The Smolder District of the Flame Clan was a place where the sun never truly set—it was merely replaced by the permanent, orange glow of the industrial furnaces. Here, ash fell like snow, coating the shoulders of the "Lower-Heats," the workers whose inner fire was too weak to serve in the military or the nobility.
Five-year-old Kaito didn't mind the ash. To him, it was just the dust of hard work.
While the other children were practicing "Spark-Flicking" in the village square, Kaito was often sent deep into the Ashen Ravines to gather coal-shale. His father, a master smith whose fire had dimmed with age, always told him: "If your spirit cannot burn bright, make sure your arms can strike hard."
The Incident
It happened during a tremor. The volcano, the Great Cinder, let out a low groan that shook the very foundations of the ravine. Kaito, balanced on a narrow ledge with a basket of ore, felt the ground vanish beneath his feet.
He didn't scream. He simply fell.
He tumbled through a narrow fissure, sliding down a chute of smooth, ancient glass until he landed with a heavy thud on a floor of cold, black sand.
The Forbidden Tomb
Kaito coughed, shaking the soot from his hair. He was in a cavern that shouldn't have existed. It wasn't hot like the rest of the mountain; it was unnervingly silent and smelled of ozone and old parchment.
In the center of the room sat a single plinth of white stone. It looked out of place—clean and untouched by the volcanic grime. Resting on the stone was a simple band of dark, matte metal.
It wasn't gold. It wasn't silver. It looked like it was made of captured shadows.
"A ring?" Kaito whispered.
As he stepped closer, the air began to hum. It wasn't a sound he heard with his ears, but a vibration he felt in his teeth. The Ring didn't glow with fire. It pulsed with a faint, violet light—the color of a bruise on the sky.
The Fusion
Driven by a curiosity that outweighed his fear, Kaito reached out. The moment his finger brushed the metal, the humming stopped.
The Ring didn't just sit on his finger; it contracted.
Kaito let out a sharp gasp as the metal bit into his skin. He tried to pull it off, but it was as if the Ring had become part of his bone. Suddenly, his vision flashed. He didn't see the cave anymore. He saw a man with eyes like a storm standing over a world on fire.
"Finally..." a voice rasped. It was a voice that sounded like grinding stones. "A vessel that hasn't been tainted by their 'pure' flame."
Kaito collapsed, the weight of the Ring feeling like he was suddenly carrying the entire mountain on his hand.
The Rescue
Hours later, Kaito's father found him at the bottom of the fissure. The boy was unconscious, his hand gripped tightly into a fist.
"Kaito! Speak to me!" his father cried, pulling him into his arms.
Kaito opened his eyes, dazed. He looked at his right hand. The Ring was gone. Or rather, it had sunk beneath the surface of his skin, leaving only a faint, circular scar around the base of his ring finger.
"I... I fell, Da," Kaito stammered. "I found... nothing."
His father sighed in relief, unaware that the "nothing" his son found was the end of the world as they knew it. As they climbed out of the ravine, Kaito felt a strange chill in his chest. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel the warmth of the Flame Clan.
Deep inside, the Ring began to beat. Thump. Thump. The God was awake.