The Sanctum did not welcome them — it assessed them.
Lucifer Valtros stood in silence at the stone platform's edge, the rest of the heirs positioned at various points along the wide ring surrounding the central trial chamber. Torches burned with white fire, casting tall, swaying shadows across ancient pillars. The walls were carved with symbols that pulsed faintly, like veins under skin. No windows. No exits. Only one door ahead, sealed shut, and one behind — already gone.
The Trial had begun.
From high above, a voice echoed — neither male nor female, neither cold nor warm. It was mechanical, yet laced with something older.
> "Candidate evaluation initializing."
> "Trial One: The Measure of Flame."
> "Objective: Endure."
Lucifer narrowed his eyes. Flames burst to life in the arena below — not wild, but contained. Controlled. They swirled into shapes, flickered into human forms, then melted back into embers. Twelve of them. Elemental constructs.
Then came the real test.
Each heir's platform slowly descended toward the arena. Lucifer's boots struck the stone with a quiet thud. The temperature spiked. Heat licked at his face.
A golden sigil burned at the center of the chamber.
> [PROTOCOL PULSE DETECTED.] [ASPECT ALIGNMENT: FLAME.]
A screen blinked faintly in his vision:
> Target: Lucifer Valtros
Trial Compatibility: 83%
Mana Signature: Anomalous (Unaligned)
He blinked. The interface vanished. No one else reacted, which meant only he had seen it.
He stepped forward. Around him, some heirs were already panicking. One shouted commands to his retainers. Another cast a barrier spell that instantly shattered.
The constructs moved.
Not with chaos — with choreography.
Like a test they'd run a thousand times before. And maybe they had.
Lucifer moved too.
Not with fear. With calculation.
The first construct lunged. He dodged, barely, then pivoted and slashed upward with the training blade they'd been issued before entry. It passed clean through the flame, scattering embers.
No effect.
Another came, faster this time. Then a third. His body moved before thought — driven by instinct, not memory. Rolls. Parries. A feint that gave him space to breathe.
> [Protocol Sync: 12%... 14%...]
His breath came faster. Not from exhaustion — from pressure. From the sense that something unseen was watching.
> "Endurance is not survival," the voice said above them all. "Endurance is resistance. Resistance to fear, pain, fire... fate."
Lucifer's eyes snapped to the golden sigil.
> [Trial Key Detected]
He ran for it.
Others screamed. One collapsed entirely as fire danced over his skin, burning without touching. Another conjured water spells — only to have them flash boil. Lucifer ignored them all.
He reached the sigil — and the fire recognized him.
It surged toward him, not to burn… but to test.
The heat crawled into his bones. Not physical heat — internal.
Memories that weren't memories. Emotions with no origin. Images flashed in his mind — a battlefield. A crown. A name not his own.
He grit his teeth.
> "Not now," he muttered.
> [Protocol Sync: 29%... 31%...]
The flames coiled into a shape before him. A mirror.
In it: himself — but not. Eyes older. Shoulders heavier. Surrounded by corpses and ash.
Lucifer didn't flinch. He stepped forward.
The mirror shattered.
> [Trial Passed. Core Resistance: 87%] [Ranking: Tier S – Validated]
The flames vanished. The air cooled.
He stood alone in the center while others still struggled. Some fell. A few barely clung to consciousness. None dared approach the sigil.
From above:
> "Subject: Lucifer Valtros — Passed. Proceed to Tier Two Evaluation."
The floor beneath him shifted. A circle of light formed beneath his boots.
> [Ascension Route Authorized]
He was lifted from the arena.
As he rose, he looked back.
Not to the others.
To the fire.
And for a moment, it looked back.
---
The chamber above was quiet. Smaller. Walls lined with strange glass that reflected nothing. A single pedestal stood at the center. On it, a cube of silver and obsidian.
A voice whispered — softer now.
> "One rises. Eleven will remain."
Lucifer approached. His heartbeat was steady. His hand hovered over the cube.
> [System Calibration: Awaiting Touch]
He placed his hand on the artifact.
Light exploded outward. Not blinding — revealing.
Glyphs spiraled up his arm, vanishing into skin. And for a second, he saw stars that didn't belong to this sky. Heard voices that hadn't spoken in ages.
And something deep within whispered:
> You were not meant to survive.
But he did.
And the flame had accepted him.