CHAPTER 1545: STORY 1545: THE GATE’S WRATH

The scream of the chains was not sound alone—it was pressure, weight, a vibration that clawed into marrow and rattled thoughts into chaos. Survivors clutched their ears, some falling to their knees, blood streaming from nostrils and eyes. The air itself warped, thickening with the heat of the Gate’s anger.

The colossus staggered, molten cracks racing across its chest where the child’s cry had struck. From those fissures spilled not blood, not fire, but threads of chain, whipping wildly as if the beast’s very essence was unraveling. Yet even wounded, it raised its towering arms, dragging fire from the ground itself, ready to hurl annihilation.

Kael pressed forward, stumbling through ash and flame, his jagged blade gripped so tightly his knuckles split. “Press it now!” he roared, his throat raw. “Before it recovers!”

His battered followers surged at his side, desperation giving them the strength of ten. They hacked at its legs, carving at fused stone and chain, sparks flying as the colossus lurched.

Opposite him, the scarred woman and her warriors struck in brutal rhythm, her spear carving arcs of light through the haze. Every thrust sank deep, her body trembling with exhaustion, but she would not yield. Not now—not with the Gate watching.

Elara clutched the boy, rocking back and forth, her voice hoarse with pleas. The child’s glow surged and dimmed in violent rhythm, each pulse shaking the battlefield. The words slipped from his lips again, weak but clear: “Closer... he’s closer...”

Kael heard it, and for an instant his blade faltered. He looked up, and in the shuddering brilliance of the chains he thought he saw it—something vast, something behind the Gate’s fury. A shadow straining against the light, form coalescing where none should exist.

The Unborn.

The colossus roared, chains lashing outward. One snapped across the ground, scattering warriors like straw dolls. A survivor’s scream was cut short as the chain wrapped his waist, dragging him into the monster’s molten chest. His body vanished into the glow, fueling the furnace.

The Gate thundered approval. The chains above flared, one link fracturing with a sound like breaking worlds.

“No!” Elara screamed, rising to her feet. Flames burst around her in a desperate shield as she staggered forward with the child. “You won’t take him!” Her voice cracked with fury and despair.

Kael saw her, saw the child writhing, saw the colossus weaken beneath their combined assault yet still towering. He knew what she intended—to throw herself and the boy into the fire, to end the tether before the Gate could claim him.

The scarred woman saw too. She lunged, spear outstretched, screaming, “Do it, witch! End him before we all fall!”

Kael’s heart split with the choice before him.

The colossus reeled, the chains screaming, the Gate’s fury shaking the very sky.

Unity had wounded the beast.

But sacrifice alone might end it.