Flester stood before the towering gates of the Emberhold Lions' stadium. The vast structure loomed against a pale sky, its metal crest glinting like a warning rather than a symbol of pride.
A quiet weight settled in his chest. He didn't know why, but every instinct told him something was wrong. The stillness around him felt unnatural — like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the wrong kind of storm.
Then the announcement came, slicing through the silence like a blade.
"Attention, contestants. The format of this year's Emberhold Trials has changed. The traditional 5-on-5 matches are cancelled. All remaining participants will now compete in direct knockout battles. One against one. Until only one remains."
Flester's eyes narrowed. Change wasn't supposed to happen here — not in Emberhold, not in something this old and sacred.
He exhaled slowly, a faint ember of dread glowing in the back of his mind. Whatever was waiting for him inside those gates... it wouldn't be a trial. It would be a reckoning.
"A change... In a trial which was seen as a tradition, a century old tradition and yet, they changed it. I wonder why."
All the remaining participants had a similar expression on their faces, though unexpectedly no one asked a question.
His sharp black eyes met a pair of light brown ones across the seating rows. Ager. The bald fighter had been staring at him for a while now, his gaze steady and unreadable. Flester hadn't noticed it at first—but now that he did, he realized the man's focus hadn't shifted once.
There were only sixteen of them left. Maybe that was why the 5-on-5 matches had been cancelled—too few to form proper teams. But that uneasy feeling twisting in Flester's gut told him there was something more behind it. Something deliberate.
He stood, walked over, and took a seat beside Ager. For a moment, the tension broke as he managed a small smile.
Before Flester could even open his mouth, Ager spoke, his tone flat but not unfriendly.
"Before you ask, no—I don't know what's going on either."
Flester blinked, then chuckled softly. "Didn't even get the words out," he muttered, shaking his head in quiet amusement.
Still, the unease didn't fade. It only settled deeper, like a shadow waiting for its cue.
The next battle was called.Flester versus Soke.
It ended almost before it began. A single sword, wreathed in fire, materialized in Flester's grasp and pierced his opponent cleanly through the chest. Soke crumpled to the ground, unconscious before the flames even faded.
Flester lowered his weapon, expression unreadable.How did he even make it this far?
That strange, uneasy feeling pulsed again in his chest—stronger this time. He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. Showing weakness wasn't an option. Not anymore. Not after everything.
As he climbed the stone stairs back to the participants' section, his thoughts wandered. He'd always known he was… different. The Elemental Symbol had been with him for as long as he could remember. Maybe it had given him strength, or maybe it had cursed him with someone else's memories—techniques and instincts that weren't his own.Still, he had made them his. He had survived battles others couldn't. He had stood against a prodigy… against the once-strongest mage of the Emerald Kingdom… and lived.
He was an anomaly—one even he couldn't fully understand.
The matches continued, each one echoing the same pattern. The stronger mage dominated; the weaker fell almost instantly. Even Flester's quarter-final was disappointingly brief—he had to dodge a few attacks, cast a few counters, and his opponent was down.
This doesn't make sense.He frowned, eyes narrowing. From what he had seen, only three participants actually had power worth their names—himself, Ager Agni, and Veiyaar Agni, the younger brother of Kael Agni.
"It's ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "Even the mages from the brawl were stronger. How did these people get through the first stage?"
His thoughts turned darker. He remembered his fight with Draven—the intensity, the danger, the raw power. That had been a real battle. These… these felt staged.
Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
Then, the announcement came again, clear and cold.
"Flester and Ager, please make your way to the battlefield."
Flester froze for a moment, the words settling like a spark on dry wood.So it was time.
He rose, the faintest flicker of firelight dancing in his eyes."Guess its time to face him after all" he murmured, and walked toward the arena, Ager following behind him.
Flester hadn't known Ager for long—only since the brawl. But that brief encounter had left a mark. Afterward, he'd even gone to Ager's home, intent on facing him again. Instead, he'd learned that Ager had chosen to wait—to fight him only after the trials.
