Anahita moved toward the wall of fire. Her body glided smoothly through the air as she entered the curtain of flames—yet the fire could not touch her.
The flames passed through her like crimson waves through a bodiless shadow.
The heat didn't hurt her… but she could feel it.
A heavy, suffocating presence—
As if something deep within the fire was wrong.
Then, suddenly—
She stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Her lips parted slightly, a faint tremor creeping into her voice.
"…This… this can't be…"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet filled with disbelief.
"Why… why is the ground burning?"
What she saw within the flames was something even a spirit could hardly comprehend.
The heat was so concentrated, so unnatural, that it wasn't just consuming wood and stone—
It was burning the very earth itself.
The soil had turned into glowing, molten masses.
The ground shimmered.
It bubbled.
It shifted slowly… like living lava.
Anahita descended lower, passing through the flames, her gaze sweeping across the molten ground.
There was no trace of the houses.
No walls.
No pillars.
Not even a single charred fragment remained to prove that a village had ever stood there.
Under her breath, she whispered, fear slipping into her voice:
"Could… could any ordinary human survive something like this? Did… did everyone burn to death…? But…"
Anahita turned back toward Lioran.
Concern weighed heavily on her face. Even for a spirit like her, what she had just seen was not something she could easily accept.
Her thoughts kept circling the same question:
If… if something happened to his mother…
What will he do…?
Her lips trembled slightly, and under her breath, she called his name in a quiet, troubled voice.
"…Lioran."
She slipped back through the wall of fire.
The flames passed through her bodiless form and closed behind her once more.
The moment she emerged, she saw him—standing there, waiting.
The instant their eyes met, Lioran moved.
He shot toward her without hesitation.
Anahita quickly raised her hand, concern clear in her voice:
"Don't come any closer… I'll come to you."
But Lioran pushed forward.
The distance between him and the flames shrank.
The heat struck him once more.
The skin on his face began to burn. His clothes darkened under the scorching heat, and the faint scent of burning flesh filled the air.
Even so…
He didn't stop.
Not for a single moment.
In a cold, hurried voice, he asked:
"…What happened? Did you find anything?"
Anahita didn't have an answer ready.
Her eyes dropped for a moment.
Her silence itself was the answer.
She slowly shook her head.
"No…"
Then she paused briefly, as if the rest of the sentence was too heavy to say.
"The entire village is burned… not even a single house is left standing."
Her voice was quiet, but every word landed like a blow.
"The heat of the fire is so intense that… even the ground has started to burn. If anyone was in the village… I don't think they could have survived…"
A wave of hot wind passed through the flames.
And between Anahita and Lioran, a silence fell—heavier than any scream.
After a moment of silence, Lioran slowly placed his hands on Anahita's shoulders—hands that still smelled of smoke and burned flesh.
He stared at her with cold eyes.
But behind that frozen gaze, a deep sorrow and a fresh wound were hidden.
"But… my mom…"
He paused. For a moment, his throat tightened.
"Where is my mom? What if… what if she was waiting for me in the village?"
Anahita couldn't bring herself to lift her gaze.
Her eyes fell slightly, as if the ground beneath her had suddenly grown heavy.
She stayed silent for a few seconds—
then, in a strained and sorrowful voice, she said:
"If she was there…
then it means she has left us forever."
That single sentence was enough.
Lioran suddenly grabbed Anahita's shoulders tightly and began shaking her. His voice was still cold, but anger trembled beneath his words like a hidden blade.
"Have you lost your mind?"
His gaze sharpened.
"How can you say something like that…? How can you say my mother was burned alive in that fire…?"
But Anahita gave no answer.
Her head was lowered.
Her silence was heavier than any response.
When Lioran realized no answer would come, he slowly released her shoulders. Without saying another word, he turned and slowly moved forward through the air toward the sea of flames.
At that moment, Anahita lifted her head in alarm.
With a loud, frantic voice she shouted,
"Have you gone crazy?! Where do you think you're going? Are you trying to kill yourself? I told you—there's nothing there!"
Lioran stopped about ten meters away from the wall of fire.
At that instant, his clothes suddenly burst into flames.
The fabric blackened and crumbled in the blink of an eye.
The skin of his body burned without pause.
Charred layers peeled away, revealing raw red flesh beneath.
His Regeneration skill was activating constantly—closing wounds, rebuilding skin—
but the fire was faster.
Much faster.
Every time his body healed, it burned again in the same place.
Even so, Lioran didn't step back even once.
