My name is Rael Ashen. I'm a Provisional Student at the Emberclad Sanctum. I joined three years ago, dreaming of becoming strong like the legends. But reality hit hard. After all this time, I've only barely reached the third phase of the Ember Vein Tier.
The others who started training with me have already moved on to better schools or become personal disciples to powerful elders. Me? I sweep the stone floors. That's all I am now—a floor sweeper with no future.
Emberclad Sanctum is famous, not for its kindness, but for its harsh rules. Here, the strong move forward, and the weak are left behind. No one helps each other. If you want to rise, you must crush the ones above you. The instructors won't stop you. In fact, they'll even reward you.
The Sanctum has a rule: any student under fourteen gets three full years of support. Food, housing, training resources—all covered. But if you don't break past the Vein-Hardened Phase during that time, they cut you off. You either leave or get downgraded to a Provisional Student like me. Out of over 3,000 disciples, only a few are Provisional Students. We are the ones who failed.
Even if I miss meals or catch a cold, no one cares. They already tried to throw me out once. I begged to stay. I promised to keep cleaning the halls and training in the shadows. I made a choice. And I won't quit now.
"Hey! Isn't that Rael Ashen? Still stuck at third phase?"
I kept sweeping, trying to ignore the voices. They circled me, laughing.
"Maybe we should give him another friendly lesson today," one said.
Another pushed me. "Stop pretending to train. Let us beat you up real quick. That way we can all save time."
"That's right! After we're done, we still need to practice. You're just a Provisional Student. Don't make us waste too much energy."
The morning bell rang—nine times. A new day.
"Move, I'm going first!" one shouted, stepping in front of me.
"I only need one punch," said another.
"Enough," I stood up and looked at them. "Pick who's going to fight me."
"Me! I'm lucky today!"
This time, my opponent was Joren Din, a regular student at the fifth phase of Ember Vein Tier. He wasn't much better than me, but enough to beat me easily.
I nodded. "Thank you for the opportunity."
He smirked. "Don't thank me. You won't enjoy it."
He moved first—a long punch, a basic beginner move. But it was faster than mine. His body was tougher. My hits barely touched him.
Still, I refused to fall.
"Just stay down already!" Joren yelled after slamming his leg into me.
"No." I stood up again. My body screamed in pain. My knees shook. Blood ran down my lip.
"You crazy idiot," he muttered. "You'll die at this rate."
He slammed his palm into my chest. I hit the ground and blacked out.
...
When I opened my eyes, I was lying under a tree. I had no idea how I got there. My clothes were torn. My ribs ached. I checked my side—someone had smeared healing ointment on my wounds. Blood-clotting cream. This stuff cost ten Merit Tokens, a full month's worth of sweeping.
Who helped me? I saw drag marks in the dirt. Whoever it was didn't want to be known. But I will repay them someday. I promised that to myself.
...
Later that night, I had a strange dream. A voice echoed in my head:
"Blood ignites the Crimson Body. Not a miracle… but the rise of a Flameborn."
I woke up in a sweat. That same black rock I found weeks ago near the Shrouded Fang Range—it now felt warm. I picked it up. It broke open like hollow stone. Inside was a strange book. A book with no words.
Suddenly, glowing red letters appeared:
"Blood ignites the Crimson Body. Not a miracle... but the rise of a Flameborn."
The words repeated over and over until my mind felt like it was splitting apart. I shouted. I dropped the book. Light shot into my chest, and I passed out.
When I woke again, I felt... changed. My injuries were gone. My muscles felt denser. I clenched my fists—they were solid as iron.
Still, when I checked my power level, I was only at the third phase of Ember Vein Tier. The same. Or so I thought.
That night, I stood facing the rising sun, copying the movements from the book. Each move burned my body. I could only train for half an hour before collapsing.
But by the end of that half hour, I broke through.
Ember Vein Tier—Phase Four.
Three years to reach Phase Three. Only thirty minutes to reach Phase Four.
Whatever this Crimson Codex was... it wasn't normal.
...
The next day, I returned to sweeping the halls like usual. My body still tingled from the breakthrough. While sweeping, I heard students talking about the contribution center.
"Today's the 10th. Time to collect our Merit Tokens."
I headed there too. My monthly pay was ten tokens from sweeping. But every time I lost a fight, one token was taken away. Last month, I was challenged eight times. That left me with just two.
The old man at the counter, Master Tarn, yawned as I approached.
"You again? Didn't see you around for days. What happened?"
"Just out training," I replied.
"Hmm. Still alive, I see. You want tokens or ointment?"
"Just the tokens."
I was about to leave when I spotted something behind the counter—a glowing red pill.
"What's that?" I asked.
"That? That's a Veinfire Pill. Good for early stages of Ember Vein Tier. No one can afford it, though. It costs 50 tokens."
My eyes widened. "Why so much?"
He leaned closer. "Because it's my own stash. I just wanted to see who'd notice. I lied about selling it. Wanted to give you some hope."
I sighed. That old man always liked to tease me.
But one thing was clear: I needed more tokens. More herbs. More strength.
The Crimson Codex had many pages. The next one talked about a strange thymiaterion and two herbs: Emberthorn Bloom and Ashroot Fescue. These herbs would boost my training but were rare.
Buying them was impossible. I only had two tokens.
So I made a plan.
I'd take leave. I'd go into the Shrouded Fang Range and gather the herbs myself.
I would survive. I would grow stronger. And one day... I'd rise above them all.