[Teleportation Successful. Location: Ignarith Capital, Pyrenae.]
[Environmental Notice: High Pyro-Mana Density — All fire-type abilities +10% potency. Hydration is recommended.]
The world uncurled in a spiraling flash of red and gold, heat kissing their skin like a soft ember wind as they re-materialized on a mana-platform floating just above a bustling plaza.
Below them spread Pyrenae, the blazing heart of Ignarith — a city carved into volcanic stone, where streams of lava flowed like city canals and mana-powered lifts carried goods and people across towering brass walkways.
The air shimmered faintly from ambient mana, and yet it wasn't oppressive — more like a constant hum in the bones, like the city itself was alive.
"Whoa," Jozay exhaled, stepping to the platform edge. "This place looks like a volcano married a palace and had fire-wielding children."
Vale smirked, her cloak billowing in the thermal drafts. "Welcome to Ignarith. Dress lightly, hydrate often, and don't challenge old people to a duel here. They will win."
Elias's voice echoed dryly in his mind:
"How quaint. A city built on the fantasy of barbecuing its own tourists."
Jozay: "You're just jealous you can't sweat."
They descended on a mana-suspended lift, the enchanted runes glowing beneath their feet as locals in red-trimmed robes and elegant obsidian armor passed them by. It didn't take long to notice: everyone here looked like they could shoot fire from their eyes and walk away smugly.
And most likely, they could.
"We'll be staying in the Emberhall District," Vale said, leading him confidently through a wide promenade where flame-resistant silk banners waved between pillars. "It's reserved for visiting combatants, officials, and some nobles."
"Is this… about the tournament you mentioned?" Jozay asked, eyes scanning the streets lined with black-gold vendors selling fire-kissed armor, lava crystals, and spicy snacks that were literally steaming.
Vale nodded. "The Pyre Crown Tournament. Held once every two years, it's part of Ignarith's cultural and political heritage — a trial by fire, literally. The winner gets direct recognition from the Emperor of the Alivon Empire."
Elias, intrigued: "Recognition from the Emperor of an entire continent? Interesting. Dangerous. Potentially influential."
"Do we have to fight to enter?" Jozay asked, half-joking, half-hopeful.
"Only if you want glory, fortune, and respect," Vale answered nonchalantly. "Or if you're bored and want to get blown up in public."
Jozay: "Tempting."
As they strolled further, a pair of flame-breathers passed by doing synchronized dances near a temple. Children rode flaming lizards like ponies. A hawker tried to sell Jozay a "phoenix feather hotdog" (he politely declined, twice).
[🎯 Quest Update: "Trial by Flame – Optional" | Objective: Attend or participate in the Pyre Crown Tournament. Rewards vary.]
Jozay blinked. "Oh. So we're doing this, huh?"
Vale grinned, nudging him with her elbow. "Told you to pack that nice outfit for a reason."
Suddenly, the city bell tolled once — a deep, echoing boom that made the lava itself ripple in response. Everyone in the street paused momentarily, then resumed moving like nothing had happened.
"That was just noon," Vale explained calmly. "The bell also doubles as a heatwave warning."
"...Don't you mean a heatwave is the norm here?" Jozay asked.
"Exactly."
They reached their reserved residence — a regal obsidian structure shaped like a spire that had partially melted into elegance. A flame-wreathed insignia adorned the gate, reading:
Ignarith Pyrehall Guest Estate — Reserved Chambers: Vale of the Elven Court & Retinue
"...Retinue?" Jozay asked, brow raised.
Vale smiled. "You're my plus one. Embrace the nepotism."
Elias added helpfully: "Congratulations, you're now a certified entourage."
Jozay sighed. "I don't know whether to feel insulted or honored."
Vale tossed him a key stone and started walking inside. "You've got one hour to freshen up, then I'm showing you around the combat grounds. Bring sunscreen."
"Do I look like I brought sunscreen?!"
"I put some in your bag."
"...You did go through all my stuff."
"Thank the stars she did," Elias muttered. "You'd have packed boiled eggs and a hairbrush."
Jozay stepped into his assigned chamber, the obsidian door sliding shut with a soft hiss of enchanted air. The room was luxurious yet minimalist, as if molten rock had been coaxed into furniture. The walls shimmered with faint pyro-runes that glowed softly, giving off a warm, comforting light — like embers in a hearth rather than a furnace.
A basin carved from volcanic glass sat on a pedestal, filled with water so cold it steamed in this climate. The floor was smooth, dark stone veined with threads of lava-crystal that gently pulsed with energy, like a heartbeat.
"Nice place. A bit warm, but I've stayed in worse," Jozay muttered, pulling off his dusted cloak.
Elias, arch and amused:
"Remove your boots before you track pyro-dust everywhere. You'll never hear the end of it from Vale."
Jozay kicked them off near the door. "Yes, mom."
He approached the basin and splashed the chilled water onto his face. The contrast made him gasp, skin prickling. His reflection rippled in the dark mirror of the basin — sun-touched skin, eyes that hadn't fully rested in days, a tangle of wind-swept hair.
He exhaled and tugged off his tunic, setting it neatly on a low bench.
Elias, mock-serious:
"I recommend a full cleanse. You're sweating more than a cursed merchant at a tax audit."
Jozay grinned despite himself. He undid the rest of his gear, stepping under the enchanted water spout that activated at his touch. Cool liquid cascaded down, infused with subtle mana that soothed aches and wiped away the pyro-dust. He stood under it, letting the tension bleed from his muscles.
Outside, he could faintly hear the city — the murmur of voices, the hiss of steam vents, the low, resonant song of Ignarith's bells marking time's passage.
A soft chime from the room's mana-crystal alert system glowed on a wall:
45 minutes remaining.
Jozay dried off, wrapping himself in a robe of light flame-resistant linen provided by the estate. It felt surprisingly cool on his skin. He rummaged in the provided travel chest — there, Vale had tucked in fresh clothes: a tunic of light ash-gray with red trim, fitted black trousers, and a sash embroidered with subtle flame motifs. His boots — cleaned by enchantment — waited by the door.
Elias, approving:
"Much better. You look like you belong here. Almost."
Jozay eyed himself in the polished obsidian mirror. "Almost?"
Elias:
"They'll still smell the outsider on you, but at least you won't look like an unsalted fish at a lava feast."
He chuckled, tying the sash. As he finished, another chime:
10 minutes remaining.
Jozay grabbed the sunscreen Vale had thoughtfully packed (and a small water flask), slinging his weapons belt low on his hip. He took one last look at the chamber — neat, quiet, a brief sanctuary.
Elias, softly this time:
"Ready?"
Jozay smirked. "Born ready."
He stepped out, the obsidian door sealing behind him with a finality that echoed softly down the lava-lit hallways, as the heat of Ignarith awaited.
Vale stood beneath the shade of a flame-wreathed arch, one gloved hand resting casually on the hilt of her curved blade. The breeze here wasn't cool — not in Ignarith — but it carried with it the dry, spice-scented air of street vendors preparing for the evening rush.
She tapped her foot lightly on the stone tiles, eyes on the estate's entrance, expression half-patient, half-amused.
💬 Vale, muttering to herself:
"If he takes any longer, I'm exploring without him... or maybe I'll sell him to a lava beast for a snack."
A young attendant walked past and bowed respectfully, offering a small basket of flamefruits. Vale waved it off with a polite shake of her head, her focus sharpening as the door hissed open.
Jozay stepped out — cleaned up, dressed in his fresh ash-gray tunic and black trousers, the flame-trim catching the light just enough to make him look like he almost belonged. His dark hair still damp at the ends, boots polished, a flask at his hip.
Vale gave him a quick once-over and grinned.
"Well, look at that. You clean up better than I expected. If you'd taken five minutes longer, I was going to start charging you rent."
Jozay smirked, "You could've knocked. Or were you too busy judging me from your throne of impatience?"
Elias, deadpan in Jozay's mind, "She was calculating how much your organs would fetch on the local market."
Vale chuckled, stepping forward and tossing him a small cloth pouch. It jingled faintly — coin, or perhaps tokens of some kind.
Vale:
"Souvenir funds. And before you ask, no, you can't spend it all on spicy snacks or phoenix feather hotdogs."
Jozay:
"Aw, you do know me."
They fell into step together, leaving the guest estate behind, descending the grand brass stairs that led down toward the bustling core of the Emberhall District.
The city spread before them like a blazing tapestry — markets alive with color and sound, dueling grounds ringed in enchanted flame, temples that gleamed like molten gold against the dark volcanic stone. Banners rippled in the heat, and the air smelled of scorched metal and roasted spices.
Vale:
"First stop: the combat grounds. Then I'll show you where to get the best lava-crusted flatbread in the city. Assuming you survive the tour."
Jozay, grinning:
"Lead the way. Just don't let me get incinerated on the first day."
Elias:
"Probability: moderate. But entertaining."
And together they strode into the living heart of Ignarith, the city's glow reflected in their eyes — two wanderers against the backdrop of fire and stone.
As they stepped deeper into the city, passing brass-etched statues of former champions and steam-belching vents, Jozay noticed something odd.
He flexed his fingers absentmindedly.
Fsssshhk—!
A flicker of flame pulsed to life at his fingertips. It wasn't just brighter — it sang. The flame responded like a loyal pet, its movement sharp, confident, and smooth, unlike his usual unrefined bursts.
