“They’re coming!”

The cry rang out, and in the next moment, the little devils swarmed, their jagged limbs and bulging eyes gleaming in the dark like insects. Having confirmed there was nothing left of value in the rear cabins, they moved forward with the mindless purpose of ants chasing the scent of sugar.

“Prepare for battle.”

Aziel’s voice was calm, unnaturally so. The kind of calm that settled just before a storm tore the world apart. The soldiers and agents around him, already wearied from endless fighting, found strength in that voice. Their hands clenched tighter around weapons, backs straightened, hearts steadied.

The devils surged. They leapt atop the train, tore into the walls of the cars, crawled like nightmares made flesh. And then, 

“FWOOSH!”

Fire screamed into the night. Blades spun and bit into the darkness. The train, now a living torch trailing smoke and light, surged across the vast, empty northern plains beneath a pitch-black sky.

“Block them! Sol!”

“Got it!”

“They’re coming from the left! Everyone, left side!”

From a distance, the sight was almost beautiful: ribbons of fire carving through the dark, flickers of shadow slicing through the night like waves. But inside the train? It was hell. A hell of teeth, claws, and blood.

The devils, unafraid of pain or death, hurled themselves forward like living bombs. One by one, they exploded into the walls, into the windows, into the flesh of any unfortunate enough to hesitate.

An agent, tucked into the innermost cabin, was trembling as he watched the battle unfold. His breath came in gasps. Just watching made his blood run cold. Never had he seen such horror. Beyond the window, the plains crawled with writhing forms, too many to count, stretching across the horizon like a black tide.

These creatures … no, these monstrosities thrived on fear.

“CRASH!”

One of them barreled through the window, stepping over the corpses of its own kind to get inside. Its claws gleamed.

“Ahhh!”

“Raise your weapons!”

Screams erupted. Then, 

“SKRRRAAAANG!”

A massive blade tore through the ceiling. It sheared through metal like paper, cleaving the charging devil in two. Sparks and blood erupted in a geyser of red and gold. The scent was putrid, revolting.

“Don’t let them see your fear. They feed on it.”

Aziel stood above them, framed in fire. The incarnation of flame. His white-blond hair danced like burning threads. His eyes, deep, burning crimson, held no fear, only fury.

There was no hesitation in him. He turned and leapt into the fray again.

Those injured, those huddled in the safety of the cabin, stared through the broken ceiling as Aziel fought alone. Among the tidal wave of devils, one man stood tall, radiant in wrath. He burned them as if he were the last flame left in the world, the final torch in an ocean of darkness.

Each sweep of his greatsword, Breaker, erased swathes of enemies. The blade shrieked like a living thing, eager, hungering. Fire trailed in its path.

The sight was awe-inspiring.

“Incarnation of flame…”

“The Flame Sovereign?”

“Is that… the Flame Emperor?”

“Sacred fire…”

Whispers of legend. Every child in the Iron Empire had once heard of the Flame Emperor, a figure long gone, the partner to the Iron Sovereign of the founding era. Steel had remained in the blood of the royal line, but fire… fire had vanished.

The empire’s conquest of the continent had halted not for lack of ambition, but because the sacred fire had faded. Steel remained to uphold the realm. But the flame that had once conquered continents had died.

And now, that flame lived again.

No one knew if what Aziel wielded was the same fire. But the symbol itself, the fire, spoke to something deeper, older. It was a legend coming alive. But admiration didn’t solve everything.

“Your Highness! Your Highness! The mana , it’s nearly gone!”

The fire ran on mana, and mana had limits. As the train barreled forward, speed had increased, and the cost was being paid in fuel. The train stops, they die … Simple.

As despair edged in …

“Silence! Don’t breathe, raise your heads!”

Aziel’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Straighten your backs! Look them in the eye with pride! Show them no grief, no fear. Not even sorrow!”

His face hadn’t changed. Still faintly bored. Still smoldering with rage. The madness in him bled into the air. It wasn’t recklessness, it was an understanding of fear. And how to smother it. He stood unshaken, like fire licking the wind.

