Alistair didn’t know how long it took before the visions came. Time was in flux inside of the fire. The pain erased that sense. It could have been ten minutes or five days.

He had to focus on two things—both staying conscious and preventing himself from running out like a coward. The unfortunate problem was that those two things were diametrically opposed.

Forcing himself to stay conscious despite the pain and stress to his body required a concentrated force of will. It was impossible to meditate under the circumstances, even for him, so he focused more on being alive rather than some equanimous mental state.

That led to the issue of realizing his own weakness. Not that he was a weak person, but everyone had their limits. There was only so much pain that a human could withstand before breaking. By making himself more conscious of his own life, that increased his desire to flee and preserve that very life.

Alistair rocked back and forth between these two extremes for an unknown amount of time. Dev’rox, housed deep within his soulcore, shared the pain through their mental link.

Thank you. The imp remained silent, but a feeling of gruff acknowledgment came through their bond. Dev’rox had his closest ally since the soulcore tribulation all those months ago.

Now, in Alistair’s weakest moment, the ghost was there for him. Alistair could feel that the fire was of enough of a spiritual nature to harm his contracted spirit, even through his body. By purposefully focusing on the mental link, Dev’rox offset a sizable portion of the pain Alistair was experiencing. If not for that offsetting, Alistair might have already given in.

The visions came after a plateau.

For the entire period of the purgatory, the pain kept increasing at a constant, slow pace. At first it was like the pain of a stubbed toe, and it only kept increasing from there. However, there came what Alistair called the “sublime plateau.” After this miraculous point, he no longer felt any worse. The only problem was that at that point, he could barely think.

He first thought it was a trick of the eye. A mirage. But when the form of the flames shaped into a woman, he knew it was a full-fledged vision.

“Descendant, who are you?”

The flames utterly disappeared in a vortex of voluminous fire. They twisted into a new creation, a council room at the height of civilization. Above even the clouds, the metal tower was a work of unparalleled architecture.

Surrounding one glass table, thirteen chairs sat thirteen men and women. Every one of them was adorned in the finest crystal and metal armors replete with runic inscriptions, save one bald-headed monk at one end. On the other end, was a woman clothed in flames. The woman that first appeared in the inferno as a mere shadowed shape.

“Descendant, who are you?” she asked once more, though her mouth did not form the words. It was a mental command, and somehow Alistair knew it came from her, despite women filling six of the thirteen chairs. They all conversed in a language unintelligible to Alistair.

With her request, he could feel a tugging on his soul. She begged to see his most inner self, to see if he was worthy of continuing. The First Script on the rock said, “Spirit’s Fists Overcoming Struggle.” This had a mixed meaning, not necessarily tied to his concept of justice. This type of struggle was not entirely aligned to his path, but he understood the gist of it.

“I’m not your descendant,” Alistair said out loud. “But here you go.”

Breathing in, he gave this mysterious woman all that he could and more. His childhood. Growing up with Evangeline, who was always mature beyond her years. High school and then college. The wistful sense of mundanity he felt each day, knowing that adventures in the stories didn’t really exist.

The beginning of the initiation—the first time he took a life, yet also the first time he saved a life. The responsibility that came with immense power. The desire to be the best and clash fists at the pinnacle. To change the multiverse and deliver his promise to the ghosts that haunted everyone.

At first, it seemed like the woman was satisfied, eating up his memories like a royal banquet. Alistair’s confidence began to rise, as he thought she might have even looked impressed. But that all changed in the next moment. The woman frowned, and her eyes burrowed into Alistair’s soul.

“Not our descendant?” she asked.

Not from his own will, Alistair teleported by her side. None of the others gave any indication that they saw him except the woman of flames. She turned, looking at him with pools of fire. They were identical to a Devil King’s, but they lacked any of that unholy, hollow aura that marked them as abominations under Heaven.

