Three weeks had passed, and the fiery heart of the volcano roared like an ancient beast.
Deep beneath its surface, in the searing embrace of molten lava, Hope sat motionless. His body was submerged in the glowing liquid, an inferno that would incinerate most beings in moments. Yet, for Hope, it was the perfect crucible. The Eternal Cinderheart Awakening, a legendary transformation that tempered both body and soul, was almost complete. The fire around him was no longer an enemy; it was an ally, a constant presence that refined his very essence. Each beat of his heart resonated with the power of the flames, growing stronger with every passing second.
The process was grueling, but to Hope pain had become a familiar companion on his cultivation journey. Sweat no longer poured from his brow—it had been burned away long ago. All that remained was focus, an unyielding determination to push through. He could feel his heart changing, evolving. The once fragile vessel of flesh and blood was now transforming into something unbreakable, a core of molten power—an Eternal Cinderheart Awakening.
Finally, it happened.
A surge of energy erupted within him, igniting every fiber of his being. His heart pulsed with an otherworldly heat, and in that moment, he knew he had succeeded. But as the breakthrough came, so did an unexpected loss. A part of his mind, his very soul, seemed to slip away. It was intangible, like a fragment of himself dissolving into the flames. When the process was complete, Hope opened his eyes, and they gleamed with a cold, detached light. The warmth he once carried in his heart was gone, replaced by a void of icy resolve.
Hope’s lips tightened into a line.
He realized he could no longer smile—the expression felt alien, a relic of his former self. Memories of his rare smiles surfaced, but they were distant now, like echoes of a life he had left behind. He clenched his fists, feeling the overwhelming rush of power coursing through him.
It was intoxicating.
For a fleeting moment, he believed he was invincible, capable of shattering mountains with his bare hands. His veins surged with dopamine, a euphoric high that made him feel like a god among mortals.
But Hope had learned the dangers of arrogance. The relic had shown him glimpses of beings whose strength defied comprehension. Compared to them, he wasn’t even an ant. He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing himself to calm down. Power was not an excuse for hubris. He had to remain grounded, disciplined, or risk losing everything.
Standing up from his meditative position, Hope looked over his shoulder and was stunned. His hair, once black and neatly tied, now hung loosely over his shoulders. It had grown significantly longer during his seclusion, the ends tinged with shades of purple and red, as if the fire itself had marked him. He reached up to run a hand through it, the texture surprisingly soft despite its fiery hues. It was a minor change, but it signified the transformation he had undergone.
“No time to dwell on this” he muttered, his voice deeper and more resonant than before. He dismissed the thought and began swimming through the lava, his movements fluid and effortless. The heat, once unbearable, now felt like a gentle caress. Fire had become his closest companion, a force he could command with a mere thought.
As he emerged from the molten depths, the top of the volcano greeted him with a wave of fresh air, tinged with sulfur and ash. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson. Hope stood naked at the mouth of the volcano, surveying the rugged landscape below. He had spent nearly a month in seclusion, but now it was time to act.
“Three flamefang wolves. Let’s make it four, I need some clothes.” he murmured, recalling the bounty he had accepted before his retreat. He remembered that he could get some money from it and he was broke.
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His second task was just as important: purchasing the rare herbs needed to refine his cultivation further. The breakthrough had given him immense power, but it was raw and untamed. The right combination of herbs would reinforce his foundation, ensuring his ascent remained steady.
And finally, the Phoenix Cry Pavilion. Hope’s eyes narrowed at the thought. The pavilion was one of the most prestigious sects in the region, known for its mastery of fire techniques and ancient legacies. Joining it would grant him access to resources, techniques, and knowledge that could propel him forward. But he didn’t know yet if he wanted to be tied down to an organization.
He liked his freedom.
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The journey down the volcano was uneventful. The terrain, once treacherous, now posed little challenge. Hope’s steps were steady, his movements precise. The fire intent he had developed during his seclusion gave him an almost supernatural grace. He could feel the volcanic energy beneath his feet, a constant reminder of the power he now wielded.
By the time he reached the forest at the base of the volcano, night had fallen. The dense foliage was bathed in moonlight, casting eerie shadows that danced with the wind. Hope’s senses were sharp, his awareness heightened as he searched for the flamefang wolves.
It didn’t take long to find them. A low growl echoed through the trees, followed by the crunch of leaves under massive paws. Hope stepped into a clearing, his gaze locking onto a pair of fiery eyes in the distance. The first wolf emerged from the shadows, its fur glowing like embers, teeth bared in a menacing snarl. Four more followed, circling him with predatory precision.
“Perfect” Hope said, his voice calm. He raised his hand, and a flicker of fire intent danced on his fingertips. The wolves lunged simultaneously, their speed blinding, but Hope was faster. With a wave of his hand, a wall of flames erupted between him and the beasts, forcing them to halt.
With a single step he reached them and delivered a powerful kick to the first unlucky wolf. The kick exploded his skull, brain matter combined with blood shoot all over the place. Hope stood there frozen.
‘What’s going on?’ he didn’t even use his full power but these wolves at Primal Surge cultivation just exploded. He felt it was surreal. As he was pondering over it a wolf bit him on the leg but it found his teeth shattering on impact. Its pitiful cry woke Hope up from his thoughts.
He looked down and saw this scene, still not quiet believing it.
‘When did I become so strong? These wolves won’t even be able to harm me even if I stood still’
While he was thinking this the other two wolves, after seeing the fates of their companions, started shivering.
Hope shook off his thoughts and not wanting to waste any more time with this he rushed at them crushing both of their necks in a matter of seconds.
After collecting his loot and making sure he didn’t miss anything he started making a rudimentary underwear and some pants using his sword to precisely cut the fur.
Having covered himself he resumed his journey back to Solaris.
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The market was bustling when Hope arrived the next morning. Merchants shouted over each other, peddling their wares, while cultivators haggled for treasures and resources.
Hope moved through the crowd bare chested with some fur pants and his presence was attracting attention. The faint aura of fire that surrounded him made people step aside, their instincts warning them of the danger he represented.
He arrived in front of the Silver Fang Guild’s building. He looked at it briefly before entering.
Neither Lyra nor Jaran were around so Hope walked to the counter where he accepted the bounty and placed the flamefang fangs on the it. “Here, I’ve completed my bounty.” He told the clerk who was working behind the counter.
The clerk verified the bounty and the loot before giving him the 50 silver coins as a reward. Hope took them and left, he now needed to buy some herbs for his cultivation.
As he exited the building and walked down the street he found an apothecary tucked away in a quieter corner of the market. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with a sharp gaze, greeted him with a nod. “What brings you here, young master?”
Hope placed his newly obtained money on the counter and said “Give me all the herbs these money can buy that can stabilize my foundation. I prefer if they are fire attributed.”
The shopkeeper counted the money, went to get some herbs and came back with a smile saying. “With 50 silver I can give you 3 stalks of 10 year-old scarlet vein ginseng.” After saying that he hastily put the herbs on the counter afraid Hope would go back on his words.
Hope took the herbs and without saying anything he left the shop with a lighter coin purse. His next destination already in his mind: the Phoenix Cry Pavilion.