"Whoa…" he muttered. "That felt way too easy."
Vale, walking beside him with her usual amused elegance, glanced over and tilted her head.
"You really don't feel it yet?" she said, clearly entertained, brushing a strand of soot-darkened hair behind her ear.
Jozay blinked. "Feel what? I've got like, flame noodles in my veins right now."
She chuckled and gestured to the glowing crimson cracks veining the black stone street beneath them.
"We're standing on a major Pyro Leyline — one of the big ones," she said, tapping her boot on the ground. A subtle echo answered, like the city itself was alive. "Ignarith isn't hot and spicy just for show, Elias. The city was drawn here because this exact spot is a Ley Node. Think of it like... a crossroads where pyro mana rivers crash into each other."
"So the whole city's sitting on a volcano spa?" Jozay said.
"More like the world's arteries," she replied, smiling. "The mana here is rushing. You're not pulling energy — it's pulling you. That flame on your fingers? It's not stronger because you're better. It's stronger because it's not yours anymore. You're just riding the current like a boat on a river that found the rapids."
"That sounds cool."
"It is cool. Until you crash into a rock because you didn't bring a paddle."
Elias's voice echoed inside Jozay's mind like a sarcastic cat stretching on a windowsill.
"Translation: Don't get cocky, Fire Boy."
After about thirty minutes of walking through sun-bleached courtyards and crossing two fire bridges (with floating lava barges underneath), they arrived at a large obsidian building shaped like a pyramid that had been halfway melted on purpose.
"This is the Registry Hall," Vale explained. "They'll evaluate your UESU score and assign eligibility."
Jozay: "UESU?"
"Universal Energy Standard Unit," Elias answered dryly. "A fancy way to turn raw mana, spiritual energy, ki, soul essence, and elemental alignment into a numerical score. So nobles can brag about it."
They walked in. It was surprisingly bureaucratic.
Crystal chandeliers. Burnt parchment smell. A long queue. One guy was crying because his number dropped from 3200 to 2985.
Jozay placed his hand on the Flame Resonance Scanner, which hummed and scanned his soul signature.
[UESU Evaluated: 1650]
The receptionist paused, blinking. "...Is this correct?"
Vale leaned over his shoulder, read the number, and burst out laughing. "You're kidding me. 1650? That's stupidly low."
"That sounds high-ish?" Jozay offered hopefully.
"It's not even a decent C-rank," Vale said, wiping tears from her eyes. "The entrance fog'd vaporize you."
The receptionist looked pained. "Sir… we can't allow participation under 2000 unless—"
"Unless he's willing to die for fun?" Vale finished helpfully.
"Basically."
Jozay frowned. "Can't I just fight someone? Let me in a ring and I'll show you."
The receptionist gave him a look, the kind that said, "I've seen forty brave idiots today."
Vale stepped forward, her aura subtly shifting — not threatening, but regal. Her tone softened.
"He's under my responsibility," she said, sliding a shimmering coin pouch onto the counter.
The receptionist blinked. Then blinked again. Then he leaned forward.
"Wait… you're Vale The everflame? From the Elven Court?"
Heads turned.
People in line started whispering.
"The Ashthorn Princess?"
"The Ashen Whisper?"
"Didn't she melt a noble's carriage because it squeaked at her?"
"Shh! She's cool!"
The receptionist cleared his throat and quickly scribbled an override into the registry crystal.
"Ah. Yes. Entry approved. Participant alias… Elias, correct?"
Jozay nodded, surprised. "Thanks, Vale."
She grinned, smug and playful. "Don't thank me yet. You still have to survive the opening heat trials."
Elias sighed inside his head.
"This woman is both our savior and our doom."
Jozay just gave a thumbs-up.
"Let's burn some expectations."
The Registry Hall doors swung shut behind them, cutting off the murmurs of the crowd as Jozay and Vale stepped back into the searing embrace of Ignarith's sun. The air smelled faintly of ash and ozone, like the city itself was anticipating spectacle.
They walked side by side along a paved path lined with pyre-lilies — flowers that glowed softly, their petals like flickering tongues of flame. A breeze carried the heat like a living thing, wrapping around them as they approached the arena grounds.
Ahead, the Trial Grounds of Embers loomed: a massive open-air coliseum carved from obsidian and brass, with enchanted lava rivers crisscrossing beneath it. The stands were already filling with spectators — nobles in fire-silk, warriors in scorched armor, merchants hawking charms and chilled drinks.
Jozay glanced up at the banners fluttering above the gates, their edges singed by the ambient heat.
Jozay, smirking:
"You know, for something that's probably going to kill me, this place has a nice aesthetic."
Vale, grinning:
"Ignarith believes in killing people beautifully."
Elias, dry:
«I will begin drafting your eulogy now. Something tasteful. Perhaps: 'Here lies Jozay. He tried.'»
They reached the staging grounds, where the other combatants were gathering — some meditating, others sparring with flaming practice weapons. The ground itself was warm enough that Jozay could feel it through his boots.
Vale:
"Alright. You'll get ten minutes in the waiting chamber to hydrate, focus, or reconsider all your life choices. After that, it's your turn to face the Opening Heat Trials."
Jozay:
"So, uh… what exactly is the trial?"
Vale, with mock-innocence:
"Oh, nothing complicated. You just have to cross a platform over a lava lake while the environment tries to incinerate you with random flame surges, mana flares, and fire elementals."
Jozay, deadpan:
"Oh, just that."
Elias:
"I'll start preparing a backup soul core. Just in case."
Vale clapped him on the back, her grin wide and wicked.
Vale:
"Relax. You've got this. Or you'll die spectacularly. Either way, you'll make an impression."
They paused before the gate to the waiting chamber. The brass doors shimmered with enchantments, heat radiating from the seams.
Jozay:
"Alright. Time to burn some expectations."
Vale:
"That's the spirit."
As Vale left Jozay to be in amongst the crowds, hoping he would win, she prays that he at least comes out safe, that he won't burn to death or anything. To Vale, who naturally has seen people die, get killed, or whatnot, praying for someone else's safety is rare for her, especially for someone she met only weeks ago.
The waiting chamber was quiet, save for the crackle of enchantments woven into the walls. The floor beneath Jozay's boots hummed faintly with heat, and beyond the heavy doors, the crowd's roar rose and fell like the tide.
Jozay exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders and wiping sweat from his brow.
Jozay (muttering):
"Alright, okay. Think. Lava. Fire. Exploding air. No big deal."
Elias (dry as ever):
"Your talent for understatement truly shines."
Jozay smirked despite himself and sat down cross-legged on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.
Jozay:
"Elias… I need a plan. A skill. Something. We're about to walk into a furnace with teeth."
Elias:
"Ah, so now I'm a skill generator? Shall I conjure an ultimate technique while I'm at it? Perhaps 'Lava Immunity: Supreme Edition'?"
Jozay (grinning faintly):
"Come on. You're the brain. I'm just the reckless idiot who jumps in headfirst. Can't we… I don't know… study my body? Find something useful?"
There was a pause, then Elias's tone shifted — less sarcastic, more thoughtful.
Elias:
"Hmph. Very well. Let me see what I can find. Sit still. Focus. Sync with me."
Jozay closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he felt Elias's presence slide deeper, weaving through his core — inspecting mana threads, muscle fibers, soul fragments. It felt like someone rifling through the drawers of his existence, but somehow gentle.
Elias (murmuring as he searched):
"Your mana circuits are adaptable… your pyro-resistance is better than average. Hm. Your elemental alignment is neutral, but… there's a trace of spatial resonance left from your last teleportation. Interesting."
Jozay (eyes still closed):
"Spatial resonance?"
💬 Elias:
"Yes. A faint echo. You could, theoretically, anchor it — create a micro-shift, like a blink, only a meter or two. But it'd drain you. And it'd have to be precise, or you'll end up in the lava instead of over it."
💬 Jozay:
"So a short-range flicker step. Not ideal, but it's something. Could buy me moments, dodge attacks, avoid flare surges."
💬 Elias:
"Precisely. I can stabilize the resonance for you, but you'll need to feel it — ride the threads of space like a tightrope. And pray you don't slip."
💬 Jozay (grinning now, eyes snapping open):
"Sounds like my kind of fun."
💬 Elias (sighing):
"You're impossible. But at least you're impossible with style."
A muffled boom echoed through the chamber — the previous contestant's trial ending. A steward's voice called out beyond the door.
💬 Steward:
"Participant Elias. Prepare to enter."
Jozay rose to his feet, cracking his neck and rolling his wrists.
💬 Jozay:
"Alright, partner. Let's dance with death."
💬 Elias (with mock solemnity):
"I look forward to writing your memorial plaque."
And as the heavy doors began to open, letting in the searing heat and blinding light of the arena, Jozay grinned wider.
"You better make it sound cool."
As Jozay stepped inside, the doors closed behind him with a heavy, resonant boom — leaving him alone with the hum of magic and the roar of the crowd beyond.
"Elias – Unranked Mage, Registration Code #774-A."
Jozay stepped out. The crowd was already murmuring.
"An unranked?"
"They're letting D-ranks try now?"
"Who's backing this guy—?"
"Wait, isn't that Lady Vale up there?!"
The Warden smirked. "Ready, boy?"
