Dancing on the golden ashes-Chapter 270: World of Velzarkaan

I could tell there was fire deep in her soul, burning with a powerful flame—enough for me to make the decision to allow her to join. That would not only strengthen our group but also provide me with a gateway to understanding this new world and its forgotten history.

"This world is called Velzarkaan, and we are the people of the Mother Flame," Vyreth explained as we set up our camp. Well, it was more than a camp. In truth, it resembled a small town—the number of demons and beasts gathered here was enough to fill a decent-sized settlement. They were all preparing for a coming storm, one far more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered.

The local girl, who seemed to know the land far better than any of us, had informed us that at night, this area was ravaged by powerful winds—sandstorms, she called them. She said the winds could reach speeds that would rival a Category Five hurricane in my old world. The force of them was so intense that they could destroy anything in their path.

It wasn't the storm itself that concerned me. After all, we were strong—strong enough to survive the cosmos. The problem lay in the sand. It wasn't just ordinary dust carried by the wind; this sand moved with such ferocity and sharpness that it could rip through steel. Who knew what kind of damage it could do to us? No one had tested it, but precautions were necessary. We couldn't afford to take chances, not here, not in a world so unknown and wild.

As the demons and beasts around us worked in unison to set up barriers and shelters, I felt a growing sense of awareness. This world, Velzarkaan, had its dangers—its raw, untamed nature—and it was only a matter of time before we would face them head-on. The flame that burned within Vyreth's heart mirrored that of this world itself: fierce, relentless, and burning with a need to survive.

"What changed this world to this point?" I asked, my voice calm but carrying the weight of genuine curiosity. "If it was once green and lush with life, what could possibly have changed its nature so completely?"

The question hung in the air, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I could see the shift in her. Her expression darkened, her eyes clouding with a pained and furious storm. It was as if I had struck at something deep within her—a wound not yet fully healed.

"I was only a child when it all started," Vyreth said, her voice thick with a mix of sorrow and rage. "It was around two million years ago…" Two million? My mind reeled. She had lived longer than I could even fathom, yet she appeared so young. Did demons naturally live so long?

She didn't seem to notice my thoughts as her eyes grew distant, haunted by the memories she was recounting. "At that time, we lived peacefully. Our world thrived under the rule of the Queen of all Demons. She had no name. She had no story. She only existed to protect us, to lead us, and to bring us peace. She was… perfect. And yet, the hateful Angels couldn't stand her. They despised her for her bravery, for standing against them, for challenging the Grand Archangel countless times, each time defeating him."

Her tone shifted, gaining a depth of respect and admiration as she spoke of the Queen. Her gaze softened for a moment, lost in the reverence she felt for the one who had once led her people. But the softness didn't last. Her fists clenched, her breath quickened, and the fury rose again in her eyes.

"The world was whole then," Vyreth continued, her voice growing rougher. "We were connected to nature, to the gods, to the World Tree. We revered it, and it flourished alongside us." She gritted her teeth, barely able to suppress the wave of anger rising inside her. "But then they came. The Angels. They brought with them forces we couldn't resist, technology beyond our comprehension, and they brought him. The one they called the Creator."

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Her voice faltered, and her eyes flashed with something far darker than rage. "His body was clad in a shining armor, some sort of technology that allowed him to steal the very source of our world. With it, he grew stronger, invincible under the heavens. And he… he destroyed everything."

I could see the fury building in her, almost like she could feel the heat of those long-forgotten flames rekindling within her soul. Her hands trembled, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "He burned the sacred tree… He killed our Mother Flame, the heart of the world, and destroyed the balance we had once known. And when the world was no longer worth protecting, he took our Queen. He executed her in front of the survivors. In front of us. He forced us into submission, into slavery."

Her words broke apart as the anger and grief turned into something she could barely contain. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally did, but they weren't the tears of a helpless child—they were the tears of someone who had lived through the devastation of her people and the destruction of everything she had ever known.

I watched her, still and silent, letting her grief and fury fill the space between us. Her pain was raw, exposed—like an open wound that had never been allowed to heal. The fire that burned in her heart now was the flame of vengeance, the burning need to reclaim what had been stolen from her, from her people, from this world.

For a moment, I considered how much of her story mirrored my own: the devastation, the loss, the hunger for revenge. It was a bond forged in the flames of destruction, and in that, I saw something else—a powerful ally. Not just in battle, but in spirit.

When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper of the anger that had surged through her only moments ago. "That man… he took everything. And we…" Her words broke once more, the weight of her grief too much for her to bear.