I still couldn’t believe it—Flareth had acknowledged .
After our intense battle, Flareth led deeper into the Spire of the Fire God, toward his throne in the grand chamber. The massive hall was bathed in an eerie crimson glow, the flickering flas casting wild shadows across the walls. Pillars of enchanted fire lined the room, illuminating the ornate throne where Flareth, the ruler of this domain, presided.
He settled onto his seat with a smirk and crossed his arms. "You’re nothing more than an Flea." he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
I scowled, irritation rising in my chest. "My na is not ’Flea.’ It’s Naoki von Blackmore," I corrected him, standing my ground.
Flareth let out a short, amused chuckle but did not argue. Instead, he leaned forward, his fiery gaze locking onto mine with newfound curiosity.
"Tell ," he said, his tone shifting to sothing more serious, "that black fla you wield—where did you get it?"
I hesitated. It wasn’t sothing I had ever questioned deeply before. The Black Fla had been part of for as long as I could rember, growing stronger with each battle. But how had I co to possess such an unusual power?
Flareth’s expression darkened. "That fla is not ordinary. Do you understand what it ans?"
I shook my head, waiting for him to explain.
With a sigh, Flareth leaned back against his throne. "The God of Darkness has the power to corrupt all elents, twisting them into sothing unnatural. Even my flas are not immune. The fact that you wield Black Fla ans one thing..."
I felt a chill despite the heat of the room.
"...It ans that Zorx, the demon you fought, must have stolen that power from —or at least a fragnt of it."
His words hit like a hamr. Zorx’s power had originated from the Fire God?
Flareth clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "That bastard of a god... he betrayed us all," he muttered, voice thick with old resentnt.
The weight of his words settled heavily in my mind. The God of Darkness, a being powerful enough to steal from the divine, had once stood among the gods only to turn against them. He had stolen from Flareth, from other gods, and had gifted those stolen fragnts to his demonic followers—Zorx included.
"So then..." I hesitated. "The Black Fla inside ... I got it by accident?"
Flareth studied for a long mont before sighing. "Yes. And for that, I will forgive you."
The air in the room felt lighter, though my mind was still clouded with questions.
Then, as if rembering sothing, Flareth gave an intrigued look. "You’re from the Blackmore family, aren’t you?"
I nodded. It wasn’t a secret. The Blackmores were known for their strong affinity to darkness—our lineage was one of warriors who wielded Dark Magic, yet we had never sided with the demons.
Flareth nodded in understanding. "That explains it. Your family is an exception—humans who, despite their connection to darkness, have always fought for mankind. The greatest of them all was Hiro von Blackmore, one of history’s strongest heroes."
Hearing Hiro’s na sent a shiver down my spine. The legendary warrior who once sealed away the Demon King—he was an ancestor of mine, a na that carried imasurable weight in our family.
Flareth chuckled. "Who knows? Maybe you’re his reincarnation."
I laughed dryly, shaking my head. "That’s not possible. I can use Divine Magic without it consuming ."
At that, Flareth’s amusent faded into sothing more serious. "True... That is strange," he admitted. "Divine Magic should be lethal to any Dark Magic user, yet you’ve endured it—not just once, but multiple tis."
I nodded, recalling my battle against King Aslan von Braveheart. The King had unleashed powerful Divine Magic against , and not only had I survived, but I had also managed to counter his attacks. Though, in fairness, I had taken considerable damage in the process.
Flareth tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne, lost in thought. "Dark Magic users should never be able to withstand Divine Magic. Your survival shouldn’t be possible... unless there’s sothing unusual about you."
His words sent a new wave of unease through . I had always known my abilities were different, but now it felt as though I was an anomaly even among my own kind.
"Perhaps," Flareth continued, "Miranda’s Blessing has sothing to do with it. That girl’s power is exceptional, after all."
I clenched my fists. The [Blessing of Sealing Magic] that Miranda had given allowed to temporarily suppress my Dark Magic, making it possible for to wield Divine Magic without severe repercussions. But there was always a risk.
Flareth’s voice dropped into a warning tone. "However, you must be cautious. If your Dark Magic grows too powerful, it could shatter the Blessing entirely."
I tensed. "What do you an?"
"The nature of Dark Magic is destruction and corruption. It consus, it taints—it is why no ordinary wielder can control it without consequences. If your power surpasses the limits of the Blessing, you will lose the ability to contain it. It will consu you."
His words were clear, and the weight behind them was undeniable.
For the first ti in my life, I wondered... Am I strong enough to keep my power in check?
Flareth leaned forward, his fiery gaze sharp. "Do not lose control. If you do, even I won’t be able to save you."
I swallowed hard, nodding slowly.
"...I understand," I said.
He watched for a mont before nodding in satisfaction. "Good. Then I’ll ask you again, Blackmore... What will you do now?"
I took a deep breath, steadying my resolve.
"I’ll do my best—no matter what happens," I answered firmly.
Flareth grinned, his fiery aura flaring slightly.
"That’s what I wanted to hear."
