The platform trembled beneath Khael's bare feet, heat radiating upward in pulses that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat. Lava roiled below, casting a searing orange glow that painted his shadow across the stone.
"This is real."
"Too real."
The air around him twisted and from the distortion, it emerged.
A creature of flame and bone, ten feet tall, dripping molten embers from its claws. Its ribcage was hollow, like a cage, and within it Khael could see writhing images of his worst memories, flickering like cursed echoes:
His trembling hands holding a blade for the first time.
The moment he failed to save his mentor.
The day he swore he'd never be enough.
The beast's face twisted into his own warped, cruel, cracked like porcelain over fire.
Its mouth moved, but the sound wasn't audible in the air.
It was in his mind.
"You will never be anything."
"You don't belong here. Fake"
Khael's throat tightened. His legs locked. The dagger in his hand shimmered—faint and flickering—like even it doubted him.
"I can't fight this."
"I don't even know who I am in here…"
"Why did I think I was ready?"
The flame-beast lunged, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. Its claws slashed across the air. Khael twisted barely dodging and hit the ground with a grunt. Sparks exploded where the beast's claw had struck stone.
He scrambled to his feet and lashed out with his dagger a desperate horizontal slash.
It passed through.
The beast's body turned to black smoke around the blade, reformed behind him, and swiped again.
THUD.
Khael rolled again, but this time slower. Fear was sinking its claws into his chest.
"You can't hurt me," the creature hissed inside his skull.
"You can't even face yourself."
The words weren't just noise.
They were truth his truth.
Every line hit like a scar reopening.
"They're right."
"I'm a fake."
"I've only ever read stories like this. Heroes. Trials. Chosen bloodlines."
"But I'm not one of them."
The Echo rune on his chest dimmed.
He could feel it the trial slipping away from him.
The beast drew in breath. Fire pooled in its throat.
And then—
He whispered:
"No."
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just... real.
He looked up at the creature.
Its burning face flickered with his own features.
Khael stood up. Slowly. His legs still trembling.
He lowered the dagger.
"You're not real."
The beast paused.
"You just want me to fear you, to give up."
The beast hissed, but didn't move.
"I don't need to kill you," Khael said, voice steadier now.
"I just need to stop believing you."
A gust of wind swirled around him his Echo energy stabilizing.
The rune on his chest flared with silver-blue light.
Above him, the first rune ignited, glowing crimson.
The fear-beast screamed not in rage, but in release and shattered into threads of light, which were drawn into the rune overhead.
The platform stopped trembling.
Khael stood still, chest rising and falling.
His hand opened. The dagger evaporated into mist.
"One flame down."
"Eight to go."
But the heaviness in his chest… felt lighter.
….
Trial Two: Flame of Doubt
As the first rune faded into the sky, the platform beneath Khael crumbled away like ash, revealing a bridge of light stretching across a vast, war-torn plain. He blinked—
and was suddenly standing in the center of a battlefield of himself.
Hundreds of Khaels, each wearing a different expression, surrounded him.
Some older.
Some younger.
Some dressed in battle armor, others in robes, one in chains.
All of them speaking. All at once.
"You'll fail."
"You're too soft to change anything."
"You'll mess up the timeline."
"What if you're the cause of the world breaking?"
"Why are you the one who gets this chance?"
"You don't deserve to rewrite fate."
"You'll make it worse."
Their voices stabbed into him like darts of ice.
Khael clutched his head.
The rune on his chest flickered again—uncertain, erratic.
"Shut up—please—shut up."
He fell to his knees.
The ground trembled beneath him.
Echo energy sparked off his skin and then fizzled.
The circle of selves closed in.
Some pointed at him.
Others turned away in shame.
A few laughed.
And then—
He saw it.
Far in the back.
A version of himself that was quiet.
Not speaking. Not doubting. Not angry.
Just... watching.
His arms were crossed.
His eyes calm.
His face smiling.
Not mocking.
Hopeful.
Khael's breath caught in his throat.
"Why… why aren't you saying anything?" he whispered, almost afraid of the answer.
The silent version gave a slow, knowing nod.
Khael's hand dropped from his head.
His breathing slowed.
"They're all me."
"Every one of them."
