The square was quiet, the cool night air settling over Kael as he stood in the center of it. The weight of his sword felt reassuring in his hand. It was a simple weapon, but one that Kael had grown accustomed to, the balance of it just right for his grip, the blade gleaming faintly in the low light.

  The Weapons Training Book Volume I rested propped against the Arcane Anvil nearby, the pages open to the latest section Kael had studied. He had familiarized himself with the basics, the stances, and the techniques that were outlined within. Each day, he felt himself growing stronger, more skilled. And until now, the motions felt almost instinctive.

  He swung the sword through the air in a slow arc, the movement smooth and controlled. Each swing felt right. Each strike was fluid.

  Kael’s muscles tensed as he took a step forward, his body shifting into the familiar stance. The sword’s tip pointed forward, ready for the next movement.

  Impact Thrust.

  In one fluid motion, Kael dashed forward, his body surging with purpose. His sword followed, the tip driving forward in a piercing thrust, cutting through the air with precision.

  Kael spun on his heel, his movements quick and sharp, the rush of momentum carrying him as his sword transitioned seamlessly into another strike.

  Double Slash. The technique came naturally now.

  His body coiled as he slashed horizontally, his blade slicing through the air in a quick succession of strikes. The first slash was clean, cutting through the empty space with the force of his body’s motion. The second came right after, the arc of the blade following with equal speed and precision.

  Kael stepped back into his ready position, took a deep breath, focusing his mind on the next technique.

  Flurry of Strikes.

  Every muscle in his body exploded as he launched into the rapid succession of attacks. Six strikes—one after the other—each one coming faster than the last. His sword moved through the air like lightning, each strike a blur, a relentless barrage. His arms flowed in and out, the sword cutting horizontally and vertically.

  As he finished the last strike, he exhaled sharply, the adrenaline still coursing through him. Kael felt the strength, his efforts paying off.

  "Okay," Kael muttered to himself, his voice steady, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Last test."

  He turned his attention to the ice slime at the edge of the square. Mush. The icy aura surrounding the slime was like a faint mist in the air.

  Iron Curtain.

  Mush reacted immediately. With a swift movement, the slime fired an icicle toward Kael. It shot through the air like a spear, its sharp point glistening in the fading light. Kael’s eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he parried the strike with ease.

  Before Kael could even register the first strike, another icicle came at him, then a third. Each one faster, more precise, a barrage of attacks designed to test his reaction time. His sword moved through the air, his body shifting in sync with it. He deflected the second icicle with a swift horizontal swing, then spun, knocking the third strike out of his way.

  Every parry, every strike, felt like the culmination of everything he had learned from Volume I. The moves that he struggled with before was smooth, an extension of himself. He had learned everything he needed. The next step was within reach.

  Kael bent down, retrieving Volume I. He held it in his hands for a moment, the knowledge having helped form his foundation of martial training. He looked over at Volume II, stacked neatly beside it. The new book, the next step in his training.

  But as his fingers brushed the edge of Volume II, something strange happened. A faint pull, almost imperceptible at first, tugged at him from the direction of the Master’s spellbook—the one he had claimed after defeating the Master in his trial.

  Kael paused, his fingers still hovering above Volume II, and his gaze shifted to the spellbook. It was subtle at first, but Kael felt it in his bones. It was an almost magnetic force drawing him toward the book.

  Kael withdrew his hand from Volume II, his focus now entirely on the spellbook. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. He reached out, his fingers brushing the worn leather cover of the book. As his hand made contact, a strange jolt of energy shot up his arm, like electricity running through his veins.

  Is this how spellbooks normally feel? Kael thought.

  The spellbook in Kael's hands felt heavier than it should have, its leather cover old and weathered, the symbols and runes etched across its surface in black ink. But the spine was oddly pristine, as if the book had never been opened before.

  He sat down on the damp mossy ground of his square, leaning back against the Arcane Anvil, the weight of the spellbook pressing against his lap. His fingers traced the ancient symbols on the cover before carefully flipping the book open, expecting to find the secrets contained within.

