Chapter 1550: Story 1550: The Binding Cry

The battlefield trembled, suspended on the edge of ruin.

Kael’s jagged blade hovered above the writhing chain, the heat from its molten fire blistering his arm. One more strike could sever it—could unleash the Gate entirely. Yet the boy’s words echoed in his skull, fragile as breath but sharp as command: “Not break… bind… together…”

Elara’s eyes burned with conviction as she cradled the boy, her voice hoarse but unyielding. “He is the key, Kael. Not to destroy, but to mend. Trust him, or all is ash.”

The scarred woman spat blood into the smoldering earth, her laughter breaking through the roar of the colossus. “Bind? Fool’s hope. Chains do not mend—they enslave. Break them! Let it end, even if we burn!” Her charred spear rattled against the stones, a mad hymn to ruin.

The colossus staggered, molten chest collapsing inward, its tether unraveling into pure chain-fire. The glow licked across the battlefield, hunting flesh, hungry for fuel. Its roar was no longer fury but desperation, the scream of a sentinel unraveling with its purpose.

Above, the Gate convulsed. The sundered links writhed like serpents, sparks falling as burning rain. The fissure widened, the Unborn’s form pressing closer, its inhuman face straining against the veil. Its voice dripped like venom into their minds.

“Strike him. Shatter him. Bind, break—it matters not. Every choice is mine. Every chain is mine.”

Kael clenched his teeth, gripping the jagged blade until his palms split. He felt the pull of the Unborn’s will, the sweet lie that no choice could defy it. Yet he saw the boy’s glow struggling—fighting. Not a flame to consume, but a light straining to weave.

He roared and drove his blade not downward but outward—into the colossus’ tether. Not to sever, but to pin it, to hold it steady. “Now, boy! If you are the key, then lock him tight!”

Elara pressed her forehead to the child’s, whispering through tears, “Bind, my son. Bind the chains to us, to life, not to him.”

The boy screamed—not in pain, but in will. His light flared, white-hot, blasting outward. Chains writhed toward him, lashing not to consume but to anchor. Where the jagged blade pinned them, they fused, reforging links of fire and flesh. They burned across Kael’s arms, searing him, yet he held.

The colossus convulsed, its molten form collapsing, its roar dissolving into silence. From its furnace-heart, the last thread of chain-fire snapped—not into the Gate, but into the boy. His glow surged, binding the broken links into a new lattice.

Above, the fissure in the sky shuddered. The Unborn’s face pressed harder, its eyes blazing with hatred. “You dare chain me again?” Its voice shook the heavens, but the chains around it thickened, reforging into a web of light.

The scarred woman staggered, watching in disbelief as the boy’s glow wove across the sky. Her voice was a rasp, almost reverent, almost broken. “No… chains that free? Impossible…”

Kael, burning, scarred, still holding the jagged blade steady, forced a grin through bloodied teeth. “Nothing’s impossible. Not if we bind it together.”

The Gate screamed, and the chains blazed brighter than fire.

The battle was not over. But for the first time, the Unborn strained backward.