Jozay cracked his knuckles. "I didn't come here to sweat. I came to cook."
The chamber doors opened. Lava light spilled out like a sunrise made of knives.
System Notification: [Ignarith Flame Resonance Detected. Initiating Auto-Adaptation.]
[Pyro Mana Affinity Boost: +45%]
Heat Tolerance Increased. Pain Resistance Active. Spatial Cognition Syncing with Environmental Flux… DONE]
"Good luck," Elias muttered. "And try not to scream. It's bad for image."
Jozay stepped into the Crucible.
🌋 Scene: Inside the Crucible
The moment his foot touched the obsidian floor, it pulsed — like a living heart. Mana rushed up his legs like magma veins, flooding his core.
It was like being submerged in hot syrup and adrenaline.
"Okay, okay—" he hissed, "Just gotta... focus... breathe... burn..."
Then it clicked.
His body adjusted. Not like a man resisting the heat — but like the heat was welcoming him.
He didn't resist the flames.
He danced with them.
Flames curled around his shoulders like a royal cape. His eyes took on a glowing amber hue. Even his sweat evaporated on contact — like the environment respected his fire.
The crowd, at first chuckling, fell into an awkward silence.
Even the announcer was blinking.
"Uh... wait... is he adapting already?"
"Look at his stabilization graph!"
"Is that a resonance sync under one minute?!"
[System Notification: Resonance Achieved — 78% Flame Compatibility. New Passive Unlocked: "Soul Smolder" – Pyro Mana Efficiency +30% in Ignarith.]
Elias whistled in his head. "Well, well... you're syncing faster than I expected."
"I'm not doing it on purpose," Jozay said, sweatless now, eyes glowing. "It's like... the fire knows me."
"Or you know it."
"Five minutes on the dot!" the announcer boomed. "And what a performance! Ladies and gentlemen, our unranked 'Elias' has set a new first-timer record! Can I get a molten applause!?"
The crowd erupted. Even some of the noble spectators clapped, confused but impressed.
Vale was already smirking. "Of course you'd show off the one time it actually mattered."
Jozay stumbled out, a little dazed, shirt slightly burned, but eyes sharp.
"Next time," he said, "they should just toss me in a volcano and ask if I want coffee."
"Let the flames test what steel cannot."
The coliseum roared like a beast waking from hibernation. A hundred thousand voices echoed across molten stands, banners swaying like tongues of fire. Below, the arena was carved into a crater of obsidian-black stone, cracked and angry from centuries of combat.
Above, the Furnace-Gate opened — a wound in the sky spilling the Ember Tide. Not mere fire… but living, crawling wrath. Elemental serpents of flame twisted out like they were seeking vengeance from another lifetime.
155 contestants remained.
Most of them had already begun panicking.
"Begin," the overseer's voice thundered.
Jozay stood perfectly still.
The Ember Tide struck like a divine tantrum — fire-serpents slithering through the air, roaring as they devoured barriers and illusions. Earth walls exploded into shards. Water domes hissed into steam.
Jozay didn't flinch.
Not a twitch. Not a blink.
[Elias - Mental Link Active]
"…Are you trying to die beautifully, or just broken?"
Jozay:
"Neither. I'm thinking."
Elias:
"Oh, good. You picked the most suicidal place in the world to contemplate fire snakes. Classic."
Jozay closed his eyes.
"They're all reacting."
He stretched out a hand.
And then he inhaled.
The moment he did, the world slowed — not in the literal sense, but through a lens of hyper-mana awareness. Like wind flowing through threadbare curtains, he could feel the air's surrender to fire. He traced each serpent's route — where they would strike, where oxygen pooled, where mana thinned.
[Elias - Passive Sync Initiated]
"Recalibrating air nodes... isolating combustion threads... syncing with frontal neuro-points. You're insane, by the way."
Jozay:
"Noted. Keep talking. It helps."
He activated the hidden weave they'd been perfecting for days, combining Aero and Pyro mana at the atomic level.
Step 1: Strip the oxygen.Step 2: Seal combustion pockets.Step 3: Redirect with counter-gusts.
Each movement of his hand was a silent orchestration. The flames slammed into invisible wind domes and collapsed inward, like claws closing on smoke.
From the stands, it looked surreal: Jozay walked through fire like it was confused by his presence. Flame-serpents tripped mid-flight. Explosions veered away like children playing tag.
Contestants stared. Some were screaming, some crying, but Jozay…
He looked focused.
Elias (whispering, awed):
"Jozay… this isn't just synergy. This is a submission. You're taming fire like it's a mount."
To his left, a woman's water shield shattered and boiled away — the scream that followed was human and final.
Behind him, an enchanter's summoned barrier fizzled as the mana was sucked dry.
Bodies collapsed. Flames overwhelmed even the strong.
But around Jozay… silence. His cloak didn't even smoke.
Suddenly, he dropped low.
A flame serpent lunged toward him.
Elias:
"Okay, NOW activate it!"
*[SKILL ACTIVATED: Inferno Cognition]
Aero Mana: Neural overclocking — +1000% reaction speed.
Pyro Mana: Pain-dampening ignition across the nervous system.
Spatial Awareness (Elias Sync): Combat vectors rendered in predictive geometry.
The world became a map. Every angle. Every breath. He moved between collapsing fire-pillars with martial grace, spinning, ducking, and striking precise weak points in the flames' ley-structure.
It was like watching a dancer beat a storm into rhythm.
The Furnace-Gate began to close — a groaning celestial sound like mountains mourning.
When the last flame hissed away into the sky, only 48 contestants still stood.
From the stunned survivors:
"He didn't even sweat…"
"What did he do?"
"Did the fire just... listen to him?"
Jozay exhaled and knelt, touching the burnt arena floor with reverence.
Jozay (internal):
"Well, I could've died, the reason why I can even perform this is because this is how I learnt about aero mana, isolating the threads of flame that include oxygen. By using the threads of aero mana, I was cleanly able to silence the flame serpents."
Elias:
"...You're poetic when you're dehydrated," Elias said mockingly. "I hope you don't plan to steal all the glory, though? I am the only reason you could even 'see' it, the patterns I mean."
"Yeah, whatever, Elias the great."
Across the field, Julius Cindralis—Crownflame Monarch, first place in both previous tournaments—folded his arms.
Julius (grinning):
"Hmm, a calamity has arrived, I see."
His companion, Ryn Cassatrove, raised an eyebrow.
"He's only a D-rank."
Julius:
"Then ranks are broken."
Somewhere behind the stands, watching through the enchanted mirrors, Vale's arms had gone limp.
"He… did that with wind?"
The Elven mage's throat dried. The technique — the clarity — the precision…
Vale (thinking):
"If he fights with a clumsy B rank, with this level of precision and accuracy,"
Her hand tightened on her side pouch.
"He'd win. And I don't say that about anyone."
"師匠 (Shishō) taught me to recognize the line between genius and anomaly. He's crossing it. Fast."
From his high perch beneath the Obsidian Spire, the announcer raised a hand, his robe of flame-thread silk rippling in the heat haze. His voice echoed through the coliseum, amplified by ancient runes carved into the very walls:
"Champions of the Ember Trials—!"
His words rolled over the arena like a cleansing wind.
"You have endured the Crucible of Stillness. You have faced the wrath of the Ember Tide. And now—"
He let the pause hang, as though even the air waited for his decree.
"—you stand on the edge of legend."
A low murmur ran through the surviving contestants. Some straightened, pride flaring behind exhausted eyes. Others glanced at Jozay, at Julius, at Nyara, at Ryn — measuring their rivals, their fate.
"The final trials approach. The final battle that will decide who among you shall claim the Heartforge's blessing — and with it, the right to shape Ignarith's future."
The announcer's gaze swept the arena, his voice dropping lower, but gaining weight.
"Rest now. Prepare yourselves. The flames wait for no one — but even the fire respects those who stand ready."
The resting chamber beneath the arena was carved out of obsidian stone, its arched ceilings glowing softly with floating flame runes. Plush couches lined the walls, enchanted to cool overheated bodies, while crystalline fountains hummed with rejuvenation spells.
For the first time since the trials began, silence didn't mean fear.
It meant relief.
Jozay sat at the far corner, cloaked shoulders damp with sweat, sipping warm herb-water as the embers of the Ember Tide faded from memory.
The resting hall wasn't so much a "room" as a temple carved from glowing emberstone, humming faintly with post-trial enchantments. Wide cushions of fire-resistant silk lined the walls. Pitchers of mana-recovery elixirs floated lazily through the air, refilling cups on instinct.
It was… lavish. And absolutely chaotic.
Jozay, however, was still sitting on the very edge of one cushion like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch anything.
Jozay (mumbling):
"Okay. Just sit still. Blend in. Don't make eye contact with anyone."
Elias (snickering):
"You're radiating main character energy and trying to hide in NPC pose. It's adorable."
Just then—
"Hey, you're Elias, right? That wind-flame thing you did? Totally insane!"
"Where did you learn that? Some secret school or something?"
"You didn't even flinch in the Ember Tide. Like, at all. Do you have a resistance skill or—?"
He blinked.
A small flock of girls had materialized around him, all wide-eyed, smiling, and casually leaning just a little too close.
Jozay (internally screaming):
"Why is this happening. Why is this happening? I just wanted to analyze combustion theory in peace."
