Hellfire (2)
Deep within a fire pit on an island far removed from the Holy Kingdom, Ifrit—the lord of fire, embodied as a spirit—resided.
“……”
Ifrit, whose body was formed from ceaselessly blazing flames, obeyed Sorena's command to stay buried in the pit and not wander about. He simply lived on like lava in a volcano.
Fwoosh.
As Ifrit silently kept his mouth shut, a gale whipped over the fire pit. Spotting embers scattering like flower petals, he lifted his head.
“It's been a while, old friend.”
There stood the absolute powerhouse of the dragonkin, cloaked head to toe in flames just like Ifrit: the Flame Dragon.
“Have you been well?”
“Who knows.”
Ifrit replied in his calm voice, unruffled by the Flame Dragon's sudden arrival.
“I'm just bored with this life of endless burning.”
“Then that's fortunate.”
Ifrit tilted his head at the Flame Dragon's loaded words.
“I've come with something to alleviate your boredom.”
Something to relieve his boredom? Come to think of it, Ifrit wondered how the Flame Dragon—defeated by Sorena like himself and exiled to another island—had even made it here.
“Flame Dragon, have you been freed from Sorena's bindings?”
“As if. The binding contract etched into you and me remains.”
“Then Sorena sent you here.”
“Indeed. To deliver welcome news to us, who could endure our soul-deep boredom no longer without burning something to ash.”
The Flame Dragon grinned wickedly, just as he had once before trying to incinerate a small kingdom prior to his defeat by Sorena.
“What is this welcome news?”
“Don't be shocked, old friend. Sorena has decided to unleash Hellfire.”
“Hellfire……?!”
Shock etched across Ifrit's face.
“Does that mean she's resolved to kill someone?”
“Exactly.”
Hellfire was Sorena's declaration of war when she intended to burn a specific target with all her might. No one who had ever earned her hatred had ever received it. She had always held back out of concern for collateral damage, fearing she might lose control if she unleashed such overwhelming power.
“……That man, then.”
Ifrit murmured.
“The one called Mass.”
“No.”
The Flame Dragon denied it immediately.
“The Previous Tower Lord.”
“What are you saying?”
“It sounds absurd, I know. But it's true.”
After conducting some investigation at the Red Tower, Sorena had headed straight for the Sunset Cliff Red Lighthouse, where the Previous Tower Lord resided.
“Let's rampage, Ifrit!”
The Flame Dragon roared, opening his massive maw.
“That one will burn more spectacularly in our flames than anyone! With Sorena's help, let's reduce the great kindling who once led the Red Tower to mere ashes!”
“……”
Ifrit had no reply.
Unlike the Flame Dragon, who knew only destruction, he was a noble spirit with reason intact.
Sorena. What are you planning?
Even in his old age, the Previous Tower Lord was Sorena's magic mentor and a great sage. Considering their bond and his strength—rivaling even Ifrit and the Flame Dragon combined—this would surely devolve into a muddy brawl.
Yet if you've chosen this path anyway…
There must be a reason worthy of it.
Ifrit stirred his rigid form.
“Let's go, Flame.”
To her, who had spared their defeated lives and made them her familiars, absolute loyalty was all he could offer.
Ifrit unleashed his banked flames high into the air.
“It's time to heed our master's command.”
The Sunset Cliff Red Lighthouse was a noble residence where retired lords of the Red Tower spent their final days in respite, guarded by salamanders.
Boom!
Early evening—a time when gulls would normally wheel over the sunset-kissed sea—saw the lighthouse surroundings engulfed in towering pillars of flame instead.
“Die, you lizards!”
From the sky, the Flame Dragon rained fiery barrages on the salamanders.
Ifrit, who had conjured the flame pillars, was launching the salamanders spewing breath at him one by one back into the inferno.
“Sorena, we'll handle this place. You continue your conversation.”
To buy time for Sorena, who had orchestrated the entire assault, Ifrit pulled back from the scene.
The Flame Dragon, who had wanted to torch the lighthouse itself, smacked his lips in regret and followed.
“……Master, you've held up well.”
Against Sorena's icy voice amid the blaze, the Previous Tower Lord—already scorched countless times by flames—gasped raggedly.