And with that, our conversation ended—but deep inside, I knew that my true battles were only just beginning.
....
Flareth let out a deep breath before settling onto his throne. His golden eyes flickered with an unreadable expression as he leaned forward, resting one elbow on the armrest.
"Alright," he said, his voice laced with sothing akin to reluctance. "Get ready. I will now bestow my Blessing upon you."
Despite his words, I noticed a brief hesitation in his movents. His fingers tightened slightly against the throne, and his fiery aura wavered ever so subtly. Why did he seem uncertain?
I didn’t have ti to dwell on it. I stepped forward, standing at the center of the magic circle he had inscribed into the floor. Ancient symbols of fire glead beneath my feet, radiating intense heat.
Flareth rose from his seat, raising one hand as his divine halo glowed brilliantly above his head. Simultaneously, the symbol of the Fire God in the center of his palm ignited, bathing the chamber in an overwhelming golden-red light.
The Spire of the Fire God itself responded to the ritual. The entire structure trembled as a towering inferno erupted skyward, piercing through the heavens like a divine beacon. The very air crackled with power, a force beyond mortal comprehension.
Then, pain.
A searing agony spread through my shoulder, as though a brand of molten iron was being pressed against my skin. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to endure the unbearable burning sensation.
Through the haze of pain, I realized what was happening—the mark of the Fire God’s Blessing was forming on my body. The fiery sigil carved itself onto my chest, settling beside the Blessing of Protection I had received from Miranda.
[You have obtained the Blessing of the Fire God!]
[This blessing allows you to use Flareth’s Divine Fire!]
[This blessing increases your fire elental attack damage by 50%, and fire elental damage by 80% when fighting demons]
This is a powerful blessing!
As the ritual concluded, the flas receded, and silence fell over the grand hall.
But Flareth...
Flareth was frozen in place, his expression one of pure disbelief. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple—an unusual sight for soone who literally thrived in heat.
"...What?" he muttered under his breath. His voice, usually filled with unwavering confidence, wavered ever so slightly.
I frowned, still feeling the lingering heat of the new blessing etched into my skin. "What’s wrong?" I asked.
Flareth snapped his gaze toward , eyes narrowed as if he were struggling to make sense of what he had just witnessed.
"...This shouldn’t be possible," he finally said. His voice was sharp, carrying an edge of concern.
I crossed my arms. "What do you an?"
Flareth exhaled, rubbing his forehead in exasperation before explaining, "Every hero who has co here has only ever been able to receive one blessing from the gods. No exceptions."
I blinked. "...But I now have two?"
He gave a slow nod, his expression hardening. "Yes. And that is not how this world works."
Flareth began pacing in front of his throne, the flas surrounding the chamber flickering in response to his unease.
"For centuries, heroes have been granted only the blessing that aligns with their elental affinity," he continued. "The Flamore family, for example, has always received my blessing. The Winterfell bloodline can only inherit the Blessing of Aqualia, the Goddess of Water and Ice. These affinities are absolute. Unchangeable."
He turned back toward , eyes burning with curiosity—and caution.
"Yet, you, a descendant of the Blackmore family, have broken this law of nature."
I absorbed his words, realization slowly dawning upon .
The Blackmore family, unlike others, had always received Miranda’s Blessing instead of a traditional elental affinity. This was because the God of Darkness had perished, leaving his followers without a patron deity. Miranda, the Goddess of Protection, had extended her divine favor to our lineage, ensuring we had a ans to survive despite our connection to Dark Magic.
But now...
I had been granted another blessing—one that was supposed to be impossible for to receive.
A slow smile crept onto my face.
Flareth scowled. "Why are you smiling, brat?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I think I finally understand why Miranda chose to give her blessing. I’m from the Blackmore bloodline... and she must have been watching over us for a long ti."
For a mont, Flareth just stared at , his lips curling in disgust. "Tch. That sentintal goddess. She always was too soft on humans."
Then, as if shaking off his thoughts, he let out a long sigh. "Regardless, this changes everything. Normally, once a Trial of Blessing is completed, the hero automatically moves on to the next Trial—yet you’re still standing here."
He narrowed his eyes at . "Sothing is preventing you from progressing. And I don’t like things I can’t explain."
His tone suggested that whatever was happening wasn’t just a small anomaly—it was a dangerous mystery that needed answers.
Flareth ran a hand through his fiery hair, looking thoroughly frustrated. Then, after a brief silence, he made a decision.
"...Fine. We don’t have ti to sit around guessing," he muttered. "I’ll call for an ergency eting with the other gods. We need to figure out what you are."
I stiffened. "What I am?"
Flareth’s gaze bore into mine. "You may truly be the Child of Fate. And if that’s the case, we need to find a way to get you through this trial—fast."
A chill ran down my spine at his words.
The Child of Fate.
I had heard the term whispered in legends before—a prophesied warrior who would either save the world or bring about its ruin. A soul untouched by the normal rules of the divine, ant to change the very course of history.
Could I really be that person?
The thought both thrilled and terrified .
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