Ch. 4 — Trial by Fire

The city burned from within.

Not by demon fire, but by its own people.

Crowds filled the squares, their voices sharp as blades. One side chanted Arata’s name, calling him savior, protector, immortal flame. The other screamed curses, shouting for his exile, for his death, for the city to be free of his shadow.

The clash erupted into fists, into stones, into blood.

Soldiers rushed in, but even they were divided. Some formed shields around civilians who praised Arata. Others raised weapons against those who defended him, convinced they were blinded by fear.

Steel rang in the streets.

It was no longer whispers. It was civil war.

From the rooftop above, Arata watched. His crimson coat flared in the hot wind, his shades reflecting the chaos below. His jaw was tight, his thin smile gone.

“—They’re doing the demons’ job for them, ” he muttered.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Aris stood beside him, her face pale but her eyes still sharp.

“This city is tearing itself apart, ” she said grimly. “And if we don’t stop it now, there won’t be a city left to save. ”

Arata let the breath go, flames sparking faintly along his fist. “—Yeah. But if I step in, I’ll just prove half of them right. ”

Aris pivoted to him, her voice low but steady. “Then the question is—will you save lives, even if it costs you every last shred of their trust? ”

The screams below rose higher. Blood hit the cobblestones.

He leapt from the rooftop, flame roaring around him, into the heart of the riot.

The moment Arata hit the ground, the riot froze.

His crimson coat flared in the dust, his katana gleamed with fire, and the glow of his Draconic Eyes leaked from behind his shades like embers through cracks in stone. Every voice fell silent—not from peace, but from fear.

Then chaos broke again.

Stones flew. Blades clashed. Civilians screamed as soldiers shoved through the crowd.

Arata’s blade flashed free.

He didn’t strike to kill. He struck to stop. With one swing, a wall of flame roared between clashing groups, forcing them apart. With another, he shattered spears and swords, molten steel dripping from broken weapons. His speed blurred, his strikes clean, every motion precise.

But precision didn’t matter.

The sight of him—a silver-haired giant wreathed in fire, scattering both soldiers and civilians like insects—only fed the whispers.

“Protector. ”

The words tangled, louder than steel.

Arata’s chest heaved. He grabbed one soldier by the collar just as the man raised a blade to a child. “Drop it, ” Arata growled. The soldier froze, trembling, then dropped the weapon. But when Arata released him, the man staggered back in terror, as if saved by the very monster he feared.

On the other side, civilians knelt, reaching toward him with trembling hands. “Save us, Flame. ” “Protect us. ”

Arata swung his katana down, splitting the cobblestones between them. His voice roared, sharp enough to cut the noise.

“Enough. You want to fight? Fight me. But stop tearing each other apart while demons are out there laughing. ”

The flames hissed and crackled. The crowd faltered, stunned into silence.

But in their eyes—fear still burned.

Some bowed lower. Others backed away, whispering curses.

Arata let the breath go, sliding his katana back into its sheath with a sharp click. “—Figures. Save their lives, scare them worse. ”

The Council Chamber was louder than the riot itself.

Governors and generals shouted across the steel table, their faces red, their fists slamming into maps scattered with bloodstained reports.

“He stopped the massacre. ” one cried. “Without him, soldiers and civilians would be burying each other right now. ”

Another spat back, “Stopped it? He caused it. Did you see how they looked at him? A monster tearing through the crowd, fire roaring like the end of days. He didn’t save them—he terrified them. ”

The arguments tangled into a storm.

At the head of the chamber, Aris stood rigid, her arms crossed, her eyes like blades. “Enough. You speak as though you’ve forgotten who the true enemy is. ”

Her words cut through, but only for a heartbeat.

One governor sneered, pointing at her. “The true enemy stands behind you, Commander. ”

Every head turned.

Arata leaned against the wall in the shadows, his crimson coat scorched, his katana resting casually against his shoulder. His let out a small, lopsided smile was faint, tired, but unbroken.

“Well, ” he drawled, “don’t stop on my account. ”

The chamber erupted again.

“Exile him before he burns us all. ”

“He’s the only reason we’re alive. ”

“He draws the demons to us. ”

“He slays them when no one else can. ”

Arata adjusted his shades, his grin sharp but bitter. “—Didn’t realize my résumé was this popular. ”

Aris slammed her palm against the table, steel cracking under her hand. “Enough. ”

Her eyes swept the room. “Without Arata, the general would have slaughtered us. Without Arata, the lieutenant would have twisted this city to ash. You fear him because he is power—but remember this: power wielded against our enemy is the only reason we still breathe. ”

The chamber wavered, divided, whispers tangled.

Arata gave a faint smirk faded into something heavier. He pushed off the wall, stepping forward, his voice low but cutting. “—You don’t have to like me. Hell, you can hate me all you want. But if you think you’ll survive what’s coming without me, you’re already dead. ”

He turned, leaving the chamber in stunned silence.