Elias (suppressing laughter):
"This is karma. For pretending to be cool all the time. You're getting reverse-interrogated by pretty battle mages. Accept your fate."
"So… Elias, do you… have a party?"
"You're not like, taken, right?"
"Can you teach me that trick with the vacuum dome?"
Jozay coughed and tried to smile politely.
Jozay:
"I, uh… prefer to study… alone. Quietly. With books. In basements."
Elias (mock gasp):
"He confesses! The recluse speaks!"
The group of girls giggled.
Jozay's brain was on fire — and not the magical kind.
From the side of the chamber, heavy footsteps echoed.
The girls turned—then immediately stepped aside with a small gasp of awe.
Julius Cindralis, the Crownflame Monarch himself, approached with a calm, confident stride. His uniform looked like it was forged from fire itself — sleek, regal, and somehow intimidating even while relaxed.
He stopped directly in front of Jozay and extended a hand.
Julius:
"You're the one they're calling Elias?"
Jozay stood slowly and took his hand with a firm grip.
Jozay:
"Depends. You planning to duel me, or recruit me?"
Julius (laughing):
"Neither. Just wanted to say — that was a hell of a display out there. I've seen plenty of tricks. Yours wasn't one."
Elias (internally):
"Is this… praise from the fire prince? Okay, I admit it. This is cool."
Julius (nodding):
"Keep climbing. Don't die. I'd like to face you when you're at your best."
Then he turned and walked away.
Jozay sat back down slowly, blinking.
Jozay:
"…Did I just get a 'see you at the top' moment?"
Elias:
"Bro, you just got rival approval DLC. Cherish it."
[IGNARITH TOURNAMENT: SEMIFINALISTS - UESU PROJECTION LEADERBOARD]
1st – Julius Cindralis (UESU: 10456)
2nd – Ryn Cassatrove (UESU: 9870)
3rd – Magra Virest (UESU: 9000)
4th – Alkaire Venhold
5th – Tormas Olin
6th – Kaelin Nyre
7th – Voss Tharn
8th – Serin Vel
9th – Aleyndra Mirth
10th – Elias V. (UESU: 1650) ← D-Rank anomaly
A hush settled in the chamber.
"What? A D-rank?"
"That guy? Wait, seriously?"
"There has to be a mistake…"
Jozay scratched the back of his neck, suddenly aware of a hundred new stares.
Elias (sighing):
"You broke the system, champ. Congratulations. Now every noble daughter within fifty meters wants to marry you."
Elsewhere, in a private scrying chamber draped with Ignarith banners, Vale crossed her arms and leaned back, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.
Vale (softly):
"1650 and already top ten… You're really trying to retire me, huh?"
She took a slow sip from her flask, her eyes glowing slightly as she watched the illusion screen flicker.
"師匠 (Shishō) would've called you reckless. I call it unfair."
She paused.
Then laughed under her breath.
Vale:
"But… I kinda like unfair."
Meanwhile, the resting room.
Jozay (muttering):
"1650… Seriously? After all that?"
Elias (materializing lazily in his mind):
"Still salty about the number, huh?"
Jozay:
"You mean the number that literally tells everyone I should be setting things on fire by accident, but instead I'm tenth place in a high-tier national trial? Yes. Just a bit salty."
Elias (grinning):
"You know what's hilarious? That score's generous."
Jozay:
"...I beg your pardon?"
Elias appeared, lounging ghost-like upside down in his peripheral vision like some sort of smug bat.
Elias:
"UESU measures how much energy your soul can output naturally. Basically like a magic battery. Yours? Still tiny. A very durable tiny. But tiny."
Jozay (deadpan):
"So I'm basically fighting high tier mages with a glorified AA battery."
Elias (laughing):
"Yup. And they're terrified because you somehow turned that AA battery into a tactical nuke."
Jozay:
"Why? Why is it still so low? Am I broken?"
Elias:
"Not broken. Just… fundamentally different. Your soul's energy pool is compact, dense, but hyper-efficient. You burn less, control more, and cheat through technique — not raw output."
Jozay:
"…That sounds like a polite way to say I'm poor."
Elias:
"No, no. You're like one of those indie geniuses who code faster than a mega-corp with 10k employees. It's not about having a big warehouse of firepower. It's about precision. Control."
Jozay (dry):
"So in short, I'm not weak. I'm 'minimalist.'"
Elias:
"Exactly! You're artisanal-tier combat."
A moment of quiet passed.
Jozay (sipping his tea):
"…Still sounds like I'm broke."
Elias:
"Don't worry. By the time the finals hit, they'll be asking how a guy with the mana pool of a crusty teapot is dropping Crownflame-tier opponents."
Jozay:
"That better be a real quote on my statue someday."
Elias (smirking):
*"We'll make sure it's engraved right under: 'UESU Rank: D — Public Threat: S+. Just kidding, but you could work hard to get there."
"That prince guy has UESU of 10k, can you tell me how far apart we are?", jozay asked.
"Well, yeah. The way it is measured is as so
D-Rank (1K-5K): "Strong enough to wrestle a bear. Congrats. Well, at this level, the only thing that matters is the fact that you could fight a low-class bandit."
"Haha, funny. Can you continue?"
"Okay, well, there's no need to feel insecure, you just surpassed other D-ranks in this tournament, well, high-end D-rank, like Lia, who was measured to be 3980, and James, who was 4567", Elias offered a little hope as he continues.
C-Rank (5 K-10 K): "Now you're a professional bear-wrestler. A high-end C-rank, though, is another story; they should be capable of bringing down towers.B-Rank (10 K- 50 K): "Vale is around this level, roughly about 45k. That's 45,000. She could level a village solo." (So technically, Vale is a high-end B rank, which is her being amongst the top most powerful being in Caligurn)
Then the big boys, who people you could say are the top of the food chain:
A-Rank (50 K- 600 K): "Meet the ones who are now national threats. One spell = no more city."S-Rank (600 K- 1 M): Sylvaine is the rumored S rank, greatest mage in Caligurn—a. 1,000,000. She is the calamity. A true nation's wrath capable of collapsing the empire itself.Those that are SS rank are 1,000,001 to 5 million; anything upwards is a disaster class and Doom class
Well, it seems I was the lowest of the low combat-wise. I need to become stronger at all costs, but those doom class sounds dangerous. If S could level a continent, then SS should be…I don't know, capable of destroying the world?, I don't even want to fathom what a doom class would do.
"Another win for Captain Obvious." Elias mockingly said, "But you need not worry about doom classes, only gods are at that level of power, well, according to written human history". But there was something that piqued Jozay's interest in the midst of all this: why does Elias know about all these things, and why does he hold knowledge of basically everything? Was he some omniscient archive?
"Elias, don't tell me your secret identity is that you are some god of knowledge?"
"If I were truly a god that knows the answer to all things, like the god of knowledge, I would've given you the answer to everything. Also, I am just a researcher. When I lived alone, I was only doing deep research on mana engineering, whilst I was nothing but incapable of fully utilizing mana, so I can say it is partly my fault your UESU is that low."
Stop getting sentimental on me now, don't worry, I was just really surprised by your capable intelligence, so you are naturally like this, huh, good to know. Now, Elias, give me practice ideas on how I can fulfill the wish of the fire prince himself.
Before they could continue their discussion, something interrupted.
An alarm blows, signaling the participants that it is time, it is time to show everyone what they are truly capable of.
The air vibrates with the roar of thousands. Ember banners snap in the scorching wind. The arena's stone walls glow faintly from the heat of the great pyres. A figure strides to the central dais, voice amplified by mana channels woven through the city itself.
ANNOUNCER:
"People of Ignarith… champions of flame… warriors of will…
The hour has come!
From the ashes of two thousand seven hundred hopefuls, only forty-eight remain — the fiercest, the cleverest, the boldest!
You have witnessed their strength.
You have seen their mastery of fire, of wind, of steel, and self.
And now—now we strip away the numbers. No allies. No teams.
The next trial will test not your spells… not your blades… but your soul against soul.
One on one!
Each duel a spark that could become a blaze… or a cinder.
Warriors… prepare yourselves. The arena gates will open at dusk.
The Top 48 Battle Trials… BEGIN!"
The crowd explodes in cheers, the sound like a wave crashing against the city walls. The sky above shimmers from the rising heat, and the combatants feel the weight of destiny pressing upon them.
A faint grin cuts across his face, his eyes half-lidded with that dangerous calm he always wears. He adjusts the glove on his right hand, gaze sweeping the other competitors as if measuring them. His voice was low, steady, like someone stating a fact no one else dares say:
"I guess it's time a D-Rank reminded them that numbers don't mean shit at the top."
His aura flickers — not loud, not showy. But sharp, like a blade unsheathed beneath a cloak.
Ryn's crimson eyes narrow, lips curling into a smirk. She tosses her hair back, the tips of it crackling faintly with heat. She glances sideways at Jozay, intrigued.
"Hah. Cocky for someone still standing at the bottom of the letter scale… I like it. Perhaps this time, I will defeat Julius."
Her fingers drum against the hilt of her dress, eager.
Julius remains silent at first, regal and composed. The Crownflame Monarch's cloak of flame-thread cloth stirs without wind. When he finally speaks, it's cool and dismissive, but the edge of challenge is unmistakable.
