Somewhere in the modern world called Earth, in a city tucked between skyscrapers and secrets, there existed a college that looked utterly ordinary. Classrooms buzzed with the dull hum of lectures and daydreams, the air thick with ink, dust, and teenage rebellion. It was here, in the middle of a bland Tuesday class, that Damien Cross sat.
Not just sat—slouched. He occupied the back seat like a king on a broken throne, a bag of chips crinkling in his hand as he munched with the audacity of a man who feared neither gods nor professors. Natural black, messy hair framed his sharp face, fringe often slipping over one eye like it was trying to hide the chaos within. His eyes, dark brown with golden flecks, scanned the room not with boredom—but calculated disinterest.
The professor droned on about historical social theory. Damien crunched louder, savoring every bite.
"Mmm... chili-lime explosion... whoever invented this deserves a statue," Damien muttered to himself, tilting the bag into his mouth for the crumbs.
The teacher turned, catching sight of Damien. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Mr. Cross!" he shouted. "Would you kindly stop stuffing your face and pay attention? This assignment will be on the midterm!"
Damien didn't flinch. He raised a lazy finger, gesturing for silence. "Give me five minutes. I'm at the climax of this chip arc."
The class burst into laughter. Some shook their heads. Others whispered.
"Dude's unreal." "How does he not care?" "It's funny, but, like... he's totally gonna fail."
The teacher's face darkened like a storm cloud. "This is a classroom, not your personal snacking arena! Put that bag down now!"
Damien shrugged. "I can't abandon them mid-crunch. That'd be betrayal."
"You think this is a joke?"
"No," Damien replied, licking cheese dust from his fingers, "but it is a comedy."
Laughter grew louder.
"That guy's insane." "Or a genius." "Both. Definitely both."
The teacher took a step forward, veins popping in his forehead.
"Mr. Cross, if you do not stop eating and start paying attention, I swear—"
BRRRRIIIIIIING!
The bell rang.
The teacher flinched. Damien grinned triumphantly.
"Saved by the bell. Fate's on my side," he declared.
"Class dismissed!" the teacher barked. "Everyone out. Now."
Students scrambled out, laughing, gossiping.
"What are you doing after class?" "Game night. Want in?" "I'm hitting the gym." "Might go binge that new fantasy show."
Damien stretched, threw the empty chip bag in the trash, and strolled out. "They never stood a chance," he whispered, smirking.
On the street, the cool breeze brushed against his face. Damien tore into another snack bag, letting the flavor dance on his tongue.
"This one's new... sweet, tangy, a little smoky. I respect the boldness," he said aloud. "Snack innovation is a lost art."
He ambled down the sidewalk, weaving through people, completely in his own world.
"If I make it home with all three bags intact, it'll be a miracle," he said. "Temptation is a cruel mistress."
Eventually, he reached the familiar corner store.
The bell jingled as he stepped in. The air smelled of dust, plastic, and nostalgia.
"Yo, Mr. Saito! You got any 'Inferno Crunch Bites' left or did the greedy gremlins clean you out again?"
From behind the counter, Mr. Saito looked up. The old man's salt-and-pepper hair stood out against his crimson sweater. His eyes twinkled behind thick glasses.
"Back shelf. You know the drill. But they're going fast."
Damien grinned. "You're a hero among mortals."
He darted to the back, grabbed a handful of snack bags, and dumped them onto the counter.
"You've been raiding my snack shelves since you were, what, nine?" Mr. Saito asked, chuckling.
"Eight. I still remember the first time I tried those spicy mango strips. Thought I was dying. It was beautiful."
Mr. Saito laughed. "You took one bite, cried, then asked for another. You were always strange."
"Strange? I'm a visionary. These snacks... they're fuel for my madness."
"You also owe me like five bucks from last week."
"Put it on my tab, old man," Damien grinned.
"One day, that tab's gonna eat you."
"Then I'll go out crunchy."
They shared a laugh. Damien handed over some bills, grabbed his loot, and walked out.
The sun dipped low as he made his way through the streets, biting into his newly acquired treasure.
"Perfectly balanced... spicy on the inhale, sweet on the finish. They did it again. I should write a blog."
He passed by a park. Kids played, yelling and tossing a ball. Their laughter was carefree.
"Ah, to be blissfully unaware. Must be nice."
Suddenly, the ball bounced off a tree and rolled onto the road. One of the kids chased after it.
A truck was speeding toward the intersection.
Time froze for a split second.
"No..."
Damien's eyes widened.
"Not on my watch."
He dropped his snacks and sprinted.
Come on. Faster. Move! he urged himself.
His heart thundered. His legs burned.
He grabbed the kid, shoved him clear of the road.
Then everything turned white.
The truck hit.
Darkness. Silence.
Damien opened his eyes slowly.
"...Where am I?"
There was nothing. No ground. No sky. Just an endless void of black.
He sat up, confused.
"Okay. Not the hospital. Not heaven. Hopefully not hell."
He stood, spinning slowly.
"Is this a coma dream? Did someone spike my chips?"
A flicker of memory hit him. The kid. The truck. The impact.
