A low rumble echoed in the back of Kyota's skull as he stirred awake.
The void realm was gone.
Now he lay on a bed of smooth obsidian stone, beneath a sky that bled violet with veins of golden lightning streaking across it—each flash cracking silently, like divine breath caught in the chest of the world. The very air shimmered, dense with invisible currents. Time was warped here. The realm pulsed to a rhythm not his own.
Kyota's body ached, every limb heavy with lingering exhaustion. His dreams clung to him like smoke—unclear, unsettling. He vaguely remembered something whispering through the fog of sleep.
"Never trust colors."
He didn't understand it. But it felt true. He clenched his fists, trying to hold onto the fragments, but they slipped away like sand between his fingers.
A sudden flick to his forehead jolted him.
"You're in your body, not your head," Jiro said flatly. He stood above Kyota, arms crossed, long coat flaring slightly with a breeze that didn't exist. "You sleep too deep for someone with war still inside them."
Kyota sat up slowly. "I was dreaming…"
"No. You were remembering," Jiro corrected, turning his back and walking toward the edge of the floating cliff where the horizon bent unnaturally. "Memories come easier in this realm. It's why I train you here."
They sat together in silence, eating dry rations by a flickering azure flame that floated midair. It crackled with raw mana instead of wood, casting no shadow, no warmth—only light.
Kyota finally asked, "Are we really starting absorption today?"
Jiro didn't answer right away. He finished his bite, then turned to face him. His eyes, normally unreadable, now glinted with a warning.
"You've already touched the edge of madness," he said. "Now you want to dive in."
Kyota stayed silent.
Jiro continued, "Mana absorption isn't just another technique. It's the forbidden mouth that drinks too deeply from the world. You'll be tempted to take more. You'll need to take more. The deeper you go, the more the abyss opens inside you. Eventually, you won't just absorb mana—you'll absorb will, identity, and life."
He paused, letting the weight of that settle.
"And if you lose control…" Jiro's voice dropped to a whisper, "...you don't die. You consume yourself."
Kyota looked down at his hands. The scars from his past trials were still faintly etched into his palms. "Why teach it to me at all, then?"
Jiro knelt in front of him. "Because you're desperate. And desperation, when refined, becomes a focus sharper than any sword." He rose and pointed toward a circular platform suspended high above the abyss. "Go. We begin now."
---
The Attempt
The platform was unlike the others. It hovered over nothingness, no support, no runes—just a thin disk of shimmering mana-glass, translucent and humming.
As Kyota stepped onto it, the air shifted. A thousand invisible threads brushed against his skin. He shivered.
"Concentrate," Jiro's voice echoed from behind. "The mana here is unfiltered—raw. It's everywhere. In the air. The stone. The light. Even in you. Open your inner gate, and pull."
Kyota exhaled and closed his eyes.
The world fell away.
All he could feel was the beating of his own heart.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
He reached inward, focusing on the core nestled deep in his chest—the source of his own mana.
Open… open…
And then—
A surge.
Mana burst into him like a dam shattering. It wasn't gentle or graceful—it was violent. It rushed into his veins, crackling with raw pressure, invading every cell. His breath hitched. His muscles locked.
He gasped.
The sky above darkened. The platform trembled. The swirling energy in the abyss below roared with delight, as if cheering his failure.
Kyota's eyes opened—and they were no longer human.
Iridescent rings flickered in his pupils, his teeth sharpening unnaturally. Veins bulged under his skin, glowing faintly blue. His arms trembled. His mind screamed.
He dropped to one knee, drool trailing from his mouth, eyes wide with terror as he saw shadows forming around him.
A voice—a familiar one—slithered through the cracks of his sanity.
"If you stay here… we both die. You lose yourself, and I'll be dragged with you."
Kyota turned, but there was no one there.
The platform cracked.
"This world will fall into despair for a thousand years. GET OUT."
With a primal scream, Kyota forced all the mana out of his body at once. It shot out of him in a blast like a reversed explosion, tearing through the air and blowing back the shadows.
He collapsed.
---
Four Days Later
When Kyota awoke, it was beneath a curved canopy of glowing tree-like crystals in a sheltered cavern. Light bled through their translucent trunks, casting gentle refractions on the walls. He was wrapped in a thick cloak of mana thread, warm and heavy.
Jiro sat nearby, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other.
"You're awake."
Kyota's lips were cracked. He croaked, "How long?"
"Four days."
A heavy silence followed. Kyota turned his head away, ashamed. "I failed."
"You survived."
Jiro stood, walking to a pool of clear water and tossing a stone in. "Your absorption hit ninety two percent before it broke you."
Kyota blinked. "What?"
"That's unheard of." Jiro's voice was quiet. "I've trained princes and monsters. None of them reached that number in their first attempt. You shouldn't have even crossed thirty percent."
Kyota struggled to sit up. His whole body felt heavier, like gravity had thickened around him. "Then… why did I fall?"
"Because you're not just absorbing mana. You're absorbing truth," Jiro said. "Your soul isn't hollow. It's full. And full vessels crack when you pour too much too quickly."
Kyota looked down at his hands. They didn't feel like his anymore. His skin still tingled with echoes of energy.
"I lost the fire stone trial…" he muttered bitterly. "I missed my chance."
Jiro was silent for a moment. Then, without warning, he raised his hand—and in a blink, the world shifted.
---
Return to the Fire Kingdom
A deafening boom tore through the sky as they emerged in a flaming arc over the Fire Kingdom's capital.
Kyota blinked rapidly, wind screaming in his ears. They were flying—not on wings, but in a sealed sphere of pressurized mana, ripping through the clouds at speeds beyond comprehension. Below, the Grand Coliseum rose like a divine altar of redstone and obsidian, surrounded by fire-bloom trees and spiraling towers.
Inside, the final match of the Fire Trial raged. Flames danced, lightning cracked. Tens of thousands roared from their seats.
Jiro released him from the sphere—and Kyota landed with a roll atop the stadium's arched roof.
The wind howled. The heat hit him like a tidal wave.
He staggered to his feet, heart pounding.
In the center of the arena, a crowned warrior held the fire stone high, victorious.
Then—
Kyota shouted.
"WAIT!"
His voice thundered unnaturally, carried by mana-infused breath. It cut through the chaos like a blade. The entire coliseum froze.
Tens of thousands of eyes turned skyward.
There stood Kyota—robes torn, hair wild, cursed burn marks glowing faintly beneath his skin, and his aura crackling like a storm barely held in check.
None recognized him.
But all felt the pressure.
An ancient power radiated from him—raw, unfocused, yet terrifying. The platform beneath him hissed with heat just from his presence.
Jiro, arms behind his back.
"Your trial isn't over," he said, smirking.inder that same place.
At the same time Kyota far away in kingdom.
Kyota stared down at the arena, heart racing.
It is time.