The duel ground was set deep within the heart of the Red Demon Tribe's volcanic enclave, a natural arena carved into the scorched blackstone plateau that overlooked the molten rivers flowing far below. The Fire Duel was a sacred rite, both spectacle and ceremony, and every tribe member had gathered to witness it. Warriors lined the periphery, black war paint across their chests. Elders sat with grave expressions. Children leaned forward with wide eyes, feeling the heat in their bones.
Feiyin stood calmly at one side of the ring, dressed in simple black robes adorned with thin lines of silvery thread, his long black hair tied back. Across from him stood Turok.
With a wild gleam in his eye, the shaman of the Red Demon Tribe threw off his upper garment in front of the roaring crowd. His wiry frame, lean yet packed with stringy muscle, was fully exposed to the open air. His skin, a dark red hue that seemed to shimmer in the heat, was marked with looping bronze tattoos that glowed faintly with dormant power. He raised both arms and let out a throaty bellow that echoed across the volcanic basin, igniting the crowd into fervent chants.
"Let fire choose the one in the right!" Turok roared.
The arena trembled.
The Fire Duel was not merely a test of alchemical prowess, it was also a trial of endurance and spirit. The challenge: to refine a fire-essence weapon capable of channeling intense fire Qi while enduring the rising waves of heat from the lava veins below. As part of the rite, molten lava would slowly rise into the pit from channels carved directly from the heart of the volcano. The elevated seats of the tribe were safe, but the arena floor was about to become a crucible.
A stone platform rose between them, carved with circular grooves to hold fire essence arrays. Two identical crucibles sat in the center, each forged from obsidian, tempered with fire and etched with the ancient tribal marks. Dozens of precious ingredients had been laid out by the tribe—spirit minerals, beast cores, powdered herbs, flame dust, and refined fire-attributed essence stones. The better the weapon's ability to draw and control fire essence qi while enduring the heat, the greater the victor's glory.
Chief Zod stood on the central platform above. "Today, as per our traditions, we settle this with flame and wisdom. The challenger, Feiyin of the outside, seeks alliance. Our shaman, Turok, defends our ways. Let the fire decide."
The braziers on either end ignited in roaring twin pillars of flame.
Feiyin stepped forward and bowed. Turok gave a nod, his red irises glinting like coals.
Then the gong rang.
Lava surged into the carved pits around them, filling the lower basin with churning orange and red. The temperature spiked. The air shimmered.
With a wry smile, not wanting to burn through another set of clothes, Feiyin stowed his robes, leaving only a short undergarment, showing his sculpted body, with fine muscled lines and coiled with power. Feiyin closed his eyes briefly, extending his oscillation sense to the full range of ingredients laid before him. His breathing slowed. He felt each component; not just its fire affinity, but its resonance, its echo in the field of essence, and how it interacted with different ingredients. He discarded several flashy but unstable components, choosing instead the ones that pulsed in harmony with the fire-veined obsidian he picked as his base.
He crushed the obsidian with deliberate grace, the stone fracturing along natural fire veins. Then came the inferno orchid petals, their delicate filaments shimmering with flame-aligned essence that also contained a hint of wood, and powdered bones of the flame hawk- carrying the properties of fire and metal; light yet resonant, drawn from a predator born in volcanic regions. All three materials vibrated in near-perfect sync. He layered them carefully and began to carefully control his essence qi in a way designed to coax resonance into unity. The dust shimmered and turned a deep ember red, humming softly with potential energy, already in tune with the lava's breath around them.
Turok worked with raw intensity. He ground a bar of sun-iron ore, doused it in ashroot essence, and poured in powdered fire crystals. His crucible blazed as he went through hand seals that resonated with the lava itself. The molten river seemed to pulse in time with his gestures.
The spectating tribe members stood in silence, admiring the artful gesture of both alchemists, sweat rolling down their faces as heat pressed in like a beast. They could only imagine how hot it was inside the pit.
Feiyin sculpted a bracelet, a fire channeling device crafted by his bare hands, molded carefully as he infused it with essence qi through all seven steps of alchemy. Having recently been reborn through fire, he barely felt the heat.
This was his first creation after gaining mastery over all five elements, and as he worked, he noticed their unique contributions across the seven classical steps of alchemy: purification, extraction, refinement, fusion, solidification, transformation, and growth. He began with purification, fire essence qi flaring from his fingertips, not just to burn but to probe- consuming the smallest residues clinging to his materials, peeling away the outer grime until only the purest cores remained.
