So Zane was off to get Full Fusion.

It turned out you could teleport to Astra right from where he’d come up from—the little stone platform at the bottom of the steps. He went up to the middle of a circle of runes. And slowly they began to fire, dull purples brightening, charging up—he felt like he was standing in the middle of some occult demon-summoning circle.

His mini-map shone brighter in his mind. All he had to do was will himself toward the pin the Sage had dropped for him. The point right on the edge of the Astra star system.

And he felt the energies building underneath his feet… foreign, dense Laws swirling around, making a capsule over his head, compressing in… At the same time a beam of crystal light shot off deep into the sky, into space—a beacon, a pathway.

And he was off. Blasting through space. The planet receding under him, just a sphere of surging smoke now, and there was the Soul Forge Star far above, unbelievably massive for an instant, then stretching, shrinking as it flashed on by, until it was just a blinding purple-white marble in the rearview. He was plummeting beside burning asteroids, the lights started blurring all around him, planets streaking by soundlessly as he shot for the far side of the constellation…

That was Astra up ahead. A star system shrouded in mist, clouds of ghostly light spreading throughout, warbling and shimmering like moving auroras, flickering the colors of stormfire purple, blue, and white. Mesmerizing, like the physical embodiment of a dream.

There were no planets. Just a thick stellar fog, much denser as you got near the center. Asteroid showers streaked all over it, burning out and in. And the pale star in the middle glowed softly, more like a moon than a star…

Zane was hurtling toward a specific sector of it. A cluster at the edge—a dense fog shot through with swirling purple lightning, strangely charged…. He slowed as he neared. The beam dropped him off on a chunk in the middle, surprisingly softly.

There was not much force striking the planet from his landing. But there did seem to be a great amount of force going up through his feet, whiplashing through him.

It was still a lot better than the first time he went through it. It didn’t even get a groan out of him—just a little grunt. Strange how fast you got used to things.

He was standing on a matching ruined circle on a craggy ground; chunks of flaming rock and clouds of space-dust hurtled by…. He seemed to be on some kind of big meteor. A chunk of rock hurtling in far orbit, stuck in the middle of some dense cloud in far orbit. The light of the portal faded.

Then the atmosphere of the place blasted over him. It felt like he'd been thrust in the middle of a tornado. Sparks of Flame-Law raced by all around him, sparking heavy in the air, drenching him head-to-toe—he didn’t see them all. He did feel them though—a sheet of painfully hot spikes matting him all over, down his arms, his legs, his face—

That did get a groan out of him.

They sizzled and flew and grew, forking into great bolts of lightning, splitting and swirling, shrieking devilishly… the Laws here crashed into him in the Astral Plane, and he wobbled briefly. It felt like one of those old televisions tuned to the wrong channel—just an overwhelming burst, too much static—it took him some head-shakes to right himself.

He looked around, squinting against the invisible currents.

It was like no place he’d ever been. Just one of these sparks had denser Laws than his Stormfire—you’d never find a place like this on Earth. Not even in the Superdungeon. For a moment he just stood there, taking it in.

He winced. Things were not letting up—it seemed to be the environment here.

It felt like the sky was raining molten-hot needles, whipping them into a frenzy, storm winds driving them sizzling into his skin. And he had no cover. He could feel every pinprick precisely—the piercing spots they stuck him, in flesh and soul… The Laws simply burned through his own. He felt, intensely, that they had what he was after.

He held up an arm to his face, which didn’t much help matters. Now it felt like his arm was being stuck through.

He could feel Health dipping, which surprised him. It was a first for him in a place of comprehension. He had a Stormfire affinity. He also had a pretty hefty build. It was still melting him a little. It was hard to imagine how anyone without those things could survive in a place like this.

…He should probably get going. Even he wasn’t sure he could take very much of this.

The nice thing about being battered like this was that he could feel the Concept he was after quite intimately. Life Immolation. The way the flames burned in two places at once, flesh and soul—treating both as fuel.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Now that training with the Red Moon Pagoda came in handy. He could remember, too, what it was like to wield his soul as a weapon. It was just a matter of lighting a flame on it. Making his soul take the shape of fire…

He gave it a try. Closed his eyes. Let the hard boundaries of his body fade away, so that he could wield his soul like his essence, twin fuels flaring out into the world, lighting up, one and the same…

He could feel exactly what he had to do.

A particularly nasty spark struck him between the eyes. He blinked, and lost it.

“…”

In general he felt he was quite alright at keeping concentration, he felt—it was just that it took a great deal of it to hold this flame together. He had gotten a lot better at wielding his soul with practice. But he could still feel the great heft of it each time he tried to move himself about…

He figured he just had to try harder.

He sat there frowning, feeling that stabbing shocking heat sinking into his muscles, and really focused.