"I... saved that kid. I actually... died."
His fists clenched. Rage bubbled up.
"HELLO?! ANYONE THERE?!"
The void echoed his voice back. He waited.
Nothing.
He was about to scream again when a voice interrupted.
"Well, well... what do we have here?"
Damien spun. "Who the hell said that?! Show yourself!"
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet rumbled.
"Whoa, what the—?"
He struggled to stay standing. The tremors intensified.
"Alright, I get it! Weird creepy void, now with earthquakes? Real original."
The ground split. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, glowing faintly. A red light pulsed beneath his feet.
"What the hell is that...?" Damien muttered, taking a step back. "Glowing cracks? Lava? A dramatic light show before I get eaten by a void demon?"
The red glow brightened. Heat rose. The cracks widened.
"Okay, this is escalating. I don't like how cinematic this is getting."
Flames shot up from the cracks, curling and twisting through the air.
Damien instinctively raised his arms, bracing for impact.
"Great. I die saving a kid, and now I'm gonna be BBQ in the afterlife. Typical."
The fire engulfed him—and then... nothing.
No heat. No pain.
He opened one eye. Then the other.
The void was gone.
Before him lay a breathtaking realm of fire and wonder.
"What in the flaming hell is this place...?"
Molten rivers snaked through obsidian valleys. Fire bloomed from trees like blossoms. Massive, floating platforms drifted in the air, glowing with runes. The sky above was deep crimson, layered with stars that burned brighter than any he'd ever seen.
Planets rotated slowly, casting shadows that danced like spirits.
"Okay... wow. Did someone drug me? Is this my brain rebooting in high fantasy mode?"
He turned in a slow circle.
"This is... insane. Gorgeous. Terrifying. Like if hell and a dream had a baby."
The colors shimmered with life. The air vibrated with heat and magic.
"And yet, it's... peaceful? In a 'you might still die but you'll die in a pretty place' kind of way."
A voice rang out again.
"Welcome to my world, Damien Cross."
He turned toward the sound.
A towering throne rose above burning steps, and seated upon it was a woman who seemed carved from myth.
Crimson hair like lava. Eyes that flickered between fire and fury. She wore robes made of flames, her feet bare, leaving scorched marks behind.
She smirked.
"W-Who are you?" Damien asked.
"Hello, my little flame," she purred. "I am Ignara Vermilion. Goddess of Fire."
Damien's jaw dropped.
"WHAT. THE. HELL?!"
Damien stood still, breath caught in his throat, eyes locked on the divine being before him. The flames of the strange world still danced around them, painting everything in gold, crimson, and shades of heat. But none of it was hotter than the confusion burning inside him.
What the hell is this place?! This… burning sky? And why—why am I talking to a goddess of all things? Am I hallucinating? Did I actually get hit that hard?! What does she mean I wished for this?!
He didn't realize he was speaking in thought until the goddess giggled.
"No, this is real, my little flame," she said, smiling playfully, her eyes flickering with both fire and affection.
Damien flinched. "She heard that?! What—how did she know—?!"
His heart pounded. A mixture of fear and frustration bloomed in his chest.
"Why am I here? Are you really a fire goddess?" he demanded, voice cracking just slightly with the enormity of everything.
She stepped closer, robes of living fire licking the ground but never consuming it. "I am. And I must say, I was impressed by what you did. Saving that child—without hesitation. Most mortals wouldn't."
Damien narrowed his eyes. "I did it because—"
"Because," she interrupted gently, her voice turning somber, "you didn't want that boy or his mother to suffer... not the way you did when you watched your mother dying in that hospital bed years ago."
Damien froze. His breath hitched. His hands slowly curled into fists.
"How... how did you know that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Ignara smiled softly. "I have been watching you for a long time, Damien. I saw what ate away at you. The pain. The anger. Ever since she died, you started picking fights, your temper became uncontrollable... because you never forgave yourself for being helpless."
His fists trembled. Shoulders shook. He grit his teeth.
"I couldn't do anything... just stood there, while my mother... while she..." He choked. "I was weak!"
Ignara rose from her throne. The flames roared behind her in tune with Damien's pain.
"It's going to be alright," she said.
Damien snapped, fury bursting from his eyes. "HOW?! I'm dead! She's gone! How the hell is ANY of this alright?!"
She didn't flinch. Instead, she walked down the burning steps toward him. Fire surged with every footfall.
"Because this... is your second chance."
His thoughts spiraled.
A second life? Power? What does that mean? Why me? Why now?!
She smiled, standing before him like a goddess and a flame. "Because I won't let you suffer powerlessly again. In the next world, you'll have strength—strength to change fates... and stop others from dying the way she did. No more helplessness. Only fire."
Damien stared at her, stunned.
...She's serious. She's really giving me a new life. And power...?
She stepped closer. One blink later, she was directly in front of him. Divine heat radiated from her like sunlight made solid.
He staggered back a step—but didn't retreat.
What is she doing...?
She lifted her hands... and gently cupped his face.
His breath caught.
Her hands… they're hot, but not burning. It's like... warmth I forgot I needed.