Then came extraction. He cupped his palm over the glowing powders and let a stream of essence qi, tinted with water's adaptability, sweep through. The volatile properties were pulled free with the current, isolated like melodies drawn from chaos.
Refinement followed. His metal-infused qi became a chisel, a whisper-thin scalpel of will, slicing out imperfections with cold, clean precision, leaving only a deliberate sturdiness belonging to metal. As the materials hissed under his control, he sensed the impurities scatter and dissolve into the surrounding heat.
For fusion, he drew all the fragments together. Earth lent its weight and strength, binding the pieces into unity. His qi folded them again and again, layer upon layer, until they pulsed with life. Solidification came next. Earth essence qi surged once more, turning molten blend into form. His bracelet began to take shape under his fingertips, with fiery veins spiraling inward like the breath of a slumbering beast.
Transformation was subtler. He brushed the nascent artifact with wood-infused qi, coaxing potential from form, letting it grow in resonance, its structure adapting to not only house flame without quenching it. Finally, the seventh step- growth. His wood qi spiraled one last time through the bracelet, leaving behind a living imprint, like roots anchoring flame in fertile soil.
Each step sang to him.
And through each, he felt not just his power, but his joy- returning. This was alchemy, not as duty or weapon, but as art.
Yet as he stood there, his hand hovering over the glowing bracelet, a thought struck. Despite mastering all five elements, he could channel only one at a time. Their harmony was sequential, not simultaneous. It was still progress- yes- but not yet perfection.
The bracelet bore faint markings along its inner band, subtle yet pulsing with promise- like whispers of a rune not yet born. It shimmered with untapped potential, the first stirrings of recognition from the world itself. Though not yet able to form a rune, its composition was solid and dense, capable of channeling and amplifying fire essence qi with unusual clarity. It radiated a soft heat, not from the lava's touch but from the harmony between its essence and purpose. Feiyin saw in it a beginning- a tiered artifact, yes, but one that stood at the precipice of something greater. A step closer to mastering the level of alchemy required to one day free his companions.
Turok, meanwhile, forged a gauntlet. Thick, ridged, designed for raw output and bursts of power. Its outer surface flared wildly, soaking in lava-heat and storing it. As a seasoned shaman of the Red Demon Tribe, one whose lineage specialized in artifact alchemy, Turok had a trove of tricks up his sleeve. He drew upon ancient techniques passed through generations; using ebony powder for structural reinforcement, weaving threads of sunspider silk into the internal lining to insulate volatile flows, and inscribing hidden flame-attraction sigils beneath the gauntlet's ridges to intensify its heat-drawing properties. His hands moved with practiced, predatory precision, eyes gleaming with unconcealed fervor.
The crowd held its breath.
Feiyin's bracelet glowed with steady light, drawing in ambient fire essence and harmonizing with it.
Turok's gauntlet surged with suppressed power, like a sleeping volcano.
The gong rang.
Zod stood. He descended to the arena floor, joined by two senior alchemists.
They activated the artifacts.
Turok's gauntlet responded first, flaring with intensity as it channeled fire essence qi, the heat radiating in waves. The weapon glowed a deep crimson, the sigils on its surface pulsing like a living flame. Though powerful, the flow remained unenhanced- strong but lacking refinement. It roared, but could not grow.
Feiyin's bracelet, by contrast, shimmered to life with quiet strength. A soft hum echoed from it, and threads of fire essence qi were drawn toward it in elegant spirals. Then- heat bloomed. Real flame curled from the edges, dancing without fuel, the essence itself igniting through amplification. The bracelet held, its form stable, its glow steady. It was not just channeling fire, it was enhancing it. Firelight danced off the faint markings along its surface, the beginning of a rune not yet complete.
The difference was clear, and all present saw it.
The silence was thick.
Zod looked to Turok.
The old shaman stood, red skin gleaming with sweat and firelight. His gaze lingered on Feiyin stood calmly, then on the glowing bracelet. After a long moment, he threw back his head and laughed.
"By fire's breath, I cannot argue," Turok declared. "He has indeed bested me. I yield."
Gasps echoed across the arena.
Feiyin stepped forward and bowed with a smile. "I respect your fire and your people. I hope that soon, it will be a shared flame."
Turok regarded him in silence, then gave a slow nod.
Zod looked between them. "Fire has spoken. We will listen further."