The portal flared open like a sunburst tearing through the void.
When Matt stepped through, the world screamed.
Heat surged from all directions—immediate, blistering, primal. He staggered into a scorched canyon where jagged obsidian cliffs rose like broken fangs. Between their cracks flowed molten regret, pulsing like the dying heartbeat of a god. Rivers of flame raged below. Ash drifted from above like snow—soft, endless, suffocating.
The sky bled crimson.
And it wept fire.
> Trial Two: The Realm of Flame.
The announcement didn't come in words. It arrived as laughter—dark, familiar, cruel.
Thermuz.
Not the true god of flame, but a conjured echo. A fragment of divine wrath, animated by Matt's trauma and divine will.
Still, the hate felt real.
"Back again, little Nitine?" the echo sneered. "I remember your world. It burned beautifully."
Matt stepped forward, boots hissing against the molten rock. His coat smoldered, shoulders blistering beneath. He didn't flinch.
The Shadowsidian Blade pulsed in his grip. The air shimmered around him, warping under the heat.
"Do you remember the screams you caused?" Matt asked, voice low and lethal.
"I remember the silence that followed."
From the center of a lava river, Thermuz rose.
A towering construct of flame and armor, crowned with magma-forged horns, wings of molten bone stretched wide. In his hand he held the Blazing Scythe of Perdition, a weapon so hot the air whimpered as it passed. Every ember it shed screamed like souls denied peace.
Thermuz flickered between elemental wrath and fractured memory.
This wasn't just fire.
It was Matt's past, burning to be remembered.
---
> Combat Initiated: Matt vs. Flame Echo of Thermuz
The scythe roared through the air. Thermuz charged.
Matt sidestepped just as a wall of sentient fire erupted at his heels. The flames called his name, clawing at him like serpents forged from guilt.
He responded with Voidflame—a burst of violet-black energy that slammed into the firestorm.
Flame and void collided, not just for control—but for truth.
For every strike Thermuz made, Matt saw Nyuga's cities crumble.
For every ember that touched him, he heard his mother's final incantation, echoing through ash.
"This isn't just fire," the echo mocked. "It's your guilt. Made real."
"No," Matt snarled. The blade in his hand ignited with twin energies—flame and void pulsing in rhythm. "This is your legacy. And I'm here to end it."
He lunged.
Blade in one hand, Voidflame in the other.
Thermuz met him swing for swing—but Matt was no longer the boy hiding beneath rubble. He was sharper. Faster. Angrier.
Scythe clashed against sword. Ember collided with void. Regret battled rage.
Amiya's voice whispered from memory:
"Protect what's left… even if it's only ash."
That was all he needed.
Matt roared, drove the Voidflame directly into the scythe's core—and shattered it.
The weapon exploded in a cascade of molten sparks.
Thermuz reeled, form fracturing, collapsing into slag and memory. But before he vanished, he grinned—wide, cracked, knowing.
"You are fire too, Matt," the echo rasped. "And fire always betrays."
Then he was gone.
---
The canyon groaned.
Obsidian cliffs crumbled. Lava surged, wild and blind. The sky cracked like burning glass.
Matt stood unmoving, breath ragged, skin blistered and healing by divine reflex. Voidflame cloaked him, swirling like a second soul.
On his forearm, a new sigil seared itself into place—a crimson brand pulsing with restrained fury.
> Seal of Tempered Wrath: Acquired
Your flame no longer consumes. It remembers.
Outside the trial realm, a second orb ignited—flaring in smoke and firelight.
> 2 of 5 Trials: Complete.
---
The ashstorm parted.
A new portal shimmered open among the ruin—this one veined in silver and blue, its edges rippling like water seen through fractured time. Through its surface danced glimpses of people, of moments—faces Matt couldn't place, voices he once knew.
> Next Trial: The Realm of Time.
Matt rolled his shoulders. His coat flaked away in charred ribbons, revealing skin marked by radiant sigils—testaments to pain endured.
The flames still licked at his heels. But they no longer burned.
He turned toward the portal, then looked once at the brand on his arm.
"Guess we'll see what kind of man I used to be."
And without another word, he stepped into the past.