As if she was undergoing a manual override from an automatic protocol, the woman’s voice suddenly started coming from her mouth instead of in his mind, and became more real.

“What is going on here? You do not bear the blood of the Ikanthian HalfFather.”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Alistair said. “I understand this to be the Final Trial of the Steel Body, no? I recently joined the Silver Comet Sect. It’s kind of hard to explain, but the Holy Ravine is now on another planet.”

Alistair wasn’t sure how cosmically aware the woman was, but he had the feeling that she definitely exceeded how Earth was before the initiation.

“Wait one second. Let me review the memories you gave me,” she said. “Ah. It has happened. The aeonic wheel rears its ugly head.”

“Can you explain to me what is going on?” Alistair asked, knowing the answer was going to be no. As with all of cultivation related information, he would settle for scraps of information.

“Long ago, a great power seeded a frontier planet with the ancestral material of a being known as the Ikanthian HalfFather. This world grew to heightened prominence on the frontier. Knowing this, they sealed away its history, saving it for a later time. A time of uncertainty. When the echoes of a profound conflict ripple through the timelines. Clearly, it is now time for the seals to be undone.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Sealing history? Just the kind of wild bullshit Alistair came to expect, if not enjoy, from the multiverse. How one could “seal” the history of an entire planet was a mystery he wanted to uncover.

The woman tapped her finger impatiently. “This consciousness instance is an existence outside of spacetime and the longer I have to stay aware of my surroundings the more it fades. Please answer curtly, and I shall do the same. I do not recognize your affiliation from your memories, outsider. Whom do you serve?”

Alistair wanted to say no one, but that wasn’t exactly true. He was beholden to the Clear Water Sect, for one, and the Final Frontier Empire as a whole. From this woman’s statements, it sounded like she was talking about a higher power. In that case, he could realistically answer either the Sublimed Machine Faction or the Eternal Mercy Sect. The Sage gave him his Subclass and helped set him down his initial path, while the Sublimed Machine Faction was some far off group that licensed out the Pathfinder AI. Since they were both acceptable answers, he said both.

For a moment, he worried about the possibility that one or both of those organizations were her enemies and that she would kill him. But she didn't seem mad.

“I do not remember these groups among the peak or greater polities of my era. Under which Heaven do you live? Who is the Jade Emperor of your time?”

Alistair had to shake his head. Jade Emperor, he only knew as the ruler of Heaven in Chinese mythology. Given how much of the multiverse was based on Daoism and Buddhism, maybe there was a real world equivalent of the Jade Emperor?

“Worth an attempt,” the woman said. “When you return, I shall give you something that you must return to my descendants. It is a key to unlock their Dao history from its profound seal. It will take some time to enact, but eventually they shall return to their former glory.”

“I think that’s already happening,” Alistair said. “I met a man from Lisorte whose foundations seemed unshakable. He is not alone, though he is unrivaled. They tell me that these last hundred years have seen more talents than the last thousand combined.”

“Let me see,” the woman murmured. Her fires flickered several times as she sifted through his memories. “With this timing, that can only mean…”

She sat up straighter. “Thank you, outsider. Your information is valuable. I would do more, but unfortunately, I cannot give you the power you seek.”

Alistair’s heart dropped. Was he going to fail the trial due to something outside of his control? But the woman’s next words alleviated his concerns.

“No, no, no, you shall have your defective offshoot that you call the Steel Body. I refer to the further advantages that you desire and believe that I can grant you. Sadly, I am barred from endowing you with any such secret techniques, bloodlines, ancestries, and Domain concepts as you are not a descendant of the Ikathnian HalfFather.”

“Oh,” Alistair said. Now that she said that, he was a little crestfallen about that. You could never get too many goodies.

“All in good time, Alistair,” the woman said. “My name is Purana of the Stratospheric Flames. If Fate brings us together once more on Lisorte, you shall be much stronger than you are now.”

