The wind had gone quiet, as if the air itself was afraid to disturb the dead.
Jiyul stepped over a shattered door, moving deeper into the heart of the village. Ash and dust coated everything in a thick, grey blanket. The bones of villagers lay scattered where they had fallen—small bones, large bones, all bleached white by time and fire.
He didn't flinch. He just kept walking.
"What happened here..."
His voice was low, almost lost in the stagnant breeze. He had seen war. He had seen death. He had seen rot. But this was something else. This was a graveyard built with silence.
Jiyul passed through the shells of broken homes. Some still held burnt altars. Some contained skeletons still clinging to prayer poses, their foreheads pressed against the floor in a final plea that was never answered.
He stopped.
At the center of the ruins stood a throne carved directly into the living stone of the mountain. It was half-broken, blackened by intense fire. And at its base lay a skeleton unlike the rest.
It was taller. Broader. Its ribcage was encased in gold-plated armor that had long since faded to a dull bronze. A crown rested atop the skull, cracked straight down the center.
Jiyul narrowed his eyes.
"A king?"
He stepped closer. A strange scent filled the air, thick and cloying, like old incense mixed with blood-soaked ash. He knelt and placed his hand on the skeleton's cracked crown.
The Blood Ember in his palm pulsed.
Red light flared.
The glow spiraled. Jiyul's eyes widened as the world around him dissolved.
The darkness vanished. The ruins faded.
He was standing in light. In memory.
But this time, he wasn't just watching from the shadows. He was inside it.
A figure stood before him. Tall, majestic, with flowing robes of white and gold that seemed to ripple without wind. His face glowed faintly with divine energy, though his eyes were filled with an ancient sadness.
"You used the Ember," the figure said.
Jiyul's hand twitched toward his sword instinctually, but he found no weapon at his hip.
"I didn't think anyone would use that cursed thing again," the figure continued. "But you picked a good time."
Jiyul's voice was flat, "Who are you?"
The man stepped closer. The light around him felt warm, but heavy.
"My name is Velkhan the Heaven Forged. We were protectors. Guardians of this realm and the next."
"Guardian..." Jiyul repeated slowly, testing the word.
Velkhan nodded. "I was summoned here by a priest. This village... it was sacred. We burned the dead gods here. Their energy would return to the mountains and feed the living. The trees. The children. All of it. A perfect cycle."
Jiyul looked around at the golden emptiness. "Then what the hell happened?"
Velkhan's face darkened. The light around him dimmed.
"One of us fell."
"Fell?"
"A god... corrupted," Velkhan explained, his voice trembling with old rage. "Addicted to power. He wanted every ember. Every breath. He burned this place himself. Every man, woman, and child. He did it to drink their energy. He destroyed the cycle."
Jiyul's fingers clenched into fists.
Velkhan continued. "Even I couldn't stop him. He was stronger than any of us. He ended me. He burned this mountain and crushed the priests."
Jiyul asked, "Who is he?"
Velkhan looked away, his expression pained.
"...I don't remember his name."
Jiyul's brows narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I try... but my spirit can't say it. Something sealed it away."
"And now?"
"He rules the skies," Velkhan said softly. "The Heavens. The other gods bow to him or die. This world's balance is broken."
Jiyul stared at him. "What if he kills the rest of the gods?"
Velkhan shook his head. "He can't absorb power from gods he slays by force. Only those who die and accept the cycle can give their strength to the world. I refused."
"That is why you are still here," Jiyul realized.
Velkhan nodded. "Exactly. My spirit wouldn't mix with the land. I stayed behind to warn whoever came next."
Jiyul's voice dropped lower. "Do you know about this Blood Ember?"
Velkhan sighed, a sound like wind through dry leaves.
"It is a curse. An ancient one. Not made by gods. Not by men. It is said to be one of the embers created during the split of worlds. It takes the memories of the dead... and converts them into spiritual qi. But at a cost. It feeds on trauma. Pain. Rage.This is all I know about it but there's something special about Embers"
"Why was it locked?"
"Because no god could withstand it. So it was sealed in the Hell Library. Only those with divine permission could reach it."
Jiyul's voice darkened. "I didn't take it. It found me."
Velkhan stared at him, his golden eyes piercing.
"Then you are not a human."
Jiyul blinked. "What?"
Velkhan spoke firmly. "No normal human can carry the Ember. It eats them alive. You are standing here stable. Breathing. That means... you are not human."
Jiyul's body went still.
"...Then what the hell am I?"
"I don't know," Velkhan said. "But something old is in your blood."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Velkhan looked at him with renewed intensity. "You seek strength, right?"
Jiyul nodded.
"Then listen."
Velkhan raised his hand and pointed toward the distant, unseen peaks.
"Up there. Deep in the spine of Death Spring, you will find more remains. More souls like mine. Touch them. See. Learn. But be warned... not all memories are survivable."
"I don't care," Jiyul said.
Velkhan gave a faint, sad smile.
"Just don't become another monster."
The light began to fade. The gold turned to grey. The warmth turned to cold ash.
Jiyul blinked.
The ruins returned. The bones. The silence.
He stood up slowly. The skeleton on the throne stared blankly ahead, its story finally told.
The wind howled above the peaks, carrying the scent of snow and old death.
Jiyul looked toward the higher cliffs, his eyes colder than before.
"I am not done yet."
And then, he walked.
Alone. Again.