Arc of Fire's Dawn
The gates of Ignis Cor parted with a deep metallic groan, the sound echoing like a dragon's sigh as Valtherion presented his new entrance license. The two guards blinked in confusion, their crimson armor glinting in the morning sun—one of them rubbed his eyes, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"You… passed already?" one asked, his voice laced with disbelief. They'd watched dozens of applicants enter the trials that morning, and most hadn't even emerged yet.
Valtherion only nodded, his expression calm, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. The ember-steel badge felt heavy against his chest—a small piece of metal that held the key to his new life.
The guards exchanged a look—half disbelief, half respect—and stepped aside, allowing him in.
"You may now enter," the older one said.
"Thank you," Valtherion said.
Entering Ignis Cor
As soon as he stepped inside, the world opened like a flower blooming in fire.
Rows of crimson-hued houses, shaped like gently slanted embers, stretched across the horizon. Veins of shimmering orange mana lines pulsed through the walls, giving each home a faint, warm glow that seeped into the streets. At the center of Ignis Cor stood the Red Core—a colossal ruby-like sphere hovering above a wide plaza, rotating slowly like a beating heart, its light casting dancing shadows across the cobblestones.
The air was alive with sound and scent: Merchants called out from beneath glowing red lanterns, their voices mixing with the clatter of carts and the laughter of children. The smell of spiced bread from a nearby bakery mingled with the sharp, clean scent of mana-infused iron from the forges. Above all, a titanic structure dominated the skyline—unfinished, ringed with scaffolding, and glowing faintly from the heat of fire enchantments that crawled up its walls like living vines.
The future mayor's office.
Valtherion exhaled deeply, the warm air filling his lungs. One day… he thought, his eyes fixed on the towering structure. One day, I'll stand at the top of that tower, and I'll make sure no one else has to suffer like I did.
Fifty Years Later
A half-century passed like drifting embers, quick and quiet, leaving behind only the glow of memory.
Fifty years had passed, yet Valtherion's form remained unchanged. The white flame within him preserved his body, halting the ravages of time even as decades slipped quietly by.
The mayoral office now towered above all, forged of red-black stone that had been hardened in volcanic fire. Its surface was patterned with symbols of leadership, unity, and flame—each one carved with precision, glowing faintly when the wind picked up. Valtherion had lived quietly during those 50 years—working as a laborer on the office's construction, helping healers in the slums, never revealing that he was the last true Fire Element user, nor that his "Copy Element" was merely a disguise to hide his Mega power.
Those he had helped as a young laborer were now elders with silver hair and bent backs, yet he stood among them unchanged—a sentinel untouched by the decades.
He'd become a ghost in the city—everywhere and nowhere, helping people in small, quiet ways, never asking for thanks. And then the announcement came.
"The Election Will Begin!"
Bells rang throughout Ignis Cor, their peals echoing off the stone walls like thunder. Citizens poured into the streets as criers shouted, their voices amplified by magic, cutting through the morning air:
"The mayoral election is open! Only five candidates will be accepted! Sign up at once if you wish to lead Ignis Cor into a new era!"
Valtherion's heart jolted, a spark of something long-dormant flaring to life in his chest. He didn't hesitate—he'd waited 50 years for this moment, 350 years total since he'd lost everything.
He sprinted through the plaza, his feet light against the cobblestones, cutting through the crowd, slipping between clusters of people like smoke. The sign-up booth was already surrounded by a throng of hopefuls—two names had been written in bold ink on the wooden board. Then a third. Then a fourth.
"Only one slot left!" shouted the registrar, his face flushed with excitement.
Valtherion slammed his hand on the table, the impact echoing through the air. "Valtherion," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise.
The registrar blinked, then scribbled the name at the bottom of the list. "Five candidates," he announced, slamming his gavel down. "The list is closed!"
The Arcane of Civic Decision
The chosen candidates stood inside an enormous circular hall, the Arcane of Civic Decision. Floating rings of fire-script rotated slowly above them like gears of an ancient machine, their golden letters glowing with warm light. Thousands of citizens filled the outer seats, each holding a voting coin—small, circular, and made of polished brass that glowed with soft mana when its holder made a decision.
Valtherion tried to stay calm, his hands clasped behind his back. They still believe I'm a Copy user. Good. Copy Element users were rare—once revered as bridges between elements, now nearly mythical. The crowd whispered as they saw him, their voices carrying across the hall:
"Is that the Copy user from the entrance trials fifty years ago…?"
"He finished the trial instantly, didn't he?"
"Who is he…? No one knows where he came from."
