Kai had been thrust into the body of a centurion of the Sun Legion—the disciplined, radiant army of the Ivory City. For the first harrowing months of the Nightmare, he had become entangled in the bitter, ceaseless war between the golden-armored warriors of the Sun and the brutal Warmongers of the Red Coliseum.
Despite possessing only a modest Aspect and little in the way of natural talent for combat, Kai had somehow distinguished himself. Through wit, grit, and relentless determination, he had led his centuria to victory time and again. Blood soaked the sands of battlefield after battlefield until, at long last, the Warmongers were driven back. The survivors of his unit—battered, bloodied, but triumphant—were recalled to the Ivory City to rest and recover.
And then… paradise turned into a nightmare.
One month later, the very citizens he had bled to protect chose him and six of his most loyal soldiers to be sacrificed to the Ivory Dragon—their radiant guardian, their Lord.
Kai hadn't believed it at first. But when the dragon descended and beheld him with amused eyes, everything changed. The creature spoke to him, intrigued by his resistance and disbelief. And it told him a tale… one that cracked something inside Kai.
The truth was unbearable.
The dragon—Sevras, Or Seviraxas, as the people named him—had never demanded sacrifices. Not once. The legend had been born from the minds of the people themselves. They had created the ritual. They had chosen the victims. They had marched to the altar with devotion, believing that by offering up their finest, they would bind themselves to the dragon, make themselves a part of him. And thus, be safe. Protected by him.
Kai begged for his soldiers' lives. But Sevras only smiled.
"I do not accept unwilling sacrifices," the dragon had said.
And so, Kai was spared.
His men were turned to ash.
He lay broken now. Crumpled on the cold stone of the sanctum floor, bones shattered, ribs crushed beneath the merciless sweep of Sevras' tail after Kai, in a fit of fury, had dared to strike him.
He had fought a dragon.
And lost.
The night passed slowly, painfully. The cold bit into his flesh, but he couldn't move—paralyzed and half-conscious. He cursed beneath his breath, rage simmering under the surface.
Then his eyes widened.
Footsteps.
They were coming.
Madness. This was sheer madness. What sort of people returned to witness the aftermath of sacrifice, smiling? What was wrong with them? These weren't citizens of a holy paradise—they were zealots, twisted by a false faith. They sacrificed their champions like lambs to slaughter and celebrated their deaths like sacred victories.
Wasn't this supposed to be paradise?
Kai clenched his jaw. He had once thought himself a hero. A noble warrior, brought here to defend the innocent from the cruel zealots of the Red Coliseum. He had believed the Ivory City to be a bastion of light in this warped realm. Its people had seemed kind, generous, full of joy and reverence. How blind he had been.
Now he saw the truth. They weren't kind—they were content. And contentment, he realized, was not the same as goodness. The joy they wore was nothing more than a mask, a beautiful veil draped over rot and ritualized murder.
The people of the Coliseum were monsters, yes—but at least they were beasts who did not hide behind the masks of righteousness.
And he had rejoiced upon returning here. He had tasted glory, reveled in victory. Perhaps he had grown arrogant, intoxicated by the admiration of these seemingly innocent people. Here, he had been powerful. Here, he had led, commanded, conquered.
And now… now he was just broken. Bitter. Betrayed.
The truth weighed down on him like iron chains. It wasn't just the war between Coliseum and City that needed solving—no, that was surface noise. The true conflict, the true horror, was buried deeper. It was the madness that lurked in every corner of this damned realm. The entire Chain Isles was infected.
His thoughts scattered as he fell, his body toppling from the altar with a dull thud. Pain lanced through him. He gasped, barely able to breathe. Blood stained his lips. He wanted to scream—not from pain, but from shame, from helpless rage.
They stood around him now. The same citizens who had once cheered for him. Who had once looked upon him with awe. Their smiles were gone. Their eyes held no warmth. Only judgment.
As if he was the one who had sinned.
As if his refusal to be devoured was a disgrace.
"C-crazy…" he whispered, heart pounding. A cold, primal fear slithered up his spine.
He saw their faces. Saw the way they stared—like he was less than human. Like he had shamed them all. That he had failed not only himself, but their divine lord. His lips trembled. He gulped, terrified.
They moved toward him.
Hands gripped his arms—firm, unforgiving. He tried to fight, to resist, but his strength was gone. He was little more than dead weight now.
His gaze drifted upward, locking onto the faces of the two men hauling him away.
They were Ascended.
His heart dropped into a pit of ice.
Now, he knew—he was truly doomed.
