The force of his ascent scattered lava in every direction. Ash and sparks spiraled upward in his wake as he cut through the smoke-filled sky, heading toward a place few beings could perceive.
His destination was Ikenga’s realm.
A boundary hidden from ordinary sight. A domain so concealed that most did not even know it existed, let alone where it lay. Only those with the right awareness or the right connection could find the path to it.
Red disappeared into the distant haze.
Silence settled over the volcano once more.
Ember stood still for a mont longer, watching the sky where Red had vanished. Then, without ceremony, he let his hamr fall from his hand.
It struck the volcanic stone with a thunderous impact, shaking the summit and sending cracks spidering outward.
Ember turned and walked toward the crater.
As he moved, his clothes fell away, burned by proximity and discarded without care. The heat intensified with each step, yet his pace remained steady.
Then he dove.
His body disappeared into the molten lava without hesitation.
This was routine.
Whenever Red awakened from a long slumber and left the volcano, Ember returned to it.
A dragon’s body was treasure in every sense. The residual essence left behind in the magma, shed scales, condensed heat, fragnts of hardened draconic energy were invaluable to his craft. What Red naturally released during his rest beca materials no forge elsewhere could ever produce.
The volcano was not just Red’s resting place. It was Ember’s treasury.
Unlike many who sought the path to the Sixth Tier, Ember found himself drawn instead to the idea of godhood.
It simply felt right to him, part of that certainty ca from his heritage. The Ember Cursed Clan was not ordinary, and neither was he. But more importantly, unlike many, Ember was clear about what he needed to do. There was no hesitation in him, no wandering between paths. While others explored possibilities, he had already chosen his direction.
Ember understood sothing simple, ascending for him ant crafting sothing beyond a re artifact, it had to be a god-tier artifact.
Not sothing impressive to mortals or sothing powerful among strong beings. But sothing that even the origin gods, beings of divinity and overwhelming strength would find useful.
That was the standard, that was the requirent he set for himself. Because he had been the one to craft the Pillars, the Origin Gods rewarded him. From them, he was granted a Sun Fire, a fla from the Crepuscular Realm.
It was no ordinary fla.
Even with his cursed status, even with a body long accustod to extre heat, he found it unbearable. The fire was on a different level entirely. It was not sothing he could treat like dragon fla or volcanic magma.
Receiving that fla clarified his path.
Through it, Ember ca to a realization: Neither the Origin Gods nor the Ascended Gods possessed weapons of their own.
The Origin Gods existed as they were, complete. The Ascended Gods had divinity, but not crafted instrunts made to properly bear it.
And that was where Ember saw his place.
In the case of Ascended Gods, he was confident. If he were granted even a glimpse of their divinity, just enough to understand its nature, he believed he could craft a weapon capable of bearing it.
One worthy of a god.
He was, however, prideful.
That pride was the reason his gaze did not rest on the Ascended Godsbut on the Origin Gods themselves.
The small fragnt of Sun Fire granted from the Crepuscular Realm made Ember aim higher than his current reach allowed. The fla had been given as a reward, yet it beca a challenge instead.
Because he could not control it, he could not forge with it. No matter what material he tested, no matter how he refined his technique, nothing could properly contain it. Any vessel he crafted either cracked under its presence or failed to draw out even a fraction of its true power.
The Sun Fire did not respond to his skill, it judged it.
The only material he had found capable of holding even a glimpse of the fla was what Red left behind during his long slumbers, fragnts infused with draconic essence. Those remnants could endure a trace of the Sun Fire without collapsing.
But there were too few, far too few to mold into anything complete. Not enough for a weapon, not enough for an instrunt worthy of the gods.
And Ember refused to waste them on sothing lesser.
He understood that if he wished to take the next step, if he wished to forge sothing capable of truly containing that fla then the change required was not in the materials alone.
It was in himself. Ember knew that once he crossed that threshold, once he committed fully to this path, he would glimpse his own divinity.
anwhile, on the northern continent, across the endless icy plains, a lone figure drifted through the sky.
There was no destination in his movent. No direction guiding him. He floated as though carried by habit rather than intent, a jug of alcohol raised loosely in one hand. His eyes were unfocused, distant, absent like soone who had long ago stopped searching for anything in particular.
The icy plains were known for their rciless winds. Blizzards road freely across the frozen land, and the air itself cut like blades.
Yet around him, the winds died. Not even the edge of his clothing stirred, the cold bent away from him.
At that sa mont, far beyond mortal sight when Ikenga stepped back into his realm.
The drifting figure stopped even the jug halted mid-tilt before reaching his lips.
For the first ti in centuries, sothing shifted in his eyes. The haze thinned. The emptiness receded. Clarity—slow, unfamiliar—began to return.
"...Ho." The word left him quietly and with it ca understanding.
He had been searching, wandering. Drifting across skies and continents without knowing what he lacked.
Ho, it had always been where it was, he had simply forgotten. The winds across the icy plain surged without warning. Snow lifted violently into the air, spiraling outward in a sudden storm. The sky groaned as currents collided, the sound sharp and harsh, like air being torn apart.
The figure changed.
His form expanded, light bending and reshaping as feathers burst into existence, glistening white against the storm. In place of the wandering man now stood a massive white bird, wings vast and radiant against the gray sky.
The winds stopped the mont the figure appeared. With a single powerful flap of his wings, the storm collapsed into silence.
The enormous white bird vanished from the icy plain in an instant and for a while after his departure, the northern winds did not return as though the wind itself had left with him.
High above the clouds, Red cut through the sky with steady, powerful wingbeats. In one claw he carried a massive cow-like creature, its body limp but intact, a gift and a al brought along for the visit.
Before him, the clouds were beginning to part.
Through the shifting layers of white and gray, sothing unseen by most slowly ca into view. To Red’s eyes, Ikenga’s realm was not hidden. The boundary shimred faintly ahead, like heat rising from stone.
It was then that the white bird appeard, no warning, no sound of approach. One mont Red flew alone, the next, a colossal white bird with glistening feathers was beside him, matching his pace effortlessly.
Red paused mid-flight, wings slowing slightly as a familiar scent reached him. Smoke curled from his nostrils as recognition settled in.
Sparks flickered between his teeth when he spoke.
"Is that you, Tweet?"
The white bird seed to snap back to awareness at the sound. His entire focus had been forward, on the boundary, on ho. Only now did he properly register the massive red dragon flying beside him.
In a blur of light, the bird’s form shifted, feathers folding inward as he took on a humanoid shape midair, still moving at impossible speed.
"Ah, if it isn’t Sir Roast-a-Lot," Tweet replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "You sure have grown big, Red." Even with clarity returning to his eyes, his mischievous nature surfaced easily.
Red’s response was imdiate, a burst of fla shot from his mouth. Tweet twisted aside smoothly, the fire passing harmlessly behind him.
"The sa can be said to you, you overgrown chicken," Red shot back. They continued forward, trading insults as naturally as breathing, their voices echoing between clouds as they crossed the invisible boundary.
The air changed the mont they entered Ikenga’s realm.
Red’s massive draconic form shrank, scales receding as he assud his humanoid shape. The large cow-like creature floated mid air beside him.
Tweet was already in his humanoid form. The mont his feet touched the ground, he stopped.
He closed his eyes.
Arms spread wide, he drew in a deep breath, long and steady. The air around him shifted violently, currents pulling inward as though the realm itself rushed to et him.
His chest trembled, tears slipped down his face. For a long mont, he simply stood there, breathing.
Then he threw his head back and roared "I AM BACK HO!!"
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