Into the Inferno

Kira, resting in Drbosi Castle, flung open her door at the clamor echoing from outside.

"What's all the racket?"

The first face that came to mind was Ian's. He'd warned her beforehand: there might be trouble, so be prepared for anything. What he was hunting was a mage who'd snuck into the castle. The commotion outside might mean Ian had clashed with the intruder.

"Th-that's..."

The guard stammered, clearly still piecing things together.

"Master Ian... kidnapped the second young master..."

"What?"

"I'll, I'll get more details!"

Kira blinked in disbelief at the absurd response. Kidnapped who? She figured the guard must have it wrong. But it was true.

"Lady Serena."

"Have you heard? Ian's stirred things up."

No way—this couldn't be real. But Kira nodded at the baron's wife's words.

"He must've found the mage, for sure."

"Wouldn't the proper course be to inform us first...?"

"The mage must've pulled some trick. Things are urgent—let's follow Ian's lead."

Serena judged the situation with seasoned calm. She knew Ian had been digging into the mage, so she decided to align with him.

"First, stabilize the castle. Then help Ian."

"Yes, my lady!"

Serena swiftly took charge. No one in Drbosi Castle could oppose her. The baron was bedridden, and Lady Catherine comatose—Serena reigned like a queen.

"No need for panic!"

"But my lady...! The second young master...!"

"Master Carton will be saved by the mage here."

Kira stepped forward boldly. Priests, knights, retainers—all nodded in agreement. Galadin shouted,

"If Lady Kira steps up, we're at ease!"

"Right! Save the second young master, Lady Kira!"

Kira! Kira! The crowd chanted her name.

Seizing the chaos, Serena whispered,

"I'll hold the castle. Ian's in your hands, mage."

"...Leave it to me."

Serena trusted Kira. Endorsed by everyone, she could entrust Ian's life to her.

"The mage's accomplices might target you, Lady Kira. Stay sharp."

As Serena calmed the knights, Kira chased after Ian with reliable escorts.

Bouncing on horseback, Kira gritted her teeth.

...No. I'm not the person you all think I am.

She wasn't a mage. Just a con artist faking it. She wanted to run right now. Even if she found Ian, Kira could do nothing.

...But she didn't stop her horse.

Ian the mage was the one who'd affirmed her. He knew her sole truth amid layers of lies.

Fake magic. Shallow deceptions. Sleight of hand—he knew it all, yet accepted and understood her.

Abandon him and flee? What future waited? Eternal fugitive, eternal liar.

She'd started lying to save someone she loved. Now, to protect those lies, abandon the precious? Unthinkable.

"Mage! There!"

Her escort yelled, panicked. Kira tossed off her hood, staring blankly ahead.

A massive pillar of fire erupted.

"Heavens..."

"What the...?"

How tall? Ten meters? Twenty? Visible from afar, the flames were colossal—more explosion than fire.

...Ian!

Kira wheeled her horse toward the blaze. But it balked at her command. She dismounted and sprinted alone.

"Mage!"

Voices called behind, ignored. Kira bore fire mystery's blessing—Ian had proven it. She'd braved deadly fire shows unscathed.

Maybe this time too. She clung to that hope.

"Ian!!!"

Running revealed a vast fiery curtain. Scorching waves threatened all. Beyond flickering flames, she spotted Ian's silhouette.

No hesitation—she plunged into the inferno. Just to buy him time to escape.

Spotting Ian, she slammed into him, shoving him away. He collapsed, staring up blankly.

Run, Ian.

She wanted to shout. But roiling flames choked even breath.

Kira's body ignited like a torch.

...The fire blessing failed.

She understood. She'd exploited the fire mystery enough—cruelty warranted abandonment.

Amid roaring flames, Kira smiled.

Wow. This is just like when Dad died.

Kira Laventa. Daughter of Laventa. The heretic clown Laventa perished shielding her from bandits.

Enveloped in flames, Kira closed her eyes peacefully.

Almighty heavens. Did Dad go somewhere good? No, he didn't believe, so hell it is. Then let me follow him. Hell alone would be too lonely for him.

I've lied my whole life—hell's fitting, right?

Kira prepared for death calmly, quietly. A life of lies. Yet dying in magic-forged flames? Death, at least, felt genuine.

Live, Ian. You're not meant to die here.

With final strength, she prayed.

Thank you for letting me know a man like Ian, even at the end. Without him, I'd have been empty.

Flames roared. Since ancient times, fire served as burnt offering to gods.

Thus, heaven answered.

...?

Kira jolted. A voice—just now...?

She strained her ears. No illusion. Someone truly called her.

