Ember Reborn: The Flame That Defied Fate-Chapter 59: Ignition -

"Let’s see, then."

Back in my dorm room, I sat cross-legged on the bed and rolled my shoulders once, loosening the stiffness from the day.

Normally, the night before an exam, I’d be in a training ground swinging my sword until my arms went numb.

But the technique I’d been obsessing over lately didn’t require space.

It required focus.

Ssshh...

I inhaled slowly and closed my eyes.

My vision sank into darkness.

A quiet, endless void.

And then—

A massive flame erupted.

The Primordial Flame.

The fire said to have once burned the Tree of Creation in ancient times.

Even as a mental image, it was overwhelming—ancient, arrogant, and violent enough to make the air feel thin.

It roared like it wanted to swallow the world.

I stepped closer in this mental space, watching the fire surge and twist.

Then I extended my hand.

"Arise."

Nothing.

The Primordial Flame didn’t so much as flicker in response.

...As usual.

I clicked my tongue.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You don’t take orders."

After the fight with Astaroth, I’d spent every night studying how to control this thing, shaving sleep down to the bare minimum.

And through endless trial and error, I’d learned two important rules.

First: the Primordial Flame only "responds" to me after I trigger the Blessing of Revival—roughly on a several-hour cycle.

That part wasn’t new. I’d already noticed it during my earlier mana training.

But the second rule?

That was the real breakthrough.

Second: during the brief window when the flame reacts, if I give a command with enough willpower—clear, absolute, and focused—it will move.

Not much.

Not cleanly.

But it will move.

Like baiting a stubborn beast with blood scent, then snapping a leash around its throat for a few seconds.

Of course...

It still wasn’t easy.

I exhaled and steadied my breathing.

"Alright."

My mind sharpened.

My mana tightened.

I created a tiny pulse inside my body—small, controlled, and precise.

Then I triggered the Blessing.

There was no dramatic pain.

No gruesome imagery.

Just that familiar moment where everything went cold for a heartbeat—

And then—

Vrrrrm.

Warmth surged back in.

My body repaired itself in an instant, as if reality itself refused to let me stay down.

And in that exact moment, the Primordial Flame stirred.

The roaring mass in the void shifted—like it had finally noticed me.

’Now.’

I thrust my will forward, gripping the command like a sword.

"Arise."

For the first time tonight—

The flame moved.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

A tiny ember peeled away from the monstrous inferno and floated into my palm.

It was no bigger than a candle flame.

But the moment it existed in my grasp...

My heart pounded.

I brought the ember toward my left chest.

Fwoosh.

The ember sank into me like it belonged there.

A heat spread through my veins—controlled, contained, and sharp.

Not the apocalyptic eruption I’d felt in the Incarnation of Fire during the Astaroth battle.

This was smaller.

Cleaner.

Like a furnace being lit instead of a wildfire being unleashed.

I opened my eyes.

Then I stood.

"Haa..."

When I exhaled, a faint gray wisp escaped with my breath, like smoke from a newly lit blade.

My skin didn’t burn.

My room didn’t turn into an inferno.

But I could feel it—mana flowing differently.

My Stigmas, which always felt half-starved, began filling steadily.

’It’s working.’

Not explosively.

Not instantly.

But unmistakably.

My mana was recovering on its own.

I clenched my fist, the thrill shooting through me like electricity.

"Finally," I muttered. "You stubborn thing."

The Primordial Flame had ignored me for so long that even this tiny response felt like winning a war.

I took another slow breath and focused.

Next test.

Shing.

I drew my sword.

The blade caught the light from the dorm’s small lamp—plain iron, simple, almost insulting compared to what top cadets carried.

I channeled mana into it.

And—

Like oil feeding a spark, a faint, grayish flame traced the edge.

Not bright.

Not massive.

But sharp.

The air around the blade tightened, the pressure rising as if the sword itself had become heavier and more dangerous.

’So it’s fused into my mana.’

That was the key.

Instead of controlling the Primordial Flame directly like a separate entity, I could let it "ride" my mana.

As long as I moved mana, the Primordial Flame’s quality followed.

It felt... efficient.

More natural than I expected.

I tilted the sword slightly.

The flame flickered, steady and obedient—unlike the main body of the Primordial Flame in the void.

"Automatic mana recovery," I murmured, "and enhanced mana quality."

Two effects.

No increase in total capacity like the Incarnation of Fire.

But recovery plus enhancement?

That was huge.

Even a weaker version of Incarnation of Fire was still absurd.

I lowered the blade.

