No one could tell how much time had passed in the outside world.
On the cold stone floor, a figure lay motionless—a young man with features too perfect to belong to the dead. The wind howled around him, carrying the intermittent croak of a lone frog nearby. Whether the creature kept vigil or simply rested, none could say.
Then—a twitch of fingers.
Eirian Aurelia gasped as life surged back into his body. His chest rose in ragged bursts before steadying. Blinking against the throbbing in his skull, he pressed a hand to his temple.
"So the Trial of Memory is complete..." His voice scraped like gravel. "But why show me that village? Those strangers?"
He frowned. "Are they connected to me? Or was it just a scenario created for the trial?"
He'd expected to battle inner demons, not witness fragmented lives—Alex's fury, Iris's knowing gaze, the violet vial that haunted him still. Were they memories? Visions? Some twisted test?
Pushing upright, Eirian scanned the hall. His consciousness had returned to his physical form, yet the cavernous space remained, its walls humming with latent power.
"How do I leave—?"
As he pondered his escape, his gaze fell upon something that made him freeze in shock. Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, he stared at the center of the hall where bold letters now appeared SOULLESS TEMPLE.
The words loomed before him, carved in jagged script that pulsed like a heartbeat. A choked laugh escaped him. This wasn't here before. Had his trials summoned it? Or had he simply been blind until now?
"How did this appear?" he wondered, fighting to stay calm despite his discomfort. "Is this another trial? Or perhaps... an inheritance awaiting me after passing the Trials of Flesh and Memory?"
The words loomed before him, pulsing with mysterious energy.
Eirian drew in slow, measured breaths to steady his nerves. The air tasted of damp stone and something fouler—like rusted iron left to rot. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade as he approached the temple, every sense alert. Shadows pooled unnaturally around its base, as if the structure itself bled darkness.
No visible exit… then this temple is my only path forward..?
The thought of the mysterious woman flickered through his mind—her absence now more unnerving than her presence. He combed through his memories but found only fragments: a whisper of fabric, the glint of her hair. Shaking his head, he forced his focus onward.
The Soulless Temple loomed before him, its architecture defying reason. Though modest in size no larger than a village chapel its very presence seemed to warp the air.
The stones, blacker than midnight, absorbed the faint light rather than reflected it. Eirian's phoenix mark prickled as he drew nearer, as if warning him of the blasphemy etched into every inch of the structure.
Eirian paused three meters from the arched entrance. The doorway yawned like a throat, its edges lined with stone teeth. Above it, the words SOULLESS TEMPLE pulsed rhythmically, as though breathing.
An evil church indeed,he thought. Not a place of worship, but of consumption. The air here didn't stir—it suffocated.
His blade trembled in his grip. To enter would be madness. To turn back, impossible.
Then—a sound. Not from the temple, but within his very bones. The same primordial voice from his vision reverberated through his soul, shaking the foundations of his being:
"YOU HAVE ENDURED THE TRIALS OF FLESH AND MEMORY. NOW, YOUR REWARD AWAITS."
The voice echoed like a divine decree, shaking the very foundation of the temple.
Reward I: The Soulless Flame Art
From the void, a fire appeared—twisting and alive. It was no ordinary flame. Midnight-black and laced with pulsing veins of gold, it writhed in midair like a sentient being.
Though it gave off no heat, Eirian staggered back as his phoenix mark flared in warning.
His soul recognized it.
This was the 'Celestial Soulless Flame' a legendary force whispered of in ancient texts. A flame that had devoured the souls of fallen gods during the Celestial Cataclysm, leaving nothing but memory-shaped voids in its wake.
Grade: Half-Saint
Origin: Forged in the Cosmic rift, born from the last breath of a dying star.
Reward II: The Divine Medicine
Next, the void stirred once more.
A single lotus unfolded from the darkness, impossibly graceful. Its petals shimmered between hues of violet and silver, like moonlight passing through a dream. Resting at its center was a drop of glowing nectar—small, but radiant with sacred power.
This was the Tear of the Saint, a relic of miracles long buried. It was said to revive the freshly dead.
Type: Divine-Grade Medicine
Effect: Resurrection (within moments of death)
The temple fell silent again, yet its walls seemed to breathe with tension.
Then came the final warning, not spoken, but declared through every stone and shadow:
Claim what you have earned—or leave them, and this temple shall become your tomb.
Eirian's breath came in short, sharp bursts. His fingers twitched toward the writhing black flame as if pulled by invisible strings.
The phoenix mark on his forehead blazed so fiercely it cast his shadow against the temple walls, a winged silhouette that shuddered in time with the flame's golden pulses.
"You already know how," the voice from the void murmured—but this time, it came from the flame itself.
The fire twisted into a serpentine shape, its maw parting to reveal: "Bond with me, and I will teach you. But know this—the Soulless Flame devours doubt as fuel. Hesitate while wielding it, and it will feast on your soul instead."
