Chapter 5: Summoned by Flame

The sun had not yet risen over Flameheart Pavilion. Cool winds passed through the smoldering valley, carrying the scent of ash, stone, and the lingering pressure of yesterday's battle. Cracks still lined the training field, and portions of the courtyard wall were scorched black where fire had licked them clean.

Inside the disciple's quarters, Rael sat upright in his bed, unmoving. The bandages around his chest had already been replaced once, but his body still ached. It wasn't the sharp pain of injury—it was a slow, heavy pressure. A weight that settled into his dantian, deep inside, where the spiritual core spun.

He had advanced.

He could feel it.

During the fight with Arix, his body had reached its limit. Pushing his techniques beyond safety, absorbing that surge of pressure, and maintaining control through it all had triggered something.

Now, his core spun faster. The spiritual mist responded more easily to his presence. The golden flame that usually flickered inside his chest had brightened.

He had stepped into Level 9 of Body Foundation.

One more step, and he would reach the Transition Realm.

His door creaked open.

Instructor Yorin stepped inside, holding a sealed scroll in one hand. His face was stern, but his eyes held something else—respect.

"Rael," he said, "You're being summoned."

Rael blinked. "Summoned?"

Yorin tossed the scroll into Rael's lap. "By name. Imperial Decree. Direct from the capital."

Rael stared down at the scroll. The paper shimmered faintly with golden runes, and the seal at the top was unmistakable—the twin phoenixes of the Terranova Empire.

He looked up. "Why?"

Yorin sat on the edge of the bed. "Because you stood against a cultivator of the Hidden Flame… and survived."

Rael opened the scroll.

The message was brief:

> "By command of His Imperial Majesty, Lucian Dao, Emperor of Terranova and Guardian of Earth, you are summoned to the Imperial City of Novaterra. You are to arrive within five days. This summons is absolute."

He folded the scroll quietly.

"What happens if I refuse?"

Yorin snorted. "You'd better not. No one refuses the Emperor. And besides, you've outgrown this place."

Rael looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers.

"Maybe."

---

Three days later, Rael stood aboard a skyship soaring over the Aetheris plains. The wind rushed past, the metal deck vibrating under his feet. Below, wide rivers cut through the earth like silver veins. Massive forests sprawled to the east, and cities dotted the horizon with glowing lights even before nightfall.

He had never left the Pavilion before. Never even crossed the southern border.

But now he was heading to the Imperial Capital.

Beside him stood a man in golden robes. He was quiet, carried a spear wrapped in silk on his back, and his aura shimmered with power. Spiritual General stage, at least.

His name was Envoy Talon, and he was one of the Emperor's personal messengers.

They had spoken little, but the silence between them was not unfriendly—only respectful.

"You fought well," Talon said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "To withstand a disciple of the Hidden Flame Sect at your level… very few could."

Rael nodded. "He was strong. But reckless."

Talon smiled faintly. "They always are. Fire without direction is just destruction."

They continued flying.

Hours later, as the sun dipped low, the first lights of Novaterra appeared on the horizon.

Rael stepped to the edge of the ship, eyes wide.

He had seen drawings. Paintings. Stories.

But nothing compared to the real thing.

The capital stretched across the land like a city carved into the sky itself. Towers of jade and gold floated above vast platforms. Roads shimmered with spiritual arrays, allowing people to glide across them. Waterfalls poured from artificial cliffs, each one feeding into glowing rivers that ran through the heart of the city.

And at the center, rising like a mountain of light, stood the Tower of Ascendance.

A spire that pierced the clouds.

Rael whispered, "It's like another world."

Talon nodded. "It is."

---

They landed on a private platform guarded by Imperial Knights—each one a Spiritual King or higher, their armor inscribed with flame runes and layered spiritual shields. They didn't speak as Rael passed, but he could feel their eyes on him. Not judging—measuring.

Inside the tower, the temperature shifted.

It wasn't heat or cold—it was power.

Spiritual energy here was thicker than anything he had ever felt. It pressed against his skin, soaked into his breath, clung to his bones.

Each step deeper into the tower made him feel heavier, but more alive.

At the top level, twin doors opened into a vast hall lit by sunlight streaming through floating crystals.

At the far end stood a single man.

He wore no crown, no cloak of royalty.

