The staircase spiraled downward, each step plunging Lin Xing deeper into the heart of the Ruins of Dawn. The air grew cooler, heavy with the scent of ancient stone and something sharper, like scorched metal. The faint golden glow of the rune above had long vanished, leaving only the dim ember of his sword's blade to light his way. Sylvara followed silently, her staff's crystal casting faint violet shadows that danced across the walls. Lin Xing's heart pounded, not from fear, but from the pull of the spark in his chest, urging him toward whatever lay below.
The stairs ended abruptly at a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. At its center stood a pedestal of blackened stone, cradling a single object: a gauntlet, forged of a metal that shimmered like liquid flame. Its surface was etched with runes that pulsed faintly, echoing the spark within Lin Xing. The air around it hummed, a low vibration that set his teeth on edge.
"The Ember Gauntlet," Sylvara said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "A relic of the First Sovereign, forged from the Eternal Flame's essence. It amplifies the bearer's will, granting strength beyond mortal limits. But it demands loyalty. Claim it, and it will bind to you—forever."
Lin Xing approached the pedestal, his eyes fixed on the gauntlet. It was beautiful, yet its presence felt alive, almost predatory. "What's the catch?" he asked, glancing at Sylvara. "You said it comes with a price."
Her violet eyes met his, unyielding. "The gauntlet will test your heart. If your will falters, it will consume you, turning your spark into ash. Only those worthy of the Flame can wield it."
He clenched his jaw, the memory of the trial's doppelgänger flashing through his mind. He'd faced his doubts once and won. This was no different. The spark in his chest flared, as if agreeing. He reached out, his fingers brushing the gauntlet's surface. A jolt of heat surged through him, and the chamber vanished.
He stood in a blazing inferno, flames roaring around him like a living beast. Yet he felt no pain, only pressure, as if the fire sought to crush his soul. A voice, deep and resonant, spoke from the heart of the blaze. "Lin Xing, why do you seek power?"
The question pierced him, sharper than any blade. He saw flashes of his past—Spark Village's mocking whispers, his endless training in the forest, the weight of being called nothing. "I seek power to forge my own path," he said, his voice steady. "To prove I'm more than what they see."
The flames surged, their heat intensifying. "Power is a chain as much as a crown. Will you bear its weight, even if it breaks you?"
Lin Xing's fists clenched, the spark in his chest burning brighter. "I'll bear it. I won't break."
The flames roared, then parted, revealing the gauntlet hovering before him. It pulsed, its runes blazing, and flew toward his right arm, clamping onto his skin with a searing hiss. Pain lanced through him, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. The gauntlet melded with his flesh, its metal cooling as it became part of him. The inferno faded, and he was back in the chamber, gasping, the gauntlet now snug on his arm.
Sylvara watched him, her expression unreadable. "You've claimed the Ember Gauntlet. Its power is yours, but it will grow with your will. Use it wisely."
Lin Xing flexed his hand, feeling a surge of strength unlike anything he'd known. The gauntlet hummed, its runes glowing faintly, and the spark in his chest seemed to resonate with it. He looked at Sylvara. "What now?"
Before she could answer, the chamber shook violently. Dust rained from the ceiling, and a chilling wail echoed from above. Sylvara's eyes narrowed. "The Shadow Clans have returned—and they've brought something worse."
Lin Xing's grip tightened on his sword, the gauntlet's warmth spreading through him. "Let's go."
They raced up the staircase, emerging into the ruins' clearing. The sky above was dark, roiling with unnatural clouds. Dozens of shadows swarmed the area, their red eyes glowing like coals. At their center stood a towering figure, twice the height of a man, its body a mass of writhing darkness. Its eyes burned crimson, and its presence made the air feel like a vice around Lin Xing's chest.
"A Shadow Wraith," Sylvara said, her voice tense. "A commander of the Void King's forces. It's here for the Flame—and you."
Lin Xing raised his sword, the gauntlet flaring with golden light. The spark in his chest roared, eager for battle. "Then it's about to regret showing up."
The Shadow Wraith let out a deafening screech, and the shadows charged. Sylvara's staff blazed, unleashing arcs of violet energy, but Lin Xing was already moving. He swung his sword, the gauntlet amplifying his strike, sending a wave of golden flame that incinerated a line of shadows. The Wraith roared, raising a clawed hand, and a torrent of dark energy surged toward him.
Lin Xing braced himself, the gauntlet pulsing. He didn't know how to fight a monster like this, but he'd never backed down before. With a shout, he charged into the fray, the Eternal Flame's spark lighting his path through the darkness.