Chapter 9
1772words
A tremor passed through the air. Unseen. Unheard by the outside world. This was the boundary of a domain. Rikiya’s domain. The Pillar of Flames – forged by a mother’s iron will. By her past losses. Designed to hold her son within sight. No matter his reach for freedom. The young man, himself, did not yet possess the raw power to create physical domains that others could enter. This grand arena was a testament to his mother’s strength. Her unrelenting control.
Within, the world screamed.
The ground: scarred. Gouged. Churned earth, streaked with ash. Raw, black char of an inferno. Flames. Not of wood or fuel. Pure. Concentrated energy. They danced. They roared. A perpetual, destructive ballet across the arena. Pockets of molten stone glowed like angry eyes. The air shimmered with oppressive heat. Smelling of burnt earth. Of raw power. A destructive atmosphere reigned.
Amidst this chaotic symphony, our focus snagged on one singularity: a massive, gigantic bell. It dwarfed everything. A titan of metal. Before it, buildings would look like scattered pebbles. It weighed around ten thousand times heavier than any known structure. People would be ants. Insignificant.
And strikingly, for all its immense scale, for all its implied resilience, a full one-seventh part of the bell was utterly destroyed. Every type of damage imaginable scarred its surface. Vast melted sections where metal had flowed like water. Alongside them, deep, raw impact craters. On one segment, raw. Ragged holes. Marked where something had been punched. Repeatedly. Aggressively. Until knuckle prints were visibly etched into the dense material. It was clear. Utterly clear. The motive here was not to break. Not to shatter. But to release an immense, burning aggression. A raw outpouring of pain. The very fuel for his flames. They burned hotter. Wilder. With every ache he felt.
And in the heart of this crucible. Amidst the ceaseless, infernal dance. And the silent testament of the damaged bell. Stood the young man.
The only thing visible in his mind was the sharpness of the pain.
The training ground trembled — not from footsteps, not from strikes — but from the massive energy flow pulsing beneath his presence.
His silver-white hair shimmered faintly, caught in the warbled reflection of the bell’s scorched surface.
His focus was impeccable.
The range between himself and his target was flawless — measured, memorized, locked.
He didn’t even register her presence.
Not the gaze.
Not the silence.
Not the fact that his mother had been watching him for the past two hours…
and he hadn’t blinked in her direction once.
The burning sphere of fire that the young man had thrown again toward the bell —
it bounced back with full force after striking the bell’s surface,
redirecting straight toward Rikiya’s position.
From Rikiya’s perspective,
that sphere looked like the sun itself coming toward the Earth —
a fiery mass that could devour everything in its path in mere seconds.
But Rikiya stood there, calm and unmoved.
No tension in her body.
No flicker of panic in her eyes.
Not even a stray thought crossed her mind.
Her gaze was fixed — only on the sphere of flames,
which was speeding toward her like a divine judgment.
A massive explosion echoed through the space…
Smoke engulfed everything in every direction —
only smoke, nothing else.
The explosion had created a blast radius close to 60 kilometers.
From within that dense, dark cloud,
a single, steady silhouette slowly became visible —
standing perfectly still, completely unmoving.
Around that silhouette,
dark violet tendrils began to flicker and unfurl,
crackling with faint kinetic energy —
like the kind of heat you feel
when two stones are ground together
until they spark into flame.
Just like that.
A deep silence settled over everything.
The explosion had been so massive
that the young man was blown nearly 3 kilometers away.
Rikiya stood in the exact same place.
Untouched.
Her hands now black —
blacker than darkness itself.
Her eyes glowing with a deep violet hue.
The small, flickering flame
still clinging to her fingertips —
she simply blew it out.
Gone. Like it was nothing.
from the shattered edge of the training field,
the young man was already on his way back,
brushing himself off as he returned
from his 3-kilometer crash landing.
The young man had seen Rikiya use the Flames of Burning Heart thousands of times —
and yet, every single time,
she still managed to surprise him.
“This time… I almost flew out of the domain,”
he said quietly to Rikiya.
He didn’t meet her eyes.
After saying that,
he simply picked up his golden robe in silence
and got ready to leave.
“Sometimes I feel like it’s not an accident…
That you do it on purpose,”
Rikiya offered with a soft, mocking smile.
“Think what you want,”
he replied,
without turning to face her,
and continued walking toward the exit gate of the arena.
Just before he left,
he paused for a breath.