Eirian's throat went dry. To practice this art wasn't about technique—it was a pact. One that demanded absolute conviction.
He glanced at the lotus. Its nectar glimmered temptingly—a safer choice, perhaps. But as the phoenix mark throbbed, he knew:
His destiny burned black and gold.
His gaze shifted between the two relics—the writhing Soulless Flame, whispering of divine power and oblivion, and the Tear of the Saint, glowing with serene promise. Each offered a future, yet demanded a price.
The flame hissed softly, almost like a chuckle, twisting in midair. "Power is not given freely," it murmured. "It is seized. It is burned into the soul."
Eirian's fingers twitched again. He could feel it the flame's hunger, its intelligence, its pride. It wasn't just a technique or energy. It was a will.
A force that remembered gods screaming as it consumed their essence. A force that had survived the Celestial Cataclysm.
A flame that burns gods… and now it seeks a mortal host.
He knelt before it, breath shallow, sweat beading on his brow. Not from heat—there was none—but from sheer pressure. The weight of divinity, pressing down on him like the eye of a forgotten god.
"If I falter, it'll consume me whole..."
The lotus pulsed gently in the corner of his vision, its petals unfolding in a slow, eternal bloom. The nectar inside shimmered with tranquil light, unmarred by the chaotic whispers of power. Safety. Restoration. A gentle path.
It offered life.
The flame demanded transformation.
And yet… Eirian's soul tilted toward the flame.
I didn't survive the Trials just to stay safe, he whispered. I survived… to ascend!!
His hand reached forward, trembling but unyielding. As his fingers brushed the edge of the Soulless Flame, pain lanced through him like a spear of molten lightning.
He screamed—but didn't pull away.
The flame surged forward in response, wrapping around his arm, then chest, then skull. Not burning invading.
It poured into his spirit like a thousand molten needles, prying open memories, regrets, ambitions. Every lie he'd told himself—scorched away. Every weakness—laid bare.
You dare... to bond with me? the flame growled from within. Then burn, mortal. Burn everything that makes you hesitate!!
His veins lit up like constellations, gold streaks racing beneath his skin. The phoenix mark on his forehead ignited in radiant defiance, clashing with the black fire now coursing through his being.
And then silence.
The flame receded into his core like a predator satisfied, coiling inside him, dormant but ever-present.
Eirian collapsed to one knee, gasping, hands pressed to the ground. A thin trail of smoke curled from his fingertips.
"I… I did it," he rasped.
But it wasn't over.
The lotus still glowed beside him, untouched.
Eirian stared at it, now understanding why both rewards were offered. The Soulless Flame would grant him unmatched power, but it would test him endlessly.
The Tear of the Saint… it was a counterbalance. A promise. A safeguard against the madness the flame could induce.
Without hesitation, he reached out and plucked the lotus from its pedestal. It did not resist. It simply dimmed accepting his claim—and folded into itself, transforming into a silvery pendant in his palm.
The temple walls shuddered, then began to crack—spiderweb fractures racing across every stone surface. From above, light broke through as the ceiling split open, revealing the starless sky.
The trial was over.
Eirian stood, cloak fluttering in the spectral wind, eyes burning with the reflection of flame and flower. Two relics. And one soul, reforged in the crucible of the Soulless Temple.
He also noticed that his Soulspark Realm cultivation had improved significantly—he had directly reached 4 star Soulspark Realm, skipping three substages. Excitement surged through him at the sight of such progress.
He knew he bore a Soulbrand—and that it would bring unimaginable disaster upon him. Sooner or later, the Abyss Sanctum, that ancient and merciless force, would sense its presence. They would send their hounds. Not to capture him. To kill him.
The Soulbrand was no mere curse. It was a fragment of the First Flame—the spark that ignited existence itself before the gods rewrote the laws of reality.
Eirian's breath grew shallow. He could feel it now—an ember deep within his soul, pulsing with ancient heat. It didn't burn. It remembered. Every step he took, every breath, it watched… waiting.
"This is power beyond understanding," he thought grimly. "And power like this never comes without a price. The Abyss Sanctum won't stop. If they find out... no, when they find out... I'm already marked."
Older memory rose to the surface—his mother, cloaked in phoenix fire, smiling through the tears as her body was consumed in holy flame. She had passed the Soulbrand to him, not by accident, but by choice. Her final act of defiance. Her last gift.
"She gave her life… so I could carry this. So I could survive."
The memory seared itself into his mind. Her eyes, proud even as her flesh turned to ash. The scent of burning feathers. The sound of her voice whispering, "Live. And when the time comes… fight."
"They want to hunt me? Let them. I'll carve a path through gods and monsters alike if I must. I won't run. I won't break. I will rise."
Eirian's eyes flared with resolve, golden light flickering behind his irises.
"I carry her flame—and I will make the world remember it."