I didn't sleep that night.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't want to.
Because for the first time in my life… I had power.
And power doesn't feel like flying.
It feels like drowning.
In flame. In fear. In memory.
The next morning, I walked into the training yard and everyone stepped aside.
Not joking.
They literally moved.
Like I was some kind of wildfire they didn't want to breathe near.
No laughter.
No taunts.
Just wide eyes.
I passed Kairen on the way to the weapons racks.
He didn't even look at me.
And honestly?
That scared me more than all the fights I ever lost.
Because when people hate you, they mock you.
When they fear you?
They stay silent.
Like you're already halfway to monster.
Later, I was summoned to the Headmaster's Tower.
I'd never been up there before.
Only A-Ranks, top instructors, and high-blood nobles were allowed in.
A maid led me up twisting stairs, past walls made of glowing runes and floating candles.
When I walked into the top floor, the air changed.
It was thick.
Like it weighed something.
The Headmaster stood by the window, staring out at the city.
He was old. Too old. But not weak.
You could feel it in his back, his hands, his voice. Like he was made of stone, and time just refused to wear him down.
"You've caused quite the stir, Rai Nozomi," he said without turning.
"Sorry about the wall," I said. "I hear fire doesn't mix well with architecture."
He chuckled softly.
"Black Flame," he said. "One of the oldest forms of mana ever recorded. Thought to be extinct. Until yesterday."
I stepped forward. "What do you want from me?"
He finally turned.
His eyes weren't angry. Or curious. They were calculating.
"I want you to live," he said. "Because if you die, that flame might fall into the wrong hands."
"You mean like yours?"
He smiled. Not kindly.
"I mean the ones who are already coming for you."
I left with more questions than answers.
But one thing was clear:
The world knew.
They knew what I had.
They didn't understand it.
So they feared it.
And when people fear something…
They try to kill it.
That afternoon, a messenger arrived.
No crest. No name.
Just a letter sealed in pitch-black wax.
I broke it open with shaking hands.
Inside was one sentence:
"We see the fire. Let us show you its purpose."
No signature.
But underneath it was a mark:
A burning crown.
I took the letter to Margo.
Her face turned to stone when she saw the seal.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was delivered."
She stood slowly.
"That symbol belongs to an old cult. Long thought dead. They were called The Cinders."
"Let me guess," I said, "they're not big fans of puppies and sunshine?"
She didn't smile.
"They worship flame. Not fire magic — flame itself. As a god. And they've hunted for Black Flame users for centuries."
"Hunted?"
"Or recruited. Depending on whether the host agreed."
I swallowed.
"And if I don't?"
Her voice dropped.
"Then they'll burn down everything you love… just to watch your power rise from the ashes."
That night, I stood by the academy gates.
I knew what I was doing was dumb.
I should've stayed inside.
But the fire inside me was restless.
It pulled me toward something.
Toward someone.
So I waited.
And then—
They appeared.
Three figures. Hooded. Walking silently out of the trees.
One in front. Two behind.
The one in front stopped a few meters away.
Even in the dark, I could feel it.
He was strong.
Not just strong — ancient.
He lifted his head, and under the hood, his eyes glowed with the same black fire as mine.
"Hello, Rai," he said. "We've been waiting a long time."