Chapter 166: The White Muffler
The aftermath of the Morris incident was handled with the cold, surgical efficiency that defined Mountbatten Bank. While Lisa coordinated with asset recovery teams and filed her reports—her record not only intact but now burnished by the successful retrieval of a "high-risk, self-destructive debtor"—Kai and Moon returned to their apartment. They were tools that had served their purpose, silently sheathed until needed again.
The silence of the apartment was a familiar cloak. As evening bled into night, Kai found himself drawn to the terrace, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the artificial cosmos. The dome was transparent, revealing the infinite, star-dusted void. But tonight, the recycled air held a sharper bite, a faint, creeping chill that seeped through his clothes and whispered against his skin. It was a cold that had less to do with the environmental controls and more with the quiet solitude of his own heart.
He shivered slightly, a faint tremor he would never have allowed anyone else to see. He moved to retrieve a standard thermal blanket from his storage ring, his fingers brushing past neatly organized supplies. And then his touch stilled.
There, nestled beside practical gear and forgotten rations, was something soft. He pulled it out.
It was the white muffler.
The memory unfolded in his mind not as a sharp pain, but as a gentle, persistent warmth. Minji. Her laughter, a sound that could quiet the chaos in his mind. The focused, tender look in her eyes as she worked, her fingers moving with a dancer's grace, knitting this very scarf for him. He had accepted it then with a quiet nod, a practical item for cold nights. Now, he understood it was so much more.
Holding the soft, hand-knitted wool, a change came over him. It was so subtle he himself was unaware of it. The hard, severe lines of his face, etched by grief and burden, softened. The perpetual shadow of sorrow that haunted his eyes retreated, if only for a moment. And then, without his conscious knowledge, a smile touched his lips. It was not a broad grin or a look of joy, but something rarer and more profound: a gentle, unguarded curve of his mouth, a silent acknowledgment of a cherished memory, a testament to a warmth that had once been, and in this moment, felt real again.
He did not reach for the thermal blanket. Instead, he brought the white muffler to his face, the fabric impossibly soft against his skin. It still carried the faintest ghost of her scent—a hint of spring blossoms and something uniquely Minji. He wrapped it around his neck, the wool a tender embrace against the chill, a stark contrast to the harshness of his world.
Thus wrapped in her memory, he sat back in his chair. The cold no longer mattered. For a long while, he simply sat there, under the vast, uncaring spectacle of the universe, a lone man warmed by a simple, white muffler and the enduring echo of a something he don't know what that still, against all odds, could make him smile.
Meanwhile, in Nova Lumina...
Deep beneath the pristine luxury of Zenith Vista, House No. 002, within a vast, shielded training hall, Ruby stood alone. The air shimmered with contained heat. She focused her will, reaching deep into her core, attempting to summon the cataclysmic power that had once answered her call.
A corona of fire erupted around her, fierce and brilliant. Her hair shifted from its natural black to a vibrant, fiery orange-red, dancing with flames. It was a powerful transformation, the peak of what most fire-wielders could ever dream of achieving. But it was not what she sought. It was not the absolute, silent, world-ending whiteness of the Primordial Fire.
She strained, her knuckles white, sweat beading on her forehead. But the Primordial Flame remained elusive, a distant memory. She let the fire die down, her hair returning to black as she slumped to her knees, panting.
Why can't I reach it? she thought, the frustration a bitter taste in her mouth. That day... I activated the Primordial Fire when I was using my own fire to burn my own soul.
The realization dawned on her, cold and clear. This was not a technique one could simply practice. It was a state of being born from absolute self-annihilation. The Primordial Fire was the flame of nothingness, and to wield it, one had to be willing to become nothing.
A crucial piece of the puzzle locked into place. This fire... to even attempt to use it, one must possess the Phoenix Blessing. Without it... A chill ran down her spine. Without the Blessing's constant, rapid, and comprehensive healing, a single second of contact with the Primordial Fire would utterly consume both body and soul. It was the Blessing that created the necessary, agonizing paradox: to burn without being consumed. The healing had to outpace the absolute destruction, and it did so at a rate that left no visible mark. But it came at a price—excruciating, soul-rending pain. Everything has its price.
Steeling herself, Ruby took a deep breath. This time, she would not just call the fire; she would call the crucible.
[System Notification]
Phoenix Blessing Activated.
A golden, ethereal light enveloped her, a sensation of immense, regenerative power flooding her cells. And with it came the familiar, searing pain that felt like her very bones were being reforged.
Now, surrounded by this healing energy, she did the unthinkable. She focused her standard fire inward, not on her body, but on her very essence—her soul. It was a violation of every instinct. The pain was immediate and transcendent, far worse than any physical injury. Last time, during the tournament, her body had taken over automatically, a survival instinct of her re-awakening bloodline. Now, she had to consciously, manually, walk into this inferno.
She gritted her teeth, a scream trapped in her throat. She pushed further, trying to replicate the self-immolating despair that had unlocked the power before. But the conscious mind is a prison. It calculates risk, it fears pain, it clings to existence. Where desperation had once forged a key, deliberate effort now built a wall.
The agony became unbearable. Her concentration shattered. The inward-focused fire sputtered and died, and the Phoenix Blessing's glow faded. The sudden absence of both destruction and regeneration left her utterly hollowed out.
With a gasp, her strength completely spent, Ruby collapsed onto the cool floor of the training hall, her body trembling with exhaustion and residual pain.
She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, her breath slowly returning to normal.
I think, she conceded to the silent room, the thought heavy with both defeat and determination, I need more practice.
The path to ultimate power was not a straight line, but a walk through a furnace, and she had only just felt the heat.
To be continued…