"Dreamers' only capability is to dream. The throne of flame belongs only to one."
His eyes flash gold for an instant, filled with nothing but certainty.
Marell's expression is stone, his jaw clenched. He tightens the straps on his gauntlets, his voice a low growl as he eyes the arena gates.
"Doesn't matter if it's fifty or one. I'll break through all of them."
Velik leans lazily against a pillar, arms crossed, but his gaze is sharp. A smirk plays at his lips.
"Top 48, huh? They're about to find out why I'm here… and why they shouldn't be."
Nyara's eyes gleam with quiet excitement. She adjusts the rings on her fingers, her voice soft but filled with steel.
"Let them come. I've waited too long for this stage."
Everyone's eyes are filled with certainties about their top spot, they've all prepared for this, and their ready
Mana glyphs burn into the air above the arena, pairings chosen by the trial overseers. The crowd falls silent, waiting for the first names to echo through the stadium.
ANNOUNCER:
"Square One: Marell Aethros versus Velik Thorne!"
"Square Two: Ceyra Du'Nir versus Kaine Drevas!"
"Square Three: Nyara Vellwyn versus Trask Hollowrun!"
"Square Four: Kaelith versus Halon Fiercrest!"
"Square Five: Velosi Craverwood versus Elias Vulcrest!"
"Square Six: Ryn Cassatrove versus Darneth Sorn!"
Participants in the first six will face each other, and the winner of each match will advance, as you all know, this match was conducted through a raffle draw. These first-round winners will be given access to Ignarith's finest lodge while they wait for their next match in the next two days.
"Ha, so we're facing the dude who came out as 34 in the list and has over 3780 as UESU, not bad, we have a chance in this one."
The arena floor shimmers with heat. The Top 48 take their positions. The crowd holds its breath. The drums stop. For a heartbeat, all is still.
ANNOUNCER:
"Let the battle trials… COMMENCE!"
[EXT. IGNARITH ARENA – AFTERNOON]
The arena simmers beneath the noonday sun, flame braziers roaring from every pillar. Dust swirls in spirals of heat as the crowd quiets. The mana-display above the coliseum flares bright:
MATCH ONE: ELIAS VULCREST vs. VELOSI CRAVERWOOD
The announcer's voice cuts through the fire-thickened air like a blade:
ANNOUNCER:
"From the lower quadrant of the bracket... a D-rank by placement, but a mystery by nature...
ELIAS VULCREST OF NO BANNER.
"Tch, I just spontaneously put vulcrest, since heirs and clans mean a lot, thanks to Vale, no digging was done, but of 'no banner' is not necessary," Jozay complains inwardly.
His opponent…
Heir of the Craverwood line. Soul-blade Initiate. Graduate of the Valean Crescent School of Sorcery…
VELOSI CRAVERWOOD!"
Velosi steps out first. Tall, lean, wrapped in gray cloth that dances with threads of wind. His boots barely touch the ground as he walks. He wears a confident smirk.
"This'll be quick," he murmurs, drawing a curved saber charged with faint Aqua Mana static.
Then the far gate groans open—
Jozay steps out.
He wears no crest, no cloak, no gaudy family sigil. Just a dark combat shirt, simple boots, gloves slightly frayed at the edges. His walk is casual, hands loose at his sides.
But something follows him.
A stillness. A pressure in the air.
Like the moment before a lightning bolt strikes.
The crowd starts whispering:
"That's the D-rank…"
"He made it past the second round?"
"Where's his aura—why can't I feel it?"
"You don't look like much, Elias. Are you planning to surrender early or just make it poetic?" Velosi taunts him.
"Neither."
"I just thought I'd give the Craverwood line a fair warning—"
"—This match ends with your spine in the dirt," Jozay replies in kind. Not knowing he just insulted a noble bloodline, now he has to win or his head will go for it.
Velosi's grin fades slightly. He twirls his saber and flicks his fingers—water gathers around him in a swirling current.
"Oh wow, perfect actually. Elias, do your thing." Jozay gave Elias the signal to do one of the things he had been working on. Velosi throws water mixed with flames, causing a blue flame to emerge. The flame was in some way flexible; it was a rare sight, but Jozay didn't let it faze him. Jozay boosts his speed with his pyro mana manipulation.
Jozay analyzes the flow pattern of the flame, tracking how the flexible flame draws oxygen and sustains its motion.
The Aqua mana was engineering its flexibility; it could subtly attach itself to people, too, essentially acting like water, but still burns super hard.
He shapes Aero Mana into a tight spiral of negative pressure, creating localized micro-vacuums.
Then he internally controls his pyro mana and shoots it out of his leg, leaving the micro-vacuums where they were. He closed the distance between himself and Velosi
Velosi was waiting for this, as he calls his flame back, but it didn't answer as Jozay has successfully killed it, Jozay then lifted him off the ground using aero mana, he then activated inferno cognition once more, in 10 seconds, he locked him and Velosi in an inescapable space, he kept on punching Velosi vitals, he then connected his fist into his face, punching him downward.
Velosi's body rockets downward from Jozay's final punch — the world blurring around him as the crowd gasps.
But Jozay isn't done.
As Velosi plummets, Jozay's Aero Mana threads tighten. He rides the collapsing vacuum spiral, dropping like a meteor behind his opponent.
Jozay channels Pyro Mana through his legs mid-air, igniting a concentrated burst downward —
A controlled explosion beneath his boots, propelling his entire weight and force onto Velosi in a single, devastating strike.
His knee slams into Velosi's back, driving him harder into the arena stone.
The impact cracks the floor — spiderweb fissures exploding outward beneath Velosi's crushed form.
Dust and flame hiss up. Silence falls — then the crowd erupts.
Velosi groans, unable to rise. His flexible flame snuffed. His water-threaded trickery shattered. His noble pride left in the dust.
Jozay, who was now looking down on him, remembered the rules: "winner decided by K.O. or dropout." Knowing Velosi, he won't back down, so he kept on punching him more and more into the ground, as he tries to force him to go unconscious.
The arena trembled as Jozay drove Velosi deeper into the cracked obsidian, each punch a hammer-strike of frustration and necessity. Blood flecked the stone—Velosi's nose was broken, his lip split, yet his eyes still burned with defiance.
Jozay (gritting teeth): "Just... stay... down!"
But Velosi spat crimson and grinned. "You'll have to kill me."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. This wasn't a duel anymore—it was an execution.
Elias then gave Jozay a warning:
"Some men would rather die than kneel. Don't let their pride drown you, too."
Jozay's fingers twitched. Aero-mana coiled around Velosi's head, thinning the air, starving his lungs.
Velosi's fists clawed at his throat—instinct battling stubbornness. His vision darkened at the edges, muscles spasming. The crowd's cheers turned to uneasy silence
Elias (urgent): "He won't tap out. But if he dies here, you lose more than a match."
Jozay hesitated. "Damn it."
At the last second, Jozay released the chokehold and slammed his palm against Velosi's chest.
"Sleep."
A burst of concussive aero-mana rattled Velosi's ribs, knocking the wind from him—and finally, mercifully, into unconsciousness.
The referee's horn blared.
"Winner: Elias V.!"
The Ignarith arena is heavy with heat and tension. The cracked stone floor still smolders where Jozay ended Velosi Craverwood's match with Pyro Drive: Groundbreaker. Velosi's body lies limp, lifted onto a stretcher of hardened mana by Craverwood medics. His curved saber is left abandoned in the dust.
The crowd murmurs, stunned.
"A Craverwood heir… brought down like that?"
"By a no-banner? A D-rank?"
"That boy's as good as dead. The Craverwoods won't let this insult stand."
"You really couldn't resist, could you? That final taunt sealed it. You didn't just beat him, you made them hate you."
Jozay's inner thought:
"They hated me the second I walked in here, Elias. At least now they have a reason."
From the noble tier, a Craverwood elder rises, expression like ice. His voice, cold and venom-laced:
"That boy's head will hang from our gates before the trials end. Mark this."
A steward bows, slipping into the shadows, likely to carry out the order.
but before he can vanish, Vale steps forward.
Her presence is sudden and fierce. Clad in black and silver, her eyes sharp as a drawn blade. She faces the Craverwood elder directly, her voice ringing through the arena like steel on stone.
"I dare you."
"Lay so much as a finger on his hair — and the craverwood bloodline would be nothing but history"
The air bends around her. For a heartbeat, even the flames of Ignarith seem to hush, watching her stand between Jozay and the Craverwood wrath.
The Craverwood elder freezes, jaw tight, fury burning behind his eyes. But he says nothing—not yet. The steward halts, uncertain. They can't go against Vale, who is part of the elven court; she could destroy their family herself if she wished it. Such a being siding with jozay brings up an uncertainty within the elder as he subtly agrees with her.
"THE FIRST ROUND IS COMPLETE! Witness the warriors who will advance to the next stage — champions of flame, masters of their square!"
"Square One: Victory — Marell Aethros!"
(Marell stands tall, silent, fists still smoldering from the fight. The crowd thunders for the raw strength he displayed.)
"Square Two: Victory — Ceyra Du'Nir!"
(Ceyra bows once, composed, blood on her blade but none on herself.)
"Square Three: Victory — Nyara Vellwyn!"
(Nyara raises a hand briefly, subtle and elegant as ever, her opponent unconscious at her feet.)
