Saria could see that Yoren wasn't just showing off—he was fully prepared to face the worst possible outco.
To be honest, even she wasn't entirely confident she could save Ifrit. If she failed, not only would she be consud by the flas, but Ifrit would also lose her last chance at rescue.
Saria nodded solemnly. "Alright. I'll get you as close as I can. My abilities should help clear a path."
"Got it."
She grabbed a large tal canister from a nearby transport truck.
Yoren removed his bracelet and tossed it to Her, who was still kneeling on the ground. "Hold onto this for . I'll be back with Ifrit. Don't forget to return it."
Without waiting for a response, he and Saria ran toward the inferno.
As they neared, the heat beca unbearable. The air shimred, distorting the world around them, while the flas' scorching waves turned everything—grass, trees, even stone—into charred remains.
After less than a hundred ters, Saria stopped and opened the canister.
With a sharp splash, she doused Yoren in thick, light-green liquid.
The viscous substance clung to his skin like gum. He didn't need to ask—this was clearly a chemical designed to repel flas.
Tossing the empty can aside, Saria turned forward. "Ifrit was in the underground lab, but the explosion destroyed the base. Her exact location is unknown. You'll have to find her yourself."
"Understood."
"I'll use my Originium Arts to part the flas temporarily. This is your only opening—after that, you're on your own."
She pulled a Source Stone from her pocket.
Closing her eyes, a pale green light flared around her. The entire stone dissolved in an instant, its energy surging into her. The ground trembled as a gale picked up, swirling around her.
Then, Saria opened her eyes, raising her hands toward the sky. The wind howled, growing into a monstrous tornado.
Sand and debris lifted into the air. The sky darkened.
Yoren crouched, shielding himself from the violent storm. The sheer power of Saria's Originium Arts was staggering—if unleashed in battle, it could rival the destructive force of Frost Nova's ice magic.
A flicker of determination flashed in Saria's eyes.
She brought her hands down in a decisive motion.
"Boom!"
A green tornado ripped through the sea of fire, parting the flas and carving a narrow path through the inferno.
Saria turned to Yoren. "This corridor won't last long—go!"
"On it!"
"Promise you'll co back alive."
Yoren smirked. "I bloom in the midst of slaughter and—"
"Just go."
"Oh."
Pushing forward, he bit his lip. The pain sharpened his focus as black energy seeped from his body.
With the Originium in one hand and Saria's injection gun in the other, he charged into the fire.
Saria watched him disappear, her heart heavy with worry. The sheer power she had unleashed without an Arts Unit had left her weakened. She could only pray now.
The mont Yoren entered the fire, his senses were overwheld. The heat wasn't just pain—it was a complete assault on his body and mind.
The air was devoid of oxygen, suffocating him instantly. The roar of the flas was deafening, yet everything felt eerily silent.
His clothes ignited almost imdiately.
This wasn't a normal fire.
Fear clawed at his mind. He wanted to run. Instinct scread at him to turn back. Burning to death was far worse than any other fate.
But he clenched his jaw.
This was his choice.
[I bloom in the midst of slaughter and am reborn in the flas.]
The first half of that phrase was borrowed. The second? He had made it up on the spot.
Whether he'd be reborn or not, he had no idea.
But he was definitely blooming—his burning clothes looked like petals unfurling in the fire.
The exit behind him was still open. He could still turn back.
But he wouldn't.
He couldn't.
Her's devastated face flashed in his mind. The thought of her disappointnt was worse than death.
Yoren would not regret this.
He took another step forward. "Go!"
With a roar, he plunged deeper into the inferno.
Ti blurred.
He didn't know how long he had been running.
He had lost all sound. His vision blurred. His body had long since stopped feeling pain—his nerve endings burned away.
His clothes had fused with his skin. His hair was gone. His once-proud face? Likely unrecognizable.
But he still moved.
Sohow, he was still alive.
Perhaps the power of the Black and White Twins was counteracting the fire. Or perhaps he was just too stubborn to die.
It didn't matter.
Only one thing mattered.
Finding Ifrit.
In the heart of the inferno, sorrow and rage intertwined.
The Fire Demon's flas could consu all things. But they also embodied the deepest loneliness.
Enemy, friend, family, lover—anyone who approached would turn to ash.
Yoren didn't know the full truth of the Fire Demon's past.
But maybe... Ifrit's last wish before disappearing was to embrace soone she loved, just once.
His steps slowed. His eyes widened.
Ahead, a familiar figure stood at the very core of the flas.
The little fire dragon, arms outstretched, flas pouring from her small body, a storm of destruction raging around her.
She was unhard. Her eyes were closed. She seed to be sleeping.
Yoren, now little more than walking charcoal, dragged himself forward.
The injection gun in his grip was nearly lted.
The fire lashed at his face like a howling beast. But the pain no longer reached him.
He stopped in front of her.
And, for the first ti, he knew.
This choice had been the right one.
Every step, every agony, every mont of terror—it had all been worth it.
"Sizzle."
The syringe pierced Ifrit's neck.
Surrounded by flas, Yoren opened his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace.
So say that flas represent hope.
At night, fire dispels darkness, fends off the biting cold, and brings warmth to the world.
Others say that fire signifies despair.
It devours everything, reduces dreams to ash, and steals lives away.
Fire is both hope and despair.
In the heart of the inferno, Yoren finally found Ifrit. In the last monts before losing consciousness, he held the little fire dragon tightly in his arms.
Everyone standing outside the fire witnessed a sight they would never forget.
