The mask cracked slightly, revealing a face disturbingly similar to his own. The only difference was the man's eyes—void-like blackness with sinister red pupils that seemed to pierce through Ronan's very soul. The resemblance sent chills down his spine.
"Look, Ronan," the masked man whispered, his voice carrying an unnatural allure. "This is what kind of power you can have. Just let me take over your body, and I will grant you strength beyond imagination. You will never feel helpless again."
Those words sliced through Ronan's mind like a hot blade. For a fleeting moment, he felt his resolve waver, his soul teetering on the edge of temptation. But then—
"Why do you want power?"
The voice of Mr. Gideon, his mentor, echoed in his mind. Ronan could still remember that conversation vividly. Back then, he had answered with unwavering certainty.
"I want to protect my loved ones. I don't want them to get hurt. Every time I see someone close to me suffering, I feel powerless. That's the only reason I seek power."
The memory hit him like a thunderclap, shattering the fog of doubt clouding his thoughts. His grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. His body trembled, but not with fear—not anymore. Tears welled in his eyes, but they weren't tears of weakness. They were a testament to his unshaken will.
"I never wanted the power to kill. I only ever wanted power to protect." Yet, as he stood there, staring at the lifeless bodies strewn across the battlefield, he felt something new—something dark and terrifying. "For the first time, I want power to kill."
The realisation shook him to his core. But instead of breaking him, it fueled the fire within. The flames surrounding them danced wildly as if responding to his emotions. Every ember, every flicker of heat—Ronan absorbed them all. His body burned, his skin scorched, but he refused to stop.
The masked man watched in disbelief. How? He had been so sure that Ronan would succumb to despair and would drown in the darkness he had carefully laid out. But instead, Ronan stood stronger, burning brighter.
Ronan's voice was steady despite the pain wracking his body. "I admit it—you have supreme power, unlike anyone I have seen. But what's the point of having power when you have nothing to protect?" His fiery eyes locked onto the masked man. "I won't use my strength like you did."
The masked man's grip on his blade tightened. "You're a fool. Strength is meant to crush, to dominate. That is the nature of true power."
Ronan shook his head. "No. Strength is meant to protect."
With that final declaration, the inferno within him roared to life. His body blurred, and in the blink of an eye, he was in front of the masked man. A searing slash cut through the air, and before the enemy could react, his arm was severed cleanly from his body.
The masked man let out a sharp gasp, stumbling back. He clutched at the bleeding stump, shouting, "How? Just moments ago, Ronan had been lost in despair. How had he pulled himself together so quickly?"
Ronan exhaled, his breath steady despite the raging storm within. "You made a critical mistake." He raised his sword, pointing it at his foe. "You underestimated human nature. Yes, our emotions are our greatest weakness. But they're also our greatest strength."
Their battle resumed, blades clashing in a deadly dance. Sparks flew, flames flared, and each strike carried the weight of their convictions. The masked man fought with raw brutality, but Ronan—Ronan fought with purpose.
After a series of ferocious clashes, Ronan saw his opening. With a swift, decisive movement, he drove his sword into the masked man's abdomen. The enemy choked on a breath, his body trembling as Ronan twisted the blade deeper.
Ronan's voice was calm yet firm. "This ends now."
With a final upward slash, he tore through the masked man's form. The figure disintegrated into flames, burning away like an illusion shattered into nothingness.
And then—
Silence.
Ronan found himself back in reality, his body drenched in sweat. He looked down at his trembling hands before turning his gaze to the Silver Flame hovering before him. Without hesitation, he reached for it and sat cross-legged on the ground. His flame core pulsed in the centre of his chest, welcoming the new energy.
But unlike most fire users, Ronan did not attempt to merge the flame core with his own. He didn't force two flames to coexist. Instead, he burned the Silver Flame Core, absorbing only its essence, strengthening his own fire instead of creating a secondary core. It was a reckless method, dangerous and unrefined. Yet, it held limitless potential.
A double-edged sword.
His body trembled as the power flooded into him. His flame core roared back to life, burning brighter than ever. But then—a sudden, soul-crushing pain exploded within him.
Ronan gasped, his body convulsing. The agony was unbearable, his nerves feeling like they were being torn apart. He collapsed onto his side, his vision swimming. Before consciousness left him, he caught one last glimpse of his flame—it hovered before him, flickering erratically as if expressing…concern?
Then, everything faded to black.
Ronan jolted upright, his body drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He was back in his room. A dream?
No. It felt too real.
He stumbled into the shower, the cold water grounding him. But as he closed his eyes, the vision returned. The strange room. The caged flame. His own flame, absorbing the Sliver Flame's essence.
His breath hitched. What the hell was that?
Driven by a gut instinct, he focused on that eerie space in his mind.
And then—
He was there.
A bright, vast room stretched before him, its very existence pulsing with energy. In the centre stood a table. On the table—a cage of fire. Inside it, the Silver Flame burned, its power being steadily devoured by Ronan's own flame.
His heart pounded. Out of fear, out of curiosity.
He took a step back.
And in an instant, he was back in reality.
Ronan clutched his chest, his breathing ragged. His flame was changing. Evolving. And whatever path he was walking—it was one no ordinary fire user had ever dared to tread.