Hey guys! Sorry about the wait. Work has been hitting me like a truck and it's been far busier than expected. So I haven't been able to work on or post the story! But here is chapter 16! Hope you guys enjoy!
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The sky was just beginning to pale when Sang stirred, eyes flickering open before the sun had a chance to climb. The world outside the window was still, cast in hues of deep blue and soft gray. He sat up slowly, the soreness in his limbs already fading, replaced by a weight that wasn't physical. A hum in his chest—not restless, but focused.
He stood, grabbed his jacket, and slipped outside without waking the others. The rooftop above the inn was empty and quiet, just the way he liked it. The wind was cool, crisp, and it carried the faintest trace of ash—always ash, no matter how far he went.
Sitting cross-legged near the edge, he let out a breath and opened his System.
[Unspent Stat Points: 45]
Sang exhaled slowly. He'd held off assigning them. Not because he'd forgotten. But because of the same flaw everyone had—procrastination. Truthfully, he kind of wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep.
He'd been training and diving into dungeons every day. And while the power was real, the high from unlocking the System had started to wear off. Reality was setting in.
This wasn't a game, and he was slowly realizing he'd been treating it like one. This was real life. And while he'd survived so far thanks to his wits and allies... that wouldn't last forever. What if one day, he got in too deep—and didn't make it out?
Thoughts like that made him want to crawl back under the covers and pretend he was still the guy he'd been before this all started. But that wasn't who he was anymore. He had responsibilities now. People who relied on him. A flame that answered to him—and that he needed in return.
Would giving up here because of doubt really be okay?
No. No one ever moved forward by listening to doubt.
I'm not just trying to survive anymore.
He began allocating points deliberately:
+12 MAG – for stronger flame control, more precision in battle.
+10 RES – to strengthen his bond with the White Flame and anchor his mind.
+10 STR – every hit with Emberfang needed to count.
+8 AGI – he needed to move faster, react sharper.
+5 VIT – because getting knocked down was only okay the first time.
The numbers clicked into place. No flourish. No fanfare. Just a gentle, satisfying pulse in his chest—the flame resonating in quiet agreement.
A soft voice cut through the silence. "Don't think getting stronger means you're invincible."
Sang glanced over his shoulder. Kaelira leaned against the rooftop access door, arms crossed, hair tousled by the wind.
"Never said I was. But... sometimes I wonder. With this System, it's hard not to feel like I'm playing a game. But the danger—it's real. Every time we go into those dungeons, we're gambling with our lives. And for what? So I can get stronger? So I can call myself a Monarch one day?"
He hesitated, voice low. "Why me? Why would this System choose someone like me? I was just some unawakened guy, barely scraping by. What did it even see in me?"
Kaelira didn't scoff. She didn't dismiss it. She nodded.
"You were stuck in an ordinary life. And maybe that's why it chose you—because you might understand the ones who follow you."
Sang looked at her for a long moment. She might not be wrong. A good leader understood the people beneath them—not just their strengths, but their struggles too.
He looked down at his hand, watching the faint glimmer of White Flame dance across his knuckles. It flickered steady, not wild. Not demanding.
"Maybe you're right. Still, picking some random guy with no real talents? Sounds kind of stupid to me." He would say to her as she looked at him with what for her might as well be amazement.
Kaelira pushed off the doorframe and stepped forward. "No talents? You don't see your own strengths. You're incredibly adaptable. You use your abilities with creativity, like your flame step. You use it as a way to enhance your strikes instead of just for evasion. That is good usage of your techniques. You believe yourself to be unqualified, but I am starting to believe you may be the most qualified for the title of Monarch."
He stood, meeting her gaze as he saw her unwavering determination. She was beginning to really believe in him. Even if he wasn't sure of himself.
"Then I guess it's time for my real test. I said after I completed that dungeon we would be heading to the Spire. So let's not keep destiny waiting."
Kaelira looked at him for a moment and nodded. It was time that they had finally introduced themselves to what Baran had left behind.
"Then let's see what it remembers about you."
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The streets buzzed with early morning life by the time the trio left the apartment. The market stalls were already open, vendors calling out over the clatter of hooves and the hum of mana-charged carts. The air carried the competing scents of fresh bread, sizzling meat, and the sharp tinge of potion herbs.
Sang walked with quiet purpose. Kaelira kept her pace steady beside him, eyes scanning their surroundings out of habit. Lysara lagged slightly behind, rubbing sleep from her eyes and muttering something about overpriced healing salves.
"Do you ever stop grumbling?" Sang asked without looking back.
"Only when someone else pays for everything," Lysara replied, smirking. "But hey, if you're feeling generous, I'll take two elixirs and a mana stim."
They made their rounds efficiently—potions, emergency mana caps, rations, and a reinforced chest guard for Kaelira. Sang handled the costs without hesitation. Kaelira didn't comment, but he caught the way she adjusted the armor with practiced care, testing the movement, giving him a brief nod. Subtle acknowledgment.
Lysara picked up a pouch of crystalized fire salt, turning it in her hands. "We ever going to talk about the fact that you're technically royalty now?"
Sang raised an eyebrow. "Royalty?"
