Dawn had barely touched the cracked horizon when they arrived.
Five figures in crimson robes stepped into Dunfall like they owned the earth beneath it. Flames flickered faintly around their sleeves — controlled, disciplined, powerful.
The emblem on their backs burned bright: a clenched fist wrapped in fire.
The Ember Fist Sect.
Villagers bowed instantly. Some dropped to their knees.
Kael did not.
He stood near the cold forge, arms at his sides, eyes steady.
The one in front was tall, broad-shouldered, his hair tied back in a warrior's knot. His presence alone made the air feel hotter.
"Who is the fragment bearer?" he asked calmly.
No one answered.
The sect leader's gaze shifted — and locked onto Kael.
"…You."
Kael felt it too. The Broken Heaven Energy inside him stirred, agitated, like a beast sensing a rival predator.
"I didn't steal anything," Kael said quietly. "It chose me."
A murmur rippled through the villagers.
The tall man stepped closer. "Fragments do not choose. They corrupt." His eyes narrowed. "Release it."
"I don't know how."
"Then we will extract it."
The words fell flat and merciless.
Two disciples stepped forward.
Their fists ignited.
The First Real Battle
They attacked together — synchronized, trained.
Kael moved on instinct.
The first punch grazed his shoulder. Fire burned through cloth and skin. He hissed in pain — real pain.
So he punched back.
The moment his fist collided with flame—
CRACK.
The air fractured.
Not outward this time.
Inward.
The fire collapsed into itself, compressed violently, then shattered into black sparks. The disciple screamed as the backlash sent him skidding across the dirt.
The second disciple leapt upward, descending with a blazing kick aimed at Kael's skull.
Kael didn't dodge.
He raised his hand.
And pushed.
The sky answered.
A jagged black fissure split above them, descending like lightning — but silent. It struck the disciple midair.
His flames went out instantly.
He crashed hard, coughing, his aura gone.
The entire village fell into stunned silence.
Even the Ember Fist leader's eyes widened.
"That energy…" he muttered. "…It devours spiritual essence."
Kael's breathing became uneven. His veins pulsed faintly dark beneath his skin. The power inside him was growing more violent the more it reacted.
He didn't know how to stop it.
"I told you," Kael said, voice shaking slightly, "I don't know what this is."
The sect leader stepped forward at last.
Now the real heat came.
His aura exploded outward — controlled but immense. Flames spiraled around him in a disciplined cyclone. Unlike his disciples, his fire did not flicker wildly.
It burned steady.
"Stand down," he commanded his fallen students.
Then he looked at Kael.
"I am Master Rhyzen of the Ember Fist Sect."
(We won't entity-tag sects since fictional organizations not in database category.)
"You are not a normal fragment bearer. Your power does not resonate with the heavens."
Kael felt sweat roll down his spine.
"Then what is it?"
Rhyzen's gaze hardened.
"It is the kind of power the gods sealed away."
Those words froze the air.
Villagers gasped.
Kael's heart skipped.
The gods sealed away…
The voice inside him whispered again.
"Prisoner… jailer… successor…"
Suddenly—
Kael's vision shifted.
He saw fire.
Not Rhyzen's fire.
Golden pillars collapsing.
Nine radiant figures fighting something unseen beyond a wall of shattered sky.
And one of them turning—
Looking directly at him.
"You were not meant to survive," the memory-god whispered.
Kael screamed and dropped to his knees.
The Broken Heaven Energy erupted outward in a violent pulse.
CRAAAAACK.
The ground around him split in a circle. Windows shattered. Lantern crystals flickered and burst.
Even Master Rhyzen was forced back several steps.
When the energy settled—
Kael was still kneeling.
Alive.
But different.
A faint, jagged mark now traced across his chest beneath his torn shirt — like a crack in porcelain.
Rhyzen exhaled slowly.
"…You cannot stay here."
Kael looked up.
"What?"
"If the higher sects learn of you, they will not attempt extraction."
His voice grew grim.
"They will attempt execution."
The villagers shifted uncomfortably.
Fear returned to their eyes.
Not fear of sect politics.
Fear of Kael.
Rhyzen turned away.
"You have two choices, boy."
"Come with us to the Ember Fist Sect. We will contain and study this power."
"Or remain here… and wait for the Celestial Script Pavilion to arrive."
Kael didn't need to ask what that meant.
Containment meant control.
The Pavilion meant eradication.
The Broken Heaven Energy pulsed again — softer this time.
Hungry.
Curious.
Ready.
Kael slowly rose to his feet.
He looked at his village one last time.
At the forge.
At the cracked earth.
At the people who no longer saw him as one of their own.
"…I'll go," he said quietly.
The sky above shifted again.
Another faint fracture appeared across the heavens.
And far beyond sight—
Something ancient smiled behind weakening chains.