"Square Four: Victory — Kaelith of the Steelwind Order!"
(Kaelith sheaths his blade, the gust of his final strike still sweeping dust from the arena floor.)
"Square Five: Victory — Elias Vulcrest!"
(Jozay—still known as Elias—stands in the center of cracked stone, breath steady, eyes unreadable. The crowd murmurs, divided between awe and tension at his defeat of Velosi Craverwood.)
"Square Six: Victory — Ryn Cassatrove!"
(Ryn flashes the crowd a sharp, almost wild grin, flames still dancing at her fingertips.)
"As decreed by tradition, these victors will be granted two days' rest in Ignarith's finest lodge — to heal, to plan, to ready themselves for the storm to come. Guards, escort them!"
Dozens of city guards in polished obsidian armor form up, leading each victor through the great gate of the arena. The crowd parts, offering cheers, whispers, or wary glances.
Jozay walks with controlled calm, acutely aware of every Craverwood glare burning into his back. The tension is palpable — the storm is not over.
The lodge is magnificent — carved from volcanic glass and dark ironwood, its halls lined with mana lanterns that glow with soft flame. Each victor is given a private chamber, luxuriously appointed.
Jozay was within his chamber.
Jozay sits at the edge of a stone balcony, overlooking the molten rivers that snake through Ignarith. The heat is familiar, grounding. His thoughts are quiet — until he hears the door open behind him.
Vale enters.
No guards, no pretense. Just her, eyes sharp and steady, arms folded as she closes the door.
Vale:
"You've got the whole Craverwood bloodline ready to spit fire at you, and you're sitting here like it's a festival."
Jozay glances back, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"Would worrying change anything?"
Vale walks to stand beside him, gazing at the glowing rivers below.
"Listen. Let them glare. Let them plot. But hear me now—"
"No Craverwood, no noble, no assassin will touch you. If they try… they'll answer to me."
Her tone leaves no room for doubt. The weight of her name, her family, her strength — all behind those words.
Jozay (quietly):
"I didn't ask you to do that."
Vale (shrugs):
"You didn't have to."
"You're under my banner now. Like it or not."
"Then I appreciate it, thanks, Vale. Helping out once again."
The volcanic glass walls of Jozay's chamber hummed with ambient mana, amplifying the distant roar of Ignarith's lava rivers. Vale's presence beside him was a silent storm—her obsidian hair stirring in the thermal updrafts, her fingers drumming a war rhythm against the balcony rail.
Vale (eyes narrowing):
"You're not just a D-rank anomaly anymore. You're a political grenade. Craverwood's humiliation? That's a dynasty's worth of enemies you've made today."
Jozay flexed his hand, watching pyro-mana dance between his knuckles—a new habit, Elias noted.
Jozay (grinning):
"Good. Maybe they'll stop underestimating me."
A knock at the door.
Before either could react, it slid open—no permission asked.
Ryn Cassatrove leaned against the frame, her crimson eyes gleaming like lit coals. The high-end C-Rank firebrand wore a smirk that promised chaos.
Ryn:
"Well, well. The D-rank who fights like an C-rank and pisses off nobles like it's his job. You're fascinating."
Vale's hand twitched toward her blade.
Vale (coldly):
"Cassatrove. Here to scout the competition?"
Ryn sauntered in, ignoring Vale's glare. She tossed a scroll onto the table—a tournament bracket, freshly updated.
Ryn (sing-song):
"Next round pairings. Guess who's facing your little protégé?"
Jozay unrolled the parchment. His stomach dropped.
[MATCH 12: ELIAS VULCREST vs. RYN CASSATROVE]
Elias's voice cut through his shock like a blade:
"Oh. Oh no."
Ryn's grin widened.
Ryn:
"Two days to prepare, D-rank. Try not to die too quickly—I do love a good show."
As she turned to leave, Vale blocked her path.
Vale (soft, lethal):
"Hurt him, and I'll peel the fire from your bones."
Ryn laughed—a sound like breaking glass—and vanished in a swirl of embers.
The chamber feels hotter somehow, as if Ryn's flame-stained presence left embers in the air. The scroll still lies on the table, the ink of Jozay's name paired with hers burning itself into memory.
Vale stands rigid near the door, fingers tight on the hilt of her blade. Her breath comes slowly, controlled, but the storm inside her brews dark and deep.
"That viper thinks this is a game. She underestimates you — they all do. But I won't let her touch you."
Jozay, still by the balcony, lets the lava's glow wash over him. He turns, leaning back against the rail, arms folded. His voice is quieter than usual — not mocking, not cocky — just steady.
"Vale. You don't have to do this."
"You're burning yourself up for me, and I don't want that."
Vale snaps her gaze to him, frustration flashing in her eyes.
"You think I can stand by while you're thrown into their jaws? You think I can—"
Jozay steps forward, placing a hand gently over hers, stopping the restless grip on her sword.
Jozay (firm now):
"I'm not afraid of her. I'm not afraid of them."
"You've done enough. More than enough. Let me handle this, Vale."
"I need them to see me, not your blade."
"Instead of trying to kill her or run away, let's first know what we are dealing with."
Jozay stared at the parchment. Ryn Cassatrove. UESU 9,870. A living wildfire who'd incinerated her last opponent in four seconds flat.
Jozay (hoarse):
"Well. This is bad."
Vale snatched the bracket, her jaw tightening.
Vale:
"They're rigging it. Throwing you to the wolves before you can climb further."
"Ryn's not just strong—she's smart. She'll dissect your tricks before you blink."
Jozay exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The fear in his gut hardened into something sharper.
"Vale… I need your help."
Vale's eyes narrow slightly, surprised. He's never asked before. Not like this.
Jozay (pressing on):
"When this started… I could do it by watching. Watching you. Learning from your stance, your strikes, your choices."
"But that won't cut it anymore. Not against her. Not against Ryn."
"I need to be stronger. Now. Fast. Before those two days are up."
Vale studies him, the ash-light flickering in her eyes. The storm in her quiets, replaced by something harder. Something like respect.
Vale (softly, but firm):
"You're serious."
Jozay (nods once):
"Deadly."
There's a beat of silence. Then Vale turns fully toward him, expression sharp, voice like a blade drawn in the dark.
Vale:
"Good. Because I don't train tourists. If we do this, you do exactly what I say."
"No backtalk. No shortcuts. No holding back because you're afraid of breaking."
"You break — and you will — I'll put you back together stronger. Understand?"
Jozay meets her gaze without flinching. His answer is simple.
Jozay:
"I understand."
Vale (grinning now, the storm returning):
"Then let's get to work, Vulcrest."
The air in the lodge room feels heavier now — like the world itself is holding its breath. Jozay and Vale stand facing one another, the firelight of Ignarith's rivers casting molten shadows on their faces.
Vale lifts her hand again, fingers tracing sharp, practiced shapes into the air — runes of summoning magic.
A soft, silver light coils around her, threads of mana unspooling her formal attire and weaving it anew:
sleek black leathers reinforced with darksteel threads, molded for battle. Her blade appears at her side as if born of the smoke.
Jozay watches — and before he can react, the rune magic lashes out again, wrapping around him like a living flame. His tunic and boots dissolve into silver ash, replaced by form-fitting combat wear: a black-and-red weave designed to resist heat, built for speed, endurance, and brutal work.
"Let's go", Vale instructed as they both went in the direction of Jozay's private training section. Each participant who succeeded in their match was rewarded with a lounge with a private training ground, and they even had a +1 to stay with them for free. Anything beyond has to be paid for.
"This is your last chance to back out. If we start... there's no going back. You break, I'll rebuild you. But there'll be no mercy in the doing."
"Are you sure?"
Jozay's gaze sharpens. His heart pounds, but his voice is steady.
"I'm sure."
"Elias has given me the tools. I just need to make them weapons."
"You're welcome, by the way," Elias said.
Vale studies him for a long moment, then nods, a glint of that storm returning to her eyes.
Vale steps inside first, drawing her blade in one smooth motion. The steel sings in the heated air. She turns to face him, every trace of friend or ally burned away, leaving only the instructor, the predator, the storm
Vale stood at the center of the platform, her silver blade resting lazily over her shoulder, her blue eyes locked onto Jozay with predatory amusement.
Vale (smirking):
"You've got two days to stop being a punching bag. Let's see if you can last ten seconds."
Jozay exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His body ached from the last fight, but his mind was sharper than ever.
Jozay (grinning):
"Ten seconds? That's generous."
Vale vanished.
A sonic boom cracked the air as she reappeared behind him, her blade already mid-swing.
Jozay barely reacted.
His Inferno Cognition flared—his perception of time stretched, sound itself slowing to a crawl. But even then, Vale was a blur.
THWACK!
Her elbow smashed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the stone.
Elias (urgent in his mind):
"She's fast. You're fighting blind."
Jozay spat blood, forcing himself up.
Jozay (thinking):
"Then I don't rely on sight."
He closed his eyes. Fusing his spatial awareness with his hyper-mana cognition.
Vale raised an eyebrow.
Vale (mocking):
"Giving up already?"
Jozay didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the air itself.
The Shift – Aero Mana Mastery
Aero mana was more than just wind—it was pressure, vibration, the very flow of space around him.
He felt the shift before Vale moved.
