After the ranking battle, Ronan made his way to the Iron Ember Forge. The familiar clang of hammers against metal filled the air as he stepped inside, the scent of molten iron and burning coal thick in the workshop. Spotting Master Ferrod at his usual workstation, Ronan approached with a respectful nod.
"Good afternoon, Master Ferrod. How have you been?" he greeted.
Master Ferrod wiped his hands on his apron before responding with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Ronan. I'm doing well. And you?"
"I'm doing good," Ronan replied, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "So, did you complete my armour?"
Master Ferrod nodded. "Yes, we did. Come with me."
As they walked to the back room, Ronan hesitated before asking, "Master Ferrod, is it possible to create a weapon that only I can store in my personal storage ring? During a battle, I lost one of my daggers. My opponent just picked it up and stored it in his own ring."
Master Ferrod rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "For a normal weapon, that isn't possible. But if the weapon is above high grade, it can be done. Think of artefacts and soulbond that require a drop of blood to bind to their master."
Ronan frowned slightly. "So there's no way to do that for mid or high-grade weapons?"
Master Ferrod shook his head. "Not without enchantments far beyond standard craftsmanship. Until then, you'll have to be more cautious next time."
Ronan sighed but nodded in understanding. He then collected his newly crafted armour and the earnings from selling monster materials. Before leaving, another thought struck him.
"Master Ferrod, do you have a catalogue of weapons, armour, and other equipment? I'd like to study them."
Master Ferrod chuckled and placed a massive tome on the table with a heavy thud. "This is the latest version."
Ronan's eyes widened at the sheer size of the book. "How much do I owe you?"
Master Ferrod grinned. "It's free. Consider it a gift."
"Thank you, Master Ferrod," Ronan said sincerely before leaving the forge.
Meanwhile, at the academy, Ms. Amara and Mr. Felix led a group of students, including Kairos, Elenor, Tavin, Kellan, and Serena, out of the rift after three months of gruelling training. Their expressions ranged from exhaustion to quiet satisfaction.
That evening, Ronan spent hours in the academy library, immersed in the wealth of knowledge before finally returning to his room. As he entered, he almost missed the faint glow of light coming from the room beside his. Pausing mid-step, he retraced his steps, curiosity piqued.
"Did Kairos return from training?" he mused.
Knocking on the door, he waited until it opened to reveal Kairos, his brother.
Ronan grinned. "How have you been?"
Kairos returned the smile. "I'm fine. How about you?"
"I'm doing fine." They talked for a while, catching up on lost time. Then, Ronan touched his storage ring and retrieved two Rank Two Luminis Drake monster cores. "Here, these are for you. I heard they're incredibly useful for Light magic users."
Kairos looked at him in surprise before accepting the gift with gratitude. "Thank you, Ronan. I really appreciate this."
With that, they both retired to their rooms for the night. However, Ronan was once again plagued by the same nightmare that had been haunting him for some time.
The next morning, he awoke restless, a cold sweat clinging to his skin. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he applied holy water to his right arm, the pain dull but persistent. Just as he finished wrapping the bandage, a knock came at the door.
Opening it, he found Kairos standing outside. "Good morning," Kairos greeted before his gaze fell on Ronan's bandaged arm. "What happened?"
"Good morning. It's nothing serious," Ronan said casually, rolling down his sleeve. "Just a small injury from outside the academy."
Kairos frowned but didn't push further. "I'm heading to Mr. Felix's training ground."
Ronan nodded. "Alright, see you in the afternoon."
They parted ways, and Ronan walked toward Ms. Amara's training ground, his mind still lingering on the nightmare. In the training ground, Elenor, Serena, Tavin, and Andrea engaged in conversation. However, Ronan's mind was elsewhere, his gaze distant as he walked.
Elenor started to call out to him, but hesitated, noticing the deep contemplation in his expression. Instead, she watched silently as he entered Ms. Amara's office.
"Come in," her voice rang from inside after his knock.
Stepping inside, Ronan greeted her, "Good morning, ma'am. How have you been?"
Ms. Amara looked up from her desk, offering a warm smile. "Oh! Good morning, Ronan. I'm doing well. And you?"
"I'm fine," he replied before getting to the point. "Ma'am, I have a question."
As he spoke, Ms. Amara's gaze flickered with curiosity. "Why does his flame feel so unstable?" she wondered.
"When I suppress my mana, I should be hard to detect, right? But a flame user mentioned that my flame core gives off an odd, noticeable vibe. I want to learn how to control it better so I can hide when necessary."
Ms. Amara shook her head. "This isn't just about mana control, Ronan. It's about your Flame. Right now, it feels unstable, like a wildfire flickering in the wind. Your core reflects your inner state—if it's not steady, it will give off an erratic presence."
She crossed her arms, her tone turning more instructional. "Flame users often strengthen themselves by absorbing beast flames or other powerful fire sources. But every flame carries its own essence. Different flames react differently when integrated into your core, and without proper balance, it can disrupt your entire presence."
Ronan furrowed his brows. "But you're a Flame user too. I can tell, but I don't feel anything overwhelming from you. Why?"
Ms. Amara gave a knowing smile. "Because I am masking my flame core. What you perceive isn't my true presence—it's what I allow you to see."
Ronan's eyes lit up with curiosity. "How can I do that?" he asked eagerly.
Ms. Amara gestured for him to sit. "It's a matter of control and refinement. Imagine your flame core as a lantern. If you let the light shine freely, everyone can see it. But if you place a cover over it, you control how much light escapes. You need to regulate your core's output, adjusting it like a flame behind glass—visible when you want it to be, hidden when necessary."
She placed a hand on his chest, just above his core. "Close your eyes and breathe. Feel the flow of your flames, then picture a sheath wrapping around them. You don't extinguish the fire; you simply control how much of it leaks out. With practice, you'll learn to mask your presence, just like I do."