Chapter 6 — The Black Flame
The Rift had two kinds of nights—silent and loud. Silent nights left you waiting for something to break the stillness. Loud nights reminded you you were prey. Tonight was both. The forest roared with unseen creatures, while every pause between their calls pressed like a stone against my chest.
Our crooked tent leaned against the roots of a twisted tree. Mara sat sharpening her sword with a stone, sparks catching in the dim firelight. Hank snored lightly on his bedroll, one hand curled around the hilt of his blade. The rest of the orphans slept in shifts, too wary to trust the Rift's darkness.
Across camp, the nobles lived like they were in another world. Their tents gleamed with polished poles and clean canvas. Laughter leaked from one in particular—the largest, with the hawk-crest stitched into its flap. Tyler's tent.
---
Tyler's Tent
Inside, the air smelled of oil lamps and parchment. Tyler spread the map his father had given him across a folding table. The paper was thick, the kind that didn't tear even in damp air. It glowed faintly with runes for preservation, each mark a piece of noble wealth.
Marcus leaned over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "So this is where the Red Scorpions nest? Not far from camp."
Tyler tapped the spot. "Exactly. Mutated, but manageable. My father marked them for me. Kill them, and their hearts strengthen your mutated genes. If fortune favors us, one drops a poison dagger. The venom can slow even the largest beasts—an advantage no rat orphan could dream of."
The other nobles chuckled. Tyler's lips twisted in a smile that never reached his eyes.
Marcus pointed to another mark. "And after?"
"We move north. More targets. All marked, all profitable. We'll grow strong while the rest wander blind." His tone was sharp, filled with smug certainty. Then his smile faded into something colder. "But make no mistake—our real hunt is Avon Standfeild."
One of the nobles frowned. "The orphan?"
Tyler's eyes hardened. "He forgot his place. Dared to stand equal with me in front of others. Dared to let Laura—the mayor's daughter, nothing more than lower-floor filth—treat him as if his opinion mattered. That cannot stand. When the time is right, I'll kill him. Slowly. So everyone remembers the price of defiance."
Marcus grinned. "Say the word, and I'll slit his throat while he sleeps."
"No," Tyler said softly, folding the map with careful hands. "Not yet. Rats should scurry a while before you crush them. When he dares to think he's risen above us—that's when I'll end him."
The lamplight threw his shadow long against the tent wall, a hawk poised to strike.
---
Avon's Squad
Our squad of ten left before dawn, packs slung, swords drawn. The air was damp, the ground slick with dew. I led the way west, toward the scorched plain where the Black Flame Lion had been seen.
Rob adjusted the coil of rope across his chest. "I still think we're mad," he muttered. "Hell Apes, Flame Lions… this Rift isn't meant for us."
"Maybe not," I said, pushing a branch aside, "but surviving isn't about what's meant. It's about what we make work."
Steve grunted behind us, hefting a crude spear. "Then we'd better make this work fast. My hands are shaking."
Mara walked at my side, hood shadowing her eyes. "We kill this lion," she said, "and nobody can laugh us off. Not Tyler. Not anyone."
I smiled grimly. "Then let's kill it."
---
The Trap
The plain opened before us, blackened grass stretching under a sky that glowed faintly green through the Rift haze. At its center, the lion slept, its mane smoldering like embers. Even at rest, it radiated power—seven feet of coiled muscle and fire.
We worked fast. Rob and Hank set snare lines across the ravine. Steve sharpened stakes and drove them into a shallow pit. Mara marked escape routes with strips of cloth tied to branches. I climbed the low tree overlooking the trap, sword gripped tight.
"Remember," I whispered down, "don't fight fair. Fight to live."
They nodded, faces pale but resolute.
Rob gave the whistle.
I dropped a strip of dried meat onto the scorched grass below. The lion stirred, nostrils flaring. It rose slowly, stretching, flame licking between its teeth. Then it saw me.
The roar shook my bones. The ground cracked under its stride as it charged.
I leapt.
The sword sank deep into its shoulder, hot blood spraying across my face. The lion reared, bellowing flame. Rob's snare snapped, tangling its hind leg. Hank and Steve drove spears into its flank. Mara darted low, slashing at its belly with desperate precision.
The beast thrashed, claws tearing the earth, but our trap held. I clung to its back, wrenching my blade deeper, until with one last roar the Black Flame Lion collapsed. The ground trembled with its fall.
Silence followed, broken only by our ragged breaths.
"We… we did it," Rob whispered, almost unbelieving.
Mara stepped forward, trembling but steady. I handed her the knife. "Take it."
She met my eyes, then knelt and cut into the beast's chest. The heart glowed faintly, pulsing with fading heat. She lifted it high, blood running down her arm, then pressed it to her lips.
Smoke curled into her skin as the System's voice her skull.
[System Notification]
– Beast Consumed: Black Flame Lion (Mutated Tier)
– Trait Extraction Successful!
– New Trait Gained: Abyssal Flames — Ignite your hands with black-blue fire, allowing short-range flame strikes and burns.
– Secondary Effect: Velocity Surge — +50% movement speed bursts.
– DNA Essence Gained: 10 strands
– Current Total (Mutated): 10 / 100
Mara gasped, her arms trembling as faint blue cracks lit her skin. She exhaled, then opened her palms. A curl of black-blue fire burst from her hands, flickering for an instant before fading into smoke.
The squad stared in awe.
Rob whistled low. "Flames… in her hands. Not just speed, but fire too. With that…" He looked at the lion's corpse. "…we might actually stand a chance."
The squad cheered. For one heartbeat, fear loosened its grip. We weren't just orphans anymore. We were hunters. Survivors.