The air compressed where she stood, a fraction before she launched herself—
Jozay twisted.
Vale's blade sliced empty space where his neck had been.
Vale's eyes widened.
Jozay wasn't dodging—he was predicting.
Jozay (grinning):
"Got you."
He yanked his hand back—
Aero Mana: Vacuum Flicker
The air in front of Vale collapsed, creating a sudden vacuum that disrupted her balance.
For the first time, Vale stumbled.
Jozay didn't waste it.
Pyro Mana + Aero Mana: Scorching Gale Fist
He ignited his fist, then compressed the explosion into a single, hyper-focused blast—
BOOM!
The shockwave hit Vale square in the chest, sending her skidding back.
Vale coughed, her smirk returning.
Vale (amused):
"Now we're talking."
The Escalation – Vale's True Speed
She blurred again—but this time, Jozay was ready.
He didn't try to match her speed.
Instead, he controlled the battlefield.
Aero Mana: Sonic Net
He weaved threads of pressurized air into an invisible web around him, feeling every vibration, every displacement.
The moment Vale entered his range—
He struck.
Aero Mana: Skyrend Claw
Five razor-thin blades of condensed wind slashed outward—
Vale phased through them like smoke, her form flickering.
Vale (teasing):
"Cute."
Then—
Aqua Mana: Liquid Grasp
The ground beneath Jozay erupted in coiling water tendrils, wrapping around his legs like serpents.
Jozay reacted instantly.
Pyro Mana: Flash Vaporization
He superheated the water into steam—
But Vale was already behind him.
Vale (whispering in his ear):
"Too slow."
Her knee drove into his spine.
CRACK.
Jozay slammed face-first into the stone, blood spraying from his lips.
Elias (urgent):
"She's toying with you. You need something bigger."
Jozay's vision swam. His ribs screamed.
But he grinned.
Jozay (muttering):
"Bigger? Fine."He forced himself up, his body trembling.
Vale tilted her head.
Vale (curious):
"Still standing? I'm impressed."
Jozay wiped blood from his mouth.
Jozay (breathing heavily):
"You haven't seen anything yet."
He slammed his palms together—
Aero Mana + Spatial Resonance: Void Step
The air ripped around him as he blinked two meters to the side, just as Vale's blade sliced through where he had been.
Vale's smirk faltered.
Vale (surprised):
"Teleportation?"
Jozay didn't stop.
He blinked again—
Behind her.
Pyro Mana: Ember Palm
His burning hand rocketed toward her back—
But Vale spun, catching his wrist mid-strike.
Vale (grinning):
"Nice try."
Then—
Aqua Mana: Frostbind
Ice exploded from her grip, crawling up his arm—
Jozay reacted.
Aero Mana: Gale Surge
He detonated compressed wind at point-blank range, blasting them both apart.
Vale flipped mid-air, landing gracefully.
Jozay hit the ground hard, rolling before forcing himself up.
Silence.
The two stood across from each other, breathing heavily.
Vale's smirk had faded.
Vale (softly):
"You're learning."
Jozay grinned, blood dripping from his chin.
Jozay (panting):
"Had a good teacher."
Vale exhaled, sheathing her blade.
Vale (nodding):
"Good. Now rest. Tomorrow, we go harder."
Jozay collapsed to one knee, his body finally giving out.
Elias (chuckling in his mind):
"You absolute madman."
As the molten rivers of Ignarith glowed beneath them, one thing was certain—
Jozay was growing and he was growing fast.
The first rays of Ignarith's twin suns painted the obsidian training grounds in molten gold. Jozay stood at the center, his body still aching from last night's brutal session, his breath forming faint steam in the cool morning air.
Vale leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.
Vale:
"You lasted longer than I expected. But Ryn won't hold back like I did."
Jozay flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering sting of frost from her Aqua Mana techniques.
Jozay:
"You call that holding back?"
Vale smirked.
"I didn't break anything vital, did I?"
Elias materialized beside Jozay in a flicker of blue light, his spectral arms folded.
Elias:
"She's right. Ryn Cassatrove has nearly 10x your output energy, overpowering with brute force will be easy for her."
Jozay exhaled sharply.
Jozay:
"Then I need to be better. Faster. Smarter."
Vale pushed off the pillar, her boots clicking against the stone as she approached.
"You're still thinking like a brawler.
Jozay's jaw tightened.
Jozay:
"Then what do I do?"
Vale stopped in front of him, her crimson eyes burning with intensity.
Vale:
"Adapt faster."
She raised a hand, and the air around them warped.
Aero Mana: Sonic Prison.
The world distorted—sound itself bent, vibrations locking Jozay in place like invisible chains. His breath caught in his throat as pressure clamped down on his ribs. The air crackled as Vale's Sonic Prison tightened around Jozay's neck — a halo of warped pressure, invisible but undeniable, humming like the world's breath caught in its own throat.
Jozay's pulse thundered in his ears. His pyro mana flared instinctively, but the noose of compressed air held firm. He gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow.
"Tch... Not bad…"
He focused, shaping aero mana at his fingertips, trying to unravel the prison's grip — but Vale's voice cut through his effort like a blade.
"Don't bother. Even if you break free, what's the point?"
"Your UESU is still stupidly low. You burn too much mana on gimmicks like that, and Ryn will gut you before you can blink."
Jozay froze, frustration knotting in his gut. The Sonic Prison faded as Vale released it, her eyes sharp, unflinching.
"Then what? What can I use? Tell me!"
Vale stepped closer, her presence like a stormfront, heat radiating off her as she tapped her blade lightly against his chest.
Vale (quiet, dangerous):
"Severance."
The word hung between them like a spell.
Jozay (blinking):
"Severance?"
Vale sheathed her blade, lifting her hand to the air. The world seemed to still. She gathered aero mana so fine, so precise, it shimmered like a mirage — then sliced downward.
The stone beneath her feet split with no sound, no resistance. A perfect line, as if the space itself had been unzipped. But it hasn't.
"No wasted force. No flashy explosions. Just clean, silent death."
"If you want to survive, Ryn, you'll need to master this. Fast."
Jozay clenched his fists, fire igniting behind his eyes.
Jozay (grinning despite himself):
"Then let's stop talking about it."
"Show me how."
Vale's smirk returned — sharper, fiercer.
She stepped forward, slicing the air gently with her blade. The motion was so delicate, so controlled, that the very air seemed to peel apart, a thin scar of vacuum trailing in her wake.
"Tell me, Elias. How do you think air — something you can't even touch — cuts through steel?"
Jozay scratched the back of his head, eyes narrowing at the broken twig.
"Well... I always assumed it was pressure. High-speed force. Like a blade made from wind, right?"
Vale hummed. "Pressure's part of it. But that's beginner-tier thinking. What you're talking about is blunt force. Wind is sharper than that."
She crouched and drew a circle in the soot-black earth.
"When Aero Mana is pushed far enough, it stops behaving like just moving air. It starts to behave like... a whisper between atoms."
She tapped her finger lightly between two points in the circle.
Elias (internally):
"Oh. She's going full philosopher mode. Get comfy."
"Everything in the world," Vale continued, "is held together by agreements. Not laws. Agreements. Molecules agree to stay close. Bonds agree to exist. Solidity is a negotiation."
She stood, letting the wind ruffle her cloak.
"But wind doesn't negotiate. When shaped with precision, not strength, it slides into those agreements… and politely declines."
She raised her hand, and a thin, crescent arc of silver air spun between her fingers.
"You see this?" she asked. "This isn't just wind. It's a frictionless, oxygen-deprived, mana-honed edge vibrating at a frequency that molecules hate."
She flicked it at a nearby training dummy made of enchanted wood and hardened leather.
There was no sound.
The dummy split in two — clean, effortless, without resistance.
Jozay's eyes widened. "You didn't even swing with force…"
"Didn't need to," she replied, brushing her gloves off. "The blade didn't cut it. I just need to cut through what binds its molecular structure.
Jozay exhaled slowly, a grin forming despite himself.
"So, if I want to make my Aero techniques stronger… It's not about pushing harder. It's about listening better?"
Vale smirked, clearly pleased.
"Exactly. You've got the mana control, Elias. What you lack is finesse. You treat wind like it's your servant. But it's a partner."
She took a step closer and tapped his chest.
"Wind isn't a weapon. It's a debate team with a scalpel. And I just gave the atoms a very persuasive argument."
Jozay:(thinking)
Precision, not pressure… like she said. But how do I teach myself to feel something that subtle…?
Elias:
"You don't. You let me do it."
Jozay opened his eyes halfway, lips twitching.
"You sound smug."
Elias:
"I am smug. Because you're about to become smarter than you actually are — and it's my fault."
Suddenly, his vision warped — not painfully, but as if a thousand tiny threads of light had woven themselves into his sight.
[SYNC STAGE ADVANCED: Cognition Threaded – 58.2%]
[Shared Neural Mode — Elias Projection Enabled]
Your intellects are temporarily merged. Sensory information is now cross-processed between soul signatures.
Jozay gasped softly.
It was like having an upgraded brain shoved into his skull — but one that fit perfectly.
He could feel Elias's calm, hyper-organized logic swirling beneath his emotions. Ideas became clearer. Paths of motion unfolded in 3D diagrams across his mind's eye.
Elias:
"This is how I think. And now it's how you think."
