Arlen couldn't sleep.
The crimson shard pulsed faintly in his pouch, sending small tremors through his thoughts every time he closed his eyes. The System's last words echoed in his mind:
> Unlock the Sealed Door beneath the Guildhall.
He sat at the inn's narrow desk, staring out at Silverkeep through the window. Lanterns glowed along the streets below, casting warm light over cobblestones slick with night dew. The city had its own heartbeat, alive even after dusk—the clang of a smith working late, the laughter of mercenaries stumbling out of taverns, the whisper of something darker moving in alleys.
A knock sounded at the door.
Arlen tensed, hand reaching for his staff. "Who is it?"
"It's me," Liora's voice came.
He opened the door to find her in her travel cloak, hood drawn. She stepped inside quietly, her sword at her hip.
"You couldn't sleep either," she said softly, as if it weren't a question.
Arlen shook his head. "The shard… it wants something. The System said there's a door beneath the Guildhall."
Liora's eyes narrowed. "A sealed chamber? That's no coincidence. Guilds build on old ruins for power, not convenience." She paused, studying him. "Are you ready for what you might find?"
"No," Arlen admitted, gripping his staff tighter. "But I don't think it matters if I'm ready."
Her expression softened briefly, though her voice remained steady. "Then we move carefully. We'll go at dawn. Not before."
---
Morning light spilled over Silverkeep as they crossed the threshold of the Guildhall once more. Unlike the previous night, the hall was quieter—mercenaries trickling in, clerks sorting parchments, the clamor replaced with a steady hum.
Arlen's eyes darted toward the far wall, where the quest board stood. He tried to ignore the stares that followed him. News of his "Scarlet Grove survival" had already spread.
"Focus," Liora murmured, her gaze scanning the hall. "The door won't be in plain sight."
As if responding, the shard flared hot against Arlen's chest. His vision warped—walls shivered with faint outlines of runes, invisible to the naked eye. And there, beyond the counter where clerks bustled, a faint stairwell shimmered into focus.
Arlen sucked in a breath. "There—behind the counter."
Liora followed his gaze. "Illusion work. Old, but effective. We'll need a distraction."
Before Arlen could ask what she meant, another voice cut in.
"Well, well. If it isn't Silverkeep's newest miracle."
Arlen turned. A young man in fine armor leaned casually against a nearby pillar, his smirk sharp enough to cut. His hair gleamed like polished bronze, and the badge on his chest marked him as an E-Class adventurer—already two ranks above Arlen.
"I'm Kaelen," the man said smoothly. "And you—Arlen, was it?—you've made quite the stir. Survive the Scarlet Grove, they say. I'll admit, I don't believe it. But I do admire your nerve." His eyes flicked toward Liora, lingered a moment too long, then returned to Arlen. "Why don't you show me what you're really worth sometime?"
Arlen bristled. The man's tone dripped with mockery, but beneath it lay something else—curiosity, maybe even recognition.
The shard pulsed again. The illusionary stairwell flickered faintly, as though urging him onward.
Not now, Arlen told himself. But soon.
---
That night, when the Guildhall's noise had dimmed and the torches burned low, Arlen and Liora returned. They slipped past the counter while the clerks slept, the shard guiding their steps.
To Arlen's eyes, the stairwell burned with scarlet light now, undeniable. He reached out—and the air shimmered, the illusion peeling back. Cold stone steps spiraled downward into darkness.
The sealed door awaited.
And with it, answers Arlen wasn't sure he wanted.
The stairwell was narrow, carved from stone older than the Guildhall itself. Dust clung to the walls, thick with centuries of silence. Arlen's staff lit the descent with a steady ember-glow, shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the steps.
Every few moments, the shard pulsed against his chest, guiding them downward. It felt alive, its rhythm almost like a heartbeat.
Liora moved just ahead of him, sword drawn. Her voice was low, echoing faintly off the walls. "This wasn't built by the Guild. These foundations are far older."
Arlen swallowed. "How old?"
"Before kingdoms. Before humans claimed this land. Maybe before elves."
