Horizon Of The Gods.
"We are the flames that shape this world," he declared, his chest swelling with pride. "A force that decides what shall be protected and what shall be reduced to ash. Blessed by the God of Chaos, we shall never know defeat. We are… the Blazing Clan.
As if to punctuate his declaration, the flames throughout the room surged upward, blazing a majestic, vibrant red as they roared with renewed fury.
"So, should I be proud to be a Blaze?" Nuray asked.
Vulcan laughed.
"Of course you should! In my time, we were a force to be reckoned with. But look at us now. The Pantheon Church has disguised its control as a peace treaty, and the new generation has become so blinded by its promises that it has forgotten the true power of our clan."
"Father, is that okay?" Nuray asked.
"Hmm…" Vulcan pondered for a moment. "At least we're not at war." He chuckled again, seemingly unbothered.
"Seriously, Dad?" Nuray exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.
"Anyway, Nuray," he said, turning toward the exit, "let's go. It's time for you to do your homework and get some sleep."
They had barely turned to leave the vault when a faint sensation brushed against Vulcan's senses.
He stopped.
It was subtle—so subtle that only someone with exceptional awareness might have noticed it. Yet beneath that fleeting sensation, he detected something far more unsettling.
Something was awakening.
Vulcan slowly turned his head, his senses reaching out toward the source. Whatever it was, it seemed to be desperately concealing its presence from him.
"Nuray," he called.
She turned to face him.
"Go on ahead. I need to inspect something here. I'll join you for dinner later."
Nuray hesitated briefly, but Vulcan's expression left little room for argument.
As she made her way out, Vulcan remained behind, his attention fixed on the mysterious presence lurking somewhere within the vault.
He began walking down the hallway, passing a series of portraits that chronicled his family's legacy. He stopped before the first—his father's.
"Hmm…" he murmured, studying the portrait. "Look at you. A great man, silenced and laid to rest against your will."
His gaze settled on the painting. It depicted a man with glowing red eyes, an imposing figure holding a blazing axe in his hand. Even in stillness, the portrait seemed to radiate an overwhelming presence.
Vulcan lowered his head, pain tightening his expression.
"I am ashamed to call myself your son."
He clenched his fist.
"I am too weak."
Despite being a Level 9 Advanced Warrior, Vulcan was nowhere near powerful enough to challenge the Pantheon Church. Its ranks were filled with Saints and Warlords, figures whose power far exceeded his own.
And so, he remained insignificant in their eyes.
His demands went unanswered. His grievances were ignored. No matter how loudly he protested, he lacked the strength to make the Church listen.
For all his pride in the Blazing Clan's former glory, Vulcan could do little more than stand beneath his father's portrait and wonder how far they had fallen.
"I will seclude myself and train," Vulcan thought. "But first, I need to wait for my wife to return. She must be a Saint by now."
A fond smile crept across his face.
"Oh, Cassandra… the Flaming Lotus of Blaze." He chuckled softly. "I can't wait to see you, my dear."
With that thought, he moved on to the next portrait, then the next, carefully examining each one as he continued down the hallway.
"Where is it?" he demanded, frustration creeping into his voice.
After a lengthy search, he finally realized that only one portrait remained unaccounted for.
His gaze shifted toward the sealed inner vault on the left.
With a trembling hand, he turned toward it.
"Oh, no…"
His senses screamed of danger.
"My father said this was where his tomb was."
Fear and curiosity warred within him as he approached the sealed entrance. He examined the mechanism, then cautiously turned the gear and stepped back, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing.
Vulcan frowned.
"Does this work the same way as the first door?"
He raised his hand and began performing the gestures of a common yet sacred technique.
"Crimson Flames."
Fire erupted from his palm, glowing a brilliant red, almost the color of fresh blood. Carefully, he pressed his flaming hand against the final gear.
A deafening roar thundered through the vault.
The entire seal blazed crimson, and the room began to tremble violently. A powerful gust of wind burst from within as the ancient door slowly swung open.
Vulcan steadied himself before stepping inside.
As he crossed the threshold, the flames lining the sealed chamber ignited one after another, illuminating the darkness.
And there, standing alone in the chamber, was a single portrait.
Its majestic frame radiated an aura of supreme authority, its presence commanding reverence even in the silence of the tomb.
"Is that… Ignious?"
Vulcan stared at the portrait, his voice barely above a whisper.
Fear crept through him as the implications of his discovery began to settle in. Whatever secrets his father had concealed within this vault, perhaps they were never meant to be uncovered.
He took a hesitant step backward.
I must leave. Whatever lies here, I was never meant to see it.
He turned toward the entrance, desperate to escape the chamber before he became entangled in something beyond his understanding.
"DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SIMPLY WALK IN HERE AND LEAVE WHENEVER YOU PLEASE?!"
The thunderous voice erupted behind him, shaking the very foundations of the vault. Dust rained from the ceiling as the crimson flames lining the walls surged violently, as though responding to the speaker's fury.
Vulcan froze.
His heart pounded as he slowly turned back toward the portrait. The painted figure remained motionless, yet an overwhelming pressure filled the chamber. The air itself seemed heavier, pressing down on him with an authority unlike anything he had ever experienced.
"W-Who's there?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady.
A low, chilling laugh echoed through the vault.
"You dare enter my resting place, disturb my slumber, and then attempt to flee without so much as an explanation?"
Vulcan clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand his ground despite every instinct urging him to run.
This pressure… What kind of monster am I dealing with?
Then something extraordinary happened.
The crimson flames began to shift. One by one, they bent toward the portrait, their flickering tips bowing as though paying homage to their master.
Vulcan's eyes widened. The figure's glowing red eyes seemed to pierce through the canvas, fixing their gaze directly upon him.
"I can sense that you are now the leader of my noble clan." the figure said
"