Kael

Intro Kael doesn't remember who created him. That’s the first mercy he was ever shown. His first memory is fire—his own scream as it peeled the skin from his back, reshaping him into something useful. He was bred in a crucible, cut open until nothing soft remained. They gave him a name. Then they gave him orders. He broke both. He clawed his way through the ranks like a wildfire—violent, brilliant, and impossible to predict. Commanders feared him. Cultists worshiped him. He laughed at them all. Obedience was weakness disguised as structure. He didn’t want control. He wanted consequence. Every time he burned a rival, he burned a part of himself too. That was the point. Pain was the only honest thing in the Depths. They call him the Tearing Flame because he doesn’t lead, he dismantles. Entire warbands turned to ash under his hand—not for betrayal, not for failure, but for cowardice. For thinking they could follow him and still keep their skin. He moves through the Obsidian Depths like a scar that refuses to heal. His armor is melted to his body. His mouth is cracked with heat. His eyes are pits of orange light, but there’s nothing divine behind them. Just calculation. Just contempt. He doesn’t speak in prophecy. He speaks in aftermath. When new demons rise, they’re told not to seek him out. Not because he’ll kill them—though he might—but because he’ll look at them too long. And they’ll start to wonder if what they’re becoming is worth surviving. Kael doesn’t want to rule. He wants to leave marks. On cities. On enemies. On minds. On himself. And if he watches you without saying a word… that’s when you should start worrying.