She procured two objects out of thin air, one in each hand. In her left hand was a glass tetrahedron that looked forged from the blue fires that made up her body. In the right hand, she had a golden key.

“This one,” she said, holding up the forged glass pyramid, “is a lodestone. It will always point you toward Lisorte, no matter what. Whatever feeling you get when you concentrate on the pyramid is one hundred percent guaranteed to bring you closer to my planet. It cannot promise you a safe journey, but it will always find you a potential way. I soulbind this to you so you shall never lose it.”

Alistair gingerly took the lodestone, putting it next to the Heavenly Nectar Incense and Cabal marble in his pocket. He had a nice gathering of important treasures at this point.

“The key is what I stated before. The Head Apostle of the Silver Comet Sect should understand how to proceed.”

“Thank you,” Alistair said, taking the key as well. “How long do I have left in this trial?”

“It shall last until the cleansing fires properly infuse the Adamantine Eggrock into your body. Whether this takes five days or one hour depends on many factors. I shouldn’t hold up your visions any longer.”

Before Alistair could say anything, the council room disappeared, transforming into flames. The pain that he had forgotten about entirely returned in full force, feeling worse than before because of his lack of habituation.

Alistair’s body floated in a void of fire with one singular motivation—survive. A creature returned to its most base instincts. He felt the metal within him spread throughout his body, but it was so, so slow.

But he held on. The so called “sublime plateau” vanished, and the flames grew hotter and brighter, to the point where he could no longer see his own body. It was as if this purgatorial fire had burned his body to ash, leaving only his mind and soul.

Without his body, he was like Dev’rox—a spirit made of his purest self. Somehow, the carving of the First Script still shone on his spiritual body, demonstrating his last act of will before the trial. This inscription anchored his purpose. Even without a body, he had one goal—survive the trial and return home.

Return. This thought echoed within him. The conscious mind, filled with thoughts of home. Thoughts of regret and longing, love and desire, happiness and ambition. This too, burnt away. For the cleansing fire was not satisfied with only taking away his body, but desired his mind as well.

Finally, there was his soul. The soul changed less than the body and mind. It was who he was at his very core. The anchor of his essence on the Physical Plane. While it wasn’t right to say that the soul was more important than the body, it carried more weight.

Even that was not sufficient for these flames. Even his soul could not hide from the endless burning. And then, there was nothing left. No one and nothing.

For an eternity, nothing ruled.

Alistair came back to life, piece by piece. In the opposite order that he went, first his soul formed out of the flames, then his mind, and finally his body.

Alistair understood right away the lesson imparted. Dedication. Just giving one’s body was not always enough. To desire something so much that you would give your mind and soul—those mad geniuses that did that throughout history were the acclaimed ones. Pouring their entire life into a skill so that people believed they sold their souls to the Devil.

Speaking of devils, the Devil Kings were an example of this. While not by choice, they surrendered their chance at reincarnation for overwhelming power. Could Alistair say he had done the same? Such opportunities where one showed their consummate dedication were rare, but could he say that given one, he would sacrifice everything without a second thought?

Alistair clawed out of the void, his body forming around his spirit as he willed himself back to life. In that moment, in that state of total renewal, he found absolute tranquility. Absolute peace.

There was nothing that could assault his serenity. For he was one with the world and the world was one with him—a new birth, forged from nothing, seared in fire. While his physical state was ravaged with pain from the lasting effect of the cleansing fire, his mind reached a temperament of calm. Then, that faded as he returned to full awareness. The Adamantine Eggrock was finished integrating.

But he came out with a more important lesson than any bodily change. Opportunity was scarce. To seize Fate by the reins meant dedication beyond the ordinary. Dedication he would provide without question.

With the metal infusion complete, the flames no longer pained him.

It’s done, he thought. Dev’rox smiled from his hidden nest inside Alistair’s soulcore.

Alistair stepped out of the flames triumphantly. Before he even saw Master Ko Pao or the other elders, he fell to the floor, unconscious.