But none suspected he was actually Flame—the only Flame left in the world, a Mega Element user whose power could level mountains.
The Candidates
The five candidates stood on raised platforms, each one illuminated by a beam of light from the ceiling:
Ravaron, a Ground Element user with broad shoulders and calloused hands, known for his strength and reliability—he'd built half the city's roads.
Lysandra, a Nature Element healer with soft green eyes and a gentle smile, beloved by many for her work in the slums.
Zyphor, a Wind Element sharpshooter with wild hair and a confident grin, who'd defended the city from bandits dozens of times.
Kalein, a Water Element strategist with a calm, icy presence, who'd planned the city's new irrigation system.
Valtherion, the mysterious "Copy Element" user with no known past, who'd worked quietly in the shadows for 50 years.
A hush fell over the hall as the announcer stepped forward, his voice amplified by resonance magic that made every word vibrate in the bones:
"Citizens of Ignis Cor! Today, you choose your new leader—one who will guide us into the next era of fire and glory!"
"Let the Voting—BEGIN!"
Coins glowed across the hall, a sea of warm light. Some for Ravaron, whose strength had kept them safe. Some for Lysandra, whose kindness had healed their wounds. Some for Zyphor and Kalein, whose skills had built their city.
Valtherion watched as his own platform remained nearly dark—just a few flickers, barely enough to count. He expected that. He was new. Unknown. Mysterious. People always feared what they didn't understand, he thought, a pang of sadness in his chest. Just like they feared the forest.
But then—
A child stood. A young boy in the front row, no older than ten, clutching a glowing voting coin so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"I vote… for Mister Val!" he shouted, his voice trembling but clear.
Everyone turned, their eyes fixed on the boy. He stepped forward, his small frame shaking, and continued: "He saved my little sister from a falling ember-beam last year… when the construction scaffolding broke. He caught it with his bare hands… and he never asked for thanks! He deserves a chance!"
A ripple passed through the crowd—murmurs, whispers, then a quiet murmur of agreement. One person raised their coin, its light flaring bright. Then another. Then dozens.
And then—
A hundred coins lit up at once, they glow so bright it filled the hall.
Valtherion felt his breath catch, his heart pounding harder than it had during any battle in Phorashia. More coins glowed. More voices rose.
"Vote for Valtherion!"
"He protected the workers during the office's construction—he pulled three men out of a fire!"
"He always helps people quietly, never seeking attention!"
"He's strong and kind—exactly what we need!"
Zyphor glared at him, his grin fading. Lysandra smiled softly, nodding in approval. Kalein narrowed his eyes, studying Valtherion with new respect. Ravaron crossed his arms, a look of admiration on his face.
The glowing coins rose into the air, drifting toward the central brazier like a swarm of fireflies. The announcer's voice trembled as he watched: "Such… overwhelming support for a new candidate?! This—this is unprecedented!"
The brazier flared—brilliant red, its flames reaching toward the ceiling. The crowd held its breath.
Final Vote Reveal
The flames shifted, twisting and turning as golden numbers began to form in the air above the brazier:
First place…
Second place…
Third…
Fourth…
Fifth…
The glowing script twisted, dancing in the fire, then stopped. The announcer stared, his eyes wide with shock.
"T–this can't be…"
The crowd leaned forward, their faces filled with anticipation. Valtherion's heart pounded harder than ever, his hands clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
"By overwhelming majority…" the announcer raised his hand, his voice barely a whisper.
"The new Mayor of Ignis Cor is—"
The flames suddenly went black.
Gasps exploded through the hall, a wave of fear rippling through the crowd. The brazier shook violently as a shockwave rippled across the chamber, knocking people off their seats.
Something—someone—had interfered.
A shadowy silhouette appeared inside the black flame, tall and imposing, its form twisting like smoke. A deep, distorted voice echoed through the hall, cold as ice and old as time:
"Not yet…"
The entire hall trembled, the fire-script rings spinning wildly.
"His fate… is not yours to decide."
The shadow vanished in a puff of black smoke. The brazier relit—normal again, its flames red and warm. The numbers were now clear, glowing brightly in the air.
The announcer swallowed hard, his face pale. "Valtherion," he said, his voice steady now. "Valtherion has been elected Mayor of Ignis Cor."
The crowd roared—cheers echoing off the walls, hands clapping, voices shouting his name.
But Valtherion stood frozen.
Because only he felt it. Only he recognized the presence hidden within the flame.
A High Element aura… no, higher. Far higher.
Something ancient. Something tied to the Twelve Mega Wizards—
the very ones who had killed his parents.
And it had spoken directly to him.