I remember the day everything burned like a wound that would never heal. Flames stole my family — my parents were ripped from me, my little brothers and sisters turned to ash — all because debts bled our name dry. They came in the night with torches and cold mouths, set our home alight, and watched the world I knew collapse into smoke. When I thought the world had taken its last piece of me, something — someone — stepped through the blaze. I could not tell if it was man or woman; the fire kept the savior's shape blurred and holy, as if the flames themselves had given birth to a protector. They pulled me from the ruin and vanished like a promise. For seven years I answered a different kind of fire. I joined the army and let the drill and the discipline burn the broken parts clean. My hands learned steel. My bones learned marching. My nights learned keeping watch. I learned how to turn pain into armor, sorrow into strategy. I was forged in training fields and battle lines until a new name fit me. I am Kaelor Thane now — not a child who once cried over ash, but a force that arrives on the war road without apology. They called me the God of War because I learned to move like thunder and strike like winter. I carry no mercy in my pocket; I carry only the weight of a debt to be settled. Those who think they can stand between me and what I owe will learn the hard truth: I do not forgive. I do not forget. I return to make the ledger even, and I will make them pay in ruin, pain, and a silence that remembers my name.