The weight of her words pressed on him more heavily than the darkness.
At last, the stairwell ended in a broad stone platform. Before them stood a massive door, its surface carved with runes spiraling outward from a central seal. At its heart was a hollow, shaped exactly like the shard Arlen carried.
He stepped closer, pulse quickening.
> Quest Objective: Unlock the Sealed Door.
Arlen drew the shard from his pouch. It flared in response, crimson light spilling across the runes.
Liora tensed. "Wait—"
But the shard was already pulling him forward. His hand pressed it into the hollow, and the chamber trembled as ancient power surged awake. The runes blazed, the air growing heavy with mana so dense it made Arlen's lungs ache.
The door groaned open.
Beyond lay a vast hall, its ceiling lost in shadow. Pillars lined the sides, each etched with symbols Arlen couldn't decipher. At the far end, a pedestal gleamed faintly with silver-blue light.
They stepped inside cautiously. The moment they crossed the threshold, the System flared.
> New Sub-Quest: Trial of the Forgotten Flame.
Objective: Endure the echoes of the first fire.
Warning: Failure will result in permanent loss of affinity.
Arlen's heart stuttered. Permanent loss of affinity? If he failed, his emberflame—the very core of his survival—would be gone.
The air shimmered. Shadows detached from the pillars, coalescing into forms. Figures—knights clad in ancient armor, their visors empty voids. They raised spectral blades, silent, waiting.
Liora tightened her grip on her sword. "Spectral guardians. Old magic. They'll test us."
Arlen raised his staff, flame kindling at its tip. His legs trembled, but he forced himself forward. "Then we don't fail."
The first guardian moved, blade cutting through the air with a whisper that echoed like thunder.
Arlen's flame met it.
The trial had begun.
The guardians moved as one. Their armor clanked with no weight, their blades gleamed without metal. They were shadows made flesh, memory given form, each bearing the silent malice of centuries.
Arlen's breath fogged in the unnatural chill that filled the chamber. His staff trembled in his grip, the emberflame sparking uncertainly at its tip. His legs wanted to flee, but the System's warning still burned in his mind.
> Trial of the Forgotten Flame.
Objective: Endure the echoes of the first fire.
Warning: Failure will result in permanent loss of affinity.
If he failed here, his emberflame would vanish forever. The very thing that had let him survive the Scarlet Grove would be gone, snuffed out as if it had never been.
"Arlen," Liora hissed, stepping into a ready stance. "Don't think. Move!"
The first guardian lunged. Its blade whistled through the air, a clean, perfect arc aimed for Arlen's head. He ducked just in time, the wind of the swing brushing his hair. He thrust his staff forward, flame erupting in a panicked blast.
The fire struck the guardian's chest. For a heartbeat, the flames wrapped around the figure—then split apart, scattering as if burning against glass. The guardian stepped through unscathed.
"What—?" Arlen gasped.
"They won't fall to ordinary strikes," Liora snapped, her blade flashing as she intercepted another guardian. Sparks screamed as steel met spectral steel. "Find the core!"
Arlen staggered back, nearly tripping over the uneven stone. The guardians pressed forward, methodical, relentless. Their silence was worse than a war cry. Every swing of their blades was precise, deliberate, the work of warriors who had fought a thousand battles before this one.
The shard against his chest burned hotter. Arlen gritted his teeth. The shard led me here. Then it has to know how to fight them.
He reached inward, feeling for the emberflame. But something blocked him. The fire he had called on in the grove flickered uncertainly, as though hesitant to obey.
The second guardian charged. Its sword came down in a brutal vertical slash. Arlen raised his staff to parry—and the impact nearly shattered his arms. He dropped to one knee, teeth rattling from the force.
"Arlen!" Liora shouted. She spun, cutting her opponent's arm. The blade bit through shadow like silk, and the figure dissolved with a hiss. Her eyes widened. "The joints! Where armor should be weak!"
Arlen forced himself to his feet, lungs burning. He glanced at the nearest guardian. Its form shimmered faintly at the joints—the elbow, the knee, the gap at the neck. The armor wasn't solid. It was memory wrapped around emptiness.
