Chaos unbound

[Warning: This chapter contains extreme violence and unsettling imagery.]

Proceed with caution.

The village of Redhallow was quiet.

Warm light flickered behind cottage windows. The night air carried the scent of woodsmoke and baked bread. Crickets chirped lazily. Somewhere, a dog barked once—then fell silent.

Inside a small house on the village's edge, a teenage girl tucked her younger brother—who resembled her—into bed.

She stared out the window, eyes fixed on the lone house atop the hill.

"He'll be alright, Sheila," a voice murmured at her side. "His mum's legendary, after all."

She smiled faintly. "I know. It's just... the tremors are annoying. Now get to bed—you've got a big day tomorrow."

"I really can't wait. Can't the night just end already?" he said, trembling with excitement.

"Close your eyes. It'll be morning before you know it." She covered his eyes gently with her hands.

Her gaze returned to the hilltop.

No lights. No sound.

No more tremors.

I really hope he's okay.

If only I wasn't just Ember-Hand level, she thought, glancing down at her palms.

Yesterday, she'd felt powerful—elated—after advancing to mid Ember-Hand.

Now? She felt small. Useless.

Her father had warned her: the presences up there were beyond even him.

And she could feel it—barely, but enough to know it was true.

She couldn't leave, even if she wanted to. And she wanted to badly.

But someone had to watch her brother.

Her father had already joined the other men, preparing for whatever came next.

She sighed, unease twisting in her gut.

Something's wrong. But what?

Her eyes drifted back to her sleeping brother.

---

An obelisk surrounded by a pond stood at the center of Redhallow.

Men and a few teenagers clustered around it.

The teens chatted excitedly—most of them, anyway.

The men gripped their weapons: swords, spears, halberds. A few checked the edges.

Most stared up at the hill.

A dark-haired, broad-shouldered boy with rugged features stood beside a larger man whose beard and weathered face hinted at their relation.

"I think it's over, Chief," the boy muttered, glancing toward the hill. "I can't feel the veinfire fluctuations anymore. It's quiet."

The man sighed. "Talent without experience gets you killed, huh? You don't feel it."

Muscles rippling, he lifted his halberd from the ground.

The men stiffened, instinctively circling the obelisk in a loose defense.

Weapons raised. Eyes sharp.

The teenagers followed their lead, confused but eager—drawing blades, hefting spears.

"What's happening?" one asked.

"No idea," his friend said, brushing back his hair. "But whatever it is—it's gonna be epic."

Then—from the obelisk—a voice cut through the night.

Chilling. Smooth. Mocking.

"What are we looking at? Are you waiting for me? How nice."

A man whirled and hurled his spear at the stone.

Boom—

The spear struck—but there was no one there.

They turned—searching.

No sign. No movement.

"That's not nice," whispered a voice behind the thrower.

It was the last thing he heard.

His upper body exploded like a burst wineskin, gore spraying in all directions.

Blood and organs drenched the boy beside him.

"Tch," Kael clicked his tongue. "So weak."

A scream tore through the gathering.

One of the teenagers stumbled back, crawling in terror.

The others turned—

Kael stood there, wearing an unnatural, eerie smile.

Several boys doubled over, vomiting at the sight.

The older warriors didn't hesitate.

Lightning-wrapped spears. Stone-encased fists. Beast-shaped spectral silhouettes—

—all launched toward Kael in a deadly barrage.

Kael grinned.

The miasma shrouding his right arm swelled, forming a black shield that caught every strike.

It wrapped around limbs and weapons, dragging the attackers closer.

Kael cocked his fist and threw a single punch.

Boom—

Bodies ruptured.

The shockwave slammed into the obelisk, shattering it.

Stone fragments rained down, ripping through nearby homes.

Screams erupted as villagers spilled into the streets.

Kael looked up and smiled, drinking in the chaos.

Suddenly—

Clang!

—a halberd crashed into his gauntlet from behind, driving him half a step into the earth.

Kael turned his head slightly, a flicker of interest in his black eyes.

"Oh? That's interesting."

A fist rocketed toward Kael's face.

His left hand blurred, snapping up and catching the punch midair with a crack of pressure.

He smiled wider. "But still... not enough."

Just then, something hissed through the air—

Kael ducked instinctively.

A spear, launched moments earlier, twisted midair, bending like a whip.

It curved around, lashing toward Kael's head.

Kael leaned into it deliberately, letting the tip slam into his forehead.

Crack—

The spear shattered on impact.

"Move back!" the Chief barked.

The spear-wielder, wide-eyed, retreated instantly.

Kael's grin deepened.

"Cute trick."

He seized the Chief one-handed and hurled him like a stone.

The man crashed through a house—then another—splintering wood and stone—before embedding into a rock deep in the woods.

Dust and debris billowed around the wreckage.

The Chief's hand twisted at an unnatural angle.

Blood leaked from his mouth.

His hair matted and soaked red.

"Chief!" a voice cried.

Kael turned.

The spear-wielder sprinted toward the wreckage.

Arrows rained from above—loosed by the younger fighters, their tips infused with veinfire.

Kael swung his arm in a wide arc.

A black crescent of energy followed.

The arrows vanished.

Then—

the upper halves of the group slid off their bodies in perfect silence.

Behind them, homes collapsed.

The mountain itself groaned, a jagged scar tearing across its face.

Kael stood alone.

The warriors lay dead, unconscious, or mangled.

Half the village lay in ruins.

Blood flowed through the streets like a stream.

In the distance, villagers fled into the woods.

"That was no fun," Kael muttered, turning toward the runners.

He vanished.

A scream rang out.

Then another.

Then more—

scattered across the village, overlapping into a harrowing, discordant symphony of horror.