The Book of Ten Thousand Flames

"That book…"

Raon swallowed as he stared at the burning tome. It looked ancient enough to crumble at a touch, yet it poured forth a magnificent golden radiance that lit the entire Audience Chamber.

A low hum resonated through the air. The book drifted down like a petal announcing the end of summer and brushed against his fingertips. Despite the flames consuming it, it was not hot. It was warm, like the heat of a living body.

Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames?

The words inscribed on the cover caught his eye. The moment he reached to turn the page, the leaves flipped of their own accord, raising an even greater blaze.

A whispering rustle filled the chamber. In an instant the book reached its final page and scattered into ash, like firewood that had lived out its life.

"Huh?"

Raon clutched at the fading book, but it was useless. The paper had become powder. The flames had become smoke.

What is this…

He stood there dazed, unable to grasp what had just happened, when a message rose before his eyes.

The instant the message faded, pain struck his mind like a thunderbolt.

Hhk—!

It felt as though someone had driven a massive needle straight into his brain. The agony surpassed even Wrath's mental assaults, and his knees buckled.

"Hah…"

Fortunately the pain lasted only a heartbeat, and he managed not to fall.

"Young master!"

Roen, who had been standing right beside him, rushed forward and caught him by the arm.

"I-I'm all right."

Raon thanked him and forced strength into his trembling legs.

"What did you just do?"

I don't know either. But…

He remembered. The contents of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, which had crumbled to dust and vanished, were now drawn vividly across his mind.

"Raon Zieghart."

A voice touched with a faint tremor made him lift his head. Glenn was staring at him with eyes as wide as lanterns, so unlike his usual self. He looked angry. Or perhaps simply stunned.

"What did you just do?"

"I don't really know myself. But I remember the contents of the cultivation art that vanished from my hands."

"The name of that book?"

"The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames."

"……"

Hearing Raon's answer, Glenn closed his eyes. He stood motionless for a long while, as if he had turned to stone, then slowly opened them again. The bewilderment was gone.

"You said you remember the contents?"

"Yes."

"Then that is enough."

Glenn waved a hand, his expression as coldly composed as ever.

"The reward for the Bronze Tablet has been fulfilled. You may leave."

"Mm…"

Raon glanced sideways at Roen. The butler stood there looking utterly lost, then hastily arranged his usual gentle smile.

"…Understood."

Raon bowed his head. He walked backward out of the Audience Chamber. Until he was gone, neither Glenn nor Roen moved.

"Hah."

He had no idea what had just happened.

The contents of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames being branded into my memory—is that the system's power too?

"The system may enhance your memory and cognition, but it has no ability to forcibly cram things into your brain."

Even Wrath's voice was laced with doubt.

Hmm…

Raon walked the corridors of the Lord's Palace, sifting through the information now lodged in his head. Even a cursory review was enough. The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames was a profound and exquisite art, incomparable to the aura cultivation methods of the Shadows.

And besides…

The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames contained not only an aura cultivation method, but a sword art as well—and knowledge of the old world. If he properly mastered the art engraved in his mind, he would reach a realm incomparably higher than anything he had known in his previous life.

But why did he hand this over?

The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames was not an aura art one obtained with something as paltry as a Bronze Tablet. You wouldn't trade it even for a Silver Tablet. No—even a Gold Tablet wouldn't be enough. He could not understand why it had been given to him.

"You've already received it. Why are you fretting so much?"

Fair point.

A man of Glenn's stature would not take back what he had given. And the book had already gone up in smoke; even if Glenn asked for it, there was nothing left to return.

Time to go back.

For now he had only the memory, not the mastery, and he wanted to return at once and begin cultivating. The moment Raon left the Lord's Palace, he ran for the Annex. His eyes, as he sprinted at full speed, were bright with anticipation.

The Audience Chamber Raon had left behind was steeped in a silence as deep as night.

"L-Lord. The cultivation art the young master took… surely it wasn't…"

"It was. It belonged to him."

Glenn nodded, gazing at the empty space on the first shelf.

To think he would take the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames…

In all the history of House Zieghart, not a single person had ever taken it down, let alone read it. The cultivation art of the First Patriarch was the very book that had just passed into Raon's hands.

Glenn had pulled out the first bookshelf intending to hand over a cultivation art of Silver Tablet caliber, not Bronze. That Raon would take the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames had been beyond imagining.

Roen swallowed as he stared at the ashen fragments of the cultivation manual.