"Let’s name it..."

Names mattered for mental techniques.

Especially for powers like this—powers tied to symbolism and will.

When your mind hesitates, a name becomes a handle you can grab.

"Ignition," I decided.

Simple.

Clear.

It ignites what’s already there.

And it felt right—like lighting a furnace inside my chest.

I sheathed my sword carefully and exhaled again.

After a few more minutes, the faint smoke-like wisps faded.

The sensation of heat dulled.

The reaction window ended.

"Alright," I said quietly. "That’s enough for tonight."

I glanced around my dorm.

"...And I should probably clean."

There was a fine dusting of gray residue on the floor and desk—light enough to wipe away, but still obvious.

I grabbed a cloth and started cleaning, grumbling under my breath.

"Developing legendary powers is such a messy hobby."

The next day arrived.

Midterm evaluation day.

Warrior Department candidates gathered, armed and ready, near the warp devices at the testing grounds.

Professor Lucas’s voice boomed across the area.

"Time limit is eight hours! Your midterm score is determined by how many points you earn within that time!"

Cadets lined up by terrain sector—mountains, desert, snowfield.

I chose the mountainous terrain.

As expected, it had the longest line.

The "safe and familiar" choice always attracted crowds.

Lucas pointed at the warp device.

"Ten at a time. Step forward."

Ten cadets moved onto the platform.

"When it activates," Lucas continued, "you’ll be randomly transported to a location within your chosen sector."

He glanced at the group, eyes sharp.

"Keep your guard up. You might land near a beast."

"Yes, sir!"

"And if you get in trouble," Lucas said, voice dropping slightly, "use your Hero Watch to call for help."

His grin returned—mean and practical.

"Don’t be brave in a stupid way."

"We understand!"

The device hummed.

Blue light swirled.

And the first group vanished.

A few minutes later, my turn came.

I stepped onto the platform with the next batch.

Just before the activation, someone turned.

Yuren.

He stood a few steps away on the same platform, sword strapped neatly, posture perfect.

His eyes locked onto mine.

"...I won’t lose," he said.

I chuckled.

"That won’t be easy."

Yuren’s jaw tightened.

Then the warp device activated.

Wuuuung!

Blue light swallowed us.

My stomach lurched as gravity became a suggestion.

It felt like floating through water and air at once.

For a heartbeat, everything was weightless.

Then—

"Ugh..."

I rubbed my temple as the world snapped back into place.

Warp travel always left a faint dizziness, like your body briefly forgot where "here" was.

I looked around.

Dense underbrush.

Trees taller than fifteen meters.

Damp earth and leaves.

The scent of living forest filled my nose.

"Hah..."

A low laugh escaped me.

"...You’ve got to be kidding."

The place was familiar.

Not just "similar."

Exact.

The same slope.

The same cluster of rocks.

The same bent tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning years ago.

"I landed in the same spot," I muttered.

Whether it was coincidence or fate, I didn’t know.

But standing here made old memories rise like ghosts.

This was where my life had taken a sharp turn in my previous timeline.

Not because I gained a reward.

Not because I won.

But because I learned something I should never have learned the hard way.

’This is where I first realized I couldn’t stay dead.’

Back then, I’d stumbled through the midterm terrified, weak, and desperate to survive.

I’d thought the exam was the end of my world.

Now I knew it had only been the beginning.

I exhaled slowly.

"Well," I said, placing a hand on my sword, "time to move."

The six-eyed mount—the one with the bell—was rumored to appear in the mountainous region first.

But I didn’t remember the exact location.

In my past life, I hadn’t been hunting it.

I’d been busy trying to understand why I was still breathing.

So I pushed forward through the brush.

Rustle. Rustle.

Branches scraped my sleeves.

Leaves crunched softly underfoot.

Then—

"GRAAAH!"

A black shape launched out of the bushes with a savage roar.

I slid back instinctively, turning my shoulders and stepping aside.

The beast landed where I’d been a moment ago.

Wolf-like body.

Razor claws.

Fangs wet with saliva.

And three blood-red eyes glaring like lanterns.

I stared at it.

Then I laughed again—quiet, almost fond.

"Well," I said, lifting my sword slightly, "long time no see."

The beast snarled.

It didn’t recognize me.

Of course it didn’t.

But I recognized it.

This was the same three-eyed wolf-like demonic beast I’d faced here in my previous life.

The one that had made me understand the meaning of fear.

The one that had made me understand the meaning of revival.

I took a calm breath.

The beast tensed, ready to pounce.

I smiled.

"How’ve you been?"