A Flicker Of Divinity

Kael's vision blurred, sweat dripping into his eyes as he struggled to stay on his feet. His body was screaming—every muscle burned, every breath felt like a battle. Was this it? Was this how he would fall, not to an army of angels, but to a band of orcs?

No.

Not like this.

A deep, forgotten instinct stirred within him. His grip tightened on his dagger as he glared at the remaining orcs. He would not fall here. He could not.

The air around him crackled. A familiar hum. A forgotten power.

His golden blood simmered beneath his skin, and for the briefest moment—he felt it again.

A spark of divinity.

Electricity arced between his fingertips, faint, unstable, but real. A remnant of what he once was. The orcs hesitated, sensing the sudden shift. Kael's eyes burned with renewed fire as he forced his broken body to move.

With a roar, he lunged forward, his dagger coated in flickering divine energy. The first orc barely had time to react before Kael's blade carved through its chest, sending a violent surge of light coursing through its body. The creature convulsed, shrieking as divine energy tore through its corrupted form.

Darian watched, stunned. "What the hell…?"

Kael didn't stop. He turned to the last orc, using the last dregs of his power to unleash a final strike. A single, precise cut—a flash of lightning, a crack of thunder—and the orc fell, its body charred from within.

Silence.

Kael stumbled, gasping as the divine power faded as quickly as it had come. It was gone.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to one knee, staring at his trembling hands. He could still feel the ghost of that power, but it had slipped from his grasp just as quickly as it had returned.

Even now… he was weak.

Darian rushed to his side, supporting him. "Kael… what the hell was that?"

Kael didn't answer. He could only stare at his hands, his heart pounding with one, terrifying realization.

Kael clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath his skin. That brief flicker of power—it had been real. He had felt it, had wielded it, but it was gone.

His breathing was ragged as he forced himself to stand. Every muscle in his body protested, but he ignored the pain. He couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. Not ever again.

Darian studied him warily. "That wasn't normal, Kael. That was… something else."

Ren groaned from the ground, still recovering from his injuries. "You just cut down those orcs like they were nothing. What the hell was that power?"

Kael remained silent, his gaze locked on his trembling hands. He knew exactly what it was. A fragment of his divinity, buried deep, trapped beneath layers of mortality.

His power wasn't gone. It was asleep.

Dormant.

Something was sealing it away, restricting him, keeping him from reclaiming what was once his. That flicker had been a momentary crack in the barrier—a reminder of what he had lost, and what he needed to regain.

Darian stepped closer. "Kael?"

Kael exhaled sharply, his exhaustion catching up to him. Not now. He needed rest, needed time to figure this out.

"…Let's go," he muttered, forcing himself to move. "We're done here."

Darian and Ren exchanged glances but didn't press him further.

As they trudged back to Emberhod, Kael's mind raced.

If his power was dormant, then there had to be a way to awaken it.

And when that time cames…

The heavens would tremble once more

Kael, Darian, and Ren sat by the riverbank, their bodies aching from the brutal battle. The cool water washed away the blood and grime, but the exhaustion lingered. As they poured healing potions over their wounds, the stinging pain dulled, replaced by a numbing relief.

Darian let out a long sigh. "That was too close… those weren't just D-rank monsters."

Ren, still wincing, muttered, "C-rank orcs in a D-rank zone? That's not normal."

Kael remained silent, his eyes fixed on the rippling water. His mind wasn't here. It was on that fleeting moment in battle—the spark of power that had flickered through him. He had felt it, just for an instant, before it vanished again into the abyss. His divinity… it wasn't completely gone.

Far away, in a land untouched by mortal hands, ten figures stirred.

They did not know what had awakened, only that something had.

A woman wreathed in blue fire turned her gaze skyward. "Did you feel that?"

A cloaked figure, sitting atop a throne of obsidian, tapped his fingers against the armrest. "A presence… faint, but familiar."

A warrior in silver armor gripped the hilt of his sword, his brow furrowed. "Something is shifting. But what?"

Another, clad in flowing black robes, spoke in a whisper that sent chills through the chamber. "It was brief… but something long thought buried has stirred."

A heavy silence followed.

They did not know what it was. But the very air felt wrong. As if something forgotten—something sealed away—was clawing its way back into existence.

And in the distant heavens, Malachai frowned. He had felt something. A ripple in the void.

He did not yet understand what it meant.

But soon, he would.