[Fury Flame]:
"Born from the fury of the stars, blended with the despairing wish of a child."
A mighty sentient flame craving destruction and annihilation, it fuels itself on the puny user’s strongest emotions and the essence of consumed enemies. As it burns brighter gloriously, its insidious and supreme nature seeks to unravel its wielder's pathetic restraints.
Will this amazing flame destroy the enemy before it consumes its stupid user?
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Lucius's eyebrows twitched as his gaze scanned the description. His lips curled into a frown, and he muttered, "You definitely wrote this. Seriously, can’t you go a single second without insulting me? And what’s with this nonsense? ‘Mighty’? ‘Amazing’? ‘Supreme’? Talk about being full of yourself."
The deep, smug voice echoed in his mind, laced with amusement. “It’s not being full of oneself if it’s the truth, now is it? Face it, I’m all that and more.”
Lucius clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as the voice added with a teasing laugh, “And as for the insults, I’ll stop when you finally get good, boy.”
Lucius shook his head with a sigh as he looked back at the description scrawled in crimson ink on the page of his Codex, the ominous words began to settle uneasily in his chest. He frowned, running his fingers along the rough edges of the book. "That does not look like anything good. It sounds like a curse," he muttered.
A familiar chuckle echoed in his mind, low and smug. “Curse? Blessing? Call it whatever makes you sleep at night, boy. What matters is that it is the power you need to destroy your enemies.”
Lucius’s grip tightened on the Codex, his unease deepening. “You say that like it’s so simple. But this...” He gestured at the fiery description on the page, his voice dropping. “...this makes me wonder if you’ll burn me before my enemies.”
The voice laughed again, its tone sharp and unbothered. “Worry less about your own safety and more about destroying your enemies' safety. You’ll find it freeing and glorious.”
Lucius scowled but said nothing. The realization that the voice and his flames were one and the same—sentient, hungry, and entirely too eager for chaos—was beginning to unsettle him. It also gave him a clearer picture of what he was dealing with. He couldn’t keep calling it “the voice.”
“Fury,” Lucius muttered under his breath, testing the name. It fit. A name as dangerous and volatile as the thing in his head. From now on, that’s what he’d call it.
Shaking off the unease, he focused again on the Codex. “Why is it,” he began, “that I can see information about you but not about the rest of these sections? Like Etherion Rank or Voidlite Core?”
Fury’s tone turned almost gleeful. “Because the Codex reflects what you already know, whether you realize it or not.”
Lucius frowned, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Think, boy,” Fury replied, its voice thick with condescension. “If you knew even the slightest thing about something like Voidlite Cores, the Codex would display it. Your understanding is what shapes it.”
Lucius paused, considering this. It was bizarre, but it clicked. “So I subconsciously knew about you and the other stuff?”
“Naturally,” Fury said smugly.
"That makes no sense at all," Lucius grumbled, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Oh, boo-hoo. Go and cry about it,” Fury teased, its voice dripping with mockery.
Lucius's eye twitched as he clenched his jaw. "One of these days, I swear—"
“What? You’ll finally get good? I’m trembling already,” Fury interrupted, laughing as if the mere idea was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.
That sat uneasily in his mind, but Lucius pushed the thought aside. He glanced back at the Codex. “What else can this thing even do?”
Fury’s laugh rumbled in his mind. “You think it’s just for keeping notes on yourself? Foolish. The Runic Codex is also a store of knowledge. It records everything you encounter—people, places, beasts, objects—so long as you’ve learned about them.”
Lucius's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously? That… actually sounds really useful. Does it come with a map feature too?”
Fury’s tone was patient, though tinged with his usual condescension. “Yes, but only if the map already exists in your mind. The Runic Codex can’t conjure knowledge you don’t possess.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Lucius nodded, a rare smile creeping onto his face. “This is great. I won’t have to constantly try to remember everything. I can just rely on this.”
“Perhaps,” Fury replied, his voice dripping with indifference. “But do not let this inflate your pride. All beings on the Path of Empowerment possess a Codex. Yours is nothing extraordinary.”
Lucius's smile faltered for a moment before he sighed. “Of course you’d find a way to ruin the moment.”
"Of course, I need you down to earth, to reduce the enemies to ash." Fury stated.
The excitement in Lucius’s chest dimmed as he ignored Fury's last comment, “Everyone else really has one?”
“Every single one,” Fury replied coolly. “Though not all take the form of books. Some are scrolls, crystals, or even tattoos. Yours is a book because of your... quirks.”
The word was dripping with disdain, and Lucius bristled. “Quirks?”
“Yes, quirks,” Fury sneered. “Your mind is simple, boy. Linear. Primitive. Basic. Ordinary. Unspecial. A book suits you.”
Lucius clenched his teeth but held his tongue. He wasn’t going to let Fury’s mockery get to him.
“What’s the catch?” he asked after a moment. “This thing is too convenient. There has to be a downside.”
Fury’s tone turned dark. “Oh, there is. Damage your Codex, and you’ll face severe consequences. If the section storing memories is harmed, you may lose vital knowledge. Damage the section tied to your power, and you could lose access to it entirely. Even minor damage can cripple you in ways you cannot imagine.”
Lucius paled at the thought, gripping the Codex tightly. “So this thing isn’t just a tool—it’s a liability.”
