The world had finally fallen silent.
No lingering warmth from his mother's imprint.
No echo of her fading voice.
Just the cold ring in Kael's palm—heavy, unresponsive, stubborn.
He rolled it between his fingers, breath uneven.
His mind felt scraped hollow, grief leaving nothing but a cold ache.
He didn't know how long he sat there.
Not until his stomach growled loud enough to embarrass him.
"…Tch. Great."
With a stiff grunt, Kael pushed himself upright. "Ngh—fine. Hunger first. Breakdown later."
The Emberfang carcass lay nearby, still faintly warm. Kael knelt, slid his dagger into the cracked hide, and sliced. A wave of scorched-metal stench rolled out.
"Ugh… wonderful."
His blade struck something hard. He dug around and pulled out a dull-orange monster core, its glow faint and unimpressive.
He snorted.
Monster cores… unstable lumps of wild elemental energy. And every kid in the kingdom knew the rule:
Only a cultivator with the same element could refine one.
Fire for fire.
Water for water.
Wind for wind.
Anything else?
Immediate, painful, memorable death—or wrose lifetime time regret of ruined cultivation if alive.
Higher-rank cores could even hold the beast'swill—a feral instinct that clawed at anyone foolish enough to directly refine it. It had to be wrestled during refinement But a weak Rank-1 Emberfang core like this? Barely enough will to hiss.
Still, these cores fetched 150 copper in the market—fifteen days of Kael's tool-repair wages.
He shook his head.
"Tch.. Great I Almost died for the price of a new farming shovel."
He tossed it aside.
Kael carved off a slab of meat—tough, rubbery, and smelling like burnt stone.
"…Right. Fire."
His eyes drifted back to the core.
"…Maybe?"
He crouched, cupped the core in his hands, and tried channeling mana into it the way his mother once described: push gently, awaken the residual essence, turn it into a makeshift heat stone.
He pushed a thin thread of natural mana into it—the weak, instinctive kind every human had.
The core flickered—
pfft.
Then sputtered out with a pathetic crack. A whiff of smoke curled up and died instantly. A pathetic sputter of smoke.
Kael blinked. "…Seriously?"
He tried again—more mana, more focus.
tchh—crrk.
A crack split the core.
"Tch. Trash."
He tossed it away.
His stomach growled louder.
A stubborn irritation flared.
Why am I trying to coax heat out of a weak Emberfang core…
…when apparently I carry the strongest flame in the world?
He clicked his tongue.
"Hnn. Idiot."
He took a breath, dug his heels in, and straightened his back.
"…One more try."
His stubbornness dug deep — his mother always said he got that from his father whom he didn't know anything .
He placed the meat in front of him.
"Just a tiny flame . Gentle. Easy."
He reached inward — slowly.
—and the flame seed answered aggressively.
then detonated like it wanted to mock him personally.
A burst of golden fire exploded from his fingertip, scorching the dirt and half the meat.
A deep, delighted hum coiled through him.
"Hmm. I'd applaud if I still had hands. Watching you is performance art."
Kael's expression went flat.
"…No. Not you. Not now."
Azreath's voice brightened with wicked delight.
"Azreath, yes. Try to remember your benefactor's name next time."
He tried once more, stubbornness overriding reason.
He breathed in.
Focused.
Slowed his heartbeat—
—BOOM.
A second explosion.
This one shot straight upward, sizzling a patch of leaves.
Kael recoiled. "AGAIN?! What—why—"
"Bravo. Truly inspiring incompetence."
Kael spun around at the empty air. "Why don't YOU do it then?!"
Azreath purred.
"Because it is your flame, not mine.
I am merely… supervision."
Kael glared. "I don't need supervision! I need FOOD!"
Azreath hummed, enjoying this too much.
"And lessons. And humility. And emotional stability. And—"
"Shut. UP."
Azreath chuckled like a smug old demon savoring premium entertainment.
Kael stared at the half-charred, half-raw Emberfang slab.
A culinary war crime.
"…Ugh."
Hunger didn't care.
He picked up the least-ruined piece and bit in.
Instant regret.
Kael glared at the air. "Why now?!"
"To observe. To critique. To be entertained."
Kael snapped.
"Fine! If you're going to laugh at me—then TEACH me!"
A pause.
Then Azreath hummed as if savoring the moment.
"Teach you? Hmm… no."
Kael's jaw dropped. "Tch—WHY?!"
Azreath's tone turned regal and disdainful.
"A dragon does not kneel to instruct toddlers.
Dragons proves themself first.
They claim everything they want by dominance, by proving their right on it— not by begging."
Kael threw his hands up. "So I'm supposed to figure everything out alone?!"
"Exactly. If I spoon-feed you, you remain weak.
Weakness dishonors Dragons."
Kael's eye twitched. "You arrogant—overgrown—molten-scaled lizard!"
Azreath's voice sharpened, amused.
"Pathetic. You wield flame older than suns and manage to disgrace it in two breaths."
Kael snapped. "Shove your dragon pride up your ass!"
Azreath chuckled, delighted.
"Hmm. At least you insult with spine.
Better than whining like a spoiled princess."
Kael growled under his breath, grabbed the ruined meat, and bit into it.
Instant regret.
"This is charcoal dipped in sadness," he muttered.
Azreath hummed.
"Your mother would be truly disappointed.
You wield the strongest flame in the world… and You cook like someone actively trying to poison themselves."
Kael nearly choked. "Say that again—"
"Disappointing."
"Tch—!"
He hurled the bone into the bushes.
"I hate you."
"Good. Hate is a stable emotion."
Kael rubbed his forehead, exhaling shakily.
"…Fine. If you won't teach me, then help with something important."
Azreath went silent.
Kael lifted the ring.
"…Help me open this."
A long, wounded sigh echoed inside him.
"Tch. It is a family treasure bound to your mother's bloodline. Only her kin may access it."
Kael frowned. "Okay… but HOW?"
"Use your blood. Your mana. Your will. Preferably in that order."
"…So I just bleed on it?"
Azreath made a disgusted noise.
"Hmmmmm…
please refrain from announcing your idiocy. Just bleed on it before I molt from irritation."
Kael scowled, drew his dagger, hesitated.
A memory flashed — his mother wrapping his hand gently after a small cut, whispering calm words.
His throat tightened.
"This is nothing," he whispered. "Compared to losing her."
He sliced his thumb.
Blood welled — dark red with a faint golden sheen.
He let the drop fall.
It rolled.
Disappeared.
Kael held his breath.
...….
Nothing.
No glow.
No hum.
No warmth.
"…Eh?"
Azreath exploded in laughter.
"Pfft—ha! That was delightful."
"Tch—shut UP!"
"Did you expect fireworks?"
"I—No—but—YOU—!"
Azreath sighed with theatrical disappointment.
"Blood alone is not enough.
You must reach it .
Think.
Command."
Kael inhaled slowly. Closed his eyes.
Wind rustled the trees.
Night pressed in.
His weak mana stirred reluctantly.
He focused.
Not on flame.
Not on Azreath.
On the ring.
His grip tightened.
"…Mother. I'm here. Open."
Silence.
But something subtle shifted—
soft, faint, deep—like the world drew a breath.
Kael steadied his breathing.
"I'll open you," he whispered. "I have to."
The ring remained cold. Silent.
Waiting.
And Kael finally understood—
It wouldn't open for him.
He had to reach inside
and open it himself.