Far in the ruins, the Crowned Demon smiled into the black flame.

“Perfect. Let him burn their trust away with every victory. Soon, the immortal flame will stand alone—and alone, even flame dies. ”

The shadows hissed with laughter, carrying the promise of ruin.

The night pressed heavy over the city.

Voices carried upward—fearful whispers, bitter curses, desperate prayers.

“—He saved us. ”

“—He’ll destroy us. ”

Arata exhaled smoke from a half-burned cigarette, his wry smile faint but hollow. “—Shield or curse, huh? Guess I get to be both. ”

The flame in his chest burned restless, not steady. Not tonight.

Beyond the walls, the ruins stirred.

The Crowned Demon stood in a circle of black fire, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “He divides them without even trying. Let us prove his presence poisons them further. ”

The shadows answered.

From the darkness, a dozen demon infiltrators emerged. Slender, sharp, their forms twisted to resemble humans—soldiers, workers, even children. Their eyes burned faint crimson, but their disguises were near flawless.

The Crowned Demon raised a hand, black fire sealing over them like a veil. “Go. Sow chaos in his name. When the humans see blood, they will believe it came from the flame. ”

The infiltrators bowed silently and slipped into the night, vanishing toward the city walls.

Inside the city, a soldier patrolling near the market stiffened as footsteps echoed.

“Who’s there? ” he barked.

From the shadows, a familiar face stepped forward—another soldier, someone he knew. Relief softened his stance. “You scared me. Thought you were—”

The man’s throat split open in a spray of crimson.

The infiltrator’s crimson eyes gleamed faintly as he whispered: “The flame burns us all. ”

Screams erupted in the market. Chaos spread like wildfire.

And far above, Arata’s Draconic Eyes flared. He dropped the cigarette, ash scattering, and rose to his feet.

“—So that’s your play. ”

The battlefield cracked under the weight of gods and monsters.

The winged general’s cleaver swung with the force of a collapsing mountain. Arata met it head-on, katana sparking molten light, the shockwave splitting the ground into canyons.

The serpent general coiled around him, fangs striking like lightning. Arata twisted free, fire exploding from his blade, searing scales to ash. But the obsidian general struck from behind, spear tearing through the air, grazing Arata’s side with molten fire.

Blood sprayed. His coat burned. The corner of his mouth quirked and stayed.

“—Gotta admit, ” he growled, flames flaring hotter, “you three almost make this fun. ”

From the walls, soldiers and civilians watched in awe and terror.

“He’s—fighting them alone. ”

“No one can survive that. ”

“—He’s not human,he’s not even mortal. ”

Some cheered, voices breaking with desperation. “The flame will save us. ”

Others angled away, trembling. “That’s not salvation. That’s a monster in human skin. ”

The divide widened with every strike.

Arata roared, his Draconic Eyes blazing crimson-white, the world slowing to fragments. His katana blurred in molten arcs, cutting the serpent general’s coils. He leapt high, fire swirling around him, cleaving through one of the winged giant’s bony wings.

The beast howled, crashing into the dirt.

The obsidian general lunged, spear aimed for Arata’s heart.

He caught it between both hands, fire burning against molten steel, sparks showering the battlefield. His grin sharpened through grit. “—Not today. ”

With a roar, he shattered the spear’s shaft, flames detonating outward in a wave that hurled the three generals back.

For a heartbeat, silence fell.

Then the army shrieked louder than ever.

On the walls, Aris’s saber gleamed as she pointed toward the battlefield. “Do you see it? He bleeds for this city. He is our shield. ”

Some soldiers raised their blades, courage surging. Others only whispered sharper, fear stronger than faith.

“—If that’s our shield, then we’re already doomed. ”

Arata stood in the crater, smoke rising, blood dripping, flames roaring around him. His katana cracked, glowing white-hot, his chest heaving.

“—This fire doesn’t go out, ” he muttered. Then he lifted his blade again, charging the generals once more.

The siege thundered on.

The battlefield boiled.

The three generals closed in again—winged cleaver raised high, serpent fangs dripping venom, obsidian spear burning with molten light. Each step shook the earth, each roar split the sky.

Arata’s grip tightened on his katana. The steel glowed white-hot, cracks racing along its length, fire searing the air. His Draconic Eyes flared, crimson-white light cutting through the chaos.

“—Guess it’s time, ” he muttered, thin smile sharp through bloodied lips. “You wanted a monster? Here it is. ”

He roared—flames erupting in a torrent that split the battlefield in two.

His katana became a sun, his body wreathed in molten light. The air screamed, the ground pivoted to ash beneath his feet. Soldiers on the walls shielded their eyes, some crying out in awe, others in terror.

“He’s—he’s not human. ”

“He’s going to burn everything—”

“No—he’s saving us,. ”

The divide sharpened, louder than the clash of steel.

