Chapter 2 — Ashes Beneath the Sky
The wind carried the smell of burned stone.
Kelvin stood on a ridge of cracked black earth, staring down at the ruins of Transvine. What had once been a living city—full of noise, color, and fragile hope—was now nothing more than a scar across the land. Towers lay broken like snapped bones. Streets were buried beneath molten rock. Smoke curled endlessly into the sky, as if the world itself were still grieving.
"Mom…" he whispered.
No answer came.
Kelvin ran.
His feet pounded against the scorched ground as he sprinted toward the ruins, calling her name again and again. He climbed over collapsed walls and shattered market stalls, past bodies that had already begun to crumble into ash.
"Mom! Please—answer me!"
His voice cracked. His chest burned. Still, he kept running.
Then he found it.
Where his home had once stood.
The small house was gone, reduced to a smoking mound of stone and broken wood. The door. The roof. The place where his mother used to wait for him—
All erased.
Kelvin dropped to his knees.
"No… no, no, no…"
His hands dug into the rubble, ignoring the heat as it blistered his skin. He tore away broken beams, desperate, frantic.
"Mom! I'm here! I came back! Please—"
Nothing.
No voice.
No warmth.
No life.
Only silence.
Something inside Kelvin broke.
Not loudly.
Not all at once.
It simply… gave way.
The world felt hollow, as if everything meaningful had been torn out of it and left behind only an empty shell.
High above, unseen, the goddess Cia watched.
Her fingers trembled as she gazed down at the ruin she had helped create. The once-beautiful city was now nothing but a graveyard.
"They were supposed to change…" she whispered. "I gave them time…"
Golden tears slid down her cheeks and vanished before they could reach the ground.
"I'm sorry…"
But apologies could not bring back the dead.
Kelvin slowly stood.
His eyes were no longer those of a child.
They were dark, empty, and burning with something far heavier than grief.
"If gods can do this…" he muttered, staring up at the ruined sky, "…then gods are no better than monsters."
His fists tightened until his nails cut into his palms.
"I'll become strong enough to face them."
Days passed.
Kelvin walked.
He did not know where he was going. He only knew he could not remain in Transvine. The ruins were filled with beasts now—drawn to the lingering divine power like insects to a corpse.
He crossed dry plains and broken valleys. His feet blistered. His throat cracked from thirst. Hunger gnawed at him until it felt like something was eating him from the inside.
Eventually, he collapsed beside the body of a dead beast.
It was small. Charred. But still usable.
Kelvin stared at it for a long time.
Then he remembered his mother's face.
He took out his knife.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
He cooked the meat over a small fire. It tasted terrible. He gagged as he swallowed.
But it kept him alive.
And that was enough.
Every day, he moved.
Every night, he slept with one eye open.
Beasts attacked him more than once. Some were weak. Some nearly killed him. He learned to dodge. To strike. To endure.
Pain became normal.
Fear became fuel.
Until one day, the sand beneath his feet shifted.
The ground exploded upward.
A massive sandworm burst from below, its jaws wide enough to swallow a horse. Kelvin barely leapt aside in time as it crashed down where he had been standing.
The creature roared and charged again.
Kelvin raised his worn blade.
"Come on…" he breathed. "Kill me… or let me live."
The worm lunged.
Kelvin rolled beneath it and slashed upward with everything he had left.
Steel cut deep.
The sandworm screamed.
Moments later, its massive body collapsed in a storm of dust and blood.
Kelvin dropped to his knees, gasping.
Still alive.
Again.
He stared at the endless desert horizon, chest rising and falling.Chapter 2 — Ashes Beneath the Sky
The wind carried the smell of burned stone.
Kelvin stood on a ridge of cracked black earth, staring down at the ruins of Transvine. What had once been a living city—full of noise, color, and fragile hope—was now nothing more than a scar across the land. Towers lay broken like snapped bones. Streets were buried beneath molten rock. Smoke curled endlessly into the sky, as if the world itself were still grieving.
"Mom…" he whispered.
No answer came.
Kelvin ran.
His feet pounded against the scorched ground as he sprinted toward the ruins, calling her name again and again. He climbed over collapsed walls and shattered market stalls, past bodies that had already begun to crumble into ash.
"Mom! Please—answer me!"
His voice cracked. His chest burned. Still, he kept running.
Then he found it.
Where his home had once stood.
The small house was gone, reduced to a smoking mound of stone and broken wood. The door. The roof. The place where his mother used to wait for him—
All erased.
Kelvin dropped to his knees.
"No… no, no, no…"
His hands dug into the rubble, ignoring the heat as it blistered his skin. He tore away broken beams, desperate, frantic.
"Mom! I'm here! I came back! Please—"
Nothing.
No voice.
No warmth.
No life.
Only silence.
Something inside Kelvin broke.
Not loudly.
Not all at once.
It simply… gave way.
The world felt hollow, as if everything meaningful had been torn out of it and left behind only an empty shell.
High above, unseen, the goddess Cia watched.
Her fingers trembled as she gazed down at the ruin she had helped create. The once-beautiful city was now nothing but a graveyard.
"They were supposed to change…" she whispered. "I gave them time…"
Golden tears slid down her cheeks and vanished before they could reach the ground.
"I'm sorry…"
But apologies could not bring back the dead.
Kelvin slowly stood.
His eyes were no longer those of a child.
They were dark, empty, and burning with something far heavier than grief.
"If gods can do this…" he muttered, staring up at the ruined sky, "…then gods are no better than monsters."
His fists tightened until his nails cut into his palms.
"I'll become strong enough to face them."
Days passed.
Kelvin walked.
He did not know where he was going. He only knew he could not remain in Transvine. The ruins were filled with beasts now—drawn to the lingering divine power like insects to a corpse.
He crossed dry plains and broken valleys. His feet blistered. His throat cracked from thirst. Hunger gnawed at him until it felt like something was eating him from the inside.
Eventually, he collapsed beside the body of a dead beast.
It was small. Charred. But still usable.
Kelvin stared at it for a long time.
Then he remembered his mother's face.
He took out his knife.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
He cooked the meat over a small fire. It tasted terrible. He gagged as he swallowed.
But it kept him alive.
And that was enough.
Every day, he moved.
Every night, he slept with one eye open.
Beasts attacked him more than once. Some were weak. Some nearly killed him. He learned to dodge. To strike. To endure.
Pain became normal.
Fear became fuel.
Until one day, the sand beneath his feet shifted.
The ground exploded upward.
A massive sandworm burst from below, its jaws wide enough to swallow a horse. Kelvin barely leapt aside in time as it crashed down where he had been standing.
The creature roared and charged again.
Kelvin raised his worn blade.
"Come on…" he breathed. "Kill me… or let me live."
The worm lunged.
Kelvin rolled beneath it and slashed upward with everything he had left.
Steel cut deep.
The sandworm screamed.
Moments later, its massive body collapsed in a storm of dust and blood.
Kelvin dropped to his knees, gasping.
Still alive.
Again.
He stared at the endless desert horizon, chest rising and falling.
"…Guess I don't get to die yet."
The wind answered him with silence.
"…Guess I don't get to die yet."
The wind answered him with silence.