Chapter 28: The Sacred Flame

It began with the Gathering—wizards from across the land summoned to the sacred flame. Not for reverence, nor for some noble ritual of passing. No, this time it was different. This time, their purpose was murder.

The wizards stood in a ring of silent judgment, their robes catching the faint light of the fire in iridescent patterns. To them, the flame was sacred, a beacon of power, yet it had been corrupted for a darker purpose. It flickered as if it knew what was to come. The accused would not leap willingly. He would be thrust.

I was not chosen. I was not asked to walk into that infernal blaze. I was thrust into it, betrayed by those I once trusted. The flame was meant to cleanse, to elevate, but in that moment, it became the tool of my destruction. From the back of the crowd, I felt the sudden blow. A coward’s strike, meant to incapacitate. My skull cracked, and before I could even cry out, my broken body was hurled forward into the maw of the sacred flame.

The fire wasn’t warm; it was a searing cold, biting deep into my bones, warping my very essence. It consumed me wholly, altering the course of my existence. My skin blistered, my soul twisted, and my loyal fox, leaping to save me, was swallowed by the flame alongside me.

They murdered me that day. Not just the ones who struck the blow, but every wizard who stood by and watched as I was torn from this world. They all played a part in the conspiracy of my undoing. Some helped, some stayed silent, but none stepped forward to save me. Not one hand reached out to stop the betrayal.

The moment I fell, I ceased to be a man. I became something more—something terrible. I became a Horned Phantasm, a being of rage and vengeance, kept alive by hatred and the burning need for retribution.

Centuries have passed since that day. While their world moved on, I lingered in the darkness, plotting and waiting. Their lives continued, untouched by the guilt of my murder. I have watched them grow, their factions expanding across the Runiverse, their power unchecked. But I have not forgotten. I remember every face that looked on as I burned, and I will see every one of them suffer.

The item I stole from the Tengu, cradled in my hands, is the key to it all. It hums with arcane energy, vibrating in harmony with my hatred, with my desire to reset the world. With this, I will tear their world apart, rid the Runiverse of the wizarding filth, and usher in a new era—my era. The wizards, all of them, will pay for their crimes. I will cleanse their bloodlines from this land, and with this power, I will shape the Runiverse into something purer, something they can no longer control.

As I sit in my throne of cold, humming metal, the coils feeding the essence of stolen life into my veins, I feel their terror. I revel in it. Their essence makes me stronger, fuels my vengeance. Soon, very soon, I will return to the world that cast me aside. They will not be ready for what I have become.

They thought they had killed me, thought they had rid themselves of my presence. But I am not so easily erased. I will rise from the ashes of their treachery, and this time, I will be the one who decides who lives and who burns.

This is not the story of redemption. This is the tale of a soul wronged, a soul filled with hatred. And it is time for the world to tremble.

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