  But the pages were blank.

  Kael frowned. The book was old and yet seemed untouched. He turned the pages again only to find more empty sheets staring back at him.

  He kept flipping through the pages until he found some text on the first page. His eyes scanned the words, his pulse quickening as he read:

  Behold lord of flame, lord of dread,

  Where demons feast and mortals bled.

  By ash and blood, thy power flows,

  Arise, O master, where chaos grows.

  The words fell from Kael's lips like they were part of him, the incantation slipping through his mind with eerie ease, as though it had always been there, waiting for him to recite them.

  As the final syllable left his mouth, Kael felt a sudden heat course through his body. It was subtle at first, like a flicker of warmth, a spark in his chest, but it spread quickly, flooding his veins with fire. His skin flushed with the sensation, his muscles tensing as though he had stepped into the heart of a furnace.

  The sensation grew more intense, until it was no longer just a sensation. It felt as though his very bones were alight, his body consumed by an inferno that surged through every fiber of his being.

  His breath quickened, as the fire inside him continued to burn, expanding beyond the limits of his form, until he wasn’t in his square anymore.

  The world around him was engulfed in flame. He was standing in the midst of a vast, raging sea of fire, molten lava flowing like rivers of liquid gold. The sky above was ablaze with an unearthly red glow, the horizon swallowed by the inferno. The very air seemed to burn, thick with the scent of smoke and ash.

  He stood there, trying to comprehend the enormity of his surroundings, when he saw it.

  The throne.

  It loomed before him, impossibly vast and towering into the fiery sky, stretching higher than Kael’s eyes could follow. The throne was crafted from a deep, blood-red stone that shimmered in the heat, cracked and scorched from centuries of fire. It was massive, far too large for any mortal to occupy, and yet it was occupied by a being of overwhelming presence.

  The creature on the throne was a sight to behold. Its skin was smooth and deep crimson, like polished obsidian, glowing with an inner fire that seemed to burn from within. Two pairs of arms stretched from its body, each massive, shackles locked around its wrists and giant chains hanging from them, disappearing into the fire. Its chest was bare, broad and muscled.

  The being’s burning eyes gazed down at Kael, their intensity like the glare of a thousand suns, piercing into him with a weight that crushed the air from his lungs. The creature’s gaze was not one of rage, but of contemplation, as if it were studying Kael as one might study an insect on the ground.

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  The being’s four massive hands shifted together, its fingers clasping in front of its chest in a gesture of deep thought, as though it were considering something profound. The chains rattled slightly as the creature shifted its weight, but the shackles remained tight, as if the being was bound to this place.

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that comes before a storm, the kind that settles into your bones and whispers that something is about to shift.

  "How dare you enter my domain?" The voice came like a thunderclap. The power behind the words was immense, overwhelming.

  The fire around them flickered, the flames seeming to burn even hotter.

  Kael gulped, his throat dry as the flames seemed to close in on him. Every part of him screamed to bow, to cower, to kneel before this god-like creature. But something inside him, something deeper than instinct, refused to yield.

  He refused. He stood tall, his back straight, his fingers trembled only slightly.

  "I’ve never seen anything like this before," Kael said. "Something so… great."

  The being’s eyes blazed even brighter, glaring down from the heavens.

  "Flattery will get you nowhere, mortal," it rumbled. The chains binding the being rattled, a sharp, metallic sound that sent a chill down Kael’s spine.

  "I’m not flattering you," Kael said, his voice firm now. "I’m speaking the truth."

  "I can feel it," Kael continued. "I can feel the power in this domain. In you. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming. I can see it in the very air around me. It’s… it’s a power I’ve never known before. I seek that knowledge."

  The being’s eyes were burning, its voice rumbled, low and resonant.

  “You seek knowledge,” it said, “but do you posses any knowledge?”

  Kael had faced many challenges but this was different. The fire crackled as he stood, his eyes flickering to the flames, the molten lava winding like serpents.

