Chapter 037: Flameforged and Falling
"He thought power would save him. He never asked what it would cost."
Raiden hovered mid-air, engulfed in an inferno that didn't consume him—but rebuilt him. His skin shimmered like molten steel, runes glowing across his chest and arms—marks of the Hollow Flame, alive and pulsing.
Below him, the Harbinger stood still, blade lowered. For the first time, the ancient guardian… hesitated.
"Impossible," he whispered. "You were supposed to fail the awakening."
Raiden opened his eyes—and the world around him shuddered. His irises were no longer gold.
They were pure fire—limitless, unstable, divine.
"I didn't awaken," Raiden said, voice echoing unnaturally.
"I was always awake. I just forgot who I am."
The Collapse Begins
But as power surged through him, something inside began to fracture.
Memories not his own flooded his mind:
A burning sky above a kingdom made of glass.A woman's scream as flames devoured her throne.A hand—his hand—ending her with a whisper: "I'm sorry, sister."
Raiden clutched his head, roaring as the images pierced his thoughts.
Vaeryx soared closer, watching in horror. "Raiden! Your flame—it's not just power. It's memory. It's… ancient!"
Raiden looked at her, eyes glowing brighter than ever.
"What if I'm not the king they're afraid of…" he breathed, trembling.
"What if I'm the king who burned it all before?"
Whispers in the Flame
From the flame, a voice called again—clearer now.
"You are not Raiden. You are the Forgotten Spark. The First Flame. The Scorched Heir."
And in that instant, Raiden remembered the final truth:
The Hollow King… wasn't trying to claim him.
He was trying to stop him.
A Mind at War
Raiden's power flared dangerously, uncontrolled. The land below cracked open, lava spewing into the sky. Even Vaeryx's dragon staggered under the pressure.
"Raiden, listen to me!" she yelled, struggling to stay airborne.
"You're still you. You can choose who you are!"
But Raiden didn't respond.
Inside his mind, two versions of him fought—Raiden, the boy who survived exile…
And the Scorched Heir, the ancient being who once set the world ablaze in rage.
They clashed in a place beyond time, fire against will, memory against hope.
And slowly, the Scorched Heir began to win.
The Harbinger's Decision
The Harbinger sheathed his blade.
"If he ascends fully, the world ends again," he said grimly to Vaeryx.
"You love him. Kill him."
Vaeryx stared, heart breaking.
But then… Raiden's voice broke through the inferno:
"Vaeryx… don't."
She looked up, tears forming. Raiden was floating above, his body shaking. Half his face was burning gold, the other… turning into something ancient and hollow.
"I'm still me," he said. "But I'm slipping."
Cliffhanger Ending
And then, the Hollow King himself spoke—not in person, but through every flame on the battlefield.
"Then come to me, Scorched Heir."
"Come to the Black Ember Throne… and decide the fate of this world one last time."
The sky split open.
A rift appeared.
And Raiden… fell into it.
Raiden fell through the rift, his body weightless in the void of endless darkness. His mind was split, at war with itself, fragments of his past life swirling like shattered glass.
Memories—so many memories—screamed for his attention. A kingdom in flames. A broken heart. A throne of black crystal surrounded by fire, whispers of his bloodline echoing in the endless void.
Then, a sharp jolt.
Raiden hit the ground—hard.
The world around him was nothing like he'd seen before. He was standing in a vast throne room, its walls blackened and scorched, lined with unlit torches that flickered with sickly green flames.
In the center, on a massive obsidian platform, stood the Black Ember Throne—a seat of pure darkness, rimmed with the embers of a long-dead fire. It pulsed with an unnatural energy, as if it had been waiting for him.
The Calling
Raiden staggered to his feet, his body still glowing with the Hollow Flame, but his senses were clouded. The rift had torn something inside him—leaving him weak, vulnerable, and lost.
The throne called to him—its pull undeniable. This was where it had all started.
And this… was where it would end.
But there was a voice. Not his own, but familiar.
Familiar and dark.
"You've come at last, Scorched Heir."
"I wondered when you would awaken, child of flame."
The voice echoed, deep, vibrating the walls around him.
Raiden's gaze flickered around, but he saw no one. Only the throne.
The voice came from within it.
The Hollow King's Arrival
And then, a figure emerged—out of the very shadows. It was like smoke, twisted and terrifying, yet undeniable. It shifted, like a human shape but made of pure darkness and flame. It loomed over Raiden, its eyes glowing white, hollowed-out sockets staring down at him.
"You have come to claim what was always yours," the figure whispered. "The throne of the Hollow Kingdom. The throne that devoured its creators."
Raiden swallowed hard. His body burned, but it wasn't pain. It was hunger. A gnawing, consuming force deep within.
"I didn't ask for this," Raiden replied, his voice strained but defiant. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
The figure chuckled, a sound like crackling fire. "You are more than you know. You are the flame's firstborn—the one destined to either reclaim the world… or burn it all."
Raiden took a step forward, his flames flaring around him. "Then I will burn whatever is in my way."
The Choice
The figure shifted again, its form changing—becoming something more human, or what could pass for human. The smoke cleared, revealing the Hollow King himself—though Raiden could barely recognize him. His body was twisted, consumed by fire and ash. A crown of blackened thorns crowned his skull.
"You are the heir," the Hollow King said. "My heir. You were born to sit on this throne."
Raiden's heart pounded in his chest as he felt the weight of the throne's pull. The fire inside him roared.
"I'm no heir to anyone!" Raiden shouted, shaking his head. "I didn't choose this power. I didn't ask for it."
The Hollow King's eyes gleamed with an unsettling calm. "But you will choose it. Just as I did. Just as all who came before you did."
The Hollow King's fingers curled toward the throne, and the flames around it surged higher. The air grew thick with heat, the walls vibrating with an ominous presence.
Raiden felt the pull again, stronger this time. The fire inside him surged, battling for control.
"Come, child of flame," the Hollow King whispered. "Take your rightful place. You are the last of your kind. The last to stand at the threshold of the kingdom of ashes."
Raiden took another step forward, his chest tight. The fire pulsed through him, his body feeling as though it was about to implode. His hands clenched into fists as he fought the instinct to give in.
The Moment of Truth
He stood at the edge of the throne, gazing down at its dark surface. He could see his reflection—a distorted version of himself, one consumed by flame and rage, a face twisted by the weight of the crown that was meant for him.
He could feel the Hollow King's essence in every inch of the room. Feel the weight of eternity, the endless hunger for power and dominance that had consumed the kingdom—and its ruler.
Raiden closed his eyes. The choice.
The Hollow Flame burned brighter inside him. But he felt something else—a flicker, deep within his heart. A memory. A voice.
Vaeryx.
Her words echoed in his mind.
"You are more than your power. You are more than the throne."
His eyes opened.
The Decision
Raiden stepped back from the throne, his body shaking but defiant. "I won't let you control me."
The Hollow King's eyes narrowed, and his voice turned colder. "You cannot escape your fate. This throne is yours."
"I'm not a king!" Raiden shouted. "I'm a survivor. And I will carve my own path!"
The Hollow King's form wavered, flickering between rage and regret. "Then you will be the one to destroy it all. You cannot escape the flame, Raiden."
Raiden raised his hand. The fire within him responded—not with rage, but with clarity. He didn't need the throne to prove who he was.
He wasn't the king of ashes.
He was the one who would end them.
With a roar, he raised his flame high, and the throne beneath him shattered, breaking into a million pieces.
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(To be Continue...)