Their eyes locked. Hers burned with galaxies of flame. His trembled with pain... and something deeper.
"Damien Cross... I now send you to a new world. And with you, I give not fire... but the origin of it."
His eyes widened. "Origin...? Wait—what—what does that mean—?!"
Ignara's lips curled into a knowing smile. "It means you will be reborn. In a world not like this one—filled with monsters, magic, swords, and sorcery. A world that needs a spark."
Reborn...? Another world... a second life? Me—starting over?
His eyes dropped, flickering with emotions.
"To live again... without regrets? Without failure? Without that helplessness...?" He looked up, voice small. "You're saying... I get to live again? Start from zero?"
"Yes," she replied, voice warm. "And this time, you'll have the power to change things. To burn through fear, through loss. To protect. And to fight."
The power of fire... but not just normal fire. Something ancient. Something divine. Is this really happening?
Ignara raised one hand, and from between her fingers, a golden ember bloomed like a newborn star.
"You will become an Overpowered Fire Mage. Even at Level 1, your flame will be unmatched. Your magic will not run dry. And your fiery temper? It will fuel your strength."
Damien's jaw dropped.
An... Overpowered Fire Mage? At level 1?! Infinite fire magic? And my temper actually makes me stronger?!
"This... this isn't magic. This is madness."
Ignara chuckled. "So, Damien... what do you think? Will you like this new life? This overwhelming firepower?"
He stood in silence, processing everything. The ember still hovered. Her voice still echoed.
Then slowly, his eyes hardened.
"Yes. I want it. I want to live again. I want to burn brighter than ever."
Ignara's smile widened. "Good. Then let me show you what it means... to receive not fire... but the Origin of Fire."
Her hair flowed like magma. The realm itself pulsed in rhythm with her power.
She raised both hands, palms cupped together.
Suddenly—BOOM.
The space between her hands exploded with light, fire, and something far older. The ground quaked beneath their feet as the flames swirled like galaxies being born.
From her palms, a sphere began to form—no larger than an apple, yet burning like a newborn sun. It pulsed.
One beat... two.
It wasn't just fire.
It was fire before fire existed.
Not flame—but the idea of flame. The origin of combustion, anger, passion, life itself. A concept made physical.
It glowed a gold-red hue, with living molten veins swirling inside, vibrant and fluid. The core pulsed in harmony with Damien's own heartbeat, as if recognizing him.
Tiny embers orbited it like fiery satellites—planets pulled into its gravitational breath. The light it cast was alive, full of memories of suns born and galaxies consumed.
Damien took a step back. His breath caught. His thoughts were chaos.
That's not magic. That's... creation. That's fire given soul.
And then, without hesitation, Ignara stepped forward.
She didn't ask.
She simply pressed the core—directly into his chest.
BOOOOOOM.
A shockwave erupted from Damien's body, fire bursting outward in perfect rings of energy. The flames curled and danced like dragons made of sunlight.
Damien's body lifted from the ground. His eyes widened, torn between agony and awe.
His veins glowed, orange-red, beneath his skin like rivers of magma. Heat thundered in his ears.
Runes spiraled across his chest, arms, and shoulders—burning into his flesh like sacred branding. Marking him.
His mouth opened to scream—but no sound escaped. Only blinding, searing light.
The Power Flooded In.
His spine arched. His limbs trembled.
His hair flared upward, flickering like a roaring inferno.
The divine fire surged through him like molten electricity, rewriting every cell, every scar, every shadow.
His heartbeat slowed—then slammed once.
BOOM.
It echoed across the flame realm.
Every emotion he'd ever buried—pain, rage, guilt, love—ignited in that one moment.
And through it all, the Core pulsed.
BOOM.BOOM.
A rhythm matching his breath.
Ignara watched, smiling gently. "Now you carry it, Damien. The Crimson Soul Core. Your fire will never run dry. And when you rage… the world will remember your name."
The last pulse of divine fire echoed across the horizon.
Damien floated midair, body glowing like a rising sun. The Core had fused completely into his chest—a subtle glow pulsing beneath his sternum, like a second heart of magma.
The firestorm slowly began to die down. The sky still burned, but the explosion's fury ebbed.
Then—the flames vanished.
Instantly, Damien dropped.
He landed hard, on one knee, panting. His heart pounded like a war drum.
He stood slowly, the air around him still thick with smoldering heat and silence.
His chest no longer burned—but glowed. Thin golden-red lines etched down his arms, like tattoos of living flame, slowly fading from white-hot to soft ember-orange.
He looked down at his hands. They weren't the same. Not completely. His fingers trembled slightly as he flexed them. The skin shimmered subtly, no longer just flesh and bone—but something tougher, infused. Empowered.
His hair had darkened, now a rich jet-black, short and tousled in defiant strands—with deep red tips that smoldered faintly with each heartbeat. A few uneven locks curled naturally across his forehead, lending a rebellious charm that felt… earned. As if the chaos of his soul had finally found form.
His eyes—once dull—now blazed molten amber-gold, glowing faintly at the edges, like banked embers always threatening to reignite. Sharp. Observant. They burned with something ancient—not just power, but purpose.
