The mountains of Yorin stood like sleeping giants, draped in mist and time. Ashen had finally reached the edge of the forgotten city—a place the maps refused to name, but the locals called Grayfall.
No one lived here anymore.
The buildings were bones—crumbling stone, collapsed towers, shattered roads choked by nature. Statues of long-forgotten heroes stared down from pedestals, their faces worn away by wind and ash.
Ashen stepped carefully. The silence was thick here, heavier than any place he'd been before. Even his flame burned lower, dimmed by something unseen.
At the center of Grayfall stood a broken fountain, and behind it, a wide archway etched with elemental runes.
As he approached it, the gear-shaped pendant in his pocket vibrated, then stopped.
The same four words floated to the surface of his mind again:
"Invent. Adapt. Ascend. Rebuild."
The archway reacted to his presence.
A low hum filled the air, and then fire burst from the symbols, creating a circular flame gate. A single phrase appeared above the arch, glowing in emberlight:
> "One must burn to rise."
Ashen gritted his teeth. "Always riddles…"
He stepped through.
---
Inside, the temperature dropped instantly. He wasn't in Grayfall anymore. Not truly. This was a Trial Chamber—a pocket space locked away beneath the city.
Stone pillars circled a deep pit of lava. Above it, floating midair, hovered a single ember: small, weak, but pulsing like a heartbeat.
> "Claim the Ember of Origin," a voice whispered. Not Inventor this time—this voice was older. Hollow. Ancient.
Ashen leapt between the pillars, testing his balance, flame braced in his hands.
Suddenly, lava surged—and from it, a creature rose.
A Molten Wraith.
Twice Ashen's size, its body made of half-solid flame and stone. Its eyes burned with hatred.
Ashen barely dodged its first strike. The heat burned his skin even through his resistance.
> "You're not strong enough," it growled. "Your fire is still borrowed. Not earned."
Ashen didn't answer. He had no time for fear.
He fought.
And for the first time… he invented.
---
When the wraith launched a sweeping flame strike, Ashen absorbed part of it—pulling the heat into his chest instead of dodging. His body screamed, but his core responded, reshaping it.
He exhaled a blast of white flame—raw and imperfect, but uniquely his.
The wraith staggered.
Ashen hurled himself forward, drove his fist into its chest, and roared.
> "I decide what I become!"
The wraith exploded in light and ash.
And the Ember of Origin floated down into Ashen's hand.
---
The Trial Chamber cracked around him.
Stone shattered. Lava cooled. The space collapsed—and in a blink, he stood once more in Grayfall's center, the archway behind him now dormant.
In his palm, the ember had vanished.
But something had changed.
[New Ability Unlocked: Whitefire Core]
Your flame is no longer borrowed. It evolves with your will. You are no longer bound by limits of element or origin.
Ashen collapsed to one knee, breathing hard.
Then he heard a quiet clap behind him.
A figure stood among the ruins—tall, cloaked in shadow, with gears floating around his shoulders like orbiting stars.
> "Not bad," the figure said.
Ashen raised his eyes. "You again."
The Inventor chuckled softly, voice echoing through space and time.
> "Let's say I'm just… a curious observer."