CHAPTER 1552: STORY 1552: CHAINS OF FLESH

The battlefield smelled of ash and iron, yet beneath it lingered something stranger—a breath of stillness, as though the world itself was holding back. The lattice above shone like molten veins across the sky, chains binding the Gate shut by will and sacrifice.

But that stillness was not peace.

Kael rose unsteadily, the boy’s hand still locked in his own. Every movement burned—light seared into his skin like brands—but he refused to let go. Elara’s tears streaked her blistered cheeks as she whispered into the child’s ear, her voice both prayer and plea.

The survivors gathered in a fractured circle, their shadows stretching in the glow of the bound chains. Fear carved their faces, but there was something else too—an unfamiliar thread of hope, raw and fragile.

The scarred woman broke it with her voice, jagged as her ruined flesh. “You all feel it, don’t you? The chains are inside us now. His light snakes through your veins. You think you’ve bound the monster, but what if you’ve just tied it to your own marrow?”

Murmurs spread like cracks through stone. A man clutched his chest, shaking, whispering that he could hear the whisper Kael had spoken of. Another dropped his sword, as though it might betray him.

Kael silenced them with a roar, his burned voice scraping the air. “We are alive because of him! Alive because we chose to hold together. If you fear the chains, then fear me, for they run through me too. But I will not break.”

The scarred woman sneered. “You already have, warrior. Look at your hands. Look at the boy. How long before you snap and drag us all into the pit?”

The words bit deep, but Elara rose before Kael could speak. Her arms shook as she lifted the child high, his glow flickering faint but steady. “He is not curse. He is choice. You all felt it—the binding doesn’t chain us to despair, it chains us to each other. That is why it hurts. Because it is real.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then a sound—low, guttural, unnatural.

The colossus’ remains shifted. From its molten carcass, threads of black smoke coiled upward, twisting into shapes that writhed against the lattice. They scraped at the glowing links, hissing, probing for weakness.

The boy stirred, his light faltering as his small chest rose in shallow breaths. The chains above dimmed in answer.

Kael cursed under his breath. “He can’t hold it alone anymore.”

The scarred woman lifted her spear, pointing it at the wavering glow. “Then end him before he ends us.”

Kael turned on her, blade fused to his hand, his voice iron. “Strike him, and you strike me.”

But before either could move, the boy’s faint voice pierced the night. Not command, not plea—simply truth.

“Not mine... ours.”

The chains above flared, threads of light lashing downward. Every survivor gasped as the fire entered them, searing, binding. Flesh to flesh, soul to soul, the burden was shared.

The Gate howled, pressed back by their unity.

And Kael understood. The battle had changed shape again.

The chains were no longer the boy’s. They belonged to all of them.