: Duel of the Flameborn

Chapter 29

The ash beneath Nezutsu's feet shimmered with memory.

Across from him stood Neh'zurel — a version of himself shaped by rage, betrayal, and power. The self that never forgot the fire.

The self that chose to burn.

Around them, Aethrakar pulsed like a living scar in the world. The ancient pyre roared behind Neh'zurel, casting flames in every direction — fire that did not destroy, but revealed.

"You locked me away," Neh'zurel said. "You chose weakness — hiding among mortals, pretending to be less than what we are."

"I didn't choose anything!" Nezutsu shouted back. "My memories were stolen. My power was sealed."

"And yet you still fear it.""You think you're righteous, but you're just cowardice wearing defiance like armor."

Velgrim and Kaelith stood behind Nezutsu, but the heat was pushing them back.

"We can't interfere," Velgrim warned. "This is a soul duel — a fight inside his essence. Only he can survive it."

Neh'zurel conjured a weapon from flame — a curved blade made of burning truth. It sang with every movement, like a scream locked in crystal.

Nezutsu looked down at his hands.

Nothing.

No flame. No weapon. No answers.

Only fear.

"You've grown," Neh'zurel smirked. "But not enough. Let me finish what we began."

And then he struck.

The Soul Battle

Neh'zurel moved like lightning in a storm.

Every swing of his blade cracked the air. Each footstep melted the world beneath. He fought not like a mage, but like a force of nature. Every motion was poetry — every strike, a memory of a war Nezutsu had long forgotten.

Nezutsu barely dodged. A burn sliced across his shoulder.

"He's me… but perfected. I can't win this with power."

He ducked a sweeping arc and shouted, "Why do you want me to fight you?!"

Neh'zurel responded by flinging a chain of fire at his chest.

"Because the world won't survive half of us. One must become the truth."

Nezutsu rolled, panting. His feet slipped in ash.

He reached within himself — not for fire, not for mana, but for meaning.

And then it sparked.

A flicker.

A memory.

The Forgotten Promise

A girl.

Younger than him.

Standing in the rain, holding a flickering candle.

Her eyes were golden like sunlight in winter.

"Promise me," she said. "No matter what happens, you'll never become like them. Don't let the fire turn you cold."

Nezutsu gasped.

"That's why I sealed you," he said aloud, staring at Neh'zurel. "To keep that promise."

The rage in Neh'zurel faltered for a heartbeat.

"She's gone."

"But her words aren't."

Nezutsu's hands erupted with a different flame. Not gold. Not violet.

But white. Pure and searing. A flame that remembered kindness.

The Flame of Will, born from choice.

Reversal

Neh'zurel roared. "That fire doesn't belong in gods!"

"That's the point," Nezutsu replied. "It was never about being a god. It was about not losing myself."

He charged.

The two flames clashed — white against crimson.

Their battle shattered echoes of the past. Entire cities formed and burned around them in seconds. Visions of ancient battles flashed — gods falling, Nezutsu crying in a crater, fire raining like sorrow.

Finally, Nezutsu found an opening.

He pressed a hand to Neh'zurel's chest and whispered:

"I don't need to destroy you."

"Then what will you do?"

"Accept you."

A burst of light.

The battlefield dissolved.

Reunion of the Flame

Nezutsu awoke, coughing ash.

Kaelith knelt beside him. "You're back. What happened?"

Velgrim helped him sit up. "The scar on your back… it's glowing."

Nezutsu turned. His skin now bore a burning symbol — two interlocked circles, one white, one red.

"It's done," he said. "He's not gone. He's part of me now. The rage and the reason. The fire and the frost."

"You merged with your past self?"

"I reclaimed it."

Kaelith smirked. "You've been busy."

He smiled — then winced as the sky cracked open.

The Warning

A voice thundered from above.

Not Neh'zurel. Not the Drowned Star.

Something older.

"FLAMEBORN… YOU TRESPASSED TOO DEEP."

A great eye opened in the sky. Not a real sky — the skin of the world. Through it, they saw a darkness with teeth.

"The Sleeper stirs," Velgrim whispered. "This is a warning."

"No," Nezutsu said, fists clenched. "It's a countdown."

Suddenly, from behind the pyre, a figure stepped out.

Not made of fire. Not godly.

A child.

He looked ten years old. Barefoot. Pale hair. Eyes full of sadness.

"My name," the boy said, "is Asphor."

"I… am the vessel of the Fifth Forgotten God."

Velgrim and Kaelith froze.

Nezutsu's mouth went dry.

"You're the hidden god Neh'zurel warned us about…"

"Yes," Asphor replied. "But I'm not here to fight you."

"Then why are you here?"

Asphor looked up at the burning sky.

"Because I've seen the end. And in every future… you die screaming."

[TO BE CONTINUED...]