Only a long black robe, trimmed in gold, and a sword made of pure energy hovering at his back.

His hair was black. His eyes were bright gold.

And his presence filled the entire room.

Lucian Dao.

Rael knelt instinctively.

But Lucian raised a hand. "Stand. I don't summon warriors to bow."

Rael rose, unsure whether to speak.

Lucian studied him for a long moment, then walked slowly forward.

"You've walked the path of silent flame," he said. "A rare style. One that few remember."

Rael frowned. "You know it?"

Lucian smiled. "I helped create it. Long ago."

Rael's eyes widened.

Lucian stopped in front of him and placed a hand over Rael's chest.

Instantly, Rael's body lit up with golden light—his physique, his core, his meridians—all revealed through a soft scan of spiritual sense.

Lucian's expression didn't change.

But something in his eyes sharpened.

"Your core has already begun to stabilize for the Transition Realm," he said. "Your control is far above your level. And your flame… isn't just silent. It listens."

Rael didn't understand. "What does that mean?"

Lucian stepped back. "It means the fire you carry is more than power. It's memory. Someone planted that seed inside you."

He turned away, walking back toward the far window.

Rael stood frozen.

Then Lucian spoke again, his voice quieter.

"The galaxy is changing. You've seen it. The Hidden Flame is only the first to return. There are others—old sects, exiled clans, rogue empires. They've waited in the shadows while Earth grew strong."

He turned.

"And now they're waking."

Rael asked, "Why summon me?"

Lucian pointed toward a map projected into the air. It showed Earth, surrounded by red markers. Each one pulsed with spiritual energy—unknown sources.

"Because I need warriors who don't just burn bright… but burn true."

He looked at Rael, and his golden eyes glowed.

"I'm forming a new unit. The Ember Guard. You'll train here. Learn techniques lost to time. You'll face enemies beyond planets."

Rael's heart pounded.

This wasn't just an invitation.

It was a calling.

Lucian extended his hand.

"Will you walk the path?"

Rael took a breath.

Then placed his hand in the Emperor's.

And the fire within him blazed higher than ever before.

Lucian Dao's hand closed firmly around Rael's, sealing the unspoken oath between them. A gentle ripple of energy passed between the two cultivators—not aggressive, not overwhelming, but ancient. Rael felt it reach into his core, then settle like a heavy but comforting warmth.

Behind him, the twin doors to the hall shut with a soft thud.

It was done.

Rael was now part of something much greater than himself.

Lucian stepped back and gestured toward the right side of the throne chamber. A circular portal shimmered into existence—its border lined with golden symbols that danced and spun with every passing second. The space within the portal showed a vast training ground, larger than anything Rael had ever seen.

Beyond it, mountains floated in the sky. Spiritual rivers twisted through the air like coiling dragons. Dozens—no, hundreds—of cultivators moved across the field, sparring, meditating, and channeling strange arts Rael had never seen before.

"This is Ember Sanctum," Lucian said. "It exists within one of my Spatial Kingdoms. Time flows differently inside. One year of training within is only four months outside."

Rael stared, eyes wide. "These cultivators… who are they?"

Lucian smiled faintly. "Chosen from every continent. From sects, clans, and hidden families. Those whose cultivation techniques reflect flame in all its forms—destruction, purity, healing, silence. Some command infernos. Others whisper to embers. But all are flames… and all are mine now."

He nodded toward the portal.

"Go. Report to Commander Aelric. Your training begins immediately."

Rael bowed low, then stepped forward, entering the portal without hesitation.

---

The sensation of stepping into the Ember Sanctum was like diving into water and emerging in a world made of power. The moment Rael passed through the threshold, his skin prickled. His core began spinning faster, drawing in the thick spiritual energy that blanketed the air.

He landed on smooth obsidian stone at the edge of the central plaza.

Before him stood a large black tower with a blazing flame symbol carved into its side. To the left, an arena where cultivators were battling with controlled explosions. To the right, a massive forge that roared with spiritual fire, where blacksmiths pounded on weapons that shimmered with ethereal light.

Above, floating islands rotated slowly, each surrounded by thin bands of mist and fire trails.

At the center of the plaza stood a man with a square jaw and flame-red armor. His aura was sharp, honed like a blade drawn from a furnace.

This was Commander Aelric, Spiritual Saint—Level 71.

He turned as Rael approached.