"But so is he."
He stood. The ground stopped shaking.
The voices still rang around him.
"You're not good enough."
"You'll regret this path."
He took a step forward.
The circle wavered.
Another step.
The self-doubts shouted louder, but their words… grew thin. Hollow.
He walked through them.
They reached out—but turned to smoke.
He didn't run.
He didn't fight.
He just kept walking.
Until he reached the quiet one.
The hopeful one.
They stood face to face.
No words exchanged.
Just understanding.
Khael inhaled.
"I choose my own answer."
The battlefield split with a flash of light.
The second dragon rune above glowed gold, like a sunrise breaking doubt.
The platform beneath him reformed, whole and solid again.
The others vanished.
Khael closed his eyes and whispered:
"Two down."
And far above, the Trial of the Ninefold Flame continued to burn.
..
Trial Three: Flame of Pain (Expanded)
There was no warning this time.
No light.
No fall.
No grand declaration.
Just a sudden stillness.
The arena vanished and Khael stood in a small hospital room, dimly lit, unnaturally quiet.
It wasn't a copy.
It was the memory.
Exactly as he remembered it.
Shigeo's room.
The bed was too big for the boy lying in it.
IV tubes ran like brittle threads across pale skin.
A machine beeped softly in the corner steady, indifferent.
The windows were open, but the breeze didn't move anything.
It felt dead.
And Khael stood there.
Frozen.
Watching.
Shigeo didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His chest rose. Then fell.
Then rose again slower.
Weaker.
"No."
Khael tried to move, but his legs were heavy.
His Echo stirred and sparked, but it couldn't change this.
"Please… not again."
He stepped closer.
And suddenly it all collapsed into motion.
The memory rushed forward like a wave:
The beeping slowing
The nurse calling someone
The moment Khael stood alone, the weight of finality crushing his lungs
That single tear that slid down Shigeo's cheek even after he was gone
"Why wasn't I stronger?"
"Why couldn't I save him?"
"Why did it have to be him?"
"Why not me?"
Pain hit him like a blade not physical, but deeper.
It dug into the core of who he was.
He dropped to his knees.
And then he screamed.
A full, raw, broken scream that tore from his chest like a wound that had never healed.
It echoed off the hospital walls.
And then… it was silent.
So quiet, he could hear his breath trembling in the air.
He knelt there, not crying anymore.
Just breathing.
Shaking, but breathing.
Then his voice came.
Small.
Cracked.
But real.
"…It still matters."
The room blurred.
The bed dissolved.
The machines vanished like mist.
Only the warmth of memory remained—not as agony, but as meaning.
Above him, the third dragon rune ignited.
A deep red-orange, like the ember of a fire that never truly dies.
Khael stayed kneeling, hand over his heart.
"Three flames… and I'm still here."
..
Trial Four: Flame of Rage
The air changed.
The temperature didn't rise it ignited.
Ash began to fall. The stone floor cracked with glowing veins of red. Thunder rumbled across the memory sky, deep and endless.
A new platform formed before Khael wide, circular, ringed with fire like a judgment circle drawn in flame.
And across from him stood Kaen Suro.
But not the quiet, awkward Kaen from Veyl Academy…
No.
This was Manga Arc 9 Kaen shirt torn, body laced with glowing Shinrei scars. His hair was longer now, tipped in ember.
His eyes burned.
With Shadefire.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice cut like a blade.
Khael froze.
This wasn't an illusion.
Not a phantom born of fear.
Not a dream.
This was Kaen's echo forged from memory, rage, and the truth Khael never dared say aloud.
Kaen stepped forward, fire flaring behind his shoulders.
"You watched from the shadows. You read my pain. You knew how everything would end…" "And you still let me suffer."
Khael's jaw locked.
"You're not real. You're not him."
"I'm the version of him you made," the echo replied.
"All your jealousy. All your anger. All your fear. It created me."
The ground shook. Flames crawled along the platform edge.
Kaen moved.
Too fast.
Khael barely raised his arm in time to block — the blow crashed into him like a cannon. He skidded backwards, boots scraping across scorched stone.
Another punch. Another burst of fire.
Kaen fought like a wildfire — feral, focused, furious. Every strike burned with conviction.
