rlin stood up, the wind clawing at his ragged cloak, his chest still heaving from the fury he had poured into his words.
"Ohhhh... demi-gods," he spat, tasting the venom in his own mouth. His teeth ached from the force of his clench. "That’s why I hate them. That’s why I hate you. All of you." His voice rose until it seed to bite at the sky itself.
Them, and their fucking gods.
He hated them with a pure hatred, the kind that gnaws marrow, the kind that rots into bone and cannot be cut out. It wasn’t the hatred of envy. It wasn’t even vengeance, not fully.
It was purer, colder, sharper: the hatred of sothing unnatural that had stolen the natural place of humankind.
A flash of mory cracked behind his eyes—blood, his master’s blood, soaking the sand of a ruined battlefield. The demi-god had laughed, a laugh that sounded like storm-chis breaking. rlin hadn’t even been strong enough to scream then; his voice had cracked. He had only watched.
And now—now he stood, scarred by centuries of magic, cursed by the price of learning too much, yet still alive. Alive and spiteful.
The air around him shifted. Not just wind—ozone, sharp and tallic, the tang that precedes lightning.
The demi-god.
Kaelion. That was his na. rlin knew it the instant his eyes fell on him, as if his hatred had branded the word into his skull years before this eting.
Kaelion smiled, lips curling with the arrogance of eternity. His voice bood without effort, carried by so divine resonance.
"You bark loud, mortal." His gaze road rlin as one might survey a rat too bold to scurry. "Hatred suits your kind, though. It is the only crown your frail heads will ever wear."
rlin’s grip on his staff tightened until wood cracked. He did not answer—not yet. Words wasted were blades dulled.
Kaelion walked closer, the ground humming beneath his steps. The air warped with each footfall, thunder’s echo in miniature.
"You dared to curse us. You dared to curse the gods themselves. Do you think your tongue makes you mighty? Do you think your scars make you eternal?"
rlin’s lips split into a feral smile. "No," he said, his voice a rasp, low and cutting. "But they make ... human."
The word spat like fire against Kaelion’s lightning. For a mont, silence pressed—the weight before a storm. Eli, and Claire holding Lara from taking any action.
Then the storm broke.
Kaelion’s hand snapped up, fingers curling as arcs of lightning wove into a spear of raw energy. He hurled it with the contempt of a man flicking away an insect.
rlin slamd his staff into the earth. Runic sigils flared, jagged and crimson, like wounds cut into the ground. A wall of black fire roared up, swallowing the spear. Lightning and fla clashed, shrieking, burning the air to ash. The explosion tore the ridge apart.
rlin staggered but stood firm, cloak whipping, eyes burning with the sa hatred that had never once dimd.
"You bleed lightning, another bastard of Thor..." he hissed. "Let’s see if it spills red."
Kaelion laughed. Gods, he laughed. The sound was silk over steel. "You amuse , mortal. Do you want glory? Do you want to be rembered when I carve your corpse into dust?"
rlin answered with fire.
His staff burned, runes igniting in sequence, and with a guttural roar he unleashed a torrent. It was not clean fla; it was corrupted, twisted by every bargain, every forbidden grimoire he had ever clawed open. Green mixed with black, smoke laced with screams only he could hear.
Kaelion raised his hand and caught it. The demi-god’s palm glowed, crackling with arcs, holding back the fla as if he were grasping a rope. Then with a twist of his wrist, he hurled it aside. The fire slamd into the mountainside, carving molten channels into stone.
rlin’s heart pounded—but not with fear. With fury. Fury and exhilaration.
He raised his staff again, whispering words in a tongue that even the damned had forgotten. The sky above darkened, clouds boiling with his call. From the heavens ca not rain, but shards of obsidian, jagged knives falling like hail.
Kaelion blurred, his body splitting into lightning. He moved through the storm of stone like a phantom, untouched, appearing before rlin in less than a heartbeat. His fist slamd into rlin’s chest.
The world shattered.
rlin flew, bones screaming, slamd into a boulder so hard it split. Pain burned through his ribs; copper filled his mouth. He spat blood, red against grey stone.
Kaelion stalked forward, unhurried. "You fight well. For a worm. But all worms end the sa—crushed underfoot."
rlin coughed, wheezed, but laughed. The sound was cracked, but it was laughter. "If I’m a worm," he said, dragging himself upright, "then watch how a worm bites."
He raised his hand—not the staff, just his bare hand—and drew blood across his palm with his teeth. He slamd that bleeding hand onto the cracked stone.
A sigil erupted—raw, ancient, forbidden. From the earth below, a scream answered. A skeletal hand clawed free, then another. Spirits, bound and furious, rose at rlin’s command, their eyes hollow flas.
Kaelion paused. For the first ti, a flicker of distaste crossed his divine face.
"You summon carrion. Pathetic."
"Pathetic enough to bleed you," rlin spat.
The spirits surged, shrieking, clawing, lashing at Kaelion. Lightning cut them down, one after another, but each strike slowed him, each wail made the air heavier.
rlin staggered closer, hatred burning brighter than the pain in his ribs. He raised his staff, muttered one last curse, and drove all of his spite into the tip.
The staff struck Kaelion’s arm. Not enough to pierce—but enough.
The demi-god hissed as ichor spilled. Blue, luminous, thick. It splattered on the ground, sizzling, burning holes into the stone.
rlin froze. His eyes locked onto that ichor, that impossible proof.
"You bleed," he whispered. "By the abyss, you bleed."
Kaelion’s expression hardened, pride cracking into rage. "Do not mistake a scratch for victory." His voice thundered. "I could kill you a thousand tis before you took another breath."
rlin grinned, blood staining his teeth. "Then do it. Or live forever knowing a human made you bleed."
The demi-god’s fist clenched. Lightning flared. For an instant, rlin thought death had co—clean, final.
But then Kaelion laughed again, sharp and cruel. He turned away. "Slaying you would dishonor . Worms are not worth gods’ wrath."
In a blur of light, he vanished, the storm collapsing with him, leaving only scorched earth and the stink of ozone.
rlin fell to one knee, coughing blood, ribs shattered, body screaming. But his laughter—raw, jagged, unstoppable—rose into the silent air.
He had seen it. He had made it happen.
A demi-god bled.
And if one could bleed—then one could die.
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