Suddenly, Jozay saw it.
Every breeze in the room had a line. Every gust, a root motion. And embedded in those flows were nodes — intersections of instability and balance.
All of it interconnected like a living diagram.
Jozay (whispering):
"…This is air?"
Elias:
"No. This is awareness."
A single breeze drifted toward the flame beside him.
With a thought, Jozay pinched its current using wind mana, shifting the oxygen balance just slightly.
The flame shuddered... then blinked out.
No smoke. No puff.
Just… gone.
[You have acquired: Conceptual Understanding — Aero Precision]
You can now sense and target the molecular breath points of materials and energy forms. Enables elemental dissection of fire-based and organic constructs.
+10% effectiveness to all precision wind attacks. Can now be refined into "Whisper Cut" skill branch.
Jozay leaned back, stunned.
"…This is broken."
Elias:
"It is. You're welcome."
Jozay:(grinning)
"Damn. I need to take you on more dates."
Elias:
"Let me finish building your brain's left hemisphere first. Then we'll talk romance."
He exhaled. Slowly. Deeply.
For the first time, wind didn't feel like a rush of pressure and current
It felt peaceful.
Jozay (catching his breath):
"Vale... I need more time with it. With Severance. I can feel it now. But I need to practice—to control it under pressure."
Vale turned, arching a brow, the silver of her blade catching the first light of morning. Her hair whipped in the thermal breeze, her expression unreadable for a long beat.
Vale (curious, testing):
"Already? You've learned Severance?"
Jozay nodded once, firm.
Jozay (steady):
"I didn't just see the bonds. I cut them. I'm ready to make it real."
Vale studied him, searching his face for hesitation. She found none. A slow smirk tugged at her lips—the smirk of someone who knew this path, who'd walked it before.
Vale (approving):
"Good. Then let's see if it's more than luck."
She strode over to the pillar near the edge of the arena, where a small obsidian console jutted from the stone—its surface etched with glowing runes. Without asking, she pressed her palm to the central rune, channeling a flicker of mana.
Vale (explaining as she worked):
"This brings the observer mage. Every training lodge has one—oversight, security, record-keeping. And... entertainment."
A blue projection of an older mage shimmered into view above the console—an ethereal figure cloaked in flowing robes, his eyes gleaming like polished gems.
Observer Mage (neutral tone):
"Participant Elias Vulcrest acknowledged. Assistance requested?"
Vale crossed her arms, nodding toward Jozay.
Vale:
"Activate the combat golems. Full agility protocols. We want no holding back."
The observer's eyes pulsed softly.
Observer Mage:
"Understood. Deploying now. Arena wards engaged."
A low rumble echoed through the training ground as hidden panels slid open across the courtyard floor. From within, three golems rose—humanoid constructs of obsidian and brass, their joints glowing faintly with contained mana. Each stood over two meters tall, their blank faces reflecting the molten glow.
Vale stepped back, giving Jozay space. Her voice dropped low, the predator's smirk returning.
Vale (grinning):
"Here's your test, Elias. Severance doesn't care about nerves of steel or strength of arm. It only cares if your intent is sharper than the world itself."
Jozay flexed his fingers, his breathing slowing as he focused. The golems' heavy steps shook the ground as they spread into formation, their stances fluid despite their mass.
Jozay (to himself):
"Alright. Let's see if Severance is as good as I have it out to be." "Elias, let's do this."
Vale leaned against a column, arms folded, watching with fiery eyes.
Vale (soft, to herself):
"Don't disappoint me."
Jozay, arms folded, stands across from a mock construct — a reinforced Pyro-Metal golem designed for trainee beatdowns. It's twice his height, plated in mana-forged alloy, immune to all but the strongest attacks.
Observer Mage:
"You sure you don't need a real weapon, kid? These dummies don't flinch easy."
Jozay (calmly):
"No weapon needed. Just air."
He stepped forward.
Engage Simulation: Golem Type-IX "Hellguard"
[Initiating Defense Protocol – Heat Armor Active]
[Weak Points: None exposed]
[Reaction Time: 0.2s]
The golem's arm blurred — slamming downward.
But Jozay didn't dodge.
He pivoted with the motion, guiding his palm through the air in a crescent arc.
fwip
The golem froze mid-strike.
Observer Mage:
"…Huh?"
The arm—detached at the shoulder—fell to the ground with a soft metallic thud.
No slash. No burn.
Just… severed clean.
Vale (squinting, half-amused):
"…He didn't cut the armor."
"He cut through the metallic bonds holding it together."
Jozay raised his hand again.
Whispers of wind curled around his fingers — strands of focused pressure so fine they looked like translucent silk threads.
He traced a spiral toward the golem's core — every movement precise and slow.
Then, like a gentle artist drawing on canvas, he slashed nothing.
slice-slice-slice
The golem blinked.
Its chest fell apart in four equal quadrants — vapor hissing from dissected joints.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: Whisper Cut — Molecular Dissection]
Target's airframe has been surgically unraveled.
Material integrity: 0%
Observer Mage (gawking):
"What… in the mana-starved Hells… was that?!"
Jozay (shrugging):
"I told you. Just air."
Vale approached slowly, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Vale:
"You're really good at this, aren't you? It's almost like you only tried to imitate me."
Jozay (grinning):
"I did, haha."
Elias (in his head):
"I prefer, establish."
Jozay (mentally):
"That makes one of us."
The wind died.
Only silence — and four perfect golem parts — remained.
Vale walks past him, casually muttering…
Vale:
"You better not lose to Ryn. If you can fold fire like origami, I expect fireworks."
Jozay:
"I'm already planning the finale."
(break scene)
Jozay stands shirtless under the punishing glare of the sun, sweat and blood mingling as he slices the air with invisible edges, trying to feel the bonds between molecules, trying to sever them cleanly, again and again.
Vale's voice rings out like a whip:
"Again! Your intent wavers—you can't bluff your way through Severance. Every cut has to mean death."
Jozay's arms tremble as he forms another Vacuum Flicker, creating micro-collapses of air to destabilize the incoming golem strike. It falters—only to be replaced by another. And another. The golems reset, unyielding, as Vale watches from the shadows, her expression stone-cold but her eyes burning with quiet pride. Nightfall. Vale strikes at him herself, blade flashing like a meteor. Jozay, bruised and bleeding, dodges by inches, his Aero Mana net alerting him to every shift in pressure. Daybreak. Jozay meditates on the edge of a lava river, his mana spiraling inward, his aura no longer wild but focused, sharp like a blade drawn halfway. The final evening. Jozay breathes in, calm and steady, and finally cleanly cuts a thick brass column in two with Severance. The column doesn't shatter—it slides apart, the pieces falling in eerie silence. Vale, hidden above on a balcony, exhales and sheathes her blade.
Jozay stands at the center of the training ground, the obsidian beneath his boots still warm. His eyes are sharper now—his stance looser, but deadly. His aura, once chaotic, hums low and controlled, like a storm waiting to break.
Vale approaches from the edge of the field, a faint smirk on her lips. She looks him over—the cuts, the bruises, the exhaustion—but sees what she wanted to see.
"You don't look like a tourist anymore, Vulcrest."
Jozay grins, though fatigue clings to him like a second skin.
"2 days straight, doing nothing but continuous improvement of the severance, I am proud of myself, I think."
"Haha, why aren't you so full of yourself? It's a miracle a D rank can last this long without rest, isn't it?" Vale asked.
"Yes, it is. However, I don't think it's that big of a deal since most are active for longer." And who knows if Ryn is practicing too or not?
As they were speaking, the hall's alarm blew, alerting all challengers that their battle or match is now.
The announcer raises both arms as the crowd leans in, anticipation hanging thick in the superheated air. Magical sigils flare across the arena's ceiling, displaying the tournament bracket for all to see—each combatant's name now paired for the next round.
ANNOUNCER (booming with authority, magic amplifying every word):
"AND NOW… BY THE FATE OF FLAME, THE PAIRINGS FOR THE NEXT TRIAL HAVE BEEN DECIDED!"
The sigils flash one by one as the announcer calls out the matchups.
"SQUARE ONE: MARELL AETHROS… WILL FACE KAELITH OF THE STEELWIND ORDER!"
(A ripple of excitement surges through the stands. Two titans of raw strength and precision set to collide—brawn against technique.)
"SQUARE TWO: CEYRA DU'NIR… WILL FACE NYARA VELLWYN!"
(The crowd gasps—two graceful killers, blades that never miss, destined for a deadly dance.)
"SQUARE THREE: RYN CASSATROVE… WILL FACE ELIAS VULCREST!"
(The tension crackles like lightning. All eyes drift to the quiet figure of Jozay, cloaked in the name of Elias, and the blazing form of Ryn. A battle the crowd knows will define this tournament.)
The ancient runes of the arena shimmer, sealing these fates in mana-etched stone.
ANNOUNCER (final declaration):
"PREPARE YOURSELVES, CHAMPIONS! THE FLAME OF IGNARITH BURNS ONLY FOR THE WORTHY. LET THE BATTLES BEGIN ON THE NEXT DAWN!"
The crowd explodes in cheers, the names of the fighters chanted, filling the volcanic air.
In the lodges, strategies are already being formed. Rivalries sharpened. And somewhere beneath it all, Jozay steels himself for the fight that may make—or end—him.