After that brief exchange between Adam and Fidelis, the silence grew so thick that even the scrape of quill against parchment sounded like a sharp blow. Adam kept writing, still clinging to the idea of finding something, but the words no longer flowed. Each line twisted, every symbol lost its meaning. The air in the library had turned heavier.
He stopped. A drop of ink fell onto the paper and slowly spread, erasing part of a name. He shut the book with a snap and rested his elbows on the table. For the first time since Fidelis had left, he allowed himself to think about the silence left in his wake.
It wasn't guilt. Not exactly. It was something else. He felt it under his skin, like an itch impossible to scratch. He knew he'd been unfair, but acknowledging it meant admitting weakness… and Adam couldn't stand being seen as weak by anyone. Not even by someone like Fidelis.
The heat forced him to stand. He took off his coat with an automatic motion and noticed a faint tremor in the floor. He ignored it at first, believing it came from the ship's turbines. But the hum changed in tone—lower, rougher, with an echo that vibrated through the metal conduits.
He left the library quickly. A short distance away, Fidelis was leaning on the railing of the corridor, looking out at the clouds stained red and orange by the sunset. His scarf hung loosely, as if it, too, were resting. The wind blowing from the external vents carried a faint smell of hot metal.
Adam stopped a few steps behind him. He hesitated—speak or keep walking? But staying silent would also mean admitting something bothered him… and he didn't like that either.
"Fidelis," he called at last.
He didn't turn right away; he only tilted his head slightly, recognizing the voice.
"Yes, sir?"
"We're going to check the lower section," Adam said, his tone neutral, almost mechanical, avoiding eye contact. "If there are records or old connections, they might be there."
Fidelis sighed, adjusted his scarf, and followed without a word. There was no need to argue. Adam wasn't looking for apologies—just movement. Pushing forward was how he plugged the holes.
They walked in silence through the curved corridors of the ship. The lights flickered occasionally, as though the energy flow were interrupted for fractions of a second. Fidelis noticed first.
"The luminaires… they're not supposed to fail like that."
"Ship must be old," Adam replied, not looking back.
"It's not that," Fidelis murmured, lowering his voice. "It's heat. The metal is expanding."
Adam stopped a moment and pressed his hand to the wall. He was right. The metal burned, as if the sun were heating it from the inside. A faint vibration crawled through the plates beneath their feet.
"Don't tell me this has something to do with your Ignis," Fidelis said, trying to force a smile.
"If it does, it's a very convenient coincidence," Adam replied, a spark of irony in his voice.
They kept going. The air grew denser with every step. Behind the walls came echoes and creaks, like something scraping the metal from within. A pair of engineers ran past them in the opposite direction, faces tense.
"What's going on?" Adam asked, stopping them.
"Anomalous fluctuations in the crystal flow… heat's rising in the lower levels," one answered, barely slowing down.
Adam and Fidelis exchanged looks. Neither spoke, but both knew this wasn't just a technical malfunction.
They descended a maintenance stairwell. The air below was suffocating. Adam breathed through his mouth; the taste of iron clung to his tongue. The hum of the machinery mixed with another sound—different: a dry crackle, irregular, like embers stirred by an invisible breath.
They turned a corner and froze.
A reddish glow stained the corridor from the far end. It wasn't the tone of emergency lights—something more organic, more alive. Shadows danced on the walls, warped, restless.
"Don't get close," Fidelis warned, raising a hand.
But Adam was already a step ahead. Something in that fire called to him. When he rounded the final corner, he saw it: a small creature made of compressed fire, crawling across the floor as if trying to escape the circle that had spawned it.
Its eyes were white embers. Its body crackled and shifted constantly, oscillating between flame, smoke, and shape.
"An… elemental," Fidelis whispered, voice trembling as he stepped back.
"More like an invocation," Adam corrected, crouching for a better look. "Look at the ground."
The red circle glowed with a liquid brightness. The small fire-creature turned toward them and let out a sound—not a roar nor a hiss, but a burst of air heated to incandescence. Its body warped, grew, and in a blink, it spat a gout of flame.
Adam didn't think. Instinct acted before reason. He extended his arm.
"Gula, devour."
The flame began to be sucked into the air, forming a spiral that twisted toward Adam's palm. His skin prickled. For an instant, he felt the fire rush inside him, like a sweet, lethal poison.
"Adam… what was that?" Fidelis asked, stunned a few steps behind him.
"An early dinner," Adam replied, rolling up his sleeve with a mischievous grin.
Fidelis didn't answer. His scarf began to move on its own, alarmed by the danger; its loose end floated like a snake ready to strike.
The corridor trembled. From the floor vents and cracks in the walls, new lights began to sprout. One, two, four, eight… In seconds, the hallway filled with those small blazing bodies. They moved clumsily, but with a clear purpose: advance, consume, spread.
Adam stepped forward. His smile was thin, almost amused. His eyes gleamed—not only with the reflection of the fire, but with that spark of danger he loved so much.
"Step back, sir. We don't know how many there are," Fidelis warned, arm outstretched.
"I don't like unfair fights," Adam said, kneeling and placing a hand on the floor. "But this time, I won't complain."
The invocations released another blast of flame. Adam, without uttering a word, took it head-on. He seemed to devour it. When the fire reached his palm, he closed his fist. The flame was trapped inside, trembling like a rabid heart.
With a quick swing of his arm, he fired it back: a compressed stream of concentrated fire, brighter and fiercer than the initial blaze. The impact flung two of the creatures against the ceiling, where they vanished with a dry hiss.
Adam glanced at his hand. The skin was marked with faint burns.
"Shit… forgot to say the chant," he thought, clenching his fist before refocusing on the invocations.
