Chapter 15: The Fangs of Rebirth

Yeo stood at the edge of the Burnt Sea, the horizon painted in the blood-red light of the fading sun. The waters, once deep and vast, were now little more than a cracked wasteland of ash and desolation. Ancient ships, wrecked and decaying, lay scattered across the shore like forgotten relics.

Echoes of time whispered in the wind, the remnants of a world lost. Yeo could feel their presence, could hear their fragmented stories—a language that only those attuned to the past could understand.

But today, the echoes did not speak of ancient wars or the fall of gods. They whispered of rebirth. Of a world waiting to rise from its own ashes.

He could feel it.

A shift in the air—a current of power. Something was coming, something that had been waiting since the gods abandoned their realm.

It was the Fangs of Rebirth, a relic of forgotten magic. Its existence was nothing more than a whisper in the forgotten scriptures of the ancient world. But Yeo knew what it was. He had seen the signs. The Fangs were said to hold the power to reshape a world torn apart by divine conflict, to rewrite the laws of nature and time itself.

But such power came at a cost.

The ground beneath him began to tremble. The Fangs were awakening.

A black figure emerged from the ruins of a shipwreck—a towering silhouette with a cloak of cracked obsidian. Azariel, the Guardian of the Fangs, stepped forward, his gaze cold and ancient. His armor shimmered with a strange, ethereal light, fragments of stars caught in the patterns etched into his skin.

"You are not ready," Azariel said, his voice like the distant rumble of thunder. "The Fangs are not for mortals."

Yeo's grip on his blade tightened. He had come too far, faced too much, to turn back now.

"I am not just a mortal," Yeo replied, his voice steady. "I carry the truth of this world in my bones. I am its awakening."

Azariel's gaze seemed to pierce through Yeo, as if weighing the very essence of his being.

"The Fangs are not a gift," Azariel warned. "They are a test. To wield them is to challenge the very fabric of existence. You will either become the savior of this broken world… or its destroyer."

Yeo stepped forward, unyielding.

"I am not afraid of the cost. The world has already been destroyed by the gods. What more could I break?"

Azariel's expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something—perhaps a shadow of doubt—crossed his ancient features. With a single motion, he gestured to the Fangs of Rebirth, which lay embedded in the sand like the teeth of some great, sleeping beast. The earth around them cracked open, revealing a hidden altar, glowing with an eerie, pulsing light.

The Fangs were serpentine, gleaming obsidian with streaks of molten gold running through them. They seemed to pulse with a life of their own, each fang humming with untapped power.

Yeo approached them, his steps slow but resolute. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind clear.

"You seek the Fangs," Azariel said, his tone both warning and resigned. "But remember this: The Fangs do not choose the weak. They do not choose the naïve. They choose the broken."

Yeo extended his hand toward the Fangs, feeling the weight of history pressing against him. The moment his fingers brushed against the sharp tips, the world seemed to halt.

A flash of light enveloped him, and the pain of a thousand lifetimes surged through his body. His vision blurred. He saw worlds collapsing, stars burning out, and ancient cities falling into ruin. He saw the gods themselves, their power unraveling as they destroyed everything they had created.

And then, he saw himself—standing among the ruins, his body torn and battered, but his eyes burning with an unyielding resolve.

A voice echoed in his mind. "Choose, Yeo. Choose who you will become."

The light began to fade, and Yeo collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The Fangs had chosen him.

He was no longer the boy who had walked into the ruins of the Ashen Vale. He was something more—something dangerous, something new.

Azariel knelt beside him, his expression unchanged. "You have chosen, then. There is no turning back. The Fangs will shape your destiny, whether you want it or not."

Yeo stood, his body burning with newfound power, his mind sharpened by the weight of his choice.

"I did not choose this power," Yeo said, his voice cold. "I chose the world. To free it. And to do that, I must break everything."

Azariel said nothing, his gaze piercing. He knew the price. And soon, Yeo would learn it too.

The Fangs of Rebirth had awakened.

And the world would never be the same.