His skin had bronzed, kissed by divine fire. A subtle scorch tint danced along his cheekbones and nose—the mark of someone who'd walked through an inferno... and emerged reborn.
He didn't just look different.
He looked forged.
This... this is me? Damien thought, stunned.
He took one breath—and heat swirled from his lips like mist.
He now stood at a lean 5'10", his posture balanced, not rigid but ready. His frame was toned, agile, a spell duelist's build—made for movement and precision. Every part of him hummed with magic, with will.
He rolled his shoulders. Even that simple motion felt like coiled fire about to snap loose.
His arms—he saw now—were marked with runic tattoos, glowing softly with ember-orange firelight. They pulsed with the same rhythm as his heart, tracking down from his shoulders to his forearms, arcane veins of flame.
Ignara hadn't just remade him.
She had dressed him in destiny.
From head to toe, his outfit was a masterpiece of function and flare.
The Jacket Woven by the Goddess Herself
It hung from his shoulders with both weight and purpose. Not heavy—never heavy—but present, like it belonged to him, like it had always waited for this moment.
The outer layer was deep obsidian black, textured like liquid metal forged from the heart of a volcano. The longer he stared, the more he saw it shimmer faintly with movement—a flowing pulse just beneath the fabric, as if the coat itself breathed flame.
A rich crimson inner lining, visible only in the sweeping folds, glowed subtly like cooled magma veins, alive but restrained. The jacket's hem and shoulders were laced in flame embroidery so finely threaded, the golden-orange arcs shifted and flickered like actual fire caught in a windless dance.
At his back, just between the shoulder blades, the sigil of Ignara had been stitched in ember-thread—a radiant, spiraling flame crown wrapped around a blazing sunburst. Her divine seal. Her mark.
The collar was high-cut, regal, with silver clasps at his throat and cuffs—each one engraved with celestial glyphs in a language he didn't understand, but somehow felt in his blood.
Function met beauty, and the result was armor that could walk a battlefield or a throne room without shame.
The Rest of the Ensemble
Beneath the coat, his chest was hugged by a tight-fit sleeveless black undershirt, runed at the seams. The fabric wasn't just fire-resistant—it drank heat, redirecting it like a conduit.
Running from both shoulders and spiraling down to his wrists were arcane fire sigils, glowing in perfect unison with the steady thump of his heart. They pulsed with the same rhythm—flame-veins, alive, fierce, and sacred. The first time he noticed them shift? Was when he clenched his fists.
His pants were made of matte-black combat weave, light and quiet, but sturdy. Twin crimson stripes ran down the sides—each one threaded with arcane piping, both stylish and functional. They were stitched to allow complete flexibility—he could sprint, flip, or strike without restriction.
Utility straps lined his thighs, each one clipped with compact spell-scroll holsters and quick-access pockets. Fireproof. Enchanted.
His boots, sleek and reinforced, were tucked just beneath—black leather hybridized with fire-resistant hide, reinforced by mana-reactive soles that hummed faintly with every step. They responded to his movements like they knew his intent.
His gloves—fingerless, tight, and crafted from black leather—were etched with ruby-colored crystal nodes on each knuckle. When he flexed his hands, the gems flickered. When he tightened his fists, they sparked. Not a decoration. A threat. A weapon.
Strapped to his waist was a slim red belt, enchanted and threaded with sealed flame tags, ready for on-the-fly casting or last-resort surges. Attached to his hip was a small, flameproof leather satchel—an unassuming pouch that held spell vials, rations, and a single worn photo.
The Photo
It was the photo of his mother.
Faded around the edges. Smudged with ash. Still precious.
Ignara hadn't just remade him. She had dressed him in destiny.
From head to toe, his outfit was a masterpiece of function and flare—combat-ready, divine-coded, and aesthetically flawless. A fire mage's crown, carved into cloth.
He touched the edge of his jacket sleeve. It was warm—not burning, but pulsing. Like it recognized him. Like it was welcoming him home.
This isn't just a coat... It's a second skin. A warning. A promise.
He looked up, flames flickering in his eyes. And for the first time since his mother's death, Damien Cross stood tall—cloaked not in pain, but in power.
Ignara, the Goddess of Fire, stood amidst the ember-lit horizon, her robes of flame trailing behind her like a living inferno. Her eyes shimmered with warmth and wild intensity as she watched Damien rise from the ground, transformed. The divine heat of her domain rippled in silent celebration around her.
She smiled, a rare expression of genuine pride crossing her face.
He did it, she thought. He accepted the fire. No hesitation, no fear. Just like I hoped.
Her voice, soft but powerful, echoed across the realm. "How do you feel, my little flame?"
Damien slowly stood, lifting his hands as if trying to hold something invisible. Power surged through his limbs. His fingertips buzzed with untapped heat. The air around him shimmered with his aura—wild, unstable, but majestic.
He looked down at his hands again, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Like I've been asleep all my life... and just woke up."
He spread his fingers.
Click.
A spark ignited. Flame erupted from his palm.
"Oh? That was easy," he muttered with a smirk.
