The last Velkar soldier ran through the hills, barefoot and bloodstained, desperate to escape the black flame burning on the walls of Stonehaven. Behind him, the air was thick with smoke and the screams of the fallen. He would be the message, Kael had said. And the Empire would hear it.
Inside the newly conquered fortress, Kael stood before a roaring fire in the great hall. Ashveil rested on his lap, its black blade drinking in the firelight. Around him sat his closest followers, gathered in a rough circle. Soldiers, killers, and survivors now looked to him not just as a warlord, but as a rising force.
"Stonehaven is ours," Kael began, voice cold and steady. "But this is no victory. This is a declaration."
Rogan nodded. "The Velkar Empire will not ignore this. Their eyes are on us now."
"Good," Kael said. "Let them watch. Let them fear. Let them send armies. And when they do, we will not hide. We will burn them."
Mira spoke next. She had changed. The fire in her eyes was no longer fear. "We need to prepare. Discipline the men. Fortify the gates. And if we can, recruit from the towns that still hate Velkar rule."
Kael rose. "We'll do more than recruit. We'll inspire rebellion."
He stepped toward the table and drew a mark across the map. "This region is called the Vale of Thorns. There are five major towns, all under Velkar control. Each ruled by puppet lords and false justice. We will liberate them."
Rogan scoffed. "Liberate? That's not a word I expected from you."
Kael smirked. "To them, it will look like liberation. To us, it's conquest by another name."
The room was silent for a moment, then one of the younger warriors stood. "They say only Tier 5 mages can breach the enchanted towers in Ironridge."
Kael turned his gaze to the young man. "Then I'll become a Tier 5 mage."
He walked away without explanation, leaving the others in awe and silence.
That night, Kael sat alone in the fortress crypts. Before him burned a small black flame, a manifestation of his internal magic. His power had grown. He was now Tier 3, far beyond the average sorcerer. But he hungered for more.
He remembered the old man's words in the ruins of Mornshade. Nine tiers of magic and sword. Reach beyond, and you touch godhood.
Tier 9 was the edge of mortality. Beyond that, divinity.
Kael stared into the flame and whispered. "I will not stop at Tier 9. I will break the ceiling. I will become a god who walks among men."
But power required more than talent.
It required faith.
The next morning, Kael summoned Mira to the chapel.
It was a crumbling old hall within Stonehaven, barely used since the Empire had outlawed all unsanctioned worship.
He stood in the center, eyes raised to the broken ceiling. "Do you know how the gods gain power?" he asked.
Mira hesitated. "Through belief?"
"Through devotion," Kael corrected. "Through obedience. And fear. When people kneel, not just in body but in spirit, their energy flows. The divine absorb it. That is how they transcend the Ninth Tier."
She frowned. "You want to become a god?"
Kael turned, eyes glowing faintly with black light. "No. I want to surpass them."
He placed his hand on the chapel altar and whispered an incantation. Runes lit up in crimson flame. The old altar cracked open, revealing a hidden relic, a crystal heart pulsing with dormant magic.
"What is that?" Mira asked.
"The first seed of faith," Kael replied. "This church will not worship false gods. It will worship me."
As word of Stonehaven's fall spread, whispers reached the outer towns. Refugees, outlaws, and commoners alike began to journey to the fortress. Some came seeking safety. Others came seeking power. A few came simply to kneel.
Kael welcomed them all.
He gave them fire, food, and purpose. And in return, he asked only one thing.
Loyalty.
Not to an idea. Not to a banner.
To him.
And slowly, like embers stoked into flame, the cult of the Black Flame Emperor was born.