He stretched his hand toward the fire.
His fingers burned, yet they remained steady.
"I… will put out this cursed fire."
Anahita shouted in panic,
"It's useless! Don't—!"
But it was already too late.
Suddenly, an enormous mass of ice erupted from Lioran's hand.
Dense, pure, freezing ice—
like a white wave rushing toward the wall of flames.
But it never even reached the fire.
When the ice came within five meters of the flames, it began to melt.
Not slowly—
in an instant the massive blocks turned into water,
and before the water could even fall, it evaporated in midair and rained down as steam onto the scorching ground.
Nothing…
not even a single piece touched the fire.
Lioran, who had poured nearly a quarter of his mana into that attack,
stood completely still.
His eyes widened slightly—
not from fear,
but from disbelief.
In a cold, quiet, suffocated voice he said,
"This… is impossible."
A brief pause.
"My magic didn't even reach it…"
His gaze locked onto the wall of fire.
"How can a fire be this hot…?"
Anahita immediately threw herself in front of Lioran.
She pressed her hands firmly against his burned chest and began pushing him backward with all her strength, as if trying to pull him out of the claws of the fire.
With anger—her voice trembling with worry—she shouted,
"Have you lost your mind?!
A fire that can even burn the ground itself—do you really think you can put it out with your weak magic?"
Lioran was still resisting,
but the rest of Anahita's words struck his mind like a direct blow.
"This fire…"
Anahita clenched her teeth.
"…even a ninth-circle mage wouldn't be able to extinguish it.And you're only a fifth-circle mage—"
At that moment, Lioran's body suddenly went slack.
It was as if the force pushing him forward had abruptly collapsed.
Anahita didn't waste the chance.
Using all her strength, she dragged him several steps back, until the heat was no longer bone-scorching.
Lioran was breathing heavily.
His half-burned skin was still healing.
He looked at Anahita—the spirit who was desperately pulling him away.
With a cold, but fractured voice, he asked,
"What do you mean…?
You're saying even a ninth-circle mage couldn't put it out?"
A brief pause.
His eyes sharpened.
"Then the one who created this fire…
was stronger than a ninth-circle mage?"
Anahita kept pulling him back until they reached a distance where the fire could only be seen, not felt.
Then, in a quieter voice—
But one that carried weight and certainty—
She said:
"Yeah… most likely… this fire belongs to an Ancient Dragon."
Lioran finally reached a safe distance.
His skin was no longer burning.
The charred flesh began to heal, the exposed tissue slowly covered by a fresh layer of skin.
His breathing was still uneven.
With confusion—like he was testing an unfamiliar word on his tongue—he asked:
"An… Ancient Dragon?"
Anahita stopped and let go of him.
For a few moments, she simply looked at him—at his half-burned face, where traces of pain still lingered.
Then she spoke quietly, her tone serious:
"Yes. An Ancient Dragon. A dragon that must live for at least five hundred thousand years before it can be called an Ancient Dragon…"
Her gaze drifted back to the sea of flames.
"This fire most likely came from one of them. And it's possible that this… this fire could keep burning like this for years… even decades."
Lioran hadn't seen what Anahita had seen inside the flames—how the fire itself was burning the ground—so he couldn't fully believe her words.
He stared at the fire.
At the flames that neither weakened nor faded.
In disbelief, he murmured,
"Five hundred thousand years…? Does anything even live that long? And a fire that could burn for years…? Is something like that even possible?"
But at that moment, the memory of the ice returned to his mind—
the ice that hadn't even managed to reach the flames.
He remembered his magic—
magic that had shattered walls and destroyed powerful monsters many times before—
yet here it hadn't even been allowed to touch the fire.
His brows furrowed.
With a voice filled with doubt and confusion, he asked,
"But why?
Why would an Ancient Dragon attack a remote village like this…?"
He hadn't even finished his sentence when something caught his attention.
Behind Anahita far away, within the darkness—
a red light flickered.
Not like fire.
Not trembling.
It was steady. Focused.
As if a small crystal were slowly breathing.
Lioran's eyes narrowed.
He raised his hand and gently moved Anahita aside to clear his view.
Confused, Anahita asked,
"What is it, Lioran…?"
She followed the direction of his hand.
And then she saw it too.
A small red light,
glowing within the shadows of the trees, deep in the darkness.
With surprise, she said,
"What is that…?"
Lioran didn't answer.
In the next moment, his body became light,
and without hesitation he flew toward the red glow.