The summons arrived on the wings of a golden eagle, a scroll of official parchment clutched in its talons. It was an invitation from the International Magic Council themselves, addressed to the "Fire Brigade."
Norton read it aloud, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. "By the authority of the International Magic Council, you are hereby invited to participate in the World Magic Tournament. The winning team will be granted one wish—anything within the Council's power to grant."
The air left my lungs. A wish. Anything.
Aria's eyes widened, the ice sculptures she'd been practicing with momentarily forgotten. "We could wish for the Council to be reformed! For all exiled mages to be pardoned!"
"Or for them to tell us what they really did to Grandpa," I said, the words tasting like ash. The memory of Dracar's revelation—my grandfather's assassination—was a fresh wound.
Norton crushed the scroll in his fist, his earth magic making the ground tremble. "This is our chance! We could expose them!"
Shibai, however, was silent, his face a mask of grim foreboding. "The World Tournament… I never thought I'd see the day. Your grandfather and I competed in our youth." He looked at me, his eyes heavy with memory. "We didn't win. We weren't prepared for the level of power there. And we lacked… a finishing move."
He unrolled a charred, ancient scroll onto the table. The air grew heavy and hot. "This is why we lost. Your grandfather's forbidden technique: The Circle of Hell. The Council banned it after the war, claiming it was too destructive." He paused, his gaze locking with mine. "They were right."
He explained the three-stage technique: first, the "Inferno Core," a fireball of immense size and heat. Second, "Solar Compression," crushing that fireball to atomic density. Finally, the "Event Horizon Rotation," spinning it to create a gravitational vortex.
"The result is a miniature sun that can consume anything in its path," Shibai said, his voice low. "But if you lose control… it will consume you instead. Your grandfather could barely control it. You've only trained for a few months."
The following three months were a brutal montage of failure and frustration. Under Shibai's watchful eye, I poured everything into mastering the technique. I managed the first stage, the Inferno Core, after weeks of struggle, creating a massive, stable fireball that radiated blistering heat. Aria had to constantly shield the village with her ice.
But the second stage, Solar Compression, was my undoing. Every time I tried to crush the massive fireball, the energy would become unstable, the conflicting nature of my fire and darkness disrupting the perfect control needed. The fireball would explode violently, throwing me backward, scorching the earth.
The final stage, the Event Horizon Rotation, was a disaster. The one time I managed a unstable compression, my attempt to spin it created a chaotic vortex that nearly tore the training ground apart, pulling rocks and debris into its maw before Norton and Aria combined their powers to help me dissipate it.
Shibai finally called a halt, his face pale. "I'm cutting the training! That's enough!" He grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. "Listen to me, Kael. You have mastered the first stage. The Inferno Core alone is powerful enough for most battles. But you are not to attempt the full Circle of Hell in the tournament. The technique is too unstable. Without perfect control of all three stages, it could kill you and everyone nearby."
The warning was a stone in my gut. I had an ultimate weapon I couldn't use.
The tournament arena was a colossal structure thrumming with the energy of thousands of spectators. Teams from every nation gathered, each more formidable than the last. The Tidal Masters from Aquenyra who could summon tidal waves in the desert, the Tectonic Titans from Terravoth who made the very ground their weapon.
We fought our way through the preliminary rounds. My Inferno Core, even alone, was a terrifying spectacle, easily overwhelming most opponents. Norton's earth-shaking power and Aria's absolute zero ice made us a versatile and unpredictable team. We advanced, match by match, our coordination growing seamless.
Then came the quarter-finals. The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium. "Next match: Fire Brigade versus… THE COUNCIL'S CHOSEN!"
The arena fell silent. The air grew thick and cold. These were the Council's personal enforcers, a team shrouded in rumor and fear.
Shibai's voice screamed from the stands, a raw, desperate sound I'd never heard from him before. "NO! FORFEIT THE MATCH! DO IT NOW!"