Fidelis slid a hand into his scarf and pulled out a pendant. With a swift motion, he hung it around his neck until it rested against his fingers. Then he pressed his other hand over it, channeling energy.
The scarf tensed at once, stretching like a living whip. It lashed one of the invocations, disintegrating it instantly. The woven fibers gleamed with yellow and orange sparks that pulsed with Fidelis' heartbeat.
"Don't waste the air," Adam said without looking back. "Cover your nose and mouth with part of the cloth."
The creatures kept emerging. The floor vibrated beneath them. From the shadows of the hallway, new figures took shape: larger, denser, more aware.
Fidelis stepped back, seeking a defensible spot. Adam advanced instead. His eyes reflected the flames as though they were his own embers.
"You know what's worst about fire, Fidelis?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the burning swarm.
"Enlighten me, sir," Fidelis replied, patient and gentle as always.
"It thinks it can consume everything," Adam said, a smile spreading across his face. He raised his arm toward the invocations.
The air vibrated. A wave of heat rose like a living tide.
Adam opened his hand; the explosion, before reaching them, began to compress in on itself, spiraling until it concentrated in his palm, where it was devoured. He smiled… but the smile twisted as the burning pain returned.
He'd forgotten the name of the spell again. His skin blackened, pain throbbing beneath the flesh.
"Gula, regurgitate," he muttered through clenched teeth, almost annoyed.
Adam stepped forward again. Heat rippled around his body. The energy he had absorbed reawakened, spinning in his palm until it formed a dark sphere streaked with crimson. It pulsed with his breath.
He showed no fear. Not even caution. Only curiosity… and a dangerous sort of delight.
"I always like it when they think they can win," he murmured, lowering his hand. With a slight twist of his fingers, the sphere shot toward the invocations.
It exploded in a compressed torrent. Not fire, not pure energy—an implosion: a void that sucked the air in and collapsed several of the creatures into themselves. They screamed in a language of sparks, warping before being swallowed by nothing.
But others emerged behind them, multiplying at an unnatural pace.
"Sir!" Fidelis shouted, shielding himself with his scarf. The threads lit with white runes, forming a translucent barrier that dulled the heat.
Adam didn't listen—or didn't care. He stepped on a metal plate glowing red-hot and kept advancing.
Fidelis, following reluctantly, noticed the circle still glowing. Fulgoris Incendia, he managed to read between the flickers. He frowned, grasped his pendant, and pressed it against his open palm. The scarf unfurled like a fan and released a rush of wind that scattered some of the incandescent dust. The circle broke apart halfway, sparking before going out completely.
"You can't be so careless with everything!" he shouted over the roar.
Adam turned his head slightly. "Of course I can." And he bolted forward again.
The corridor narrowed; the metal vibrated with every impact. Adam moved like a freed animal, striking with his open palm, leaving behind rings of heat and fragments of energy that writhed like echoes of enemy attacks. Each time a creature burst, part of the flame clung to his body, becoming fuel.
Fidelis watched with a mix of awe and concern. It was the first time he'd seen him fight like this… and he was beginning to understand how dangerous he could be.
"To your left!" Fidelis shouted.
Too late. A creature of solid fire leapt onto Adam, wrapping him in a burning embrace. The air crackled; the metal warped under the heat. For an instant, it seemed the fire would consume him completely.
"Gula, regurgitate!" Adam roared.
The creature shot toward the ceiling with a sonic blast that shook the entire corridor.
Adam kept advancing, cutting through the Fulgoris, until he reached a hallway that opened into a wide area—a common space where passengers usually gathered to rest. The lights flickered; the metal, blackened from previous explosions, still crackled in the air.
Fidelis barely had time to register it. Adam was already moving.
His steps were heavy yet precise, as if every motion brought him closer to a fury he'd been storing for a long time. Flames kept flowing in and out of his hands without haste, spreading across the walls, wiping out the remnants of the Fulgoris Incendia struggling to regroup.
The people there—about a dozen men and women—screamed when he entered, mistaking his smoke-wrapped figure for another enemy. Fidelis ran to his side, trying to quell the panic.
"Back! Back, all of you!" he shouted, raising his pendant. A barrier of air expanded like an invisible pulse, deflecting some of the heat.
But Adam didn't stop.
"Sir! There are passengers!" Fidelis warned, but his voice drowned in the roar of flames.
Adam slipped his hand into his shirt, pulling out the book and opening it. Its pages fluttered wildly while small scraps tore free and seemed to turn into black ash that drifted to the floor. As he extended his other arm forward, the aura around him swirled like a living storm.
The remaining Fulgoris Incendia began to warp, twisted by the heat and mana emanating from him. The floor shook.
A circle formed beneath his feet from the ashes—huge, a poisonous, dark seal woven with symbols resembling crude runes and figures of gluttony: crooked teeth, fangs, abysses to be filled.
"From the edge beyond the world, I ask the nature of my element to manifest; I call upon your presence, that you may come before me. I speak your name."He whispered one last string of letters, so twisted no one should hear them."Gula, devour."
From behind Adam—from his blind spot—something began to emerge: a shape made of filth and shadow. It took form slowly, with heavy movements, without a consistent outline; its mere presence was unsettling, even to Adam.
When the shadow finally cohered, it lunged forward. Filthy tendrils crawled across the floor as it swallowed the Fulgoris Incendia one by one. Its long, skeletal arms snatched the creatures, digging in claws that tore them like thin, brittle cloth with no resistance; others it simply split apart with a single swipe.
The stench of its essence mingled with the heat and smoke, creating a nauseating sense of power that made even the flames seem shy before its voracity.