"You know," she said, tossing the pouch back on the counter. "Spire authority. Flameborn kneeling. System calling you 'recognized.' It's all very... imperial."
He sighed. "I don't want to rule anything."
"You might not have a choice," Kaelira murmured.
That quiet statement hung in the air as they left the shop.
As they crossed into a less crowded street, Sang's phone buzzed. He checked it casually, expecting a city alert or another spam message from one of the local guilds.
[Gate Notification – Spire Recognized: Entry Approved]
[Legacy Access: Confirmed]
[Floor One Unlocked]
The screen dimmed. He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
The flame inside his chest flared once, faint but warm. A pulse of acknowledgment.
He looked at the others. "It's time."
No one argued. Not this time.
They just followed him toward the Spire.
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The Spire stood like a scar against the morning skyline—tall, dark, and pulsing with a low emberlight that hadn't been there the day before. Its structure was ancient, jagged at the edges, as though half-formed from volcanic rock and something older, less natural. The base was surrounded by remnants of an old barrier: a chain-link fence mostly collapsed, and a cracked ward stone barely glowing.
Today, the ward stone pulsed. Not with defense, but recognition.
Sang approached slowly but without hesitation. The others followed in silence. Kaelira's expression was focused, eyes narrowing at the low hum rising from within the Spire. Lysara's usual energy was subdued—her gaze darted to the top of the tower, then back to the sealed entrance.
"Anyone else feel like it's breathing?" Lysara muttered, rubbing her arms.
Kaelira didn't take her eyes off the Spire. "It's resonating."
Sang said nothing. He stepped forward until he stood directly before the entrance. A heavy silence fell. He raised his hand slowly. The White Flame responded before he even willed it to—flaring out across his palm, steady and warm.
At the archway's edge, glyphs hidden in the blackened stone flickered to life, glowing the same pale hue as Sang's flame. The sound was low and deep, like the inhale of something old waking up.
The Spire opened.
A seam split down the center of the entrance. Stone ground against stone, sending a deep echo down the street as the stairway within was revealed—spiraling downward, dimly lit by faint veins of emberlight.
[Spire Response: Confirmed]
[Legacy Resonance – Authority Access: Active]
[Floor One: Trial Initiated Upon Entry]
Kaelira stepped up beside him, her voice low. "Seems like it grants you access."
Sang's gaze didn't leave the glowing stairway. "Yeah, and that was the easy part.."
For a breath, none of them moved. Then he stepped forward, the white flame pulsing gently as he crossed the threshold. The stairway lit beneath his feet, emberlight tracing his path with every step.
Kaelira followed next, silent and watchful. Lysara hesitated just long enough to mutter, "If we die, I'm blaming all of you," before trailing behind.
The Spire had been waiting.
And now, it would see what kind of Monarch had come to claim it.
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The stairway spiraled deeper than they expected. The air grew thick with flame-tinged mana, pressing against their skin like a storm about to break. Each step felt heavier, not just from descent, but from the quiet pressure of something ancient watching them.
When they finally emerged into the first floor, it wasn't into a throne room or ceremonial hall—it was a battlefield. Or the echo of one.
The remains of a war camp sprawled in ruin across the cavernous chamber. Scorched tents drooped from bent poles, blackened weapon racks stood like sentinels long since abandoned, and shards of armor lay half-buried in drifts of ash. Braziers flickered weakly, flames dancing as though unsure whether to burn or fade.
Kaelira's expression shifted. Her eyes moved slowly across the scene—not with fear, but with memory.
"This was a forward base," she said quietly. "One of Baran's staging grounds during the old war."
Sang stepped past her, boots crunching against charred debris. "Looks more like a graveyard now."
He reached the center of the chamber—and something shifted.
A sudden wave of heat rolled out from beneath his feet, silent but forceful. The glyphs hidden in the stone sparked to life.
From the wreckage, they came.
Figures began to rise from the ruins—broad-shouldered silhouettes wrapped in fractured armor, emberlight pulsing behind cracked helms and hollow eyes. Dozens of them, their movements staggered at first, then frighteningly coordinated.
Lysara drew her blade with a sharp curse. "Guess the welcome party's here."
[Trial Initiated – Flamebound Revenants Detected]
[Objective: Survive and Defeat the Flamebound Host]
Sang narrowed his eyes. They weren't wild. They moved in unison, forming ranks like soldiers, each step echoing with discipline and memory.
"Kaelira," he muttered, "Were these really your people?"
She stepped forward, face unreadable. "They were." Her voice was almost too quiet. "Now they're just echoes clinging to the flame."
The revenants stopped as one. For a moment, silence reigned. Then, the first line raised their weapons—some with blades cracked and scorched, others with fists wrapped in glowing flame.
They charged.
Sang didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, drawing Emberfang in one smooth motion. The White Flame burst forth, coiling around him in a sudden flare.
"Form up!" he barked. "Don't let them close ranks!"
Kaelira was already moving, fire coating her limbs as she met the first of the revenants head-on. Lysara darted to the side, sigils flaring from her hands as she launched a cascade of burning light to intercept the flank.