The flas engulfing Base No. 4 erupted violently. The chaotic inferno twisted and reshaped itself, taking the form of a colossal, fiery beast.
It stood a hundred ters tall, its entire body composed of living flas. Two horns crowned its head. For a fleeting mont, it was impossible to tell whether it was real or a phantom born of fire.
"Roar!"
A deafening wail echoed through the sky.
Then, the fire beast began to disintegrate. The flas slowly dissipated into the air.
Saria's eyes flickered, and she murmured to herself, "That kid... he did it."
[June 5]—a date permanently recorded in Rhine Life's archives. On this day, Experintal Base No. 4, located in the Buda region of Columbia, vanished from the map. Along with it, dozens of staff mbers who failed to evacuate were lost.
The material loss was incalculable, but the greater impact was sothing far beyond re numbers.
In a past era, wars ignited by the four ancient stones had destroyed an entire civilization. The power sealed within these stones far exceeded the destruction of Base No. 4. It was precisely this power that drove Rhine Life to take such extre risks in their experints.
Due to the base's remote location, Rhine Life's top managent quickly contained the spread of information. The very next day, major dia outlets across Columbia released a prearranged statent.
According to the reports, on June 5, Rhine Life Labs—a leading biotechnology research institution—had conducted a controlled fossil fuel disposal operation in the Buda region. Citizens were assured that this was a routine, safe procedure and there was no cause for alarm.
Following the incident, Rhine Life classified all related information. With the exception of key figures such as Her and White-Faced Owl, all scientists involved in the project were placed on indefinite leave and discreetly relocated to an undisclosed island, completely cut off from the outside world.
This event was sealed away in Rhine Life's highest-level confidential archives under a single na—
The Fla Demon Incident.
According to reports from the Defense Departnt's special response team, they entered the remains of the site shortly after the flas were extinguished.
In the charred ruins, they found Subject 019 standing at the center. Miraculously, she bore no visible injuries.
Nearby, they discovered a blackened, humanoid figure. It looked like a lump of charcoal and gave off the distinct aroma of grilled at.
After multiple confirmations, they identified the figure as Subject 020—the one who had entered the fire.
His na was Yoren.
Unconscious, his fate uncertain, Ifrit and Yoren were loaded onto a transport vehicle and sent to Rhine Life's Experintal Base No. 3.
June 9—Four days since Yoren's arrival at Base No. 3.
Unlike Base No. 4, which specialized in dangerous experints, Base No. 3 was a dical research facility dedicated to human recovery. It was relatively open compared to the other bases, occasionally receiving ergency patients alongside its research efforts.
Snowsant sat outside the ward, dark circles under her eyes, her body slumped against the wall.
Nearby, Her was speaking to a man in a white coat.
"Dr. Gran, you have to think of sothing!"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Her. We've done everything possible. The fact that he's still alive is already a miracle."
"Is there really no hope?"
"His body is covered in deep burns, and the infection is spreading uncontrollably. I'll be honest with you—there's nothing more we can do. He won't make it."
Snowsant curled into a ball, burying her face against her knees.
June 17—
Snowsant still sat outside Yoren's ward, unmoving. Ifrit, now awake, approached and silently offered her a piece of candy.
At that mont, two doctors stepped out of the room, their conversation drifting into the hallway.
"How is he still alive?"
"I have no idea. His body tissues are regenerating on their own, but not nearly fast enough to outpace the infection. Honestly, considering how bad his burns were when he arrived, he should have died days ago."
"Right? I've never seen anything like this. Maybe he's so kind of freak."
"Doesn't matter now. He won't last another two days."
Snowsant's lips quivered. Her eyes dimd.
Ifrit, standing behind them, narrowed her eyes. Without hesitation, she lunged at one of the doctors, clawing at his head and biting his hair.
"You're a terrible doctor! Take it back!"
"Ahhh! Whose kid is this?! My hair!"
During this ti, Her and Saria visited countless tis. Despite being an expert in Originium studies and mineral diseases, Her's knowledge didn't extend to treating severe burns or repairing human bodies. She could only ask her colleagues for updates.
The answers never changed.
After more than ten days of treatnt, Yoren's condition hadn't improved. In fact, it was worsening. It wasn't a failure of Rhine Life's dical technology—his condition was simply beyond saving. By all logic, a man whose body had been reduced to charcoal should not even be alive.
Everyone who visited wore the sa expression.
Her, Saria, Aina, White-Faced Owl, Snowsant—even lantha, who barely knew him—all looked at him with sorrow.
Base No. 4 had been obliterated by the power of the Fire Demon. That much was irreversible. But in the face of destruction, Yoren had saved Ifrit.
That was why their grief was even deeper.
Because unless a miracle happened—
Fire Feather Yoren was dood.
And miracles... don't exist.
June 24, Rhine Life Experintal Base No. 3
A soft, milky-white glow appeared in the ward, spreading outward, dispersing the clouds above, and fading into the sky.
Snowsant, still stationed outside the room, had been dozing against the wall. She was forbidden from staying inside for too long due to concerns about air contamination. Despite Her arranging a proper room for her, she rarely left this spot.
"Creak."
The door swung open.
Snowsant's ears twitched. She blinked sleepily and turned her head.
Wrapped from head to toe in bandages like a mummy, Yoren stood in the doorway.
He raised a hand, tore off the gauze from his face, revealing smooth, unblemished skin beneath.
Frowning, he looked at Snowsant and spoke, his tone unimpressed.
"What are you doing here? Laying eggs?"
Snowsant wasn't laying eggs.
But her mouth slowly ford the shape of one.
Then, after a long silence—
She scread.
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