Chapter 6: The Burning Trial

The cold morning air clung to the arena floor like fog over a graveyard. Zero stood alone at the center, steam rising from his body as if the heat inside him couldn’t be contained. His armor was still scuffed from yesterday’s training. His eyes, half-lidded and tired, stared at nothing—focused inward. The gates screeched open like beasts awakening. Four masked figures stepped into the arena, cloaked in gray, weapons gleaming under the dull light. Their presence didn’t announce itself—it loomed, heavy and suffocating. Above, King Kaku sat silently atop his throne, his gaze sharp. Beside him, Malik leaned forward, arms crossed, unreadable. “This isn’t a drill,” Malik muttered. “They’ll break him if he’s not ready.” “They’ll try,” Kaku replied, voice low. The first attacker lunged, blade carving a deadly arc through the air. Zero twisted—but too late. Steel kissed his side, slicing into the leather beneath his armor. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but Zero didn’t falter. Focus. Anchor it. The second figure moved in like a phantom, striking low. Zero parried— barely—but the force sent a jolt through his arms. Sparks danced where their blades met, and Zero stumbled back, gritting his teeth against the pressure building in his chest. The third circled to his flank. Zero spun—but his flames betrayed him, bursting outward uncontrollably. The flare drove the enemy back but seared Zero’s own arm, smoke rising from his scorched sleeve. "You’re slipping!" Zen’s voice snapped inside his mind. "Feel it— don’t fear it!" Zero planted his feet, every muscle trembling from strain. The fourth figure finally moved—swift and surgical. They dashed in, their curved blade flashing like silver lightning. Zero’s heart hammered in his chest. For a moment, everything slowed. He let go of trying to command the flames. Instead, he let them breathe—wild but loyal. His body moved before his mind did. With a roar, Zero ducked under the blade, blue flames surging from his boots, propelling him forward like a missile. He slammed his shoulder into the fourth attacker’s chest, sending them sprawling across the arena. The first and second figures rushed him together. Zero didn't retreat. He advanced. He met the first blade with a rising slash, deflecting it with a shower of sparks—spinning, he drove the hilt of his blade into the second attacker’s jaw with a brutal crack. The third enemy came next—no time to think. Zero stepped into the strike, taking a shallow cut across his arm but catching the attacker’s wrist, twisting it hard until the blade clattered to the ground. Zero’s own blade ignited—a vortex of wild blue flame—and with a savage upward slash, he launched the third enemy off their feet. Only one left. The final masked figure was already waiting, standing calm—sword held at their side, loose, ready. They tilted their head, studying Zero. Zero’s blood boiled in his veins. His chest heaved, every breath ragged. Blue flames curled around his body like a living cloak, crackling along his blade. The masked figure moved. Faster than the others. They closed the distance in a heartbeat, their sword striking with lethal precision. Zero parried once—twice—but the third blow scraped across his ribs, forcing a gasp of pain from his lungs. The figure pressed harder, blade flashing like a storm—but Zero adapted. He twisted low, letting the flame guide him, and unleashed a sweeping slash infused with everything he had left. The Azuraflames howled, erupting outward like a tidal wave. The masked figure staggered—just for a second. Enough. Zero surged forward with a feral cry, slamming the pommel of his blade into the enemy’s chestplate, knocking them flat. The arena fell silent. Zero stood there, chest heaving, body scorched and trembling, but still standing. Above, King Kaku rose to his feet, his cloak billowing. His eyes—usually so cold—gleamed with a faint glimmer of pride. “He’s learning,” Kaku said, voice carrying over the arena. “He’s surviving.” Zero dropped to one knee, the fires around him dimming—not extinguished, but controlled. For now. Zero darted forward first, his boots grinding against the arena floor as blue fire trailed in his wake. The first masked opponent raised a twin-bladed staff, spinning it overhead in a blur— only for Zero to duck low, sliding beneath the swing and bringing his sword upward in a burst of flames. Sparks exploded on impact as the enemy blocked, but Zero didn’t stop. He twisted, launching a backward kick that staggered the masked fighter. Another enemy struck from behind, sword aimed for Zero’s shoulder—but Zen whispered just in time. “Left, now.” Zero pivoted hard, raising the Blade of Eldora to parry. The steel clanged and a shockwave rippled outward, kicking up dust. Zero’s flames flared again, but not wildly— controlled, tighter, focused into his blade as he twisted and threw the enemy off balance. But the third attacker was already in the air. A spiked chain lashed from above. It wrapped around Zero’s forearm, searing against his bracers. He hissed in pain, but instead of pulling away, he yanked hard—bringing the attacker down with him. They crashed to the ground together, and Zero drove his elbow into their ribs before rolling free. “You’re slowing,” Zen warned calmly. “I’m tired,” Zero hissed back. The fourth masked fighter stepped forward, not attacking—just watching. Waiting. Studying Zero’s pattern. Zero locked eyes with him, just for a moment. And that was long enough for the third one to recover and come at him again—this time with two blades. Zero raised his own blade, sparks flying as steel met steel in a furious exchange. Blow after blow, they traded strikes, and for a moment it looked like Zero was keeping pace. But his breathing grew sharper. His swings heavier. Then—his foot slipped. A feint caught him off guard. The masked fighter kicked him in the chest, sending Zero flying backward into the dirt. He hit the ground hard, dust clouding around him. “Get up,” Kaku’s voice echoed from the edge of the arena. “Again.” Zero groaned, but forced himself up. His body ached. His