Luciel scrutinized the mark as it formed. It fleshed out to be an enigmatic emblem, glowing and dimming as he breathed.
He touched the mark on the center of his inner wrist, where a thin, ceremonial sword lay bare—its blade etched in deep crimson and pierced through a ring of whirling flame.
The flame didn't dance wildly. Instead, it moved in a slow, solemn loop, resembling a mourning, broken halo or a wreath of burned promises.
The edges of the sword were chipped and looked ancient, but they glistened dimly in the light, as though they had been through countless wars and still emerged victorious.
The Stigma was indeed dazzling, but that meant he had to invest in a vambrace or something that could cover this up. It didn't matter if he wasn't able to understand its meaning. A Stigma was a trademark of a Resonator. Once someone noticed his Stigma, he might as well be as good as dead.
Luciel decided to worry about that later and focused on the underlying problem here first—Haldrin. The old man had seen everything he wasn't supposed to. He thought of killing him at first, but now that the pain had subsided and his mind became clearer, he advised himself not to, and there were many reasons why.
The most obvious reason was the fact that Haldrin could see his flame, which meant he'd known that Luciel was a Resonator from the start and didn't do anything about it. However, what truly struck him was that Haldrin didn't show any sign of surprise or doubt against him. Haldrin only observed.
And the fact that Haldrin could just "see" his flame was unsettling enough. Any normal person wouldn't just be able to differentiate who was a Resonator and who wasn't unless you showed them your wrist.
Luciel was convinced Haldrin was a Resonator... and a strong one at that.
The aftermath of his awakening left the trees burned to a crisp and the snow disappeared into thin air, yet the old man and the shrine were intact. In fact, Haldrin was next to him the whole time. No matter how many times he looked, the old man didn't even have a speck of dust!
In any case, Luciel wasn't confident that he could even kill this geezer, and he simply didn't want to.
'Well, the old man did save my life, so killing him right after doesn't sit right with him... but why?'
It was a genuine question. Why did Haldrin help him? If he'd kept resisting the flame, he'd have been burned from the inside out and died a miserable death. People didn't just help for nothing.
He had been nothing but kind to him—giving him clothes, talking to him, and saving his life. For the first time, he didn't know how to handle a person. It was too complicated.
'What is there to say? Thank you? That felt too light.'
Baffled and contemplative, Luciel slowly stood up with Haldrin's help, who hadn't spoken since his awakening. He only looked at Luciel with concern, with a mix of pride and understanding.
Honestly, this old man was too difficult to read.
"...I owe you nothing, old man," Luciel said firmly, but his voice softened as he continued, "But... I'll remember this. Thank you."
Haldrin smiled wryly as he patted Luciel's shoulder. "You worry too much, boy. I ain't expect nobody to owe me. Just did what felt right, is all. Now, sit yer ass down and breathe. You've been through hell. Bet yer throat's dry as dust."
Haldrin then walked away from the mural and waved with his back facing Luciel. "I'll fetch some water, then we'll talk proper."
In a second, the old man had already disappeared into the mist.
'What the...?'
He didn't even let Luciel talk. Just spewed some words and flashed away. 'What a bizarre old man,' he thought.
Not knowing what to do, Luciel listened to Haldrin and sat on the dry steps in front of the mural. The snow had already melted, and even the water had vanished into vapor courtesy of his flame.
He shifted his gaze back to his wrist, where the Stigma of a ceremonial sword piercing a flame-wreathed ring was faintly glowing. Everything had happened so fast that he barely understood what he'd gone through, let alone what it meant.
The mural. The runic letters. The sudden surge of pain and then awakening, if he could call it that.
The more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense! He suddenly acquired the power of fire three months ago through a dream, and now, his body and soul went into a transformation after looking at some letters?
'Let's see if the flame is any different,' he thought, his hand raising to bring out the flame that had accompanied him for three months.
But in no way did he expect this to happen.
'Wait, why can't I summon my flame!?' his mind panicked slightly.
He tried again and again, but nothing worked. He attempted again in different, ridiculous poses—he brandished his arm, kicked his leg, chanted a mantra... the whole nine yards. He even screamed, 'Ignite!' like an idiot.
