He leapt forward, sword drawn—but before he could strike, the creature pointed a finger—
And Leon's blade ignited in white fire.
He staggered back, nearly dropping it.
But it didn't burn him.
It accepted him.
Roselia shouted, "Leon—your arm!"
He looked.
His right forearm was glowing—a sigil of flame, newly burned into his skin.
And he understood.
This wasn't an attack.
It was a trial.
The Trial of the Pyre Core
The fire elemental slammed its fists into the earth, sending molten shockwaves across the chamber. Aris vaulted clear, landing on a side spire. Kael erected a kinetic shield for Roselia, who launched a blast of water glyphs—but the heat vaporized them before impact.
Leon tightened his grip. His sword now shimmered with a flame he didn't know how to control—but it responded to his will.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's try this your way."
He charged.
The blade met molten skin—and sliced through.
Not because of strength.
Because it belonged here.
