A Heart Set Aflame

Cain's boots clicked softly against the polished marble floors of Vulcan's royal castle as he followed Aildris through one of the side corridors. The structure was grand yet austere, with obsidian-black walls etched with glowing red veins of volcanic ore that pulsed faintly like embers. Massive flame-lit sconces cast elongated shadows across the hall, and the sigil of House Siegfried—a phoenix with wings wreathed in fire—adorned every tapestry and pillar.

He'd spent nearly a week under Azreal Siegfried's roof, and every day had been a storm of discipline, mystery, and silent revelations.

Aildris, despite his strength and lineage, was relaxed and unpredictable. "You're lucky, Cain," he grinned, his silver hair flicking as he turned his head. "Father rarely trains anyone personally. I begged him for years, and all I got was sparring sessions with the royal guards!"

Cain smirked. "Maybe you weren't desperate enough."

Aildris laughed heartily. "Or maybe I just didn't have the right blood-soaked vendetta to sell him on."

That earned a raised brow from Cain. "You know?"

"Only what Aurora told me," Aildris said with a shrug. "She said your past is covered in ash and blood, but your heart still burns bright. She's… quite taken with you, by the way."

Cain looked away, his usual composure flickering for a second. Aurora. The only daughter of Azreal. Graceful, clever, kind. She had a way of sneaking past his mental defenses, not with force, but with warmth.

"She's different," Cain admitted.

"Isn't she?" Aildris said with a wistful tone. "Unlike anyone else in this palace. You should see how Father softens around her. Scary."

Their conversation ended as they reached the inner courtyard. Waiting in its center was Azreal himself. Clad in sleeveless crimson armor laced with golden flame runes, the Emperor stood like a living monument—broad-shouldered, ash-grey hair cascading to his back, and sharp eyes like burning coal.

"Cain," he said, his deep voice echoing. "Ready for the next step?"

Cain gave a curt nod and stepped forward. Aildris watched from the archway.

Azreal extended his hand, and from it emerged a sword wreathed in crimson flames. "Tell me what this is," he said.

Cain observed the blade. Its hilt was shaped like a phoenix's beak, the blade itself flickering like molten magma. "A Flameborne relic?"

Azreal smirked. "Close. This is Ignis Vera. It belonged to your uncle, Levi Azaroth."

Cain's heart thudded. The name carried weight—a ghost wrapped in fire. "My uncle's sword…"

"Yes. He forged it in the Heartfire Abyss. Only those chosen by the flame can wield it without being consumed."

Azreal tossed the sword toward Cain.

Cain caught it mid-air.

A sharp pain bloomed through his arms. The blade burned against his skin, not physically, but spiritually. It felt as though the sword was testing him—demanding proof of his right to hold it.

Azreal narrowed his eyes. "Don't suppress it. Let your fire speak."

Cain gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Inside him, the Tyrant System flared.

> Tyrant System Notification

"You have grasped a Flame Relic: Ignis Vera."

"Compatibility detected: 94%"

"Would you like to attune it to your Fire Essence?"

Cain mentally accepted. In the next moment, the pain receded, and the sword pulsed in tune with his heart.

Azreal nodded. "Good. Now attack me."

Cain didn't hesitate. He surged forward, Ignis Vera sweeping low in a flaming arc. Azreal caught the blade barehanded, fire cascading around his fingers. The courtyard trembled.

But Cain didn't stop. His movements became sharper, infused with darkness that laced itself along the sword's fire—twisting the flames into hellfire.

Azreal's eyes widened slightly. "Hellfire…"

"I inherited it," Cain muttered. "From Levi."

For the first time, Azreal's expression softened completely. "Then you are truly of the Azaroth blood."

The spar ended in a blur, Azreal disarming Cain with a subtle twist of force. "You're improving rapidly," he said. "But now it's time to blend swordplay with instinct."

As Cain caught his breath, Aurora entered the courtyard with a tray of chilled fruit and wine. "You two are ridiculous," she said, her presence like a cool breeze after the inferno.

Cain's shoulders loosened. "We're building muscle. Not theatrics."

Aurora smiled. "Muscle, huh? Then you'll need these." She offered him a slice of glowing fruit, rare and infused with essence. Cain took it, fingers brushing hers.

Azreal turned away, muttering something about needing to speak with the head tactician.

As the sun dipped lower behind the Vulcan peaks, Cain stood with Aurora under the open sky. Her amber eyes watched him thoughtfully.

"You burn with purpose," she said. "But it's not just revenge, is it?"

"No," he replied. "It's legacy."

She nodded and stepped closer. "Then maybe... I'll help you carry it."

In that quiet moment, with flames dancing in the distance and the stars beginning to emerge, Cain's heart wavered.

He had always walked alone.

But here… perhaps, just perhaps, he didn't have to anymore.