With casual grace, he snapped again, making the flame dance, spiral, and twist into the shape of a phoenix mid-flight. He flung it upward, and it burst like a firework, scattering embers across the sky.
"Hah! That was awesome!"
He conjured twin orbs of flame and juggled them effortlessly. He spun, one flame turning into a fiery serpent that wrapped around his arm before bursting outward in a shower of sparks.
Ignara watched, laughing heartily. The sound, like a melodic roar, filled the domain.
"You never fail to surprise me, Damien," she said, delight bright in her voice. "Look at you... already shaping flame like a seasoned sorcerer. My little flame is growing strong."
Damien nodded, lowering his hands as the fire faded into harmless smoke.
He glanced at his arms, still marked with glowing runes. He closed his eyes briefly and felt the fire move within him—not like a weapon, but a second heart. A rhythm. A purpose.
"It doesn't just feel like power," he said. "It feels... alive. Like I'm carrying a storm that finally knows my name."
Ignara stepped forward, her bare feet leaving soft scorch prints across the obsidian floor.
"And now," she said, her voice turning tender, "it's time. Are you ready for the new world?"
Damien hesitated for a moment, then looked up at her with curiosity.
"Wait," he said. "Before I go... what kind of magic system does this world have? I mean... how does magic even work there?"
Ignara smiled, a spark of amusement lighting her eyes. "A wise question, my little flame. The world you're heading to is shaped by what is known as the Triad Arcana System. There are three dominant schools of magic: Elemental, Celestial, and Ethereal."
She raised her hand, conjuring three small orbs of light that floated between her fingers.
"Elemental magic governs the raw forces of nature—fire, water, wind, and earth. Celestial magic taps into divine energies, blessings, and spirit-based abilities. Ethereal magic manipulates the unseen: illusions, time, shadow, and soulcraft."
The orbs danced, swirling in harmony.
"Each mage is born with a latent affinity. Some can train to master multiple schools, though very few ever do. Magic is channeled through the soul—and shaped by intent. The stronger your conviction, the stronger your spell."
Damien nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
"So... will I have an affinity too?" he asked.
Ignara chuckled. "You won't just have an affinity. You are fire, Damien. The Crimson Soul Core makes you the source, not just the user. You bend flame without cost. You create heat where there is none. Your flame is divine—it breaks rules."
Damien blinked, mind reeling. "So basically... cheat codes."
"You still have to grow," she warned. "There are others in that world just as powerful in their own right. Some will see you as a threat. Others... as a beacon."
He inhaled, fists clenching slightly. "What world am I going to, exactly?"
Ignara's eyes gleamed with reverence.
"The world is called Ignisra. A land of fractured kingdoms, forgotten gods, and ancient ruins buried in fire and frost. It's beautiful... and cruel. But it is a world of magic, wonder, and war."
She looked toward the sky, then back at him. "And it has waited too long for someone like you."
Damien took a breath, nodded. "Then I'm ready. Send me."
Ignara smiled wider. Her hand lifted, glowing with a divine aura that curled around her fingers like golden smoke.
"Farewell, Damien Cross. My little flame."
The magic circle appeared beneath his feet—an intricate, radiant glyph that pulsed with ancient power. Light rose up in a column, wrapping him in threads of flame and energy.
"Make the world yours," Ignara whispered. "And show them how bright you are."
With a flash, Damien vanished.
Minutes later...
The sky shimmered as a magic circle appeared in the middle of a sprawling forest. It hummed with heat, glowing softly in contrast to the lush greenery.
With a burst of radiant firelight, Damien reappeared within it.
The magic circle faded beneath his boots, melting into the moss and grass.
Damien blinked. The scent hit him first—earth, rain-soaked bark, and wildflowers. He took a slow step forward.
The forest around him was a cathedral of ancient trees. Their trunks towered into the heavens, leaves catching sunlight and scattering it in shimmering beams. Vines curled around thick roots, and crystal-clear streams wove between ferns and stones.
Birds chirped in melodies he had never heard. Distant roars echoed faintly. Magic tingled in the air like static, humming against his skin.
He turned in a slow circle.
"Damn... this place is something else," he whispered.
The wind blew gently. Leaves rustled. Somewhere far off, something howled—not threatening, just alive.
He looked at his hands again. The warmth of the Crimson Soul Core still throbbed within him.
He took a step forward, then another, walking into the forest.
"Let's begin my new adventure," he said aloud, smirking. "New world, new rules... same flame."
With each step, his boots pressed softly into the moss. Birds watched from branches. Tiny, magical creatures fluttered behind trees, vanishing when he looked their way.
The deeper he walked, the more the world opened.
And in the heart of it all... Damien Cross walked forward, ready to burn his name into destiny.
Damien strode confidently through the forest, embers still trailing faintly from his boots. The trees whispered in strange languages. Birds with crystal-tipped wings darted between branches. The air smelled like moss, ozone, and faint cinnamon—because even the forest had spice in this world.
He chuckled softly. "New world, huh? It actually smells better than I thought."
As he walked, a thought began itching in the back of his mind.
