A desperate voice echoed in the void of his dreams.
"Ronan! Ronan! HELP! Help me! Ronan!"
His eyes snapped open. The cries still rang in his ears as he shot upright, his heart hammering. But something was wrong.
He wasn't in his room.
It was that place again—the eerie, nightmarish chamber that had haunted his dreams before. Yet, this time, there were differences. The oppressive darkness was gone, and the floor, previously covered in shadows, was now eerily pristine. But what truly unsettled him was the table at the centre of the room.
The cage of flames that once contained something on the table had changed. Now, a Silver Flame flickered ominously, its essence seemingly siphoning energy from the cage of flames itself, and a Crimson Flame is trying to maintain the flame cage from falling apart.
Ronan's breath hitched. "Is that my flame? Is that Silver Flame... trying to absorb it?"
A chill ran down his spine as he took a hesitant step forward. The grey flame flickered almost mockingly as if it were aware of his presence. He quickened his pace, but the moment his foot touched the ground—
The floor shattered like fragile glass.
He plummeted into the abyss below, his breath stolen by the sudden fall. Darkness swallowed him, and before he could react, a suffocating cold engulfed his body.
"Have I fallen into the water?" Ronan wondered.
Instinct kicked in. He struggled to swim upward, but something clamped onto his limbs. Countless hands—twisted, clawed, and relentless—grasped him, dragging him deeper into the abyss.
A cacophony of voices whispered in his ears.
"Why didn't you come faster?"
"Why didn't you give it your all?"
"Why did they die on your hands?"
"Why? Why? WHY?!"
"What's the point of having power if you can't save anyone?"
Dread crawled up his spine as guilt, fear, and helplessness threatened to consume him. Faces he had failed to save flickered in the darkness, their eyes empty, accusing. The weight of his failures pressed against him like an anchor, dragging him further into the void.
But even as despair threatened to claim him, something within him resisted.
"No... I won't give in."
Gritting his teeth, he summoned every ounce of his Soul Power, forcing his way upward. He clawed against the hands, against the darkness, against the whispers. With a final burst of defiance, he broke free.
Ronan collapsed onto solid ground, gasping for breath. His body trembled, drenched in cold sweat. His hands clutched at the floor as he steadied himself. Looking up, the Silver Flame still burned on the table, devouring his flame core bit by bit.
He had no time to waste.
Ignoring the exhaustion weighing him down, Ronan forced himself to his feet and sprinted toward the table. As soon as he reached it, he extended his hand towards the Silver Flame.
The moment his fingers brushed against it, agony unlike anything he had ever known erupted through his very being.
A soul-wrenching pain, as if his essence was being crushed between two colossal boulders.
And then—
Another illusion.
The battlefield was ablaze. Flames crackled violently, consuming everything in sight.
Ronan stood in the centre, gripping his sword tightly. To his right, Samantha readied her stance, and to his left, Kairos was poised for battle. In the distance, Ms Amara and Mr Alden clashed against a masked warrior.
The battle was ferocious, sparks flying as blades clashed. Ms. Amara's movements were swift and precise. Mr. Alden fought with unyielding strength. But the masked man was faster. Stronger. His strikes were merciless.
And then—
A fatal opening.
With a single, fluid motion, the masked man severed Mr. Alden's head from his shoulders. Time seemed to freeze as Ronan watched the head roll to his feet, lifeless eyes staring back at him.
"No..." he choked, but the nightmare wasn't over.
A piercing scream.
Ms. Amara.
Ronan's gaze snapped up just in time to see her right arm sliced clean off. The masked man didn't hesitate—he kicked her aside like she was nothing.
Ronan's fury erupted. He lunged forward, but before he could strike, the masked man hurled a spear at him. He barely dodged it.
Then—
The masked man vanished.
Ronan barely had time to react before the enemy reappeared beside him, sword slashing downward. He couldn't block, couldn't dodge—
Samantha moved.
Her sword met the attack, but the force behind it was too great. Her blade shattered instantly, and a deep gash tore across her body.
Ronan's breath caught. "No, no, no—"
Kairos roared, launching himself at the masked man in a last-ditch assault.
The masked man extended a single hand.
"Ignition Beam."
A concentrated blast of pure heat erupted, incinerating Kairos in an instant. There was nothing left. No scream. No remains. Just... dust.
Terror gripped Ronan's soul. His mind screamed, but no sound left his lips. His willpower, his confidence—it all crumbled under the weight of helplessness.
The masked man turned to him, stepping forward.
"Come with me, Ronan." His voice was eerily calm. "I can give you power. You just have to stop fighting it. Accept it."
Ronan's body trembled. He looked around—fire and death surrounded him. There was no one left. Just him and the masked man.
Ronan stared at the masked man before him, his breath uneven, his body trembling—not from fear, but from an overwhelming rage he could barely contain. His heart pounded like a war drum as the flickering flames around them cast shadows over his determined face. Yet, the figure before him wasn't just any foe. It was something far worse.