The Silver Flame Sect’s inn, a grand establishment suited for such a prestigious group, was blanketed in the quiet hum of night. The faint crackle of distant embers and the soft murmur of disciples conversing filled the air. The disciples, exhausted from the intensity of the tournament, were settling into their routines when it happened.
A sudden roar. freewēbnoveℓ.com
Not a roar of a beast or a person, but a deep, guttural rumble like the earth itself had awakened. It was followed by a surge of heat that spread like a wildfire, washing over the inn in an instant.
The walls trembled, and an explosion of fiery light erupted from one of the upper rooms, briefly illuminating the night sky. Flames danced against the windows, casting flickering shadows across the hallways. The air grew thick with mana, heavy and suffocating, as an overwhelming aura swept through the inn.
“What—what is happening?” a disciple stammered, his voice trembling.
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Another disciple, wide-eyed and frozen in place, pointed toward the source. “It’s… it’s coming from Senior Brother Varen’s room!”
The realization struck them all at once. Gasps echoed through the halls as the disciples exchanged looks of shock and confusion. Whispers broke out, frantic and uncertain.
“Senior Brother? Could he be injured?”
“No… this aura—it’s his! But it’s… different.”
“Should we go check on him?”
“Are you insane? With that aura? He’s in Ignis Ascension again—no, this is something else entirely!”
Meanwhile, inside Varen’s room, the air was a maelstrom of fire and mana. Flames swirled chaotically, licking at the walls and ceiling but leaving them unscathed, held back by a thin veil of mana that controlled their destruction. The very space seemed alive, trembling under the weight of his power.
At the heart of it all, Varen knelt on the floor, his greatsword planted firmly before him, its blade ablaze with silvery-red fire. His breath came in heavy, labored gasps, each exhale releasing a plume of flame that dissipated into the air. Sweat dripped down his face, evaporating almost instantly from the heat radiating off him.
His eyes, once cold and calm, now burned with an intensity that rivaled the flames themselves. Gone was the stoic heir, the disciplined warrior who wore his restraint like armor. In his place was a man consumed by fire—raw, untamed, and utterly alive.
Varen released a long breath, flames spilling from his lips as if his very essence had been set ablaze. He closed his eyes, allowing the inferno within him to surge freely. For the first time, he didn’t suppress it. He didn’t fight it. He let it burn.
When he opened his eyes again, the fiery aura around him surged brighter, casting his shadow across the room like a flickering specter. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his gaze—only an unyielding fire that burned with purpose.
The door to his room rattled as a hesitant knock broke through the crackling silence. A voice called out, trembling but concerned. “Senior Brother? Are you… are you alright?”
For a moment, there was no response. The flames swirled, filling the room with a radiant heat that seemed to seep through the walls. Then, the door creaked open slightly, and a younger disciple peeked in, his face pale but determined.
What he saw left him speechless.
Varen turned his gaze toward the door, his fiery eyes locking onto the disciple. The sheer intensity of his presence made the younger man step back involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat.
“Tell the others,” Varen said, his voice low but resonant, carrying the weight of his newfound resolve. “I’m fine.”
The disciple hesitated, but the unwavering fire in Varen’s eyes silenced any further questions. With a quick bow, he retreated, closing the door behind him.
The flickering flames within Varen’s room dimmed slightly, their once chaotic dance settling into a steady, rhythmic pulse that mirrored the calm of his breaths. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his greatsword resting across his lap, its silvery-red flames reduced to a faint glow. The heat of the room remained, a constant reminder of the storm he had unleashed, but now it felt less oppressive. It was not the fire of destruction, but of renewal.
Varen closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift. The roaring inferno within him was quieter now, but its warmth lingered, burning away the fog that had clouded his mind for so long.
‘How long has it been?’ he thought, his lips curving into a faint, rueful smile. ‘How long have I been fighting against myself?’
He saw it clearly now, as though the flames had illuminated the truth buried deep within him. His discipline, his control—they weren’t the noble virtues he had always prided himself on. They were chains. Chains forged by pain, by fear, by the scar left behind by Lira’s betrayal.
Her face surfaced in his mind, unbidden but familiar. The woman who had once stood by his side, her smile a beacon of warmth and trust, now felt like a ghost haunting his every step. Her betrayal had been a firestorm, one that consumed not just their bond, but a part of him as well.
‘I thought I was strong,’ he mused, his hands tightening around the hilt of his greatsword. ‘Strong enough to overcome it. To bury it. But I see now… that wasn’t strength. It was cowardice.’
His brow furrowed, the flames around him flickering faintly in response to his shifting emotions. By suppressing his feelings, by locking them away, he hadn’t just distanced himself from the pain—he had distanced himself from who he was meant to be.
‘The Pride of Flame,’ he thought, the title echoing in his mind. It was what the Silver Flame Sect had always called him. Their heir. Their future. A blazing torch to guide their path. And yet, he had allowed his flames to dim, to become cold and unfeeling in his quest for control.
But flames weren’t meant to be cold. They were meant to burn—not to destroy indiscriminately, but to bring light, warmth, and life. To consume only what deserved to be burned and to protect those who did not.
Varen’s mind drifted to the battlefield, to Lucavion. That maddening smirk, those chaotic black flames, and the unrelenting challenge in his eyes. He had fought like no one else, his every move defying convention, every strike a declaration of his untamed spirit.
‘Lucavion,’ Varen thought, a flicker of respect igniting within him. ‘You… opened my eyes.’
Lucavion hadn’t just been an opponent. He had been a mirror, reflecting Varen’s own struggles in a way he couldn’t ignore. The chaos, the unfiltered emotions—Lucavion had laid himself bare, showing Varen what it meant to truly let go.
And now, as Varen sat amidst the quiet embers of his awakening, he knew what he had to do.
“Lira…” he whispered, her name slipping from his lips like a sigh. It no longer carried the weight it once did, the bitterness and anger that had defined it. Instead, it felt lighter, as though speaking it now was an act of release.
“It’s time to let go,” he said, his voice firmer this time, carrying the strength of his resolve.
The flames around him flared briefly, a final burst of light before settling into a steady glow. He opened his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like years, they weren’t clouded with pain or doubt. They burned with purpose, with clarity.
And then, Varen smiled.
It wasn’t a smirk of pride or a mask of stoicism. It was genuine, unguarded—a smile born from the quiet peace of understanding. He had been lost, wandering in the shadows of his own making, but now he had found his way back to the light.
He stood slowly, his greatsword still glowing faintly in his grasp. The weight that had once pressed on his shoulders felt lighter now, replaced by the steady warmth of his flames.
‘I will burn brightly,’ he thought, his smile widening. ‘Not just for myself, but for those who believe in me. For the Silver Flame Sect. For the pride of flame.’
And as he looked out the window, the night sky stretching endlessly before him, he knew that this was only the beginning.
“And Lucavion…..Next time, I will not lose.”