The throne pulsed softly beneath Kiro's weight. Fainter now. As if even the City of Blood had begun to sleep.
Below, the six hundred moved like echoes—men without homes, warriors without purpose. They cooked in silence, repaired old armor, buried their fallen in soil that bled when turned. They whispered his name like a prayer they didn't believe in yet.
Kiro remained in the shadows of the throne room, the Bloodlight casting flickers across his face. He hadn't slept in days.
And then—it came.
A hum in the marrow of his bones. A whisper that had lived in his mind since the ruins of Velmora finally spoke again.
"Kiro."
Adim's voice was weaker now. Not the commanding echo it once had been. Not the ancient god-in-metal tone. Just a whisper. Human. Small.
Kiro's head rose.
"You're still here," he said.
"Barely."
A flicker of red mist drifted from the veins in Kiro's arms, coalescing into a dim shadow before the throne. The shape of Adim—not in armor, not as a phantom of war, but as a man.
Tired. Flickering.
"I used the last of my core. The gate drained what little essence I had left. It was worth it... to save them."
Kiro stood, fists clenched.
"You're dying."
"No. I'm... returning." A faint smile. "I was never separate from you. Just a part that had to guide you. But now... you've grown beyond me."
Kiro stared at him. So many times, he had cursed Adim. For the system. For the blood. For the burden.
But in this moment, it felt like losing something old. Something that had carried him when he couldn't carry himself.
"Then don't fade," Kiro said, his voice cracking. "Not yet."
"The city will protect you. But it is not what saves you. You must defend it. When the world tries to take what's yours—stand. When the sky falls—stand. When they say you are unworthy—stand anyway."
Adim stepped forward, eyes dimming like a fading ember.
"Defend the city. And a path shall form."
And with that, the light broke.
Adim dissolved into strands of red energy, flowing into Kiro's chest. The last of the voice vanished into silence.
The Blood System shuddered—and then grew still.
Kiro stood in the hollow silence of the throne room.
Alone again.
But not aimless.
He looked down at the city through the open arch of the citadel's heart. Fires glowed in the caverns below. Bloodlines were forming. Men training. Children laughing—faintly. Broken souls rebuilding.
And he remembered Adim's words.
A path shall form.
He turned from the throne. Left it behind.
The City of Blood didn't need a god.
It needed a guardian.
And Kiro would become one.