Chapter 67 – Crowns of Fire
The roar hadn't faded yet.
It rolled around the arena like a living thing—heat, breath, and disbelief stitched together into sound.
John stood where the light had found him, motionless.
His cauldron still glowed faintly gold.
The sand underfoot pulsed with residual energy, and somewhere deep beneath it, the runes of the City of Sands still trembled from Calvin Sparks's pressure.
Above, banners of every guild and kingdom unfurled at once. The entire coliseum shimmered in molten light.
Then the announcer stepped into the center circle, his robe blazing with rune-threads. His voice, amplified by magic, split the air cleanly.
"The results are final!"
The crowd stilled instantly.
"Third place—representing Valin Academy—Frank Gottem!"
A wave of applause followed as Frank approached the podium. He bowed once, movements neat, quiet. The crystal projected his score—eighty-seven percent.
"Second place—representing the Kingdom of Rina—Jackson Green!"
The cheer that answered shook the upper stands. Jackson strode forward with measured calm, the light catching the frost in his hair. Eighty-nine percent burned above his head in floating numerals.
"And first place…"
The announcer paused for effect.
Even the wind waited.
"…from the City of Sands—John Caster!—with ninety percent completion!"
The noise that followed was beyond words.
Every seat erupted. Every banner rippled. The world seemed to lean toward the young man standing alone in the center.
John exhaled once, steady.
He climbed the steps, boots whispering over warm stone, and stopped beside the other two contestants.
The announcer turned, voice rising over the thunder.
"By decree of the Alchemist Association and the Kingdom of Rina, the champion shall receive: the Tier 3 Pill of Ascension and 5 million credits. Glory to the City of Sands!"
An attendant approached, carrying a gilt chest. Inside lay a crystalline capsule glowing faintly blue—the Ascension Pill—and beside it, A small crystal that was used to hold the credits. John just tapped it on the one he had to transfer the funds to his.
John accepted both with a small nod.
The metal was hot against his skin.
From the judges' stand, Elder Seraphine Vel rose and descended the stairs.
Calvin Sparks and Alex Burrow followed at her sides, the three forming a line of power that made the arena seem smaller.
They stopped before the winners.
Seraphine's silver gaze swept over them all.
"You endured more than most could bear," she said. "Each of you proved why alchemy remains the greatest trial of will."
Her eyes lingered a fraction longer on John.
Then Alex Burrow clapped his hands once.
"Brilliant show! I've seen professors at Valin crack under less pressure. Caster, you're wasted in this desert. Come to Valin; we'll make a scholar out of you."
Calvin Sparks snorted.
"Books don't make alchemists. Fire does. If he wants to learn what alchemy means beyond ink and lecture halls, he'll visit Rina. My forge is open."
Alex arched a brow. "Your forge smells of ego."
"And your academy smells of dust."
Seraphine sighed, the hint of amusement softening her composure. "Gentlemen."
Both men fell silent—temporarily.
Seraphine turned back to John. "For now, rest. You'll report to the Association headquarters tomorrow. We will speak formally."
Calvin folded his arms. "If you ever travel to Rina, find me. I'd be happy to show you a trick or two."
Alex smirked. "Or you could come to Valin and actually learn something."
"Who'd want to learn from a bookworm like you."
The crowd laughed when their voices carried over the amplification runes, turning the brief exchange into part of the spectacle.
John managed a faint, polite smile. "Thank you. All of you."
Seraphine inclined her head. "You did well, John Caster. Truly."
The judges turned to leave—Calvin and Alex still trading under-the-breath insults like boys with too much power and too little patience.
When the arena quieted again, Frank Gottem was the first to approach.
He extended a hand, firm but not forced. "Good contest."
John clasped it. "You too."
"You deserved it." Frank nodded once and walked off, silent as ever.
Jackson Green waited a moment longer before coming forward. Up close, the air around him still carried that cool edge, like winter standing on two legs.
"I can't remember the last time I lost," he said quietly. His tone wasn't bitter—just honest.
"It happens." John said.
Jackson grinned. "I'll be looking forward to trading formulas with you in the future. I will be coming back to meet with you soon once I can get away from Calvin ."
Before John could answer, Calvin's voice cut across the stage. "Jackson!"
The younger man sighed, turning. "See you soon, John."
"Count on it."
He followed his teacher toward the exit, the frost in his aura slowly melting into the crowd's warmth.
John stayed for a moment after the others had gone.
The light had shifted — the arena roof open to the late afternoon sky, sun angled low enough to turn the dust to gold.
He looked at the medal in his hand and at the Ascension Pill glowing within its case. Step Four already… he could feel it thrumming beneath his skin, like a new heartbeat.
Alaric's voice came quiet, steady.
"Well done. But the mountain you see now is only the first of many. Don't mistake a ledge for the summit."
John nodded slightly. "I know. I'm just catching my breath."
"Good. Keep breathing. You'll need it."
As he turned to leave, a movement in the stands caught his eye.
A figure stood near the upper balcony—robes of merchant black trimmed in gold.
Dokabas.
The Branch Leader of the Merchant Association stood beside him, both watching the arena with the same evaluating calm one used for a rare gem.
Dokabas met his eyes and nodded once.
John returned the gesture. No words needed.
The corridor beyond the arena was a cooler world then the fire that took place on the stage.
Halfway down the hall, Vulgrat appeared, hair wild, eyes brighter than the torches.
"You did it," he blurted.
John smiled, tired but real. "So did you."
"Tier One champion of the year!" Vulgrat declared, spreading his arms. "Master and apprentice—both kings."
John laughed once. The sound surprised him. It felt good.
They walked together through the archway into the light.
Outside, the city had turned festival.
Music echoed off the domes; children ran with paper lanterns shaped like cauldrons; merchants sold "Champion's Elixirs" that were mostly spiced water and hope.
Then a voice cut through the crowd.
"JOHN!"
Blake hit him like a human comet, arms locking around his shoulders. "You absolute madman! You turned a D-Rank's pressure into your own fuel! Do you know how insane that was?"
John wheezed, half laughing. "Can't breathe."
"Don't care."
Tamara approached next, hood down now, eyes bright as flame. She didn't say anything at first — just looked at him, searching his face.
"You really did it," she said finally, softly.
He nodded. "So did you. Step Three suits you."
She smiled. "This isn't about me."
Mara gave a rare grin. "who knew our leader was such a great alchemist."
Lysa exclaimed the most excitement she had ever shown before."Right! you Absolutely destroyed the competition."
Ember yipped and circled John's legs, small sparks trailing from his tail.
They fell into step together, the noise of the celebration rising behind them like a tide.
The sun was sinking low, painting the sand and stone in copper and crimson.
John walked a little ahead, the weight of the future playing in his head.
His mind was already turning.
He needed to study the Ascension Pill. Understand its structure, its function.
He had to refine new Tier 2 core potions for everyone to push them closer to Step 4.
And for himself — Tier 4 cores. Each costing a fortune. A million coins for fire essence alone.
Alaric spoke in his mind, dry and measured.
"Strength is expensive. But so is weakness. You'll have to choose which one you're willing to pay for."
John smirked. "Then I better start earning."
Vulgrat glanced over. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing." He looked ahead at the road home, lined with lanterns and laughter. "Just thinking about tomorrow."
The sun dropped behind the walls of the city, turning the sky to molten gold.
For the first time in weeks, John allowed himself a deep breath.
Tomorrow, the world would move again.
But tonight—tonight belonged to them.
The champions of fire and sand.