“Wh-what. What is the meaning of this outrage, Sorena?”
His long white beard and hair were charred black.
Hot air stabbed deep into his lungs, forcing coughs from the old lord.
“That's what I should be asking you, Master.”
Sorena said, slamming her staff into the ground.
“When Mass tried to give me that incense stick, you inspected it first, didn't you?”
Tower inspections determined if an item posed a danger to the recipient.
“Then you should have told me what it was.”
“Sorena!”
The Previous Tower Lord bellowed, eyes bloodshot and wide.
“Are you seriously doubting me over that? It was mere formality! Why would I need to scrutinize something brought by the high priest who saved you?”
“Don't joke.”
Sorena twisted her lips.
“I'm asking why you swapped the incense stick back then.”
“Wh-what?”
Shock twisted the old man's face.
“How did you……”
“I investigated the Tower's logistics team. They had items from prohibited trade zones. Materials for crafting cursed embers.”
She couldn't identify them at first.
But assuming she was the Previous Tower Lord, Sorena had tried crafting cursed embers herself. Importing from those “prohibited” zones was easy enough. As Red Tower lord, the broker's reply was a casual, “Looking forward to more business.”
“Th-that's no proof I did it.”
“You're right, it's not proof. But that 'proof' lingered with me.”
Sorena flicked flames from her staff.
“Reconstructing the spells you taught me, I could craft cursed embers with those exact materials.”
“Nonsense!”
Even in the suffocating heat, the Previous Tower Lord squeezed out his voice.
“That's your achievement! It has nothing to do with me!”
“Is it?”
Sorena let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Then it's your misstep for taking such a talented disciple.”
Magic engineering left traces in its origins. The incantation habits of the formula's creator were imprinted.
“Even when I rearranged them, your incantations kept surfacing. All formulas you bragged to me about inventing first.”
“Wh-what?”
“You created these cursed embers.”
Sorena fixed her ember-filled eyes on him.
“Mass's movements were ordained by an absolute being. Using that as the major premise and elimination leaves only you as the culprit.”
“What nonsense is this!”
“Shut up!”
Sorena drew the charred incense stick from her bosom.
“You thought the one I got from Mass was gone?”
“!”
“I kept it to repay the hatred someday!”
Yet as Tower Lord with full authority, mimicking the Previous Tower Lord's actions proved only he could have made it. His formula was embedded in this burned stick too.
“Trace the origin!”
Sorena relit the incense.
From the shadows of its flames leaped a “blue flame spirit,” pointing straight at the Previous Tower Lord.
“You had no idea what reaching this realm meant?”
Sorena advanced, incense in hand.
“Neither did I. Not until Rose-unnie suggested it.”
“Th-this mad—”
The Previous Tower Lord spat a guttural howl.
“You can comprehend fire's essence and trace its first igniter?! Impossible!”
“Whether it makes sense or not, your reaction confirms it.”
The culprit was the Previous Tower Lord.
Sorena fought back the nausea churning inside her. Even amid the searing blaze, tears welled in her eyes.
“The agony of those burns blinded your wisdom! I became a demon forged in hellfire!”
It was an unforgivable sin.
“You're not free from this karmic blaze either.”
“D-don't come closer!”
The Previous Tower Lord raised his hand, gathering flames that coalesced into a pulsing red orb.
“Even if you know what I did now, what can you do? Mass was a threat to the Holy Kingdom! He had to be ousted for the greater good!”
“I said shut up.”
Sorena hurled the incense at him.
He recoiled in alarm, but the flames had already caught his robes.
“Ah, ugh, aaaaagh!”
Inextinguishable fire enveloped him in an instant as he screamed.
“You foolish bitch! If you'd become Tower Lord, Mass would have been your first threat! I never would have left your power intact! Neverrr!”
Staggering, he flung the red orb in his hand—his condensed mana, a desperate gambit to erase Sorena's superior talent in one strike.
Kiiing!
But,
“Pathetic.”
The orb ground against Sorena's palm and halted.
“You're right. I was that exceptional. Anyone would fear Mass owning me.”
Watching the Previous Tower Lord collapse in dismay, Sorena murmured with a madness-tinged, sorrowful expression.