The wind howled through the remnants of the mountain pass as Kaizen sat alone, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames before him. The squad had set up a temporary encampment after the devastating events near the South Gate, but none dared speak to him now. The heat radiating from his skin was unnatural. Not from fever or fire—but from something far deeper. Something awakening.
Night had fallen, and the stars above flickered with eerie stillness. Kaizen barely blinked, lost in the echo of whispers only he could hear.
"You are not dying," a voice murmured in his mind. "You are remembering."
His fingers clenched into the soil as the whisper grew louder. In the back of his mind, ancient images flickered—great pyres, black skies, burning cities. He saw flames not of destruction, but of judgment. And standing at the center of it all... a man who bore his face.
Suddenly, pain surged through his chest. Kaizen gasped, clutching his ribs. Veins near his collarbone glowed faintly orange like molten cracks in stone. He staggered back, breath shallow.
From the edge of the camp, Ayaka watched, her brows furrowed. She knew something was wrong—very wrong.
She rushed toward him, kneeling beside him. "Kaizen! What's happening? Are you—"
He looked up, eyes glowing faintly amber. For a moment, she froze. That wasn't just a reaction. That was power—Veinborn power—but something darker, older.
"I'm remembering things I shouldn't," he whispered. "Things that feel like mine... but can't be."
Ayaka's hand gripped his shoulder. "Tell me what you saw."
He hesitated, breathing heavy. "A city of black stone... people screaming. I was standing at the center. And everything... was burning."
Ayaka felt a chill run through her spine. She remembered the files she'd read earlier in secret—ancient Veinborn bloodlines, myths that spoke of the First Flame. A progenitor of all Veinborn, whose power was sealed because it was too destructive to exist.
"You're awakening something, Kaizen. We need help."
But before she could say more, a shout erupted from the other side of the camp. It was Riven.
"Captain! There's something you need to see!"
Moments later, the entire squad gathered in front of a newly uncovered ruin—an old stone structure buried beneath the snow. Its entrance was carved with strange flame-shaped runes.
In the center of the chamber inside lay an old, broken tablet.
Faye stepped forward, brushing dust off the surface. Her eyes widened. "That's... that's ancient Veinborn script."
Kaizen stepped in, drawn like a moth to flame. His heart raced as he knelt before the tablet.
Faye translated aloud. "'And when the Last Flame walks among men again, his name shall echo with the ash of kings... Ryouma.'"
Silence fell. Everyone looked at Kaizen.
"That's your name," Riven whispered.
Kaizen felt the blood drain from his face.
"This... this is impossible," he muttered.
Faye turned, her face pale. "This inscription is older than recorded history. It predates even the First Bist War."
Riven stepped back, tension rising. "You're telling me Kaizen's name was written on a stone thousands of years ago?"
No one answered.
Kaizen stared at the flames dancing across the wall. The whispers in his head returned. This time, it wasn't words—but a feeling.
Grief. Guilt. Fire.
Ayaka moved closer. "Kaizen, this could explain everything. Your powers... the way you survived death... your connection to the Bists. Maybe it's not just random. Maybe you were meant to—"
"No," he cut her off. "Don't say it. I'm not some chosen one. I'm not some reincarnated god."
But the fire in his eyes betrayed the truth.
Outside, the wind picked up. From beyond the shadows, Nerovar watched from a distant ridge, unseen by all. His smile was calm, knowing.
"The First Flame is waking," he whispered. "And soon... he will have no choice but to burn."
To be continued...