Now, here they were.
Flester let out a quiet breath, eyes fixed on the bald fighter standing a few meters away."Guess that's not needed, huh," he said, his tone almost casual, though his stance was anything but.
Ager gave a slight nod, understanding exactly what he meant."Yes," he replied evenly. "It is not needed."
For a brief second, the arena was silent—no wind, no motion, just two mages staring each other down.
Then came the single word that broke the stillness.
"Start."
Both mages moved at once—two streaks of flame cutting across the stone floor.
Flester's materialized sword burst into existence, its edge wrapped in swirling fire. Ager met him head-on, his own fists engulfed in blazing heat. Sparks flared as steel and flame collided.
Flester swung in a sharp arc, aiming for Ager's side, but the bald fighter caught the burning blade in his bare hands, his flames roaring brighter to match it.
For a heartbeat, neither yielded.
In the dark night, their clash painted the arena in flickering shades of orange and gold. Two fires, bound by will and pride, danced together—each pushing the other to burn hotter, brighter, and more violently.
Ager swung, a wave of fire arcing toward Flester. Flester twisted aside, his counterattack blooming behind him—a spiral of flame that exploded forward, twisting like a living inferno.
"Flame Vortex." Flester whispered, he was sure the attack would find Ager but he was proven wrong pretty fast, too fast.
Ager slammed both hands into the ground. A column of fire roared upward, consuming the spiral before it reached him. The flames collided midair, merging into a blinding burst of light that momentarily turned the night in the arena into day.
Flester cursed, "obviously he won't go down that easily as other participants. I'm so stupid,"
Flester broke through the blaze, his body wreathed in searing orange. He thrust out his hand, releasing a concentrated burst.
"Flame Ray." It was just a powerful attack that moved at high speed towards its opponent.
. Ager deflected it with a sweeping motion, his flames condensing into a shield that shimmered with heat.
Soon, the battlefield itself seemed to burn with them—stone glowing red, air trembling under the sheer heat. Each mage's fire carried its own rhythm: Flester's, fast and fluid; Ager's, heavy and unyielding.
Both Flester and Ager fought for a while until they had enough of playing around.
The air had turned molten. Every breath scorched the lungs, every step left glowing footprints on the charred ground.
Flester and Ager moved like shadows born of fire, their silhouettes flickering in the crimson haze. Each strike was faster than the last, each blast louder, hotter, heavier.
Ager lunged forward, his arms wreathed in swirling flame, forming twin vortexes that spun violently outward."Inferno Fists!" he roared, his voice carried by the crackle of fire.
Flester braced himself. He gathered the heat around him, drawing every stray ember into his core. Then, with a fierce exhale, he unleashed it."Crimson Veil!" This was the advanced stage of Flame Veil.
Crimson Veil was capable of both attack and defence.
The ground exploded between them. Fire slammed against fire, two tides of heat folding into each other until the arena vanished behind a curtain of searing red light. The pressure forced both mages back, sliding across the scorched tiles, but neither fell.
Through the haze, Flester's eyes burned brighter. He could feel his energy thinning, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the flames. Ager's silhouette emerged from the smoke—steady, unbroken, his own fire raging just as strong.
Ager hurled a massive sphere of condensed flame—a sun compressed into his palms. Flester answered, thrusting both hands forward. His fire surged into a spear of pure light and heat.
"Aurora Ignis." It was still not perfected but was enough.
The two attacks collided midair.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then came the detonation—an eruption that swallowed the arena in blinding gold. The ground split. The night screamed.
When the light finally faded, only embers drifted through the air like dying stars.
Flester stood at the edge of a crater, his body trembling, smoke rising from his arms. Across from him, Ager was on one knee, his flames flickering weakly before vanishing.
The match was over.
Flester's flames dimmed to a faint glow as he exhaled, the heat dissolving into the night.
"Guess we both knew how this would end," he murmured.
Ager gave a faint, tired smile.
"Yeah... I just wanted to see it for myself."
