I still couldn't believe it—Flareth had acknowledged me.
After our intense battle, Flareth led me 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 flames 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 name 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 me," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, "that black flame you wield—where did you get it?"