If this really is an isekai... then it has to have a status screen, right? That's like, rule number one.
He scratched his head.
"I remember those old manga I used to sneak under my pillow. All the protagonists would yell 'Open Status' and boom—stats everywhere."
He glanced around, then mumbled, "Ugh, can't believe I'm doing this... Open Status."
A fiery whoosh erupted before him.
A crimson screen materialized, glowing with molten glyphs and runes. Data began cascading down, bright letters writing themselves into the air.
"Holy... crap. It worked."
He read:
Name: Damien Cross
Age: 17
Race: Human (Reincarnated, Flame-Blessed)
Level: 1
Class: Overpowered Fire Mage
Titles: Flame Sovereign's Chosen, Reincarnated Hero, Walking Inferno, The Fire Menace
Health Points: 980 / 980
Magic Points: ∞
Strength: 94
Agility: 101
Endurance: 120
Mana: ∞
Luck: 87
Charm: 93
Normal Skills:
Fire Resistance EX – Immune to all fire, heat, magma, lava, volcanic eruptions, and kitchen accidents.
Thermal Vision – Automatically detects all heat sources within a 50-meter radius. Can see through walls, fog, and excuses.
Blaze-Blooded Body – Internal body temperature cannot be measured. Grants +15% spell resistance, especially against ice, curse, or cringe magic.
Combat Awareness – Time perception slows slightly during high-emotion or combat stress.
Flame Affinity (MAX) – Any fire-based magic Damien uses becomes 50% more effective, faster to cast, and more unstable—in a good way.
Language Comprehension (Divine Tier) – Understands and reads all written or spoken languages—including ancient, demonic, elvish, divine, and "lost languages."
Appraisal – Allows Damien to scan and read stats, abilities, weaknesses, and titles of monsters, items, and even people.
Danger Sense (Passive) – Slight glow in eyes before danger strikes.
Basic Hand-to-Hand Combat (Modified) – Infused with fire when activated. Punches burn.
Ability Skills:
Pyrograsp – Infuses his hands with fire magic, allowing him to grab and overload enemy spells, weapons, or faces.
Burning Rage (Passive) – Emotional spikes (anger, protectiveness, jealousy) cause massive temporary stat boosts and aura flare.
Infernal Pressure – Damien emits a wave of heavy flame aura, stunning or staggering weaker enemies just by proximity.
Blazewind Traversal – Harnesses divine flame to boost Damien's body speed to sonic-levels for open-world traversal. Can run city to city across the continent in minutes.
Flashflare Punch – Channel fire into fist for an explosive impact (knocks enemies into walls).
Internal Combustion Surge – Triggered when Damien is physically restrained, frozen, or sealed and his rage threshold exceeds 75%. His body superheats internally, shattering bonds, seals, or paralysis effects in a violent fire explosion around him.
Magic Fire Skills:
Fireball EX – Standard fireball, but overclocked. Radius: 10 meters. Can level buildings.
Heat Nova – Unleashes an expanding wave of high-heat pressure. Melts metal. Incinerates ice. Disorients enemies.
Dragon's Breath – Cone-shaped flame breath attack. Damien can channel it by screaming "FLAME ROAR!" at dramatically inappropriate times.
Pyroclasm Cage – Traps enemy in a dome of dancing fire chains. Also heats marshmallows.
Flame Wall – Defensive ring of swirling flames. Looks awesome. Also BBQs anyone foolish enough to charge.
Living Flame Serpents – Summons flame snakes that chase and explode on contact.
Flame Ward (Shield) – Magical wall of flame that burns and blocks projectiles.
Flame Lance – A burning spear of pressure-forged flame. Pierces multiple enemies.
Unique Skills:
Crimson Soul Core (Passive) – The divine flame within. Grants infinite MP, flame immunity, and scales magic with emotion. Suppressed anger creates exponential magic amplification.
Origin of Fire (Passive/Active Hybrid) – The concept of flame resides in his soul. Can override any fire resistance or suppression field. Fire magic cannot be sealed.
Ember Rebirth (Passive – Once/Day) – Upon fatal damage, explodes in a firestorm and resurrects with 25% HP in the ashes.
Wrath Surge (Triggered) – During emotional overload, triggers a berserk state that causes all fire spells to double in power and bypass cooldowns for 10 seconds.
Flame Sovereign's Will – Can control, shape, absorb, or snuff out any non-divine fire nearby.
Flame Clone – Creates a burning doppelgänger that mimics his casting for 10 seconds.
Weapon:
Infernal Embrand (Goddess-Forged) – A divine dagger/wand hybrid that can channel spells and slash through magic barriers. Can ignite into a full flame blade.
Items:
[Inventory Pending Discovery]
Damien exhaled slowly. "Well... damn. That's a lot. And I'm just Level 1?!"
He tapped the crimson screen, which rippled like liquid fire before vanishing with a flick of his wrist.
"Fireballs, flame snakes, berserker rage mode, and a skill that literally revives me in an explosion. Yep... this is going to be fun."
A crooked smile tugged at his lips as he kept walking through the forest.
Sunlight filtered through the trees. Birds kept chirping. But now... the forest felt like a stage.