  "I know little," Kael said. "I am merely a simple Master of an insignificant square. There is little for me to boast about, no grand wisdom or power. I have my creatures, my defenses, and my will. That is all."

  The being’s gaze never left him, but there was a slight shift in its expression, an unreadable flicker. It seemed to consider Kael’s words for a long moment, its eyes narrowing as if weighing him, calculating the depths of what he had said.

  "Is that all you are?" the being mused, its voice now tinged with a dark amusement. "Worms and rats scurry to survive, scavenge for scraps. Do you believe yourself worthy of something greater?"

  "I believe I can be," Kael said. “More than just surviving. I can do more. I will do more.”

  "You think you can take my power and wield it? You have seen other Masters before, have you not? Overconfident fools, all of them. They take on too much, seek too much power and they are consumed by it. Their minds crumble, their bodies wither, and in the end, they are nothing but ashes in the wind."

  "I can handle it," Kael said firmly. “I’m not like them. I’ll control it.”

  The being's eyes glowed brighter for a moment. Its chains rattled again, a sound of deep, ancient power straining against its bonds.

  "Very well," it said, its voice low, almost amused.

  "What knowledge do you seek, mortal? How to summon my greatest demons? The magics of cursed flame and infernal mana? Artifacts powered by demonic energy?" the being said, its voice a deep rumble, as though the very air around them quaked with its force.

  Kael listened intently, the words a tantalizing promise of power.

  Kael took a steady breath, his gaze unflinching as he met the being’s fiery eyes. "That is all great," he said, his voice calm, but with an edge of curiosity. "But the first bit of knowledge I seek is... your name."

  Its eyes narrowed, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing the burning depths of his gaze. For a moment, the flames around them seemed to calm, as though the very air had taken pause.

  "You seek my name?" the voice was slow, measured. "You wish to know the name of the one who holds dominion over this realm, who commands the fire, the demons, the blood of the inferno?"

  Kael nodded, his expression unwavering. "Yes. You speak of power and demons, but before I take what you offer, I want to know the name of the being who holds such power. After all, the most powerful of all knowledge is a name.”

  The being on the throne leaned forward slightly, its massive chains rattling with a sound that reverberated through the air. The heat around them intensified for a moment, and then it spoke.

  "I am Xalgrymos," he said, his voice deep, resonating like thunder. "I am the God of Demons, the Lord of the Infernal Realm. I am power incarnate, chaos given form. And you are but a mortal who dares to stand before me."

  Kael’s heart quickened at the name—Xalgrymos. The name of a god, the being that ruled over the abyss itself.

  Kael introduced himself calmly, to the God that sat before him. "I am Kael," he said. "A bronze Master. Master of a small square in a forest."

  Xalgrymos studied him then, his gaze shifting from a fiery intensity to something more curious. "Are you seeking to waste your time, mortal?" the being asked.

  Kael stood tall, unwavering. His eyes never left Xalgrymos, his jaw clenched in determination.

  "I would not dream of wasting your time, Xalgrymos, God of Demons," Kael replied, his voice smooth but firm. "But now that we’ve exchanged names, we are... acquainted, are we not?"

  Xalgrymos’ gaze softened ever so slightly, though its intensity remained unyielding. The chains that bound it rattled again, the sound echoing like distant thunder in the cavernous expanse.

  "You speak with a certain audacity, mortal," Xalgrymos rumbled. "But I am intrigued.”

  "I too am intrigued, Xalgrymos. You are a being of unimaginable power, yet you are shackled—bound in chains. I have to ask: why? Why is a great god like yourself trapped in this infernal place?"

  Xalgrymos’ eyes flickered, and Kael saw a brief shift in the being’s expression. An ancient bitterness, an old wound that never fully healed.

  "I was tricked. I was deceived into these chains. My power, my strength, my very essence. All of it was bound. My body shackled, my freedom stolen, and now I am nothing more than a prisoner in my own domain," Xalgrymos said, more somber.