It didn't work.
Luciel eventually gave up after a couple more tries. He had to calm down and think straight, especially when he could still sense the fire in his body. It just refused to come out.
He then recollected the experience of awakening, when his flame went out of control and enveloped him. The most profound change wasn't his body or mind; it was his soul. That qualitative change affected him the most.
He couldn't quite put it into words, and he also couldn't completely grasp what the implications were. He just felt fuller and more complete.
Luciel then posed a question, 'Can I look into my soul?'
It was something he'd never thought about until now. He hadn't even considered the soul as something real until now. It just came to him as he completed his awakening.
Then, he closed his eyes.
No need for incantation or ritual. He simply willed it. And for some reason, that was enough.
His thoughts sank inward, into a place beyond flesh and bone.
There, his soul revealed itself—a vast, barren plane of scorched earth, veiled in drifting ash and dying embers.
This was his soul.
A place caught between ruin and rebirth.
And at the center of it all burned a single scarlet flame.
'Isn't that my flame?'
Quiet and alive, it flickered in the air; fragments of runes enveloped the flame, protecting it.
For some reason, the flame whispered to him to come closer. Before he even thought about it, his legs were already moving toward the scarlet beauty.
Luciel tried to stop himself, but before he knew it, his hand had already reached the flame.
And then, out of nowhere, a faintly familiar female voice rang.
[The cycle continues.]
[Welcome to your Soulscape, Luciel.]
[Your soul is undergoing a miraculous change.]
[Awakening your dormant soul...]
Luciel frantically looked around to find the source of the voice.
'What the hell was that? Is it possible for someone to be in my soul?'
It happened so unexpectedly that he didn't really pay attention to what it said. But why was the voice so familiar and... heavenly? He swore to have heard it but couldn't recall it no matter how hard he racked his brain.
Then, the voice rang again.
[Awakening the runes to resonate with your soul...]
'Runes?'
As soon as he asked that, runes that were protecting the flame came flying at him. They formed coherent sentences and etched themselves into the air, glowing faintly.
[Rune transformation completed.]
Like before, even though he'd never learned runic language, he understood it immediately. It read:
Name: Luciel.
Epithet: —
Flame Rank: Scarlet.
Soul Form: [Cindershade].
Soul Resonance: [Stirring].
Soul Attribute: [Scarlet Oath], [Flameborn].
Soul Abilities: [Divine Flame].
Relics: —
'What is this?' he asked himself, confused and speechless.
He only stared at the runes that were displaying his supposed soul without much thought except for, 'Is this real?' or 'What am I supposed to do with this?'
The heavenly voice then struck again, this time a series.
[Awakening a new Soul Ability to match the soul's capacity...]
[A new Soul Ability acquired.]
[Ability Name: Flame Requiem.]
[Soul awakening completed.]
Starstruck by how much information was dumped into him, he just stood there, watching the runes drifting in and out, rearranging themselves, adding and removing. It looked surreal.
In the first place, did any Resonator have this? He had never heard of runes displaying information on your abilities and whatnot.
However, he could never be certain. He'd only been in the supernatural world for just three months, after all, and the only District he'd been in was District Omega, one of the worst Districts.
Still, he had to tread this carefully and find out everything there was to know about the rune inscription.
'Let's see... If there are names like these, there should be a description for each of them, right?'
His logic was sound. If there wasn't anything to explain the attributes and abilities themselves, why would this sentient soul even create this?
And so, following his instincts, he hovered his hand toward the name of his Soul Form and touched it.
Nothing happened. His hand stung from the heat that the runes emitted.
'What?'
Retracting his hand, he quickly thought of another way. 'This is my soul, so wouldn't it work if I just think about the names?'
His mind started spelling out his Soul Form's name, and to his surprise, it worked. The runes started reshaping and removing themselves. Now, it only read:
Soul Form: [Cindershade].
Soul Description: [A soul cloaked in ember and ash, walking quietly between ruin and rebirth.]
'Well, that just didn't help at all.'