise beyond either."
Their words traveled — unseen but not unheard.
Kael
The battle paused for the briefest heartbeat as the god prepared another radiant strike. Kael's vision flickered, blood dripping from his jaw.
Then he heard it.
Two voices — distant but clear — calling out through the void of war.
Lyria.
Eris.
The prayers cut through everything — the fire, the noise, the pain. They anchored him. Strengthened him.
Kael stood taller, his chaos aura erupting into a spiral of dark fire and light interwoven — two colors, two voices, two souls that refused to let him fall.
He looked up at the god, smirk curling his bloodied lips.
"You hear that?" he said, his voice calm now, almost gentle. "That's faith."
He raised his sword, every word humming with raw power as he slipped into the divine language one last time.
"Vraeth'lar al toren draekhal."
(Now let's see which god they remember.)
The ground split open.
The air shattered.
And Kael, the Daemon Lord of Chaos, lunged back into the light.