The chamber dimmed to silence. The scent of old stone and fading incense filled the air, ancient runes flickering along the walls like faint breaths of a forgotten age. Saint Elder Wolf stood at the center, his hand slicing through the air to open a rippling void. From within, a faint light glowed–he reached in, and when his hand reemerged, it held an ancient, withered book bound in dark hide and sealed with gold threads.
"Kiaria, take this." His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of centuries.
Kiaria stepped forward and caught the book with both hands. "A… book?" His eyes shone with anticipation.
"Not just a book," the Elder said. "This holds my entire life's experience–every technique I bled for, every secret I learned, every failure and every triumph. Within it lie the true paths of the Wolf Technique, the meanings of each verse carved in my cave."
He paused, gaze sharpening. "But don't mistake my generosity for permission. Until you leave the Enlightenment Sect, you are forbidden to open it. That place does not walk the path of beasts and bloodlines–it follows the Way of Nature and Enlightenment. Break their rules, and they'll break you."
Kiaria bowed deeply. "Understood, Elder."
The Saint Wolf's expression softened slightly. "Good. Then step back. Now, little girl–your turn."
Diala hesitated. "M… my turn?"
"Do not be afraid," the Elder said gently, his tone turning solemn. "Every martial soul is born from pain. The body must die once to be reborn anew."
He glanced to Kiaria. "Boy, remain silent. If you interrupt, the process will backlash upon her, and her soul will shatter."
Kiaria's jaw clenched. "I will not leave her side."
The Elder studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then stay. But remember this moment–it will show you what the heavens demand for power."
He turned to Diala and pointed toward the center of the room, where an enormous golden inscription glimmered faintly on the ground. "Step inside the circle. When it activates, drip a single drop of your blood. Then, endure."
Diala stepped forward, trembling. The golden lines flared to life beneath her bare feet. She pricked her finger and let one drop fall. The instant it touched the ground, the runes ignited.
A surge of divine energy erupted. Flames burst upward–scarlet and blinding.
Her small body stiffened, then arched backward. Fire wrapped around her limbs, spreading through her veins. She screamed, the sound raw, breaking against the stone walls. The Elder watched silently, his face unreadable.
Her skin flushed red, glowing like molten glass. Every breath was agony. Her heart thundered in her chest as though it sought to escape her ribs. Kiaria's fists tightened until his palms bled, yet he didn't move–his knuckles white with restraint.
"Endure," the Elder murmured. "This is the first gate–the Trial of Fire."
Impossible. Who is she? Such a superior gate, nobody opened for years by now.
Diala fell to her knees. Tears boiled from her eyes, evaporating before they touched her cheeks. The fire burned her hair to gold and scarlet strands. But then–suddenly–the flames died.
And from that silence came cold.
Icy mist swept across the chamber. Her lips turned blue, her body shivering uncontrollably. Frost crept up her arms and neck. Even her breath froze midair, shimmering shards falling around her.
The Elder's eyes narrowed. "So soon? The second gate–Trial of Frost. Two elements born at once…"
Is it a fortune or disaster!
Her body convulsed. The frost deepened, encasing her limbs in layers of crystal. Within seconds, she was frozen solid–then the ice shattered into powder, revealing her still standing, half-drenched in fire, half-cloaked in frost.
Above her, two vast silhouettes began to take form. One–majestic, burning in divine gold and red–spread fiery wings wide, feathers trailing sparks like shooting stars. The other–dark as moonless night, wreathed in blue flame that froze the air–unfurled wings of pure shadow.
Two phoenixes.
Two souls.
Heavenly and Demonic.
The chamber's pressure soared; the Elder's hair fluttered in the storm of energy.
"Heavenly Fire Phoenix…" he breathed, awe trembling in his voice. "And Abyssal Cold Flame Phoenix…"
Kiaria's eyes widened. "Two… souls?"
The Elder nodded slowly, expression caught between reverence and sorrow. "Yes. A pair that should never meet. The Heavenly Fire Phoenix is the flame of divine justice–its fire purifies sin, burning evil into dust. A sinner caught in its blaze turns to pill-ash; a pure-hearted one transcends and ascends with it's bless."
His gaze darkened. "But the Abyssal Cold Flame Phoenix… that one is born from the abyss. Its flame devours warmth and sanity. It spreads through the veins like quiet poison, freezing thought and twisting will. A person affected by it can slaughter armies like plague disaster–but in the end, they burn into nothing after surge stops. Flame is colorless, no burns or warm, directly penetrate inside."
Diala screamed again, her voice fading as the two energies warred inside her. Fire and frost clashed, spiraling, merging. For an instant, she vanished within a cocoon of wings–two blazing, two frozen–folding around her body like a shell.
The cocoon pulsed once. Then again. The golden circle cracked under the pressure.
"She's dying…" Kiaria whispered, voice breaking.
"No," the Elder said softly. "She's being judged."
Light burst outward, shaking the chamber. Then silence fell. The cocoon fractured–and from within it, a faint heartbeat echoed.
Diala rose slowly, enveloped by mist and smoke. Behind her, the twin phoenix shadows circled once, their cries echoing like ancient hymns before vanishing into her chest.
The Elder exhaled, the lines around his eyes deepening. "It is done."
Kiaria rushed forward. "Elder, her pulse–"
"She lives," the Wolf interrupted, voice low but steady. "Barely. But this… this is not a blessing."
He looked down at Diala, whose face glowed faintly with alternating warmth and frost. "The heavens have given her two supreme souls, but they will never coexist. Their power will tear her apart before she grows. If she cultivates, both flames will consume her. If she refuses, she will live as mortal."
Kiaria's hands shook. "There must be a way."
The Elder stared into the distance, eyes dimming with memory. "There is one thing–a myth, perhaps. The Deca-Millennium Soul-Amity Flower. It alone can unite warring souls."
He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a shard of translucent crystal, faintly humming with power. He pressed it into Kiaria's palm.
"This shard is its key. Without it, the flower's poison will kill you instantly. Even Immortals perish from it. With this, you will survive long enough to take it. But remember–no one has seen that flower in ten thousand years and won't grow without danger. Perhaps it no longer exists."
Kiaria closed his hand over the shard, jaw tight. "I will find it."
The Elder's gaze softened. "You would risk everything for her?"
"I already decided that the day I met her."
For the first time, Saint Wolf smiled faintly, a soundless exhale escaping him. "Foolish. Loyal. Dangerous."
He turned away, muttering under his breath. "This boy… too clever at times, and yet utterly stupid when it comes to her. Watching him will be entertaining."
He straightened, his tone regaining its calm weight. "Kid, protection and care are noble–but remember this: self-love stands above both. Do not lose yourself trying to hold another's soul together."
Kiaria bowed deeply. "I understand, Elder."
Behind him, Diala's breathing steadied, the faint sound of her heartbeat echoing through the quiet chamber.
Outside, dawn light spilled through the cracks in the cave ceiling–no longer crimson, but soft, gold, and living.
And for the first time since her awakening began, Diala's lips moved faintly in her sleep.
She whispered, almost soundlessly, "Kiaria…"
He looked at her, his eyes calm yet heavy. "You're safe now. I'll make sure it stays that way.