"...Kira!"

Huh?

"Snap out of it! Kira!"

Kira opened her eyes. There stood a mage wreathed in flames.

"It ain't over! This is just the start! Focus—hear the fire's voice!"

"...Ian?"

Ian hugged Kira, hauling her up.

"You're a mage! Kira Laventa!"

"...!"

He yelled. Her heart pounded wildly. Somehow, she gripped his hand tight.

First, Ian dumped all his points into Pyrokinesis.

For a moment, Ian pondered escaping the encroaching flames. But no option worked. Aerokinesis? Fanning a 20-meter fire pillar? Geokinesis to dig? Dreaming of baked Ian?

Damn it, he had to concede Larabel's future sight. This was the final trap to kill him, set by a chronomancer's foresight.

Normally inescapable. But Larabel was a hack. Her predictions had failed before—could again.

Above all, Ian had an otherworlder secret: the Status Window.

He maxed points into Pyrokinesis, deciding to bulldoze through with boosted skill.

"Flames!"

Argh!

Body swelled on contact. Boiling blood surged, nosebleed erupting. Ian stared at the fire mystery, bleeding profusely—just from greeting its will. Mind fraying already.

...No!

Can't collapse. Losing will meant flames devouring his flesh.

The mystery paused arson for dialogue.

That psycho! Ian projected will, but fire obsessed over arson. Understandable—flames burned max till extinction.

But not thrilled to be next!

...Master! How the hell'd you befriend this maniac!!!

Eredis's fire mastery awed anew. Burned her house for friendship?!

Then, her lesson hit:

Pyromancers entered infernos for growth, bonding till embers. Success: stronger magic. Miscalculate fuel: mage burns first.

All pyromancers' end: becoming flame themselves!

Insane!

Ian endured the 20m pillar till exhaustion. Move, lose focus, die.

Projecting will: easy for Ian. Maronius Language master, Lv3 pyromancer.

Presence? Innate talent. Ian couldn't force it.

But heaven helped: beside him, fire mystery's star—Kira.

"Kira! Snap out! Kira!"

Ian shook her slumping form awake. His willed shout banished her heat.

"...Ian?"

"Not over! Start now! Focus—hear fire!"

"You're a mage! Kira Laventa!"

Fake or fraud—irrelevant. Kira had fire talent. Ian needed her presence.

Fire thrilled at mages' presence/will, rampaging joyfully. Ian yelled,

"Kira! Master's pyrokinesis mantra—listen!"

"Wh-what?!"

"Just hear! First: feel flames, thrust self in! Even body as fuel—mindset!"

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"Got it!"

Kira memorized the "mantra"(?). Innate talent shone; her appeal eased Ian's load.

'Even self as fuel.' Easy for her—she'd leaped in ready to burn for him.

Vortex swirled. Ian used Maronius Language; Kira innate pull. They conversed, watched flames fade.

Fire focused on them, sparing lives—pity to lose playmates.

Amid chaos, Ian felt pyrokinesis insight soar. Like Eredis's "training"—tossing him in fire.

Exact same!

No...

Ian wryly eyed his top-level magic: pyrokinesis. No longer summoner Ian—pyromancer now.

Larabel cackled at engulfed Ian.

"Hahaha! Yes! Burn! To ash!"

Ancient Golden Empire scroll of flame, meticulously prepared.

Ian decent mage? Sure. But umbrakinesis loner? Useless vs fire.

Larabel's laugh echoed—Belenca dropped her sword.

"Ian..."

Werewolf halted.

"Surrender, lady?"

"..."

Belenca speechless. Ian—so versatile—perishing pathetically...

"Dunno your tie, but sorry for master."

"Comfort, Chihuahua?"

Belenca loathed the werewolf—not Chihuahua. If killable, she'd have.

Then:

"Don't grieve, knight of Baek."

"...?"

"Mage Ian lives."

A stranger brushed past. Unknown man.

"Who..."

He ignored Belenca stone-faced, approached Larabel.

Larabel, laughing, spotted late—gasped.

"You... you!"

He doffed hood. Silver hair cascaded.

"Long time, Larabel."

"Gerard!"

Mage Gerard. Larabel knew him—from chronomancer conclave.

"How...! No future had you here!"

Gerard deadpanned:

"I changed the future."

"...What?"

"Shifted to this timeline—where I meet Larabel."

"!!!"

Larabel chronomancer—predicted, selected futures. But not alone.

Gerard too. Far superior.

"How...! No such branch...!"

"Larabel."

Gerard stared coldly.

"Think time's scales tilt your way forever?"