"Let's begin the real adventure," he said, fire flickering across his knuckles.
Damien walked deeper into the forest, boots crunching against roots and moss, the scent of wildflowers and distant rain in the air. Golden beams of sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappled with drifting leaves and birdsong. Yet for all its serenity, something stirred in him—a familiar itch.
"Alright... new world, new magic, infinite firepower... so where are the monsters?"
His eyes scanned between trees as he mumbled to himself.
"I mean, what's an OP fire mage without something to burn? This forest better cough up something soon or I'm going to start roasting trees just for practice."
He continued walking. Ten minutes turned into thirty. Then an hour.
Still nothing.
No goblins. No bandits. Not even a confused slime.
"What is this, a peaceful starter zone? I didn't reincarnate into a fairy tale village... did I?"
Annoyed but undeterred, Damien flicked his fingers. A small flame appeared, spinning lazily over his palm.
"Might as well practice."
He began tossing the flame like a juggler's ball, bouncing it between his hands, shaping it into birds, dragons, and once—briefly—a grinning skull.
He laughed, spinning a ring of fire between his fingers.
Then...
BOOM!
A thunderous roar split the silence. The sound echoed through the trees, low and powerful, rattling branches and sending birds fleeing in a panic. A distant explosion of light and heat followed, like lightning slamming into dry wood.
The tremor beneath his boots spread like ripples through the forest floor.
Another roar—higher this time, like thunder crackling through a tornado—ripped through the glade.
Damien froze mid-step. His breath slowed.
...That wasn't distant. That was close.
Dust vibrated at his feet. The scent of ozone filled the air.
The sky above flashed a blinding white.
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground ahead of him, maybe twenty meters away. The impact threw a geyser of dirt, shattered branches, and displaced air into the sky like a bomb.
The shockwave followed instantly.
WHOOOOOMPH!
Wind slammed into Damien, nearly knocking him back. His coat whipped around him like a flag in a hurricane. He threw up an arm to shield his face, eyes squinting against the debris.
Sparks crackled across his fingertips.
Okay, he thought. That was definitely not your average thunderclap. What the hell is going on out here?
He took a step forward, tension building in his chest.
"Let's see what's throwing lightning bombs like party favors."
He closed his eyes.
"Blazewind Traversal."
His foot slid forward. The world blurred.
And then—BOOM!
He vanished, leaving behind a scorched swirl of heat and ember trails that coiled into the shape of a flame glyph before fading.
The wind bent around the vacuum left in his wake. A faint scorch mark darkened the ground where he'd stood.
The world blurred. Trees passed in flashes. Leaves swirled. His coat trailed fire behind him.
Then—
BOOM!
The earth shook. Birds scattered. A deafening roar tore through the air like thunder cracking apart the sky itself.
Damien skidded to a halt just behind a ridge, cloak rippling.
Another explosion of lightning followed—so bright it turned day to white.
What the hell? he thought.
Dust vibrated at his feet. The air thickened. The sky above flickered with stormlight, building to a crackling crescendo.
Then—
CRAAACK!
A bolt of lightning slammed into the clearing just ahead.
Dirt, leaves, and debris exploded upward in a fiery blast. Air warped. Trees snapped.
The shockwave rushed out in a wave.
Damien instinctively threw his arm up, shielding his face. His coat flared outward, flames licking at the edges. Sparks danced around his boots. Crimson light shimmered off his skin.
Electricity buzzed in the air. It licked across his fingertips, tickling like fireflies made of voltage.
He narrowed his eyes.
"That wasn't natural," he muttered. "No spell I've seen strikes like that. Monster fight? Dungeon boss? Or... someone beat me to the fun?"
He climbed the ridge slowly, silent as smoke.
Then he saw it.
The forest clearing ahead had become a battlefield.
Two enormous lion-like beasts, storm-gray and built like tanks, prowled with coordinated menace. Their muscles rolled under glowing fur etched with lightning veins. Every step they took scorched the ground. Their violet-blue manes crackled with power, fangs flashing like daggers of light.
And between them—
Damien froze for a beat.
...Okay. She's hot.
The high elf woman spun, blades flashing.
She was lean and athletic, all honed muscle and grace. Strong thighs, toned arms, and a confidence that radiated through every motion. Her form screamed agility and raw power—like she trained by accident while fighting things twice her size.
And when she landed from a flip, he saw it.
Did... Did that bounce?
Her chest—medium, compact, well-fitted in armor clearly designed for flexibility—not fanservice—moved in sync with her wild energy.
Damien coughed and looked away. Focus, man. You're not a creep. You're just a guy with fire magic and questionable timing. Not a hero—just a dangerously overpowered mage trying not to stare in the middle of a boss fight.
Still, he mentally added: Nice armor design though. Functional. Respectfully appreciated.
He turned his attention back to the monsters.
He whispered, "Appraisal."
Name: Thunderclaw Lions
Rank: C-Class Monster
Type: Elemental Beast (Lightning)
Abilities: Thunder Roar, Flashfang Reposition, Storm Pounce, Voltage Swipe, Twin Hunt AI
Weakness: Ice Magic, Delayed Reactions Post-Burst
Damien muttered, "If I didn't have my fire magic, I'd already be dead."
