Ashspire Peak

Ashspire.

The name alone carried the weight of ancient power and forgotten wars. Once the site of a mighty immortal battlefield, now it stood like a black tooth jutting from the spine of the northern ranges—a jagged mountain ringed with ruins, scorch marks, and spiritual echoes that never faded.

As Kai and Linya approached its shadow, the temperature dropped and the wind howled louder.

Carved stone steps led them upward, wide enough for an army, but cracked and crumbling from centuries of neglect. On either side, shattered statues of long-dead cultivators loomed, their eyes blind to time.

"It feels like the mountain is… watching us," Linya muttered.

Kai said nothing, but he agreed. His flame pulsed faintly in warning. The air here was heavy, as if the mountain remembered everything that had been spilled upon its stones—blood, power, betrayal.

At the peak, dozens had already gathered.

Tents and pavilions marked the presence of great sects: the Skyhammer Sect, the Ice Lotus, the Azure Blade Pavilion, and the darkly robed Bone Scripture Hall, among others. The power radiating from each group was suffocating.

Eyes turned as Kai and Linya stepped onto the summit. Some recognized the sword at his side. Others simply felt the unnatural heat that followed him like a shadow.

A tall man from Skyhammer stepped forward, golden armor glinting in the cold sun.

"The Flame-Woken arrives," he said, voice booming. "The Conclave begins at dusk. Until then, no weapons drawn. No duels. Or you forfeit your place."

His warning was aimed at everyone—but his gaze never left Kai.

They were assigned a solitary black tent near the cliff's edge. Linya set up inside, inspecting the perimeter while Kai sat quietly, eyes closed.

But he wasn't resting.

He was reaching inward—touching the ember of power in his core. And it was changing.

Not just growing… but evolving.

He saw flashes again. Not memories, but… echoes.

A man wreathed in dragonfire. Armies kneeling in flame. A crown of ash.

"Is this who I was?" Kai whispered. "Or who I'm becoming?"

A voice replied—not from outside, but from within.

"You are the bridge between fire and fate. Let both burn."

As the sun dipped low, a giant flame brazier ignited at the summit's center.

The Ash Conclave had begun.

Sects stood in a circle, leaders stepping forward, one by one. Declarations of alliance, warnings of neutrality, or open threats were made before all.

Then came Kai's turn.

He stepped forward alone, cloaked in silence. Every gaze fell on him.

"My name is Kai," he said. "I carry the fire not as a weapon—but as a warning. The Flamebearers are not myths. We are the storm that follows silence."

Gasps rippled through the assembly.

And in the crowd, Meiya of Ice Lotus smiled faintly.

The game had begun.