And then his fire went out completely.
Flester exhaled deeply, a faint trail of heat escaping with his breath. The fight had ended faster than he'd expected—clean, decisive. He hadn't needed to rely on any of his stronger techniques: not the Flame Portal, not the Blazing Serpent, and certainly not Blazion himself. Just as he'd hoped, there was no need to awaken his second stage either.
He gave a small, invisible nod to himself."Good job." he thought.
Anyone else would have been furious—or at least wary—by now. His match with Ager was supposed to be the first semi-final, but for some reason, it had been delayed until after the other one.
The reason was obvious.
"Of course" he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips."The elder brother's influence."
Kael Agni had made sure his younger brother Veiyaar got the easier path—letting him face a weaker opponent first, then rest while Flester and Ager burned themselves out in a grueling fight. It was a simple, effective manipulation of timing.
But Flester wasn't angry. He understood the game. He just intended to win it anyway.
Soon, without any rest given to Flester, Ager was taken away by medics and Veiyaar made his way down standing opposite to Flester.
"Start!"
he next battle began almost immediately—no rest, no time to recover. The final had arrived.
Flester still carried the heat of his fight with Ager, the faint ache in his limbs reminding him that his flames had burned longer than they should have. But there was no room for hesitation now.
He dashed forward the instant the signal was given, his materialized sword flaring into existence, wreathed in fierce orange fire. The heat radiating from the blade shimmered in the air like a mirage.
His opponent—Veiyaar Agni—waited calmly on the opposite side of the field. Another Flame user. Another prodigy. The younger brother of Kael Agni, the man called the strongest fire mage in the kingdom.
Two flames stood facing each other under the dark sky. One born from legacy, the other from defiance.
And between them, the air itself began to burn. Once again, the crowd witnessed the flames dancing.
The instant their eyes met, both mages moved.
Flester's flames flared outward as he charged, his sword trailing a blazing arc that scorched the stone beneath him. Veiyaar didn't dodge. Instead, he raised a hand and summoned a wall of fire so dense it looked molten. Flester's blade crashed into it—heat against heat, will against will.
The wall exploded.
Both were thrown back, embers scattering like shattered stars. Flester landed lightly, his boots skidding over molten dust. He grinned faintly. "So he's not just talk." Flester thought.
Veiyaar was already countering. He spun, his arm tracing a sharp circle, and a vortex of crimson flame burst to life around him. It grew, feeding off the air, twisting into a tornado of heat that roared toward Flester.
Flester raised his sword, flames coiling around his body like armor. With a swing, he cut through the tornado's edge—splitting it in two—and then thrust his hand forward.
"Blazing Step!" Another move he gracefully accepted from the memories, it seemed nice to be able to use the speed move since his body was not ready for the Light step yet. This move, even though infinitely slower than the Light step, could replace it for a while.
In a flash of fire, he vanished and reappeared behind Veiyaar, his sword descending in a vertical slash. But Veiyaar reacted faster than Flester anticipated—his entire body erupted in a sudden surge of flame, forcing Flester to leap back.
The ground between them glowed white-hot.
They circled each other, breathing hard, the air trembling with heat. Flester's fire pulsed wildly—alive, instinctive, destructive. Veiyaar's burned steady, sharper, and controlled, like a flame sculpted by centuries of discipline.
Veiyaar's voice cut through the haze.
"You're strong, Flester. But you fight like your fire—reckless."
Flester smirked, flicking the sweat from his brow.
"Maybe. But I burn brighter." Flester replied and himself cringed at how cocky it seemed. Putting that at the back of his mind, he concentrated on the present fight.
Then both charged again.
Two infernos collided, the sound like thunder tearing through flame. The night sky turned gold, and the ground beneath them began to crack from the sheer heat. Every strike birthed an explosion, every motion a storm of embers.
Neither gained ground. Neither backed down.
And as the battlefield turned to molten ruin, both knew—this was no longer just a duel. It was a test to see whose fire would outlast the other.
"STOP!!!"