Here is Chapter 8 of "Kael Draven: Empire of the Forsaken."
Chapter 8 — The Final Gift
The cave was still.
No wind. No sound. No light—save for the soft, flickering glow of Kael's own presence. His hand hovered over the body slumped against the obsidian wall: a massive skeleton, crumbling but unmoved by time. The bones bore an ancient weight. Something in the silence told Kael it had waited.
Waited for him.
He didn't breathe. Didn't blink. The dragon behind him, folded in a slumber of stillness, didn't move either. Even the system was silent, as if what lay here was older than code or interface.
The skeleton's hands gripped a massive war axe.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was alive in its stillness.
Not breathing, but dreaming.
The blade curved wickedly, serrated near the edges, thick and brutal in design. Dark veins pulsed through the obsidian handle like something organic had been fused into the metal. Along its surface were carved marks—no known language, but Kael understood them.
Feed me.
He reached forward.
The moment his fingers touched the axe, the entire cavern shifted.
A soundless roar swept through the space—not through the ears, but through the soul. The ground trembled. The skeleton's ribcage cracked inward as if sighing. The axe flared—black flame bursting silently along its edge—and then…
It disappeared.
Vanished from his grip.
Kael's chest burned. His pupils dilated. His body flinched—and then a cold sensation coiled around his very soul.
The war axe wasn't in his hand.
It wasn't on the ground.
It was inside him.
He collapsed to one knee, growling from the pressure in his chest. His heartbeat matched the thrum of something ancient waking inside him.
"Wh—what did I take into myself?"
Then, a voice.
Low. Calm. Older than time.
Not from around him—but from within the silence itself.
"You have taken what was always yours."
Kael's head shot up.
There, in front of him, where nothing stood before, was a man-shaped being wrapped in folds of black energy. Its body flickered between shape and shadow, its face hidden in moving light and smoke.
But the voice… it was familiar. It was the whisper he had heard in his first moments in this world. The one that had said:
You are free.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You brought me here."
The being gave a slow nod.
"Yes. I forged this body for you. I placed you in a world where nothing will stop you—not fate, not prophecy, not even time. I gave you the dragon. And now… I give you the last piece."
Kael stood. His massive frame towered over the being, yet he felt like a child in the presence of something unknowable.
The being turned its hand—and from behind Kael, another skeleton, this one smaller but fully armored, collapsed into dust. Left behind in its place was armor.
It wasn't gold. It wasn't royal. It was red—a deep, blood-drenched crimson with a skeletal design across the chest, molded into the open jaw of a beast. The mouth was wide, as if screaming forever. Spiked shoulders flared outward, and the entire set of armor looked like it had been carved from the wrath of a thousand dead warriors.
Kael stared at it, unmoving.
The being raised one last piece.
A helmet—dark, sharp, shaped like the skull of a beast twisted by flame and shadow. The front was narrow, with slits for his glowing eyes and two spiraling horns etched along the top. Not ram-like. Not demon-like. Just… Kael.
"This armor cannot return to your soul. Once you wear it, it is yours forever. It is not for concealment. It is for declaration."
Kael reached out, touched the armor. It burned, but not from heat—from recognition. The metal remembered him.
The moment he pulled it onto his body, it fused like a second skin. Not heavy. Not restricting. But empowering.
When he fitted the helmet over his head, the world went silent. His vision darkened—and then sharpened. He could remove it when he wished, but with it on, the power radiating from him was tenfold.
The cave, the dragon, the world… all shrank beneath him.
He turned back to the being.
"…Why me?" he asked, the first time he'd ever questioned it.
The being didn't answer right away. It simply stepped forward, and for the first time, Kael could see beneath the layers of smoke.
The being looked like him. Not in size or muscle. But in soul. A version of Kael that had broken—but still stood.
"Because I wanted to live again," the being said.
"And through you… I will. Not by controlling. Not by watching. But by letting go."
"Enjoy this world. Don't chase meaning in everything. Don't fear what you'll become. You are what you choose. And now, you have everything."
Kael took a step forward—but the being was already fading. Its body peeled into embers, then ash, then gone.
Forever.
System Notice: No further messages.
No more gifts will be given.
Kael stood in silence.
He was alone again.
And yet… not.
The axe now rested in his hand. Heavy. Real. Not in his soul.
The armor hugged his form like it had waited eons to do so.
And his dragon raised its head at last, twelve glowing eyes blinking slowly as if it, too, had felt the change.
Kael turned to the cave's entrance.
The world outside feared him. He knew it. Felt it. He saw how they looked at him.
But now, he didn't care.
He would walk it anyway.
He would build.
He would burn.
He would become.
End of Chapter 8