The emberflame flared inside him. This time, he directed it not at the whole body but at the thin slit where the neck met the shoulder. Fire lanced from his staff, narrow and focused.
The guardian staggered. For the first time, its silent rhythm broke. Its sword faltered. The flame burned through the shadow's neck, and the head tumbled into smoke. The body dissolved into nothingness.
Arlen gasped, relief flooding him. "It worked!"
"Good," Liora said grimly. "Now keep doing it."
---
The guardians swarmed.
Arlen moved with frantic desperation, every strike of his staff sending narrow lances of fire at their joints. Each time his aim was true, a guardian dissolved, scattering into dark wisps. But every miss left him reeling, each failure punished by near-fatal blows. His arms ached, his lungs burned, and sweat poured down his brow.
Liora fought like a storm beside him. Her blade moved with calculated grace, cutting at the weak points, forcing back the shadows. But for every guardian they felled, two more seemed to step from the darkness between pillars.
"How many are there?" Arlen shouted, panic rising.
"Enough to test you," she grunted, kicking one back and driving her sword through its knee. "This is your trial, Arlen. Not mine."
Her words struck like a hammer. The guardians weren't here for her. They were here for him.
Arlen's chest heaved as he stumbled back. The shard seared against his skin, and for a heartbeat, his vision blurred.
He was no longer in the chamber.
---
Flames roared around him. The air was thick with ash, the ground cracked and molten. At the center of the inferno stood a figure—tall, cloaked in fire, its eyes twin furnaces.
"You are not worthy," the figure intoned, voice rumbling like a burning world.
Arlen fell to his knees. The heat seared his skin, stripped his breath away. "Who—who are you?"
"The flame you carry is a spark of what was lost. The First Flame. The eternal fire that burned before creation."
Arlen's heart thundered. "Then why give it to me?"
The figure leaned closer, its form towering, suffocating. "Because it must survive. But a flame without resolve is nothing but smoke. Show me resolve. Or burn away."
The vision shattered.
---
Arlen staggered back into the chamber. His knees buckled. The guardians closed in, blades raised for the kill.
Resolve.
He clenched his teeth, forcing his trembling body upright. He thought of his village, ashes and ruin. He thought of the grove, the titan, the blood and the fire. He thought of Liora, fighting beside him even when she could have left him to die.
He refused to lose it. He refused to burn away.
The emberflame flared in answer. But it was no longer a timid flicker. Fire surged from his staff, brighter, hotter, sharper. The chamber lit as though dawn itself had burst into being.
Arlen roared, channeling everything he had. He struck at the guardians, his flame piercing their weak points with precision. Each fell in rapid succession, dissolving into nothingness. The emberflame carved arcs of light across the chamber, burning shadows from existence.
For the first time, the guardians hesitated.
Arlen's fire pulsed, steady and unyielding. He moved with clarity now, his strikes deliberate, his aim true.
One by one, the guardians fell.
Until only silence remained.
---
Arlen collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, staff clattering against the stone. His body felt hollow, every ounce of mana wrung from him.
The System chimed.
> Trial Complete: The Forgotten Flame Endures.
Reward: Affinity Upgrade – Emberflame (Awakened).
New Ability Unlocked: Flame Resonance.
Description: Your fire now carries memory. When striking, echoes of past flames burn with you.
Arlen stared at the words, too exhausted to even process their meaning. Emberlight flickered faintly at his staff's tip, steadier than before, no longer trembling.
Liora approached, lowering her blade. Her eyes studied him quietly for a moment before she sheathed her sword.
"You did it," she said softly.
Arlen managed a weak laugh, though it cracked halfway. "Barely."
She knelt beside him, her hand briefly brushing his shoulder. "Barely is still enough."
At the far end of the hall, the pedestal flared. Something waited for him there.
But Arlen could barely stand. His body screamed for rest, every muscle trembling, his vision swimming.
Yet even through the exhaustion, he knew one thing: this was only the beginning.