The furnace dissolved.
Vemy's body jerked as his eyes snapped open, breath ragged, chest heaving. He was back—back in the outer world, suspended in the abyss. The Prismarine fire still roared around him, wings stretched wide, body humming with raw power.
But he wasn't alone.
A ripple tore through the abyss, silence shattering into a deep, bone-rattling hum. Then—he appeared.
The Ring God.
His presence alone bent the abyss, warping the molten air, twisting the rivers of crystal into spirals. His form was both infinite and precise—draped in obsidian and silver rings that orbited like planets, each one humming with cosmic authority. His eyes glowed with layered eternity, gazing at Vemy as if peeling apart every secret he'd ever held.
"So," the god's voice resonated like a chorus of bells. "The fire no longer owns you. You've tasted the crucible and bled your weakness into flame."
Vemy steadied himself, though his heart thundered. He clenched his fist, flames licking up his arm. "I didn't bleed weakness. I forged strength."
The god tilted his head, almost amused. "Strength? You speak of strength as if you understand it. Tell me, flame child—do you think strength is survival? Power? Or perhaps the will to break what would break you?"
The abyss quaked as the Ring God raised a hand. One of the orbiting rings detached, floating toward Vemy. Its surface shimmered with infinite runes, glowing like a sun.
"Prove it."
The ring pulsed. A tidal wave of energy exploded outward, slamming into Vemy with crushing weight. His wings buckled, his body threatening to collapse under the sheer divine pressure. It was like the atmosphere of a thousand worlds collapsing on him at once.
Vemy dropped to one knee, flames sputtering. His teeth ground together as the god's voice thundered through him:
"Rise—or be forgotten."
The Prismarine fire inside him screamed, flaring desperately, threatening to consume him all over again. But this time, he remembered the crucible. He remembered the clone's words. He was the flame.
Vemy roared, Prismarine wings snapping outward, his fire spiraling into a vortex of burning crystal. The pressure cracked, shattered against his will. He stood tall, fire blazing so bright it painted the abyss in molten light.
The god's eyes narrowed, though faint amusement lingered in his expression. "Better."
The detached ring split into shards—each shard morphing into crystalline blades. They shot forward like meteors, spinning arcs of light that could sever existence itself.
Vemy's wings flared, his instincts roaring. He dodged the first strike, barely—the blade searing across his cheek, carving sparks into the air. Another came, and another. He deflected with a blazing fist, but each impact sent agony down his bones, his flames sputtering against the divine steel.
The Ring God didn't move. He simply watched, rings orbiting, his expression unreadable.
"This is what strength looks like, flame child. Not survival. Not defiance. Mastery."
The blades swarmed, a storm of divine steel cutting at him from every angle. Vemy's Prismarine wings wrapped around him like a shield, sparks flying, molten shards raining into the abyss. He gritted his teeth, every nerve burning—until, suddenly, a memory flashed.
His master's voice.
"When you are pressed, when you are broken, when your flame sputters—that is the moment you ascend. Condense the fire. Sharpen it. Forge it into something unyielding."
Vemy's eyes widened. The Prismarine fire condensed violently around him, shrinking, focusing—not a chaotic blaze, but a blade of pure crystal flame.
The next incoming shard struck—and shattered.
The others followed, breaking against his condensed fire until he stood tall, Prismarine spear blazing in his grip. His breath was ragged, his body trembling—but his will was unbroken.
The Ring God's lips curved faintly. "Ah. You are beginning to learn."
Vemy lifted the spear, fire spiraling up its jagged edge. "No—I'm beginning to fight."
And with that, he lunged, spear clashing against the orbiting rings, sparks of molten light cascading through the abyss.
The Ring God's pressure shifted. No longer testing—challenging.
For the first time, Vemy wasn't fighting just himself.
He was standing against a god.
And the abyss itself trembled to witness it.
🔥 Cliffhanger : The Ring God has shifted gears from "test" to actual battle. Vemy has learned to condense his Prismarine fire into weapons (like a spear), but the God's mastery of rings is on another level. Next chapter can escalate with a cataclysmic clash, while weaving in more training/level-up mechanics in the middle of combat