“I’m going now, Mother.”
He said it flatly — no particular emotion in his tone.
he stepped through the invisible gate and vanished.
Rikiya stood there quietly for a moment.
She let out a breath,
then softly scratched her hair with a sigh.
“He can’t stand me.
Every time that child looks at me…
it’s like his whole being wants to disappear.”
“I guess… I deserve it.”
And with that,
Rikiya, too, exited the domain —
Then, her voice, almost a whisper, carried on the dissipating heat, as if finally admitting the full weight of her burden, not to the world, but to the silence of her heart.
In the Western Baily – Mortal Official Hall, the air was thick with the unspoken weight of a crisis.
“How much longer must we endure this? How much longer must we witness all of this?” The voice, sharp with anger, was nevertheless laced with an undeniable undercurrent of worry.
Almost a week had passed since the official notice was issued. Yet, only Level 4 individuals had bothered to submit the required government letter. Before putting forward his own proposal, the speaker paused, a thought weighing heavily on his mind. Then, with a noticeable hesitation, he finally voiced it. "I... I think we should consider abandoning the idea of the Wanderers altogether."
A sharp retort cut through the tense silence. "Don't speak like Rikiya, Sir Kealenor."
This was Sir Kealenor, known as Kealenor Strategic – A Strategem, affiliated with Rikiya's Command Division. He turned to address the central figure, a subtle defiance in his posture.
"I am not taking anyone's side, Sir Damon..."
The atmosphere in the Parliament Chamber grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment, the tension palpable, suffocating.
"Based on my calculations," Sir Kealenor continued, his voice firming, "I am stating that sending a new team directly for investigation would be the biggest foolishness. They lack sufficient battlefield experience, and they are not as resilient or formidable as needed. The previous Wanderers, they were a different matter entirely; there is a significant disparity between their power status and that of the current candidates."
Damon watched everything, outwardly calm and silent. Yet, in the depths of his mind, a storm raged. Turmoil churned within him, for even he knew, in his innermost thoughts, that what Kealenor was saying was correct. But his ego would not allow him to concede verbally to Kealenor. Instead, he spoke, his voice cutting through the rising tension, not acknowledging Kealenor's specific points directly, but echoing a shared, grim truth.
"They have all already surpassed situations beyond their current capacity," Damon stated, his gaze sweeping across the uneasy officials. "Besides, the Soul Division has confirmed that all participants possess unique abilities, and who knows what else they might hold. But they can never truly cross that core threshold, that central point, until they are forced to reach beyond their capacities. Until they are given the opportunity to confront challenges that push them past their limits."
A moment of heavy silence hung in the air. Then Damon continued, his voice sharper, cutting to the cold reality of their situation. "I agree with Sir Kealenor that sending a new team directly into the immediate zones of demonic attacks is detrimental. But what are the circumstances that allow us to deliberate on this? Do we even have that much time?" His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixed on the assembled faces. "War is war. In war, everyone is equal. Those who are powerful die, and those who are weak also die. So why are we still discussing whether we should form a new team or not?"
These words, sharp and brutal, were utterly correct, seeing the situation for what it was. A wave of hushed whispering started in the parliament chamber; it seemed his words had, indeed, found their mark.
Damon allowed himself a subtle smirk.
Then, from the rows of silent ministers who had endured the past two hours of heated debate, a clear, resonant voice cut through the tension. "I will go."
It was Rikiya. She had been sitting in silence, patiently enduring the ministers' endless arguments. Her gaze now fixed on Damon, her voice laced with sharp contempt. "This is truly a despicable thing for you, Sir Damon… that you are pushing the new generation forward to their deaths, instead of relying on the adepts."
Rikiya rose from her seat, a commanding presence filling the space. She cast a brief, telling glance at Kealenor and llve – a silent order to exit the chamber. Her eyes swept across the entire hall one last time, scanning every face from top to bottom, before her gaze finally settled, unwavering, directly on Damon.
"I am not among those who would hesitate to push the new generation into danger just to save their own authority," she declared, her words cutting like steel. "Elza , send a message to all elites: we are forming a team again."
Rikiya cracked her knuckles, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the tense silence of the hall. "It's been many years that I haven't used my hands properly." As she spoke, the color of her eyes shifted, darkening to the same deep, vibrant hue seen within her domain – a clear signal of her awakened power. "Let's see what they got."