  The chains. The shackles that held a God. Kael could feel the weight of that imprisonment in his chest. A being so powerful, so ancient, bound by chains. It was a paradox, a cruel twist of fate.

  "I’d like to offer an observation," Kael said. "Your situation is oddly similar to that of a Master. Both confined to a space. Both trapped. Both alone with invaders constantly coming to take your treasures."

  The air around them seemed to thicken, the flames intensifying as Xalgrymos flared with sudden fury. The heat grew unbearable for a moment, as though the being’s anger was igniting the very landscape itself. The chains rattled violently, the noise like a thunderstorm.

  "You dare compare me—a god—to a mere Master?" Xalgrymos bellowed, its voice filled with a wrath that could burn the very heavens.

  The air seemed to warp with the intensity of its power. The fiery throne quivered beneath its form. "I am bound here, trapped in this infernal place, while you—you are nothing more than a slave to your own domain! Your power is weak, your walls frail. What do you know of my suffering, mortal?"

  Kael stood firm, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. He had not meant to anger it, but the observation was true.

  "I meant no offense," Kael said. "I understand there are differences—great differences—between us. But despite the disparity in power, knowledge and experience, I can understand the feeling. The feeling of being trapped, of having invaders come into your domain. To be bound to your space, forced to defend what is yours while everything outside it seeks to take it away."

  For a long moment, there was silence. Kael could feel the heat pressing in from all sides, the fire licking at his skin, the very air growing thicker. The chains rattled once more, but this time, the sound was softer, less violent.

  "You understand, do you?" Xalgrymos said, its voice calmer now, though still tinged with that ancient bitterness. "You would dare to compare the life of a god to that of a Master, a mere mortal such as yourself? And yet, I suppose... there is some truth in your words. We are both bound, in our own way. Both trapped within the walls of our domains, alone with the constant threat of those who seek to take from us."

  The flames around them seemed to waver, as though the tension in the air had shifted, if only slightly. There was a strange bond now, between the god on the throne and the Master of the square. Xalgrymos, despite its vast power, seemed more mortal in this moment.

  Breaking the silence, Kael asked another question.

  "I have another question," Kael said. “To settle my curiosity.”

  "Ask, then," the God of Demons said.

  "How many Masters have come to your domain?" Kael asked, the question echoing in the vast, fiery expanse around them. "How many have sought your power?”

  "Many," the being said. "Many have come, foolish mortals, arrogant Masters seeking to bargain for power that they could never truly wield. The demon spellbooks were scattered throughout the world, gateways to me. All of them have made the same mistake. They travel here and think they can control what they do not understand."

  "Well, I recently acquired this book from another Master," Kael said. "A green-skinned, hooded fellow. I didn’t get much out of him before he died. Did you know him?"

  "I do not remember every Master that has come," Xalgrymos said, dismissive. "Many have entered my domain, many have sought my power. But they are fleeting. Mortals, Masters, all of them alike—come and go like the dust in the wind. I cannot remember them all."

  "Did you kill him?"

  "I did," Kael said. “It was part of the Ascension Trial. I had to kill him.”

  “That is the unfortunate part of being a Master,” Kael continued. “The system forces you to kill not just outsiders, not just invaders, but even other Masters. Masters you could be friends with. We’re all locked in this endless struggle for power and it means killing those who stand in our way.”

  "You speak of the system with disdain," Xalgrymos said after a long pause, its voice thick with ancient bitterness. "The system remains flawed, as it always has been. It is a mechanism designed to break, to consume, to keep everyone—Gods, Masters and mortals alike—fighting for scraps in a world that offers no peace."

  Kael nodded. He had always known it, had always felt it. The system was flawed. The rules were flawed.

  Kael’s thoughts shifted, his curiosity piqued as something deeper stirred in him. "Do you know much of the Masters? Of the system, its workings? You speak as though you have seen it all before."

  "Do I know much of the Masters?" Xalgrymos repeated. "I know more than you can possibly comprehend, Kael."

  “I was once a Master, too."

  ******