He crouched and watched the battle unfold.
Below, Aira gritted her teeth. "Okay, okay—one more chance. I just need to drop one. Fast."
She dropped into her stance. Speed enchantments crackled at her boots.
The lions moved—together.
One front. One flank.
She darted between them, twin blades flashing.
"Double Fang Combo!"
She slashed outward, blades crossing. Sparks erupted as steel collided with charged fur. The lion staggered, but only for a breath.
BOOM!
The other lion lunged.
"Quickstep Dash!"
Aira vanished in a blur, reappearing behind the creature.
"Rolling Edge!"
She tumbled low, slashing upward into its flank, drawing a hiss of pain.
"C'mon, fuzzballs! You want a storm? Let's make it HURRICANE!"
The lions weren't idle. One reared back, unleashing a blinding bolt.
Thunder Roar – Activated!
A shockwave of noise and electricity blasted outward. Aira gritted her teeth and braced.
Her boots skidded. Her shoulder cloak ripped.
"Ughhh! Rude! That was custom-stitched!"
Storm Pounce – Engaged!
The second lion lunged with violent speed.
Aira spun. "Whirlwind Cutter!"
She became a spinning tempest, blades extended, slashing the air around her.
The lion was forced to dodge mid-leap, landing just short, paws gouging into the dirt.
"Let's DANCE, Sparky!"
But they were adapting. Faster.
Damien narrowed his eyes. "That last dodge... too slow."
Aira landed in a skid, blades trembling. Her fingers clenched. "Alright… it's now or never. Time for—"
She spun. "STABBY TORNAD—"
But the lions adapted.
Flashfang Reposition – Activated!
One vanished in a streak of blue.
Aira's eyes widened. "Wha—where'd it—?!"
Buzzing behind her.
Her ears twitched.
"Oh crap."
CRACK!
Lightning-infused claws raked across her back. She screamed, sent flying, tumbling through the air. Her body slammed into a tree with a sickening thud.
She slid down, coughing. Her blades clattered beside her.
"Owwww… That... really... hurt."
She looked up.
The lions approached. Step by step. Electricity pulsing.
Aira's hand reached weakly toward one sword.
"Legs won't move… great. Guess… this is it."
The lion crouched.
Pounce imminent.
Her eyes closed. "Heh… No regrets."
The heat surged.
The air shimmered.
Damien's foot stepped forward.
"Blazewind Traversal."
He vanished.
Then—CRACK! The Thunderclaw Lion launched forward like a bolt of living lightning, claws primed to end the fight.
Aira, half-conscious, braced herself with what little strength remained. Her lips parted to curse or pray—but before either word left her mouth, a voice erupted out of nowhere, clear and sharp like a blade drawn through flame.
"FLASHFLARE PUNCH!!!"
The air itself responded.
A massive flare of crimson light erupted from the treeline, too fast to track, too hot to process.
Aira's eyes widened.
What in the hells—?
A split-second before the lion's claw reached her, a comet-like orb of flaming red-orange fury slammed into its face with a deafening BOOOOM! The impact echoed like a volcanic eruption.
Time seemed to pause.
The lion's body twisted midair as the blast hurled it away like a ragdoll.
Then the shockwave hit.
A roaring ring of flame exploded outward, expanding in all directions. Trees bent. Branches snapped. The surrounding grass ignited instantly. Leaves combusted before they even touched the ground. The forest floor became a ring of searing, brilliant heat.
Aira shielded her eyes instinctively, the heat licking her skin. Her braids fluttered in the sudden inferno wind. The sheer pressure of the magic pushed the remaining Thunderclaw Lion backward, forcing it to dig claws into the dirt to anchor itself.
The lion that had attacked her? Gone.
It cartwheeled through the air like a flaming meteor, smashing through one—two—three—four trees before crashing into a distant ridge. Smoke plumed upward. The ground shook as its body skidded, tumbled, and finally came to a silent, smoldering halt nearly a mile away.
Silence followed.
Aira's eyes snapped open. Her pupils dilated.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
Chest heaving. Arms trembling.
She didn't know if she was alive, dead, or dreaming inside a firestorm.
Did I just get hit by a divine intervention? Or... did someone just nuke a lion?
And then she saw him.
Through the haze of heat and swirling ash, a figure stepped forward.
Black coat.
Crimson-tipped hair fluttering in the rising heat.
His coat shimmered faintly with glowing runes that pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Smoke curled from his clenched fist.
He wasn't even looking at her.
Just at his own hand—as if mildly surprised at the devastation he'd just casually unleashed.
And then, with a crooked grin, voice low and entirely too calm for someone who'd just launched a thunderbeast into orbit, he said:
"Now that... was a fiery punch."
Aira stared at him.
Jaw slack.
Face flushed.
Still flat on her back.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Adrenaline crashing through her like a tidal wave.
She opened her mouth, barely managing to find a voice beneath the chaos.
"Who the HELL are you?!"
To be continued...