"If this gets out, Young Master Raon and Lady Sylvia could be in danger!"

"There is no need to worry. No one knows of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames."

Glenn shook his head. Knowledge of the art was passed down only after one became head of the house. Unless someone combed through the family's entire history, they would never learn of it.

"Then… the cultivation manual has vanished completely. How will we…"

"That is fine as well. It was passed on to a person, was it not?"

Raon had said he remembered the contents. Glenn did not know what had caused such a phenomenon, but if the art had been transmitted, that was enough.

"Even so, the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames is an art meant to be passed down to the head of House Zieghart…"

"It was an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠art no one could use anyway. Without that child, it would have sat there and rotted."

He had been surprised—no, that was not the right word. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been stunned. And yet, because it was Raon who had produced a golden flame at the Appraisal Ceremony, Glenn found himself thinking that the art had simply found its master.

"Having obtained the First Patriarch's cultivation art, Young Master Raon will become stronger than anyone."

"No."

Glenn slowly shook his head.

The reason Glenn continued to hold the Appraisal Ceremony even after surpassing the wall that barred the way to the highest realm was to offer each child counsel suited to the talent they had revealed. He no longer judged a child's future by talent alone.

"Forgive me. I saw something so astonishing that I spoke without thinking."

Roen placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head. Glenn, having stepped into a new realm, had always said that the person mattered more than the talent. Of course, the rest of the house still measured everything by martial prowess and innate gift alone.

"It seems something is about to change."

Glenn sank deep into the back of the throne.

The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, which had never permitted anyone's touch. The golden flame that had appeared only once in the history of the house. Both had gone to Raon.

Raon Zieghart.

His own grandson—the child he could not openly love. Because of that boy, it seemed a great many things were about to shift, both within the house and beyond it.

"This should be entertaining to watch."

If time permitted, that is. Glenn swallowed those last words and closed his eyes.

The moment Raon returned, he went straight to his room. He had told everyone not to enter, but he locked the door as well, just in case.

"How theatrical."

"You know why. If you're interrupted in the middle of aura cultivation, you can die."

Once you reached a certain realm it might be different, but if someone so much as touched you before the cultivation had found its rhythm, the consequences could be severe. That was also why he had never cultivated the Ring of Fire until he had a bed of his own.

"Don't you interrupt me either."

"Hmph!"

"Don't tell me you…"

"Just once."

A curling smile bloomed amid the blue flames.

"Once?"

"This King shall interfere exactly once while you perform that cultivation of yours."

"If you do that, I could end up a cripple before you even take my body."

"It matters not."

A sneer rolled from Wrath like the growl of a beast, and a chill slid down Raon's spine.

"You would not survive it—but This King can keep you alive even if your limbs are severed and your aura core bursts. The moment you become a cripple and abandon everything… that shall be This King's opportunity."

This bastard really is…

He was reminded of it once again. Wrath was not an ally. He was a demon of the Demon Realm, the incarnation of wrath itself, who would devour Raon's flesh and soul the instant the chance presented itself.

"You said once?"

"You know This King does not lie. Until you master that cultivation art, This King shall intervene only once."

"Can't be helped, then."

Raon rubbed his wrist. Telling Wrath not to do it would make no difference. Whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to accept.

"Live in fear every day. You never know when This King might pierce your mind."

Fierce excitement colored Wrath's voice. For the first time, he had a chance to toy with Raon, and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

A so-called king, getting worked up over something this petty.

The thought of a creature who insisted on calling himself "This King," who styled himself a monarch of the Demon Realm and the King of Wrath, getting so delighted over such a trivial thing was almost funny.

Still…

Even if Wrath interfered only once, the danger was real. The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames was an art that absorbed the mana of nature and accumulated aura in the core. Interrupted at a critical moment, the mana circuits or the aura core itself could be destroyed, leaving him a cripple. And he, with frost still lodged in his mana circuits, was in even greater danger than most.

But I can't back down.

Wrath was the type to push harder the moment you showed weakness. Whatever the outcome, Raon had to stand his ground.

"Fine. Give it a try."

He hid what he was thinking and smiled with easy composure.

"We shall see how long that insolent expression of yours lasts."

"Then I suppose you'll be watching for the rest of your life."

"…This King wants to shatter your mind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this very instant."

"Go ahead. I'll just sit here and collect the stat bonuses."

"A maggot whose blood hasn't even dried on its head, and it still won't lose an argument."

"This maggot's door is always open. Knock whenever you like."

"Grrrk!"