"New arrival?" he asked, voice rough and blunt.

"Yes, Commander. Rael, of Flameheart Pavilion," Rael answered.

Aelric studied him for a moment, then gestured toward a tall board nearby. It listed names, cultivation levels, and flame styles.

"You'll be starting in Unit Ember-Five, under Instructor Vei. You'll follow the outer rotation until your first sparring exam. That gives you four weeks to prove you belong."

Rael nodded.

Aelric's eyes narrowed. "One last thing. You survived an encounter with the Hidden Flame?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because you may face them again. In here, we train for war, not duels."

---

Rael was led to his quarters—a modest stone chamber with a cultivation mat, a fire lamp, and a reinforced training dummy.

The moment the door closed behind him, he dropped onto the mat and began breathing.

He couldn't waste time.

Not here.

He sat cross-legged, focusing on his dantian. The spiritual mist inside the Sanctum was so dense that just breathing filled his body with power. His golden flame spun within him like a wheel, brighter now—thicker. Each rotation pulled in more mist.

As he cultivated, memories of the fight with Arix played through his mind.

The Soul-Bound Flame.

The pressure.

The way he reacted instinctively.

He needed more than instinct.

He needed mastery.

He entered a meditative trance and began rehearsing his techniques in his mind.

First Flame—Rising Veil.

Wrap the body in spirals of flame. Defensive and preparatory.

Second Flame—Ashen Sweep.

Controlled burst along the ground. Area disruption.

Third Flame—Hollow Burn.

Silent, non-burning heat barrier. Reflective defense.

Final Flame—Radiant Embers Fall.

High-level flame formation. Spirit-draining embers.

He breathed slower.

There was a fifth form. One he had never attempted.

Silent Ember Form—Fifth Flame: Heart of Ash.

He had no scrolls. No instruction. Only whispers in the memories his father left him—tales of a flame that didn't burn the world around it, but burned within.

He focused.

His spiritual core flared.

The golden flame at his center pulsed once—then dimmed slightly. Not in power, but in brightness.

It was focusing inward.

The first spark of the Heart of Ash.

He smiled faintly.

Then the training bell rang.

---

Outside, Unit Ember-Five had gathered in a formation circle. Fifteen cultivators stood in rows, each one dressed in light armor and brimming with different kinds of flame energy. Some burned hot, others dim and cold. One girl wielded blue ice-fire. A boy nearby shimmered with silver sparks.

Instructor Vei stood before them—a tall, older woman with short gray hair and molten-orange eyes. Her robe was sleeveless, revealing arms wrapped in spiritual tattoos.

She spotted Rael immediately.

"You're the new one," she said. "You fought Hidden Flame. That'll make some of these kids jealous. Don't let it slow you down."

Rael nodded.

She pointed to a row. "You'll start with sparring rotation. One-on-one matches. No lethal blows. If someone collapses, stop. First match: Rael versus Narra of the Twin Bloom Sect."

A short girl with light purple hair stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. Her energy pulsed in flickering waves. One hand glowed red, the other green. Flame and poison.

They took positions in the sparring ring.

Instructor Vei raised her hand.

"Begin!"

Narra moved first, spinning low and sweeping her poisoned hand in a wide arc. A wave of green mist surged toward Rael.

He stepped backward, raising both hands.

"Ashen Sweep."

The orange fire burst forward along the ground, clearing the poison mist and forcing Narra to jump. She landed to the side, her right hand glowing with red fire now.

"Blooming Burst!" she cried, slamming her palm forward.

A red flower of fire bloomed in the air and exploded in a wide area.

Rael ducked low, pushing forward into the blast instead of away. The fire scorched his outer robe, but he endured.

He reached striking distance.

"Rising Veil!"

The golden spiral shot upward from his feet, surrounding both of them. The flame didn't hurt Narra—but it cut her off from outside energy, like a cage.

Narra gasped. "This… what is this?!"

Rael whispered, "Control."

Then he tapped her shoulder gently.

She stepped back, panting, hands raised.

"I yield," she said.

The ring fell silent.

Instructor Vei nodded.

"Good control. Good instincts. No waste."

She looked at the others.

"This is the standard."

Rael stepped back to his place.

And for the first time since arriving, he saw the respect in their eyes.

He had taken the first step.

But the fire within him told him—this was only the beginning.