“Chests up! Eyes forward!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Sol and Andre were first to move. The agents followed. Stiff at first, then stronger. They were not amateurs. They had been trained to withstand pain, torture, and terror. Fear was real, but it was just another thing to be hidden.

Time lost meaning. 

How long did they fight?

The train’s whistle wheezed like a man dying. Its lungs were failing. Pitch-black steam belched skyward. Still Aziel burned. Still Breaker howled. Then, 

“Dawn!” A voice cried from somewhere. Heads turned.

The horizon lightened, and the sun broke.

First a soft gold line. Then beams of light spilled over the plains, brushing the earth like fingers of salvation.

The devils screamed.

“Dawn! Dawn! Dawn!”

Their voices shrieked in unison, twisted and panicked. One by one, they dissolved. Like ash meeting wind, they withered into nothing. The monsters could not endure the sun. hey had lasted the night. But no longer.

Ash rained down.

“Ahh…”

“Urgh…”

Bodies collapsed. Strings cut from puppets … The battle was over.

Sol flopped down, drooling.

Her mana was gone. Her body barely hers.

“Your Highness… Your Highness, are you alright?”

Andre’s voice trembled. His hands shook as he sheathed his blade.

“I’m fine.”

Aziel stood atop the train, leaning against Breaker. His silhouette was still. The flames around him dimmed.

“The conductor. Slow the train.”

The screech of brakes whined across the plains. The train began to slow, breaker fell silent. The sword seemed to sleep, sated.

Ash danced in the wind. Aziel’s platinum hair shimmered in the golden light, but Andre noticed, his face. Pale. Too pale. Like firewood burnt to gray.

“Your Highness?”

“Why do you keep calling me, commoner?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am.”

Aziel paused, then lifted his face, a snowflake landed on his nose … Cold. Clean. Ash mixed with snow. Then, all at once, the sky opened.

Snow fell; Thick. Fast. Beautiful. Inside the train, those still breathing turned to the windows.

“Snow… It’s snowing, Your Highness!”

Sol, still half-sprawled, laughed. She was like a child who’d never seen snow before. They all laughed, some quietly, some openly.They were alive.

It was beautiful; Peace, fragile and brief. But Aziel? He showed no emotion. He stared into the sky.

“We’ve reached the North.”

His gaze didn’t rest on the snowfall. It was already fixed on the battles to come.  What lay ahead in the North would be colder, and crueler, than anything they had faced in the East.

The Imperial Intelligence Bureau managed secrets across the entire continent. It was shrouded in anonymity, even its departments were hidden.

Death, treason, war, such things were routine.

A noble poisoned. A prince murdered. A kingdom falling.

It was Tuesday, and yet, 

“What did you just say?”

The directors, old hands at emotionless reports, froze. The expression they wore now was not curiosity, It was disbelief.

“A report came in. Demons attacked the train carrying Prince Aziel.”

“So?”

“We’ve issued dispatches to the North. Ordered a full sweep of the region.”

“What was before that?”

“The prince … he manifested fire. Flames. Visibly.”

“And before that?”

“He slew the resistance leader at the Eastern front. Instantly.”

“More.”

“He rallied defeated soldiers. Held the fortress against full rebel assault.”

Silence …  The air in the room turned thick. The past was being rewritten. Line by line. Then, 

“Updated report!”

An agent burst through the door, paper in hand. 

Everyone stood.

“The demons were eradicated. The train suffered partial damage. The prince was unharmed. He encountered Northern forces and is safe.”

Relief, but the agent wasn’t finished.

“Field agent’s evaluation included.”

Everyone leaned in.

“All previous data on Prince Aziel must be discarded. Existing records are largely inaccurate. Reassessment of succession potential is urgent. From first-hand observation, the following conclusion is drawn … ”

A pause. A glance around the room.

“Prince Aziel has been hiding his power. Deliberately. Thoroughly. He deceived everyone. Fire, rage, madness, these are not flaws. They are weapons. Purposeful ones.”

No one spoke, not yet.

The silence, cold and dense, settled over the highest echelons of the Empire. Something had changed, something irreversible.

A wind was coming, and it would blow from the North.