Khael couldn't keep up.
"You envied me," Kaen spat, slamming him into a wall of fire-wreathed stone.
"You wanted my story. My power. My name."
Khael coughed — the taste of blood on his tongue.
"I—!" gasp
"I wanted to help—"
"Liar."
Kaen's Echo ignited — runes blazing, Shinrei surging.
A massive fire-dragon spiral roared into life, twisting through the sky toward Khael—
And he screamed.
But not in fear.
Not in pain.
In truth.
"I WAS JEALOUS, OKAY?!"
The dragon froze mid-air.
Suspended. Listening.
"I hated that you got to fight while I just watched."
"I hated that you bled while I was safe in bed."
"You inspired me."
"And you broke me."
"And I loved your story so much…"
"I forgot to live my own."
Silence.
The fire dimmed.
Kaen's Shadefire eyes softened.
His posture loosened.
No longer a fury.
Just… a boy. Listening.
"So now what?" Kaen asked, voice quiet.
"You walk my path?"
Khael stood.
Burned.
Bruised.
Shaking.
But not backing down.
"No," he said.
"I walk mine."
The flames behind Kaen surged—
Then exploded in blue.
The color of clarity.
Above, the fourth dragon rune ignited, joining the others with a solemn blue blaze.
The Flame of Rage — passed.
And for the first time…
Khael smiled.
..
Trial Five: Flame of Regret (Refined)
The flames of Rage died down.
And for a few seconds… Khael was left in silence.
No echo of Kaen.
No battlefield.
No fire. No fight.
Just a pale white light, soft and endless, washing across a shapeless void.
It almost felt… peaceful.
But that's the thing about regret.
It doesn't scream.
It whispers—again and again—until your soul forgets how to sleep.
The stone beneath his feet cracked.
Not from heat.
But from weight.
A pressure began building in his chest—cold, not like frost, but like emptiness.
The kind of cold that comes from absence.
From longing.
From knowing you can never go back.
He staggered. Almost fell.
Then—a figure appeared.
Not a monster.
Not Kaen.
Not an illusion conjured by power or guilt.
Just…
His mom.
From Earth.
Her face was blurry around the edges, like an old photograph left out in the sun.
She stood in a kitchen that kitchen humming softly, stirring boxed curry on a stovetop, the smell faintly rising in the air.
She had her back to him.
Never looked up.
Just kept cooking.
"Mom…?"
Khael's voice cracked. But the image didn't move.
Then—another memory formed.
His younger brother, standing at a funeral, clutching their mother's photo, crying so hard
he couldn't breathe.
Another—
His classroom.
His desk—empty.
A vacant chair. A name no longer called.
Another—
His bedroom.
The shelves stacked with manga.
The glow of a paused screen still flickering:
Kaen Eclipse, Episode 1—Kaen standing alone beneath a broken sky.
Another—
A YouTube comment he once typed under a fan video:
"Sometimes I wish I was in their world. This one's too boring, too slow, too… empty."
The light dimmed.
And a voice his own, from the shadows rose like a blade of quiet truth:
"You wanted to leave."
"And you did."
"And now they're gone."
Khael dropped to his knees.
No screams.
No denials.
No desperate fights.
Just silence.
Because this pain…
This wasn't something you could punch.
Or block.
Or reason through.
This was truth.
"I didn't even say goodbye…"
His voice barely escaped his lips.
"I just woke up here. And I wanted it. I wanted this—escape."
He curled in on himself.
"Even now… I'm scared I don't want to go back."
The silence didn't judge him.
It simply stayed.
Then—
A hand touched his shoulder.
Gentle.
Warm.
Her hand.
His mother.
She knelt beside him now.
Crying. But smiling.
Not angry.
Not hurt.
Just… proud.
And he looked up, eyes flooded.
"I don't want to forget where I came from."
"But I can't go back either."
He placed his hand over his heart.
"So I'll carry them with me."
"I'll make this life mean something."
And from that truth not fire, but light bloomed.
A silver glow gentle, unburning, but steady.
Above, the fifth dragon rune ignitedsoft silver, like moonlight on water.
The Flame of Regret had passed.
Only four remain.
To be continue