The floor lit up in flickers of fire, shadow, and motion. Steel met flame. Ash flew. And in the center of it all, Sang moved like he was born there—among ghosts, fire, and the expectations of a legacy that had never truly died.
The first floor had awakened. The trial had begun.
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The revenants surged forward in formation, their weapons glowing with the same unnatural heat that radiated from their hollow chests. They weren't mindless. They moved like soldiers. And they wanted Sang dead.
He met the charge head-on, Emberfang igniting in his grasp. The White Flame roared up his arm, answering the tension in his chest with a surge of fierce clarity.
Kaelira was at his side in an instant, intercepting two revenants with a wide arc of flame-coated kicks that sent sparks scattering across the blackened ground. "Watch the flank!" she barked, ducking under a blade and countering with a blast of heat.
"Already on it!" Lysara shouted from behind, launching a pair of flame-bolstered sigils that exploded mid-air, catching several revenants in a concussive blast. She wasn't as fast or strong, but she was precise—and every shot bought them precious seconds.
One of the larger revenants broke through the defensive line, lunging straight at Sang with a flaming war axe. Sang twisted low and Flame Stepped beneath the attack, Emberfang cutting upward through the revenant's side in a clean arc. The creature didn't scream. It simply fell, breaking apart into ash before hitting the floor.
Another followed. Then another.
Sang kept moving—his body on fire, not with pain, but purpose. The White Flame flowed through him like breath now, not needing control. Just intention.
But there were too many.
Kaelira grunted as she caught a heavy blow with her arm, flames shielding her from the worst of it. She stumbled back, and Sang Flame Stepped behind the attacker, driving Emberfang through its spine before it could finish the job.
They fought as a unit now. Sang adjusted to their rhythm, reading their movements and filling gaps. Lysara's magic curved around his swings. Kaelira's footwork matched his steps. They weren't flawless—but they were together.
Then the ground shook.
A final revenant stepped forward—twice the size of the others, its chestplate marked with a faded insignia that looked eerily familiar. A commander, maybe. It carried a halberd of charred blacksteel, flame pouring off it like a waterfall.
The trio instinctively fanned out. Lysara's spell hit first, but the creature didn't flinch. Kaelira struck its side with a fiery dropkick that barely staggered it.
It turned toward Sang.
The White Flame inside him responded before he even raised his sword. Not with aggression.
With defiance.
Sang charged forward, not waiting for an opening. The commander swung the halberd in a wide, crushing arc. Sang leapt forward, Flame Stepping mid-air, reappearing behind the revenant—and slamming Emberfang straight into the center of its back.
The revenant howled. Not a mindless shriek—but something closer to release. Its flame surged, then shattered outward in a shockwave of heat and ash.
Sang dropped to a knee as the blast passed through him. The chamber went quiet again.
[Trial Complete – Host Defeated]
[Authority Over Floor One Granted]
[Restricted Chambers Unsealed]
He breathed hard, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Kaelira limped toward him, scorched but alive. Lysara was already checking the perimeter, her energy flagging.
Sang looked around at the ash-covered battlefield. The first true test of the Spire was behind them.
And yet... something told him this was only the surface.
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The corridor behind the battlefield still hummed with residual heat. Past the scorched stone and flickering braziers, a section of wall began to shift. Stone scraped against stone as a hidden seal cracked open, revealing a chamber dimly lit by dormant flame.
Sang stepped cautiously inside. Kaelira followed, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the glyphs etched into the walls—familiar, ancient, and binding.
"Containment runes," she muttered. "I haven't seen runes like these in a long time. Normally they are used to contain enemies, but based on their structure and the wording in the runes that was not their purpose here."
"What were they for?" Sang asked.
Kaelira's flame flickered low around her fingers. "To preserve."
Inside, figures lay motionless—half a dozen Flameborn, their bodies gaunt but intact, faint embers flickering beneath their skin. As the seal broke fully, a pulse of mana ran through the chamber, and one by one, they stirred.
The first to rise was tall and lean, with scars etched across his jaw and neck. His eyes opened slowly—glowing with faint flame.
He looked at Sang, and something in his expression softened.
"You carry it," he said, his voice hoarse. "We thought it had passed with Lord Baran, but it seems our prayers have been answered."
Sang said nothing at first. He didn't know what to say.
Kaelira stepped forward. "You were sealed here when the Spire fell."
The man nodded. "We remained loyal. When the throne collapsed, others rebelled. We hid and waited for his return."
Another Flameborn moved beside him, younger, voice steadier. "You are the White Flame reborn. If your flame still honors what we once followed... then we are yours to command."
[New Subordinates Acquired – Flameborn Reforged x4]
[Command of the White Flame – Initiated]
[Leadership Trait Progression: Activated]
[The Spire Watches...]
Kaelira didn't speak for a long moment. She looked at Sang and gave him a nod.
And that, from her, meant more than words.
Sang exhaled slowly. "I'm not Baran. I'm not here to rule like he did. But if you still believe in the flame, then walk with me."
The chamber's emberlight flared in response. Not blinding. Just steady.
The Spire had chosen.
And Sang's army had begun to take shape.
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