Raon waved a dismissive hand and sat down at the foot of the bed. Wrath roared as if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he were about to lose control, and Raon ignored him completely.

If he has any sense, he won't touch me right now.

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. With each breath he drew in, he gathered the mana of nature. A clean, bracing energy filled his entire body. Then the exhale—he expelled the turbid energy lingering in his mana circuits.

There's some overlap here.

The flow of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and the flow of the Ring of Fire shared a certain kinship, just as their names suggested. Taking that as a good sign, he settled the mana he had drawn in into his circuits.

I can't let this go to waste either.

It would be a shame to simply discard that pure frost. He drew it along with the energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, all the way to his aura core.

A hollow whoosh. The energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames raced to his core in an instant—and scattered into nothing.

Of course.

If a single cycle of cultivation were enough to master the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, that would have been the stranger outcome. Once the flow became as familiar as breathing, the energy would settle naturally into his aura core.

And besides.

He was absorbing not only the energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, but the frost in his mana circuits as well. His resistance to cold would grow rapidly.

"Hah…"

Having completed a single cycle, Raon let out a hot breath and opened his eyes.

"A fire attribute, is it?"

"The fact that it's a single attribute bothers me a little, but the cultivation art itself is outstanding."

"That's a foolish thing to say, even for you."

"What?"

"The problem is those who learn an attribute halfheartedly. A single attribute mastered to perfection is in no way inferior to an all-rounder. When This King was in the Demon Realm, the tale of freezing an entire fortress with frost was even recorded in history…"

"Mm."

Raon let Wrath's self-congratulation wash over him and focused instead on what the demon had said before the boasting began.

A single attribute mastered properly.

Wrath was right. Those who halfheartedly learned one attribute were treated as second-rate—but those who transcended that limitation were regarded as Absolutes. He could tell from a single cycle of cultivation. The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames was extraordinary. It was not the least bit inferior to the legendary Ring of Fire.

I'll have to master it properly.

He rose, resolving to devote everything to the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames for some time to come.

"Before that, though."

"So you're going to deal with it now?"

"Yeah. The way she shows up every night, it can't be a coincidence."

Raon's crimson eyes gleamed like a reaper's.

It's been a while. Time to go back to work.

Judiel was a new maid who had entered the Annex a month ago. With her pleasant looks, bright disposition, and tidy work, she had earned the trust of everyone in the Annex in no time at all.

But the woman who claimed she was going off to rest after finishing her day's duties was hidden in a tree in the garden, watching Raon's room.

Talking to himself again?

Judiel narrowed her eyes at Raon muttering in his chamber. It didn't happen often, but there were times he spoke to empty air. He had been in poor health since childhood, she had been told. Perhaps that was the cause.

Raon, who had been conversing with the empty space, closed his eyes and sat down—and the flow of mana around him shifted violently. She had seen him fall into meditation many times, but this was the first time the mana itself had surged.

So he did go to the Lord's Palace and come back with an aura cultivation art.

He seemed to have used the Bronze Tablet to obtain an aura cultivation method. The flow of mana was extremely fierce. The art was stronger than she had expected.

More to report.

Judiel did not climb down from the tree until Raon opened his eyes again and the light in his room went out. She went to the small lake at the far end of the garden and took out a sheet of paper and a pencil she had hidden in the earth. On that paper she wrote down everything—Raon's movements since returning to the Annex, and everything she had managed to discern.

Strangely, the paper vanished the moment the words were written, so that anyone watching from the side would have seen nothing but a blank page.

"I really wasn't cut out for this."

Judiel let out a sigh. Reporting information that could become a child's weakness, just to survive—a sudden emptiness washed over her.

"But I have to do it anyway."

The bitterness lasted only a moment. As long as there was something she had to protect, she had no choice. She filled the hollow in her chest with that excuse.

She folded the paper down to the size of a thumbnail and set it floating on the lake. By tomorrow morning, that paper would be in Karun Zieghart's hands.

"Well then, I'll head ba—ah!"

She started to rise and froze. The cold kiss of a blade against the back of her neck clenched her heart tight.

"If you open your mouth, you die."

As her eyes rolled in panic, a voice as cold as the steel itself came from behind her.

"If you move, you die."

At a voice that seemed to carry death itself, the fine hairs on her body stood on end.

"Lower your eyes. Look at the lake."

Obeying the voice, she dropped her gaze to the water.

"Ah…"

Upon the dark lake that held the night sky, the crimson eyes of Raon Zieghart stared back at her.