But it was too late. Three figures emerged onto the sand. Graviton, who could warp gravity itself, making the air crushingly heavy. Chronos, a time seer who could predict our every move before we made them. And Tempus, who could stop time in a localized area.
The battle was a brutal lesson in humility. Norton's earth pillars were crushed into dust by intensified gravity. Aria's ice attacks were effortlessly dodged by Chronos's premonitions. When Tempus froze time, only I, with my dual-nature, could move, but barely, fighting against the solidified air like it was thick mud.
We were being played with. Outclassed. Beaten not by brute force, but by absolute, esoteric control.
"We can't win this!" Norton grunted, blood trickling from his nose from the gravitational pressure.
Desperation clawed at me. Shibai's warning echoed in my mind, but I saw no other path. We were going to lose. We were going to be captured or killed.
"I have no choice," I whispered, a prayer and an apology. I focused inward, on the Threefold Lockdown I had shifted to my darkness. With a terrifying, willful act, I began to transfer the locks back, shackling my fire once more and unleashing the caged, hungry darkness completely.
The world turned monochrome. A cold, vast power flooded me, so different from Dracar's vibrant heat. This was the void, the silence before creation. Shadas's voice was a whisper of freezing wind in my mind. "LET THE RAGE FLOW. EMBRACE MY POWER COMPLETELY."
I didn't embrace it. I became it.
"DRACAR!" I screamed into the heart of my own soul. "I NEED YOUR POWER!"
A bridge of fire and will connected us. "FOOLISH CHILD! THE COST IS YOUR VERY SOUL!" Dracar's voice was a roaring concern.
"IT'S THE ONLY WAY!"
For a single, eternal second, I held the attention of two opposing gods. And then, their power, filtered through my mortal frame, converged.
God Limitation.
My body erupted in divine flames, my eyes burning with the light of a dying star and the cold of the abyss. The time-stop shattered. The gravitational fields wavered.
"I HAVE ONE MINUTE!" I roared, my voice layered with thunder and silence. "NORTON! ARIA! GIVE ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT!"
They didn't hesitate. Norton channeled the deep, molten heat of the planet's core into me. "MOLTEN HEART CANNON!" Aria created conduits of absolute zero ice, paradoxically intensifying the fire's heat through quantum compression. "CRYSTAL HEART AMPLIFIER!"
With the power of my friends and two gods flowing through me, I began the Circle of Hell. Not with struggle, but with absolute, terrifying authority.
"INFERNO CORE! SOLAR COMPRESSION! EVENT HORIZON ROTATION!"
The three stages combined flawlessly. A miniature sun, perfect and terrible, formed above my palm. It didn't just radiate heat; it warped reality, bending light and space around it.
The Council's Chosen stared, their confidence shattered. "IMPOSSIBLE!" Graviton yelled.
Chronos clutched his head. "My eye… it can't see past this moment!"
"CIRCLE OF HELL!" I unleashed it.
The attack didn't explode. It consumed. Light, sound, and magic were drawn into it, leaving a terrifying silence in its wake. When the light faded, the Council's Chosen lay defeated, their powers nullified, their bodies battered.
I collapsed as the God Limitation faded, every cell in my body screaming in protest.
The stadium was dead silent, then erupted into chaos.
The Tournament Judge finally found his voice. "THE FIRE BRIGADE WINS! BUT… AT WHAT COST?"
The cost became clear immediately. Professor Magnus was at my side, his face a mask of horror, but not at my victory. "What have you done? The Council will never let this stand!"
He was right. The announcement came not from the judge, but from a cold-faced Council envoy who descended into the arena. "The team Fire Brigade is disqualified. The use of the forbidden Circle of Hell technique violates all tournament rules and safety protocols."
We had won the battle. But we had lost the war. The wish was gone. Our safety was gone. As the envoy spoke, I saw Shawn in the stands, his face not of defeat, but of vindication. He had known. This had been the trap all along.
We had exposed ourselves completely, proven our power, and in doing so, given the Council the perfect excuse to destroy us. Our victory was the greatest defeat we could have ever suffered.