After delivering his final command, Simon turned and left the training hall without another word. His boots echoed softly against the polished stone floor as he stepped over the sprawled, gasping bodies of his trainees. The air behind him was heavy—thick with the stillness that follows pain, the silence that comes after discipline has been driven home.
Every face he passed was pale, glistening with sweat. They did not speak, did not move. It wasn't respect that kept them quiet—it was fear, hard-earned and fully deserved.
Simon didn't slow. His mind was already somewhere else. The flicker of battle plans, the shape of looming threats, the weight of decisions that would carve their mark on more than just today. He descended the stairs, his steps purposeful, until he reached the compound's base floor.
His destination was clear.
The armory.
The instant he stepped inside, a voice called out from behind the counter.
"What do you want now, Sir White Flame-Knight?"
Maddy's tone dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips quirking as she leaned casually against the counter. Her short, ink-black hair framed her sharp features, and her amber eyes danced with the sort of mischief Simon had never managed to train out of her.
Simon's jaw tightened. "Please… don't call me that."
She lifted both hands in mock surrender, but the sparkle in her eyes made it clear she had no intention of obeying.
"Fine, fine," she said lightly, her voice still teasing. "What are you after?"
"Weapons," Simon said without hesitation. "Two of them. One heavy, one light."
Maddy tilted her head slightly, appraising him. "Specifications?"
"For the light one—something like Ignis Fangs."
Her eyebrows rose. "And the heavy?"
"Something along the lines of Ember Cleaver. A weapon that can store heat and release it in a controlled, explosive impact."
Her smirk faded into focus. She turned toward the console beside her and began typing quickly, the soft click of keys filling the quiet. "Budget?" she asked automatically, still scanning through the listings.
Simon met her gaze with an unflinching stare. "There's no budget this time."
Her fingers froze mid-stroke. Slowly, she turned back to him. "No limit? As in… no limit at all?"
"Not a single one."
There was a moment of silence between them—long enough for Maddy to think back to the last time Simon had walked through these doors.
Two months ago, he had been a different man. Back then, he had approached her counter with the hesitant steps of someone carrying more desperation than coin. He'd asked for a basic blade—a battered thing she'd almost been embarrassed to hand over—and he'd had to promise to return it.
Now, he stood in front of her radiating a quiet, unwavering confidence. The kind of certainty that only comes from having the power—and the means—to back it up.
She didn't question him.
Without a word, she stepped out from behind the counter and motioned for him to follow. Together, they passed through a locked side door into a descending corridor lined with black steel plating. This was the restricted section of the armory—a vault within the vault, reserved only for the elite or the unfathomably wealthy.
They came to a stop in front of an obsidian display stand. Upon it rested two short swords, perfectly mirrored, their forms simple yet undeniably predatory.
"These," Maddy said softly, "are the Sunfang Twins."
Simon stepped forward, his gaze narrowing as he examined the pair.
The first blade was sleek and slender, its surface tinted a faint reddish hue. A delicate wave pattern shimmered along the edge like heat distortion trapped in steel. The blackened leather hilt fit the palm as if it had grown there, and the blade itself curved subtly toward the tip—a shape made for quick, decisive strikes.
The second was slightly thicker, its crimson hue deeper, darker. The base of its edge bore small, vicious serrations meant to tear through armor and flesh alike. The fuller of the blade shimmered faintly, as though molten glass had been poured and cooled within it. Near the guard of both swords rested a hollow orb, dormant but unmistakably deliberate in its design.
"Beautiful," Simon murmured, his fingers hovering just above the hilt.
"Deadly," Maddy corrected. "They share a trait with Ignis Fangs—they grow sharper and deadlier the more heat you channel into them. But they also have something extra."
She picked up the first sword and handed it to him. "Heat it."
Simon wrapped his hand around the grip and drew on his white flame. Power flowed from him into the weapon, and the blade responded instantly—not with the dull orange or deep red of ordinary heated steel, but with a blinding, near-silver glow. The dormant orb near the guard pulsed, swirling with captured fire.
"That orb stores a fragment of your flame," Maddy explained. "Embed it into your target… then detonate it at your command."
Simon's brow lifted. "Each blade holds one?"
"Exactly. You can recharge by heating the weapon again. Minimal effort—maximum destruction."
He tested the weapon's weight, feeling how easily it danced through the air. Light, fluid, lethal. The perfect companion to his speed.
A rare smile tugged at his mouth. "Let's keep going."
Maddy's eyes lit with anticipation. She led him deeper into the vault until they reached a massive steel container bolted into the floor. It loomed ten feet tall and five feet wide, its surface marked with warning sigils and reinforced locks.
She placed her hand against the biometric reader. A series of metallic clicks echoed as the seals disengaged. Steam hissed from hidden vents, and the heavy door groaned open.
Inside stood a giant.
A double-headed battle axe, nearly scraping the top of its container. The nine-foot handle was forged from an obsidian-alloy core, wrapped in thick braids of dragonhide that gleamed under the dim vault lights. At six feet up the shaft, the weapon split into two massive axe heads—each three feet wide—crafted from a dark crimson metal veined with molten orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The inner curves of each crescent head were lined with savage serrations, as if made to tear the world apart piece by piece. Along their outer edges, runes glowed faintly, responding to the presence of a potential wielder.
At the point where the two heads joined the shaft, words were etched deep into the metal in glowing script:
Infernal Requiem
"Go ahead," Maddy said quietly. "Touch it."
Simon stepped closer. The weapon seemed to lean toward him, as though aware of his approach. He wrapped his hand around the shaft.
The moment his skin met the dragonhide grip, the weapon awoke. The veins running through the axe heads flared brighter, and the air seemed to tighten around them. It was not heat in the ordinary sense—it was hunger.
"Forged from Ember steel and Heart glass," Maddy said, her voice hushed. "Designed for flame-channelers like you. Each head is a heat capacitor—able to store enormous amounts of thermal energy."
"First mode of release," she continued, "is a controlled explosive shockwave on impact. Enough to flatten a building or erase a front line."
She reached up and tapped a rune carved into the midpoint of the shaft. Molten light flared in response.
"Second mode," she said, "is its namesake. Fully charged, Infernal Requiem unleashes Oblivion Cleave. A wave of molten flame tears through the ground for a hundred meters in a straight line. It doesn't just burn—it shatters."
Simon's eyes narrowed.
"It creates an artificial fault line," Maddy went on. "A seismic combustion detonated entirely by willpower. The battlefield won't just be damaged—it will be rewritten. But once used, it drains the entire reserve. Recharging takes time… and a massive surge of flame."
Simon tightened his grip. The weight was immense, but his body accepted it. It was like holding a caged cataclysm—tamed only for as long as he chose to keep it so.
"I'll take them," he said at last.
And for the first time since entering the armory, his smile wasn't faint. It was sharp. Dangerous.