Arata swung.

A single arc of fire split the night, cleaving through the serpent general’s body. It shrieked, dissolving into smoke.

The winged giant roared, charging, cleaver descending. Arata met it midair, his flaming blade carving straight through bone and muscle, severing the monster in two.

The obsidian general lunged, spear aimed for Arata’s chest. Arata caught it, fire detonating, shattering the weapon before driving his katana straight through its core. The armored beast exploded in a storm of molten shards.

Three generals.

All gone in a single blaze.

But when the fire faded, Arata staggered. His crimson coat was in tatters, his arms burned raw, blood pouring from his wounds. His katana cracked further, glowing faint but unstable.

His chest heaved. The flame inside roared, too wild, too consuming.

“—Damn. body’s not keeping up. ” he muttered, let out a small, lopsided smile trembling.

From the walls, soldiers stared, pale with fear.

“He killed them all—”

“Alone—”

“—But look at him. He’s breaking. ”

Some cheered, raising their weapons. Others stepped back, whispering curses, convinced the flame would turn on them next.

Aris gripped the rampart, her eyes sharp but heavy. Every time he saves us, he loses more of their trust. How much longer can he carry both battles—the demons and their fear?

Arata straightened, blood dripping, his gave a tight half-smile faint but unbroken. He lifted his cracked blade again, voice raw but steady.

“This fire doesn’t—go out. ”

The battlefield stank of ash and blood.

With their generals fallen, the demon horde faltered. Roars angled to shrieks, their advance collapsing into chaos. Some scattered into the wasteland. Others charged blindly, only to be cut down by volleys of arrows from the walls.

For the first time that night, the tide broke.

On the ramparts, soldiers raised their blades high. “The flame. The flame protects us. ”

Civilians cried out in relief, clutching one another, their voices trembling with awe.

But just as many whispered sharper, fear dripping like poison.

“—He killed them alone. ”

“—He burned brighter than demons. ”

“—What happens when that fire turns on us? ”

The city cheered and cursed in the same breath.

At the center of the battlefield, Arata stood swaying, katana cracked and smoking in his hand. His crimson coat was torn to rags, blood dripping from open wounds. His chest heaved, each breath heavier than the last.

“—Heh. ” his wry smile curved faint, bitter. “Guess. even monsters. get tired. ”

The fire in his chest flared wildly, no longer steady but consuming. His knees buckled. The world blurred.

Arata collapsed to the dirt.

From the walls, Aris’s eyes widened. “Arata. ”

She vaulted from the rampart, her saber flashing as she cut through stragglers, sprinting across the battlefield. Soldiers called after her, some following, others hesitating.

She dropped to his side, catching his body before it hit the ground fully. His skin burned hot beneath her hands, like holding raw flame.

“Damn you—” she whispered, voice tight, “. always burning too much. ”

Arata’s let the corner of his mouth quirk lingered faintly, though his eyes flickered. “—Still. breathing, aren’t I? ”

Then his head lolled, unconscious.

Far beyond the battlefield, in the ruins lit by black fire, the Crowned Demon watched through a veil of smoke. His golden eyes gleamed with cruel delight.

“Good—let him win their battles. Let him bleed himself dry for their sake. For every cheer, a curse. For every victory, a fracture. ”

The fire roared higher, shadows hissing like laughter.

“The immortal flame will burn itself out—and when it does, humanity will already be ash. ”

Dawn broke over the battlefield.

Smoke curled above shattered earth, the stench of ash and blood heavy in the air. The demon army had retreated into the wasteland, their corpses smoldering in molten heaps. The walls still stood. The city still breathed.

But victory tasted hollow.

In the courtyard, soldiers gathered around Arata’s unconscious body. He lay on a stretcher, crimson coat shredded, silver hair matted with blood. His katana, cracked and glowing faintly, rested beside him.

Civilians pressed close, their voices a storm of contradiction.

“He saved us all. ”

“He’ll burn us next. ”

Some reached toward him with trembling hands, as if to bless. Others spat curses, demanding he be cast out before the next battle.

The council stood divided, their whispers sharper than blades.

Aris silenced none of them. She stood watchful at Arata’s side, her expression hard as steel, her hand resting on her saber. Her gaze swept the crowd, daring anyone to step closer.

Let them whisper, she thought. He’s still the reason they’re alive to whisper at all.

Far beyond the city, deep in the ruins, the Crowned Demon watched through black flame. His golden eyes gleamed, his smile calm, patient.

“He stands between them and the abyss, ” the demon murmured. “And yet, they fear him more than they fear us. ”

The shadows hissed in agreement, curling like smoke around his throne.

“Good. Let him bleed. Let him burn. When the time comes, the immortal flame will be alone—and even fire cannot survive without air to feed it. ”

The black fire roared, carrying laughter across the wasteland.