The first punch shattered a stone pillar.
Kai Draven didn't blink. Dust licked his sweat-slick face, drifting like ash through the broken courtyard of the Jade-Fang Dojo.
His knuckles throbbed. Not from pain—but power.
"You hesitated again." Master Ren's voice cracked like a whip behind him. "Strike to kill. Mercy breeds graves."
Kai exhaled slowly, hands still clenched. Around him, the other students watched in silence, their eyes a mixture of awe and dread.
He'd hit too hard again.
He always did.
"Yes, Master," Kai said, bowing slightly. His muscles trembled—not from exhaustion, but restraint. The flicker in his veins burned hotter than any normal blood.
He turned just enough to glance at his wrapped fists. The bindings were frayed—threads glowed faintly violet beneath the cloth. No one else saw. Not yet.
He tightened the wraps.
Not today.
Not now.
The Jade-Fang didn't allow magic. Arcana was corruption. Pollution. Heresy. Even rumors of using it meant exile… or death. But Kai had known, since the age of nine, that something inside him didn't belong here.
And it was getting harder to hide.
The sound of hooves broke the silence. A rider galloped into the outer gates, red banners flapping violently in the wind.
Master Ren turned, frowning. "Another envoy from the southern villages?"
The rider dismounted, breathless. "Void beasts. Three. Ravaged Maolong Pass. They say… one had marks. Arcane marks."
Every head turned to Kai.
His stomach dropped.
"Marks?" Ren asked sharply.
The rider nodded. "Purple flames… curved sigils… on its chest. It tore through walls. One of them burned from the inside out."
Whispers surged. A cold knot formed in Kai's chest.
That wasn't just magic.
That was a fusion.
Just like his dreams.
Just like him.
Ren's gaze scanned the crowd—and landed on Kai. The old master's face didn't move, but his eyes narrowed.
"You," he said.
Kai stiffened.
"Come to my chamber. Now."
---
Ren's chamber smelled of incense and sweat. Dim lanterns flickered as the door slammed shut behind Kai.
For a long moment, the old master said nothing. Then, softly:
"You've been hiding something."
"I—"
"Don't speak. Just answer this." Ren's voice cut like a blade. "Did you feel it?"
Kai froze.
"Feel what?"
"The creature. The magic." Ren's hand twitched toward the jade blade on his wall. "Those born of arcana often sense their kin."
Kin. The word echoed.
He thought of the beast. Purple runes. Flames that didn't burn. Power that didn't need permission.
"Yes," Kai said quietly. "I felt it."
Ren didn't flinch. "Then you're one of them."
"No. I—"
"Don't lie to me." Ren's voice rose. "You've always hit harder. Moved faster. And when you bleed, the cloth burns. I've known for years."
Kai's heart thudded. "Then why—"
"Because I believed I could cleanse it from you. Through pain. Through discipline." His eyes softened—for just a breath. "You were a child when you came here. Your mother dead. Your father vanished into the arcane filth. I thought you could be saved."
Kai's jaw clenched. "I never asked to be saved."
"No." Ren stepped forward. "But you brought danger to us all. And now, the Creed will come."
The Creed.
The Crimson Creed.
Arcane hunters. Fanatics. Executioners.
"What happens now?" Kai asked, voice hoarse.
Ren didn't answer.
Instead, he unsheathed the blade.
---
They called it "Rite of Burning."
Exile, not death. But barely.
The courtyard was full now. Students formed a circle as Kai stood in the center, shirtless, arms bound with fresh wrappings. Ren stood before him, blade in hand.
A scar would be placed across his back—marking him as unclean. As forbidden. As traitor.
Lira stood near the edge, her fists shaking. Kai met her eyes—soft, brown, tear-brimmed.
He smiled.
He had to.
Then the blade came down.
Pain flared like wildfire as the blade etched across his spine. His knees buckled, but he didn't fall.
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
The ritual ended. Kai turned, fists still clenched.
"You have one day," Ren said coldly. "Then the Creed will know."
"I'll be gone before sunrise."
Ren's gaze lingered. "The arcana will consume you."
"Maybe," Kai whispered, already turning. "But first, I'll burn everything that tries to stop me."
---
Night fell like a funeral shroud.
Kai moved through the trees, bag slung over one shoulder, spine still bleeding beneath his robes. Each step was a heartbeat. A countdown.
He was barely past the boundary stones when a shadow darted beside him.
"Where are you going?" Lira hissed.
He turned sharply. "Lira—go back."
She stood defiantly, arms crossed, small frame trembling. "You can't leave me."
"I have to."
"You're all I have left, Kai!"
Her voice cracked. Something in him did too.
He crouched. "If they find out you're helping me—"
"I'm not helping," she said, eyes fierce. "I'm coming."
He stared at her. "You're twelve."
"I can heal."
He blinked. "Wait… what?"
She held out her hand.
A pale flower bloomed from her palm—glowing faintly, impossibly, pulsing with soft gold.
He stepped back.
"You have arcana," he whispered.
She nodded. "Maybe it runs in the blood."
---
They didn't get far.
By morning, smoke rose in the east.
Maolong Pass was gone.
Kai stood on the cliffside, eyes wide. The ground was scorched. Blackened. Twisted trees bent like bones.
And in the distance, something moved.
Something massive.
A creature of flame and shadow, with arcane runes across its shoulders.
It turned—sensing him.
And for a moment, he felt it.
A pulse.
Like recognition.
Like kin.
Then came the horns.
Crimson Creed banners broke through the trees. Soldiers in black-red armor, with arcane seals on spears. And at their front—
Erevan.
Tall. Pale. Eyes like dead stars.
A hunter.
His voice echoed like thunder. "Kai Draven. Arcane traitor. By order of the Creed…"
He raised his gauntlet.
"Die."