vision blurred. But his eyes still burned—bright blue. “Zen,” he muttered, “give me one percent again.” “Only one?” Zen replied. “For now.” A pulse of energy surged through Zero’s body as Azuraflames exploded from his back like wings. He screamed, half in pain, half in release. The fire coiled around him like armor. And then he charged again. The fight wasn’t over. It was just beginning. The sun hung low over Eldora’s capital, casting a warm golden hue across the stone-paved streets. For once, Zero wasn’t in the training grounds, or the halls of flame and silence. He was in the city—among the people. He wasn’t free for long. Just enough to stretch his legs. As long as he got back to the castle before nightfall, no one would stop him. The hum of life buzzed around him. Merchants shouted over crowded stalls, children darted between wagons, and guards stood posted near corners with bored eyes. Zero walked quietly, his hood draped low, hands tucked into the folds of his cloak. The wind pulled faintly at the fabric, and the smell of roasted meat and forge smoke hung in the air. It felt strange… being outside. Then a shout rang out through the square. Steel clashed. The crowd began to part around a commotion at the town’s center. Zero stepped closer, Leaving through curious onlookers until he had a clear view. Two adventurers stood locked in a duel. One wielded twin daggers, darting fast as lightning; the other countered with a massive claymore, swinging in wide, crushing arcs. Sparks danced with every collision. Their skill was undeniable—battlehardened and precise. The air grew thick with tension, and yet the guards did nothing. It wasn’t illegal. It was sport. Zero watched, wide-eyed, studying their movements. But someone else was watching, too. Across the street, tucked in the shadows of a tall building, stood a figure cloaked in dark gray—motionless, silent. The red insignia of Ember Vow glimmered faintly beneath the folds of their coat. Their head was tilted toward the fight, but their eyes… their eyes were locked on Zero. They didn’t move. They didn’t need to. Because this wasn’t about the duel. It was about him. Zero’s breath caught. That feeling again — like cold air brushing the back of his neck, like being stared at from behind a glass wall. He squinted, the crowd blurring in the corner of his vision… but the figure remained. Still. Watching. The adventurers kept dueling — the clang of their blades now distant to Zero’s ears, like background noise. He stepped forward. The figure didn’t flinch. Zero’s fingers twitched by his side, itching toward the hilt of the Blade of Eldora hidden beneath his cloak. Flames didn’t rise, not yet — but the seal on his chest pulsed faintly, like his power was aware of the threat even before his mind registered it. That was when a voice whispered beside him. “Don’t move, kid.” Zero blinked. Malik stood there, as if summoned by instinct alone. Cloak draped lazily over his shoulder, arms crossed — but his eyes were hard, staring straight at the cloaked figure in the distance. “You see them too?” Zero asked under his breath. “Oh, I see them,” Malik said. “Been watching since they stepped out of the alley. That’s no traveler.” “Ember Vow?” Malik didn’t answer directly. Instead, he shifted slightly, putting himself between Zero and the line of sight. “Let’s not give them a reason to make a scene,” he said. “But you keep your hand ready.” Zero nodded, slowly. Across the square, the cloaked figure tilted their head once, then… turned away. They slipped back into the alley, disappearing like smoke on the wind. “They’re not done,” Malik muttered. “I know,” Zero whispered, clenching his fist. “They were watching me.” “And they’ll keep watching. That’s what shadows do.” Malik turned to him. “Come on. You’ve had your walk. Let’s get back to the castle.” As they walked away, the sounds of the city returned — blades clashing, people cheering, the wind brushing against the rooftops. But the feeling didn’t leave. Someone, somewhere… had marked Zero. And they wouldn’t be the last. The throne room loomed in silence as Zero and Malik entered, the twin doors closing behind them with a low thud, sealing them inside with King Kaku's gaze. He sat at the foot of his throne, not lounging — waiting. Malik walked forward first, Zero behind him, the phantom heat of Zero's flames still swirling beneath his skin even after the fight was over, even after the figure in the crowd disappeared. Malik bowed his head slightly. “We encountered a threat within the city,” he said. “An Ember Vow operative. Watching Zero.” Kaku’s eyes narrowed. “Inside Eldora's walls?” “Yes.” Malik’s voice was grim. “They were tracking him during the public duels. Armed. Disappeared before we could intercept.” Kaku stood slowly from the throne, the tension in the room growing heavy — the kind that made the torches flicker as if sensing a storm. He descended the steps, his cloak dragging behind him like a specter, his gaze cutting through Zero. “First the village... now within my walls.” He paused. “You’ve drawn their gaze faster than expected, boy.” Zero didn’t flinch, but the blue in his eyes deepened, burning quietly like coals under pressure. Kaku turned to Malik. “Double the watch on him. Quietly. No uniforms. I want eyes on him everywhere.” Malik nodded once. Kaku circled Zero, his voice dropping into something colder. “You carry something they fear. Something they crave. But if you let that flame control you...” He stopped directly behind Zero. “Then you’ll be nothing but a beacon — calling every enemy within a hundred miles to our gates.” Zero clenched his fists tighter but said nothing. Kaku stepped back into view. “Tomorrow... training changes. You will learn to master the flame — or you will die trying.” The words weren’t cruel. They were simple fact. And somehow, that made them heavier. Kaku turned his back on them, walking toward the shadows of the throne. “Rest tonight,” he said over his shoulder. “Because the war for your soul begins at sunrise.” Zero breathed out, steady but cold. He wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.