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The road toward the volcanoes was jagged and harsh, carved from black stone and ash. Molten rivers pulsed faintly in the distance, their orange glow cracking through the darkness like veins of fire. The air was heavy with heat, sulfur filling the lungs with every breath. Each step up the steep, rocky slope sent pebbles tumbling into the abyss below.
Yaman's boots crunched on the volcanic gravel as he ran, his shotgun bouncing against his back. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the fiery horizon where the volcanoes roared like beasts in slumber.
Behind him, Fernando's heavy footsteps echoed, firm and relentless. His voice tore through the smoke-filled night.
"Yaman! Stop running! This path doesn't lead to justice—it leads to your grave!"
Yaman didn't look back. His breath was ragged, but his anger kept him going.
"You think I care? Let me die then! At least I'll die fighting instead of sitting at home like a coward!"
Fernando's teeth clenched as he climbed faster, the heat stinging his skin. He could see his son's silhouette against the glow of the volcano, small but burning with reckless fire.
"You think this is strength? Charging headfirst into a guild like Cerberus? They'll tear you apart! And when you fall, your death won't save anyone—it will only break your mother's heart!"
Yaman slowed for a moment, his fists tightening, then turned his head slightly. The glow of the lava reflected in his eyes.
"Then what do you want me to do, Father? Sit and watch them butcher families in the streets? Watch as they burn stalls and take children from their mothers? I can't! I won't!"
The ground rumbled beneath them, a low tremor from the belly of the volcano. Steam hissed from cracks in the earth, curling around them like ghostly hands.
Fernando's voice softened, though it carried the weight of command.
"I fight them every day, Yaman. Not with rage, but with patience. With strategy. You don't see the battles I endure to keep this island alive. You only see the ashes—but you don't know what it costs me to hold back the fire."
Yaman's breath caught, torn between fury and doubt. His hands trembled on the strap of his shotgun. He stared into the molten river far below, imagining the faces of the kidnapped butcher's family.
"If I don't fight them now," he said through gritted teeth, "then who will? You? The guards who take bribes? The people who hide in fear?" He spat onto the blackened stone. "No one. That's why it has to be me."
Fernando finally caught up, grabbing his son's shoulder and spinning him around. Their faces were inches apart, sweat and volcanic ash streaking their skin. The lava's glow cast shadows that made their eyes blaze like fire.
"You are my son," Fernando said, his voice trembling with both rage and love. "And I will not let you throw your life away for pride. If you want to fight, then fight—but not alone. Not like this."
For the first time, Yaman's eyes flickered with hesitation. The mountain roared again, smoke and sparks shooting into the night sky, as if the earth itself was listening to their clash.
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The climb grew harsher as father and son ascended. The mountain's veins of lava pulsed brighter, painting the blackened rock with furious orange light. Heat pressed down on them like a suffocating weight. The volcano roared again, sending showers of sparks into the ash-choked sky.
Yaman pushed forward, shotgun strapped to his back, sweat dripping into his eyes. Every breath burned, yet his voice carried above the crackling fire.
"You can't stop me, Father! If I turn back now, I'll never forgive myself. Every scream I've heard in the streets, every bloodstain in the alleys—this is my chance to end it!"
Fernando's voice boomed like the mountain itself.
"End it? With a single boy's rage? You'll only feed their cruelty with your death!"
Yaman whirled around, his boots grinding against the scorched stone. His eyes burned like twin embers.
"Then why haven't you ended it? You fight for the Council, for rules and orders that mean nothing here! You protect villages I've never seen, while this island rots!"
The accusation cut deep. Fernando's sharp jaw tightened, his breath heavy.
"You think I don't bleed for Vulcanus? Every mission, every scar, I carry for this family—for you! But war isn't won by reckless charges. It's won by surviving the fire long enough to strike when it matters."
Yaman's fist trembled, hovering near the grip of his shotgun. For a heartbeat, his rage faltered. But then he saw it—faint torchlight flickering in the distance, against the jagged black cliffs where the volcano's glow bled into the night.
The Cerberus hideout.
A fortress carved into the volcanic rock itself, its jagged towers rising like claws from the mountain's side. Lava rivers flowed around its base, reflecting the red banners marked with the sigil of three snarling wolf heads. Armed silhouettes paced along the walls, their armor glinting in the firelight.
Yaman's breath quickened. His hand clenched into a fist.
"They're right there, Father. The ones who think they own this island. The ones who burn families alive. You want me to wait? To sit still? I can't. Not when I'm this close."
Fernando stepped in front of him, blocking the path. His broad frame cast a shadow against the lava's glow. His eyes, dark and unyielding, locked onto his son's.
"If you cross that bridge, Yaman, there is no turning back. You'll not just be a boy who fought gangs—you'll be at war with a Dark Guild. They will hunt you, break you, and destroy everything you love. Even your mother."
The words struck Yaman like a hammer, but his jaw tightened, his fire unshaken.
"Then let them come. I'll burn every one of them."
The volcano rumbled beneath their feet as if agreeing with his fury.
For a long, tense moment, father and son stared at each other, ash swirling in the fiery wind. Behind them, the world was home and safety. Before them, the hideout of Cerberus loomed like a mouth of hell, waiting to swallow them whole.
Finally, Fernando exhaled slowly, his voice low but carrying weight.
"If you go forward, I go with you. I won't let you face this darkness alone, even if it means standing against the flames themselves."
Yaman's eyes widened. His father's words pierced deeper than any threat. For the first time, he saw not just the Rune Knight, but the man—the father willing to step into hell for him.
The two of them, bound by blood and fire, turned their eyes to the fortress of Cerberus.
And the night trembled with the promise of battle.
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