The first light of the false dawn was not sunlight.
It was flame.
From horizon to horizon, the sky split open like a wound that refused to heal. Streams of molten radiance bled across the clouds, pouring downward in fiery rivers that turned the sea into glass and the air into embers. The Seventh Seal had shattered completely — and from its ruin, Velgrin's sun rose.
It was no celestial body, but a core of compressed godfire — an artificial star pulsing in the void, drawing upon the remnants of divinity itself. Every beat of its heart echoed through the world like thunder in bone.
Beneath that false dawn, Sid stood upon the scorched plateau of Oltaris, his tattered coat whipping in the infernal wind. The chains along his arms pulsed with unsteady rhythm, the runes between them flickering like dying constellations.
The Eighth Seal had not yet opened. But the world was already unraveling.
The Whispering Sky
The air was heavy — not with heat, but with voices.
Every living thing was crying out in its own language — mountains groaning, oceans whispering, forests singing a dirge of smoke.
Sid could feel them. Every fragment of reality was pleading with him to stop what was coming.
But above all those cries was the voice that had haunted him for months — the one that now spoke inside the hollow of his chest.
"Vessel… you've resisted long enough."
Ravh'Zereth's tone was no longer furious or tempting. It was weary.
Ancient.
Like an old god tired of eternity.
Sid's breath came slow, even, his hands trembling against the weight of that presence.
"You still think I'll be your weapon?" he whispered.
"You already are, the demon replied. Every breath you take, every flame you summon — all born of me. You can't unmake the source without unmaking yourself."
Sid's lips curved into a bitter half-smile. "Then I'll burn both."
Lightning tore through the false sky. Velgrin descended through it, cloaked in radiant gold and crimson — his form wreathed in the light of the newborn sun.
His armor seemed forged of molten scripture, each plate engraved with the verses of fallen gods.
Around him, the ground bent.
Reality itself bowed.
"Sid," Velgrin called, his voice calm, patient, echoing like a hymn through the dying air. "You've come farther than I expected."
Sid lifted his head, eyes burning faintly silver-red. "And you've fallen lower than anyone could imagine."
Velgrin smiled faintly. "You still think in terms of heights and depths. I think in terms of purpose."
He spread his hands — and the false sun flared brighter behind him.
"Look around you. The gods are gone. The world is blind. But I... I can give it light again."
"By destroying it?" Sid snarled. "By branding every living thing under your Seal?"
Velgrin's expression didn't change. "You call it destruction. I call it redefinition."
The world shuddered as Sid's aura ignited.
Crimson and black flame roared from his body, the chains on his wrists glowing white-hot as he drew upon the raw chaos inside. Every breath tore the air apart. Every heartbeat cracked the earth beneath him.
Velgrin moved first.
With a flick of his hand, the false sun fired a column of flame so dense it shattered the clouds. It struck Sid dead on — or so it seemed — until the light bent around a sudden shockwave of silver-black fire.
Sid stood unscathed, his expression unreadable. "That light of yours… it doesn't feel divine. It feels hungry."
Velgrin's smile faded. "It is creation, not hunger."
"Then let's see which one burns brighter."
They collided.
Flame met flame.
The sky screamed.
Each impact tore through reality — light bleeding into darkness, darkness swallowing light, the two folding together in waves of violent equilibrium. The plateau melted beneath their feet, the air disintegrating into raw energy.
Velgrin's movements were graceful, almost prayerful. Each strike he made resembled a ritual, his gestures weaving celestial runes in the air. Sid's movements were instinctive — fluid, feral, chaotic.
Where Velgrin's flame built, Sid's unraveled.
And slowly — impossibly — the false sun began to flicker.
Velgrin staggered backward, smoke rising from his armor.
He looked down at the cracks forming across his arm — golden light leaking through them like blood.
"Impressive," he murmured. "You're the first to fight divinity with defiance alone."
Sid didn't answer. His body was breaking apart from within. Every time he drew on the daemon fire, the chains screamed.
One link snapped — then another. The air filled with the sound of splitting metal and the faint scent of ozone.
Nox's voice echoed in his mind.
" If they break naturally, you won't be you anymore…"
He gritted his teeth. "Then I'll make sure they break my way."
He raised his hand — and for the first time, the fire that answered him was not black, nor crimson.
It was silver.
Light that defied both gods and demons.
A paradox — a living flame that consumed without destruction.
Velgrin's eyes widened. "That… that's impossible."
Sid's voice was low, steady. "You said fire couldn't be chained. But maybe it can choose to stay."
He clenched his fist — and the silver flame erupted.
It consumed everything.
The false sun shattered.
Velgrin's scream echoed through the sky as the Seal sigils tore apart, raining molten light like blood across the heavens.
Sid stood at the center of the chaos, the remnants of his chains spiraling around him like fragments of a halo. The flame no longer devoured him — it listened.
Every spark bent toward his will, every flicker singing to his heartbeat.
Velgrin fell to one knee, eyes blazing with fury and awe.
"What have you done?"
Sid's answer was quiet, almost gentle.
"I've rewritten the law of flame."
Velgrin's voice trembled. "You think you've won? The Eighth Seal will open regardless. The demon will awaken through you."
Sid looked down at him, the faint silver light flickering in his eyes.
"Then I'll be there when it does... and I'll decide what it becomes."
He turned away as Velgrin's form began to crumble, golden ash scattering into the wind.
The world fell silent.
The false sun was gone. The ruins of Oltaris smoldered softly beneath a calm, gray sky.
Sid stood alone amidst the aftermath, smoke rising gently from the scorched ground.
The last fragments of his chains hovered in the air, glowing faintly before dissolving into sparks that drifted around him like fireflies.
For the first time in ages, he felt… light.
No god's whisper. No daemon's roar. Just the faint rhythm of his own pulse — his own existence.
He knelt, pressing his burned hand into the ash, and whispered:
"If power is a curse… then I'll use it to end every curse that came before."
From the horizon, the air shimmered faintly — the first breath of the Eighth Seal stirring somewhere far below the world.
Sid looked up at the faint silver glow still dancing on his fingertips.
He smiled — not in triumph, but in quiet defiance.
"When the next flame rises… it won't be theirs."
And as he walked into the drifting ash, the sound of burning chains faded — leaving only the soft hum of creation reborn.