His next try he lit a flame.

But it only took in the physical realm, burning on essence. He felt it catch for just a second on the soul-stuff he offered, spark once in the Astral Plane. Then fade, like a candle-flame in a harsh wind…

He was heartened. He tried again.

It lasted a few seconds longer this time before winking out, sputtering as it went. This last Concept was a lot harder than he’d expected. A lot harder than all the rest of them. He supposed it made sense. It was the last step before the next Tier, the final test.

He set to lighting the flame again. It was a little like starting a car, he felt. If he didn’t get it all at once, it wouldn’t take at all.

He had no trouble getting the fuel out, even making a few sparks… He struck at it again, and this time a bout of pure Stormfire reared up before him, rising in a glorious blazing column—for a second he thought he'd had it. Then it flickered, and puttered out.

“Aww,” said Zane.

Almost at the same time—

Warning!

Health under 75%

“…”

It wasn’t hard for Zane to put aside the pain. He got so caught up in the burning that he forgot about it at times. But those black marks on his skin were stretching to black patches, patches that weren’t healing so well, even with his own Stormfire working at it…

He also felt a little woozier too. It was the damage to the soul that was the real trouble. Every time he gave this thing a shot, he felt a little more tired. The burns weren’t helping.

He yawned, and choked on some Stormfire-sparks for his trouble.

He gave it a few more good pushes, but he could feel himself fading a little, and each tuft of new flame came a little less bright than the last. His vision started to get a bit bleary. He sniffed, blinked. It seemed he was starting to smell like smoke.

…It was probably a decent spot to stop for the day.

He stood, and instantly felt a wave of exhaustion crashing over him, like it had been waiting to pounce this whole time. He wobbled a bit, yawned again, ambled over to the portal.

One beam later, he was back at his old home.

Singed, but feeling optimistic. It would not be long now.

A little rest and he was sure he would get it.

***

“So what did you think?” said Burnwater mildly.

Noughtfire thought about it.

“I have high hopes,” he said at last.

“You didn't warn him, did you?” said Burnwater, bushy brows drawing together. “For heavyweight souls that Final Concept… there’s a reason most skip over it on their way to Solar Flare! For someone like him…”

Burnwater winced. He could remember his own struggle with it—it had taken nearly a decade of relentless pain to grasp the thing—and though he was quite proud of the size of his soul…there was big, and there was Zane. Things could get pretty rough for the poor fellow.

“It only gets more brutal from here,” said Noughtfire. “It will be a good test of his resolve, regardless—to have a hope of reaching the peak, one must have a great deal of pain tolerance…”

They both paused, thought about some of the things they'd seen Zane take straight to the face on that Superdungeon run…

“He’ll be just fine,” snorted Noughtfire.

***

“Lord Zane!” It was Jawl, waving as Zane stumbled up.

“Oh hey,” said Zane. He waved back.

“Heavens!” Jawl looked him up and down. Zane was still smoking rather badly.

“…I’m going to take a nap,” said Zane.

“Would you like to make use of the soul springs?”

“The what now,” said Zane.

It wasn’t far. Just a mile away, on the eastern side of the lake. There was a little stone bridge leading into the lake proper—it led to a stone pool right near the heart of the place. The edges of it were ringed with runes, all inscribed in neat hand.

“Sage Noughtfire himself inscribed this three thousand years ago,” said Jawl proudly.

Inside was a pool about twenty yards across, shallow on the outsides, but which went quite deep in the middle. Fat bubbles gurgled up there. A soothing heat pressed in; patches of steam drifted all over.

He waded in, and felt the waters swirling over him—washing away a layer of burns as they went. A tingling warmth spread down his thick limbs… he let himself float there. It was quite nice.

Surprisingly strong, too—it reminded him of Reina actively pouring herself into healing him. She could sustain that for only a few minutes. He could stay here a good long while, he figured…

He wondered how she was doing.

He floated there in a pleasant silence.

He even felt his soul fatigue melting off him too… He’d expected maybe a week’s recovery—at this rate he could be back at it in a day.

This place really was built for training.

“You’ve got some mail, my Lord,” said Jawl cheerfully. He stood at the spring’s edge, waving some letters bound in twine.

“From who?” said Zane, blinking.

“Various officials and disciples in the Azure Flame Faction,” said Jawl. “I would assume most are in welcome… though there are a handful of rank challenges.”

He picked out a few—marked with a blood-red seal—and wrinkled his nose at them. “That is rather bold, if I might say. You’ve hardly been here a day.”

At Zane’s questioning look—“All official disciples in the Faction are ranked by their estimated power, you see. Their ranking determines their seasonal stipends and their positions in the faction—the first thirty-three are Core Disciples, the next Ninety-Nine Inner Faction. All disciples must accept at least three duels per season, by Faction law.”