Blood.
It fell in quiet drops, a crimson rain splashing against the black stone beneath him. Each drop hissed as if the altar itself drank greedily of his life. Chains groaned with a metallic hunger, rattling in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Kai hovered above the altar, suspended in the dim glow of seven blades. Each was buried deep into his flesh—one piercing his head, two driven through the meat of his arms, two through his thighs, and two lodged into his stomach, tearing veins and organs with every shallow breath he took. From the hilt of each blade unfurled chains of pale, spectral iron, conjured not by blacksmith's hands but by the will of something older. The chains writhed as though alive, rooting themselves into the altar floor, locking him in a prison that was neither wholly material nor wholly ethereal.
He tried to move, but every twitch of muscle was answered with agony. His blood, spilling freely, did not pool. Instead, it flowed in patterns, etching runes into the altar—symbols that pulsed like the heartbeat of the world itself.
Before him stood the figure. Cloaked in gray that seemed woven from mist and shadow, the man's face was veiled, hidden from mortal gaze. Yet Kai felt the weight of those unseen eyes, ancient and pitiless.
A cough tore through Kai's throat, thick with blood. He forced words past lips cracked and trembling.
"So… this was the only outcome."
His voice was hoarse, almost swallowed by the altar's whispers.
The figure did not move. Only the faint tilt of his head betrayed that he had heard. Then, slowly, his reply came, cold and measured.
"People kill, and people sacrifice. They slaughter kin, betray comrades, bleed themselves dry—all in vain attempts to change their destiny. Yet fate and destiny are cruel, unyielding, immutable. They are the law of the universe, carved before the first flame burned. Everything you did was futile. At the end of all your struggles… this was the only outcome."
For a moment, silence stretched, broken only by the drip of blood and the groaning of chains. Then, against all expectation, Kai laughed.
It was not the laugh of a man who had surrendered. It was jagged, broken, stained with pain, yet laced with defiance. His eyes snapped open, and for a heartbeat they glowed—a radiant gold, burning against the darkness.
"What… exactly are you hiding?"
The golden light pierced the shroud, and the figure faltered, as though struck. For that instant, Kai's gaze stripped away veils and masks, clawing at truths unspoken. Then, as swiftly as it came, the glow faded, his eyes returning to their dim, human hue.
"So the gods sent you," he whispered, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. "But it is strange, isn't it? Beings who can do and undo reality with a breath, sending a man—a human—to do their bidding. Why? What are they afraid of?"
The figure's voice sharpened, edged with both scorn and warning.
"You dare question the decisions of the gods?"
The altar shuddered. The seven blades thrummed as though struck, and the chains tightened, forcing a scream from Kai's lips.
The figure raised his hand. From the altar's surface rose seven shards—jagged, each one radiating a different hue: crimson flame, azure water, verdant earth, silver wind, black void, star light, and A cracked shard. They floated, circling him like planets around a dying sun.
"I wish…" the man intoned, his voice lowering to a chant, words blurring into a tongue that scraped against the marrow of existence.
The shards began to fuse.
And the altar drank faster.
The shards fused with a shattering brilliance, their seven hues collapsing into one—a color that was no color, a void that devoured light. At the center of that fusion, a black substance oozed forth, thick and heavy like tar but alive, writhing as though it bore its own hunger.
It slithered across the air, wrapping itself around Kai's suspended form. The first touch seared colder than death, biting into flesh, sinking past blood and bone until even his soul screamed. From the wound in his crown, where the blade pierced his skull, the substance poured in deeper, coiling around his veins, swallowing his breath.
Kai choked, eyes wide, as the blackness rose higher and higher, climbing above the altar. It stretched until it formed a colossal tower, a structure of living shadow that pierced the heavens. From its shifting walls, grotesque shapes twisted in and out of form—faces pressed against the surface, mouths silently screaming.
And at its heart, a gate emerged. Monolithic, ancient, its doors etched with symbols that writhed like serpents. At the center of that gate, crucified and bound, was Kai. His body became part of the structure, chains stretching from blade to gate, blood flowing into the dark like rivers feeding an endless sea.
The figure stepped back, his voice soft, almost mournful.
"It is not my fault, Kai. It was your bloodline that desired the power of the gods. And it was given. But at this cost. Now you will leave this world. You cannot change the fate and destiny of gods. Once you carried the power of a god within you, your end was sealed. Your fate was already decided."
The black substance climbed his chest, swallowing his shoulders, his throat, his jaw. Kai's breath rattled as his golden eyes flickered once more, dimming beneath the tide.
The figure's voice hardened.
"But I must ask, Kai… you knew all this was coming. You saw it. Why did you not stop it?"
The black liquid reached his lips. Kai sighed, his gaze slipping away from the figure to the far horizon, where no light broke through the sky.
"Like you said… you cannot change the destiny of the gods. Nor their fate. Especially not for those cursed—or gifted—with their power. Once you are touched by the divine, your end is written."
His lips curved, faintly, almost mockingly, into a smile.
"So I guess… I lost."
The black engulfed his face. His words drowned in silence. His smile was the last thing the world saw before the gate sealed, before the tower of liquid shadow stilled, silent and eternal, looming above the altar like a monument to despair.
And Kai was gone.