The plains were empty now.
Kael and the Ashen Vanguard had vanished into the horizon, leaving nothing but ash, scorched earth, and the echo of promises that burned like fire in Lian's chest.
The Tyrant's Heart pulsed relentlessly inside him, a second heartbeat that seemed to mock his own.
Master me, it whispered. Or be consumed.
The Oracle followed silently as Lian trudged toward the Core King, his body still shaking from the duel.
The Core King didn't speak. He simply waited at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ruined Ashen Plains, his black greatsword planted beside him like a sentinel of stone.
The wind carried the faint scent of molten metal and burnt earth.
"Why didn't you intervene?" Lian asked, voice hoarse. "Kael… he—he could have killed me."
The Core King's eyes were calm, unflinching.
"Because you needed to learn something," he said quietly. "You wield the power of a tyrant. But you are not a tyrant."
Lian blinked.
"What does that mean?"
The Core King gestured toward the horizon where the last embers of the duel still glowed faintly.
"You almost became him," the Core King said simply. "The one whose heart now beats in your chest. Kael feared it. I feared it. And so should you."
Lian's grip on the third Core tightened.
"I am the one who will destroy the Tyrants," he said, teeth gritted. "I will master this power. I have to."
The Core King's lips curved faintly—not a smile, but acknowledgment.
"Then we begin," he said.
The Oracle murmured under her breath.
"You cannot rush this," she warned. "The Tyrant's Heart will burn through you faster than you can endure."
But the Core King did not wait for consent.
He lifted his sword and struck the ground once.
The cliff trembled.
Rocks and ash lifted into a swirling column around them.
The Tyrant's Heart inside Lian pulsed, sensing the raw authority of the Core King.
"Control comes from understanding," the Core King said. "The Heart feeds on emotion, on chaos, on fear. You must strip yourself of all that… to wield it without being consumed."
Lian swallowed.
"Strip myself… of fear?"
The Core King's gaze didn't waver.
"Yes," he said simply. "And anger. And doubt. Only then can you wield the Cores as a weapon rather than a curse."
The training began.
At first, it was simple: meditation atop the cliff, breathing in the ashen wind, feeling the Tyrant's Heart, tracing its beats like the pulse of the world itself.
It burned.
Every inhale scorched his lungs. Every exhale felt like molten fire leaving his chest.
The Oracle hovered nearby, muttering incantations to keep the Core's energy from breaking his body completely.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
The Core King tested him.
He struck with one hand, blocked with one thought, called forth stone and wind and fire, forcing Lian to react without hesitation.
And each time the Tyrant's Heart surged, threatening to devour his consciousness, the Core King remained calm, his presence a cold anchor to keep him tethered to the world.
"You are stronger than most could hope to be," the Core King said one evening, standing silently on the cliff's edge as the red sun dipped below the horizon. "But strength alone is not mastery."
Lian's arms were cracked with glowing veins, his body trembling.
"I—I'm trying," he gasped.
The Core King didn't answer. He simply extended a hand, a small crystal shard floating above his palm.
"This shard contains the essence of a fallen Tyrant," he said. "Feel it. Recognize its hunger. Control it. Or it will control you."
Lian took a deep breath.
The moment his fingers brushed the shard, fire erupted through his chest.
The Tyrant's Heart screamed, its power clawing at his mind, trying to force him to release it.
But he did not.
He forced himself to steady his breathing, tracing the pulse of the shard, feeling the ancient tyrant's fury, its ambition, its hunger.
And slowly, agonizingly, he pushed back.
The Core King's voice was calm, almost approving.
"Good. You felt it. Now remember: it is not your enemy. It is a tool. A weapon. But a weapon will kill its wielder if it is not understood."
Lian collapsed to his knees, sweat and ash dripping from his hair, body shaking violently.
He had glimpsed it—the balance between power and self-destruction.
Days became weeks.
The Core King pushed him further.
He forced Lian to face illusions of the Nine Tyrants, to endure their whispers and temptation. He pushed him to channel the power of one Core into another without breaking himself.
Every failure seared him, every success burned a little less.
And then came the moment Lian realized:
The Tyrant's Heart was no longer trying to consume him.
It was responding.
He could feel its edges, the fire within, bending to his will.
Not fully, not yet. But enough.
The Oracle watched him, eyes wide.
"You… you're doing it," she said softly. "You're controlling it."
Lian exhaled slowly, feeling his pulse return to something like normal.
The Core King merely nodded.
"Only a fraction of the Heart's full might," he said. "You have learned restraint. That is mastery."
Night fell over the Ashen Plains.
Stars pierced the sky above, fragments still falling faintly, silent witnesses to the forging of a new tyrant—or a new savior.
Lian gazed at them, feeling the pulse of the three Cores in his chest.
He would face Kael again.
He would face the Ashen Vanguard and the Hunters' Six.
He would face the Nine Tyrants themselves.
And when he did…
He would be ready.