"What are they doing…? Gods, no—stop it! For the love of all divine, please, just stop!"
Kai's voice cracked with desperation as he writhed in terror. His gaze darted around, wild and frenzied, heart hammering like a war drum against his ribs—already broken and barely held together by agony. What he saw chilled him deeper than any blade ever could.
A pyre.
They were building a pyre.
He blinked in disbelief, but the truth remained etched into the world before him. The wooden structure, soaked in oil, was being arranged with ritualistic precision—no detail spared, no mercy hidden in their solemn expressions. These people… These once-smiling, radiant people… They meant to burn him.
A wave of fear surged through him, primal and suffocating.
"Please! Stop this madness! This is wrong! All of it—it's wrong!" he cried out, voice raw. "Sevirax never asked for this! He never demanded sacrifices! You don't have to do this!"
He begged. He pleaded. His voice was hoarse with sorrow, breaking under the weight of truth. But the crowd—the beloved citizens of the Ivory City, paragons of grace and joy—did not listen. No, they recoiled as if his words were poison, their faces twisting with disdain, with revulsion. They clutched their robes tighter, pulled their children away, and whispered as if his existence stained the marble streets.
The dragon had spoken the truth. He saw that now. Sevirax had never wanted this. It was they—the people—who twisted the tale, who built their paradise atop bones and fire.
Kai couldn't find the words anymore. What was left to say when innocence was just another lie?
Rough hands grabbed him, lifting his broken body. He didn't resist. Couldn't. They bound him to the pyre with thick cords, tying him down as though he were something unclean to be purified.
The people stared. Cold. Judging. With eyes like empty vessels. As though erasing him in fire would return the Ivory City to its pristine state. They didn't weep. Not for the man who led them to victory. Not for the one who defied war and bled beside them. He was an impurity now, a smudge on their sanctity.
He groaned, pain rippling through him as the cords dug into his bruised flesh. But what shattered him wasn't the fire waiting below—it was the sight of the children.
They cried.
Not out of ritual. Not from reverence.
Out of confusion. Out of fear. They hadn't yet swallowed the poison of Hope, hadn't yet been twisted into smiling zealots. And one child reached out to him, desperate and weeping, only for his own mother to slap him into silence.
Gods... I'm tired.
Tired of this madness. Tired of a paradise built on madness and blood. Tired of this wretched place. Tired of the lies. Tired of the sickness hiding behind smiles.
Was it worth it? he wondered, bitterly. To throw himself into the Nightmare, to suffer and bleed for strength? Wouldn't it have been easier to stay in Bastion, comfortable and safe?
But no. Kai clenched his jaw. No.
He wouldn't watch oppression and turn away. He wouldn't stand by while cruelty was dressed in gold and silk. Not again.
Even if this was the end… he would never regret standing up. Never again.
The torch was lit. The fire kissed the edges of the pyre.
And then it rose.
Flames licked at his base, hungrily, eagerly. Soon, they reached his feet, and agony exploded through his nerves like molten iron. He screamed—raw, unrestrained. His voice, once noble and melodious, now became the howling of a soul in torment.
He screamed as if the world itself was ending.
But the people—those lunatics—they didn't cheer.
They were silent.
Why?! his mind roared. Wasn't this what you wanted?! Isn't this your sacred rite!? Then why aren't you smiling?! Why aren't you rejoicing, you damned lunatics!?!
But then he saw it.
Their gazes weren't on him anymore.
They were fixed on the sky.
Kai turned his head, strained to see through the heat-blurred haze. And then his breath hitched.
There—descending from the heavens in a blaze of transcendent glory—was a creature of legend.
A phoenix.
Wreathed in divine flame of sapphire and gold, her wings shimmered like rivers of light, her cry piercing the skies like a blade of judgment.
Kai's breath caught. He knew that phoenix.
Hemera.
Klaus's phoenix. A living miracle of fire and purity.
She descended like a comet, trailing light across the heavens, her body a radiant star falling toward the earth.
And then—
Impact.
A brilliant explosion of incandescent energy shattered the world. A thunderclap split the air as shockwaves tore through the city, hurling the faithful like ragdolls into the wind. Buildings cracked, glass shattered. The heavens screamed.
And then—
Agony.
Blinding, searing, holy agony.
Even with his eyes closed, the light pierced his skull, set nerves alight. It was like staring into the sun through a veil of tears.
An ocean of light was unleashed upon world.
It wasn't just flame—it was judgment. It was truth. It was hope unshackled.
And it had come for him.