“Precisely,” Fury said, its tone almost mocking. “Guard it well, or suffer the consequences.”
Lucius stared at the book in his hands, the fiery text shifting ever so slightly on its pages. What he’d thought was just an asset had revealed itself as both his greatest strength and most fragile weakness. He wasn’t sure whether to feel awed or terrified.
Lucius sat cross-legged in the eerie expanse of the shadowy plane, the Codex open on his lap. Its faint red glow illuminated his face as he flipped through its pages. “Why can’t I just summon this thing here whenever I want? If I kept it in this place, no one could destroy it.”
Fury’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking. “You really think you’re strong enough to make that happen? Ha! No, you’re only here now because it’s your first time summoning the Runic Codex. You don’t have close to enough power to appear in this space at will, much less keep the Codex hidden here. If you want to use it, you’ll have to manifest it physically outside of here.”
Lucius frowned. That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but at least it made sense. “So, I’m basically stuck lugging this thing around until I’m stronger,” he muttered.
“Exactly, boy. And if you’re careless enough to let it fall into someone else’s hands, well... let’s just say your suffering will be a comedy for me.” Fury’s laugh was cruel, the sound grating against Lucius’s nerves.
Trying to ignore the taunt, Lucius glanced up at the crimson star pulsing faintly above him. His gaze drifted to the two faint, ethereal chains extending toward the central dark pillar in the distance. He hadn't noticed them before. “What’s with the chains? They’re connected to you. Were they here before I summoned you?”
Fury hesitated for a moment, then answered with an edge of bitterness. “Yes. When I appeared here, those cursed chains were already attached to me. Before this desolate plane, I was a glorious shooting star, cutting through the heavens with radiance and purpose. Now I’m trapped in this miserable void because of you.”
Lucius rolled his eyes at the dramatic tone. “Right, blame me for everything. It’s not like I asked for this either.”
“Didn’t you, though?” Fury sneered. “Your pathetic little wish is what pulled me into this wretched place. And look at it—dark, empty, and dull. Just like you.”
Lucius’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the insult. Instead, his focus returned to three strange pillars he had noticed in the distance, especially the middle one with the faintly glowing gem atop it. “And those? The pillars? Any idea what they are?”
“Not a clue,” Fury admitted, its tone sharp but devoid of mockery for once. “They were here when I arrived. Whatever they are, they’re tied to you, not me. Maybe you’ll figure it out someday—assuming you survive long enough.”
Lucius frowned but decided not to press further. Fury’s insults were grating, but at least they confirmed one thing: this place held secrets that even the sentient flame didn’t understand. Whether he liked it or not, it seemed those secrets were tied to him—and his power.
Sighing, he stood, closing the Codex. Its glow faded as he prepared to leave the strange realm behind. Whatever mysteries this plane held, they would have to wait. For now, survival in the waking world was challenging enough.
Lucius stood in the dark, otherworldly plane, his gaze drifting back to the crimson star as a nagging thought surfaced. “If I need strength to come here, does that mean someone way stronger than me could just waltz in?”
Fury’s chuckle was laced with a cruel amusement. “Only if they’re vastly more powerful than you, boy, or if they have some peculiar way of interacting with spaces like this. But don’t waste your limited brainpower worrying about that. For a runt like you, such enemies are far off.”
Lucius frowned, mulling over Fury’s words. “So how do I protect myself from something like that?”
“You already have protection, and it’s far stronger than anything a weakling like you deserves,” Fury sneered. “Instead of whining, you should focus on destroying your enemies and bathing in their ashes.”
Lucius ignored the insult, his thoughts drifting to his EtherTag, [Loved Son]. Maybe that was why he had such protection. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening slightly. Thanks, Mom, he thought, the memory of her warm smile flashing briefly in his mind.
Before he could dwell on it, another thought struck him. “Wait, does time pass normally here? Or does it stop while I’m inside?”
Fury’s laughter echoed through the void, sharp and grating. “Oh, time flows just fine, boy. You’ve been in here long enough for that precious little meal of yours to be reduced to ash.”
Lucius’s eyes widened. “What?! You—” He clenched his fists. “You knew, didn’t you? You let me stay here just to ruin my food!”
Fury’s laugh grew louder, unabashed. “And you’re only figuring that out now? Pathetic.”
Cursing under his breath, Lucius focused, trying to will himself out of the plane. Fury’s mocking laughter filled the void as he concentrated harder, his vision blurring until he snapped back into the real world.
The first thing he noticed was the acrid smell of charred food. His makeshift stove held the remains of the egg—burnt black and utterly ruined. “Damn it, Fury! That was my meal! My only meal!”
“Cry about it,” Fury taunted, utterly unbothered.
Lucius kicked a nearby rock in frustration, glaring at the star in his mind. Now he felt a lot happier for having his [Cool-Headed] EtherTag. He was sure it would fill the fire with glee if he was to completely rage out. “I’ll find a way to drown you in piss, you smug spark.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Now shut up and—” Fury’s voice cut off abruptly. “Wait. Stop talking. Look behind you.”
Lucius froze every nerve in his body on edge. Slowly, he turned his head, his blood running cold as his eyes met a massive, reptilian pupil, slit and glowing faintly in the dim cave light.