Nathan could feel the heat creeping into his bones, a relentless burn that left his skin prickling and his muscles taut. It was as if he were lying next to an open furnace, the heat permeating every cell in his body. Each breath felt hotter than the last, each heartbeat heavier. But what unnerved him most was that this fire wasn't external—it was coming from within.
The visions had been haunting him for days now, taunting him with glimpses of a world drenched in fire, a realm where even the air seemed aflame. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back there, standing on an obsidian plain, staring into an endless inferno that seemed to breathe with its own life.
The guards weren't blind to his deteriorating state. In fact, they seemed to revel in it.
As they filed past his cell, one guard, a thick-set man with a permanent sneer, couldn't resist a jab. "What's wrong, Wilson? Feeling a little hot under the collar?"
Nathan lifted his head, his gaze heavy. "You think this is funny?" His voice came out cracked, hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in days.
The guard snorted, crossing his arms. "A little," he admitted with a shrug. "Watching big, bad Blessed like you get knocked down a few pegs? Yeah, I'll admit, it's satisfying."
"Don't flatter yourself," Nathan muttered, resting his head back against the cold wall. "All this—whatever they're doing to me—it won't be enough."
The guard chuckled, shaking his head. "You keep telling yourself that. Pretty soon, you're going to break. You're all the same—act tough until we turn up the heat."
Nathan gritted his teeth, biting back a retort as the guard's laughter faded down the hall. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold onto this bravado. The fire within was no joke. It was real, searing his insides with every passing minute, and yet… it wasn't hurting him in the way he'd expected. It felt like it was calling to him, urging him to embrace it.
That night, the temperature in his cell seemed to rise even further. The air was thick, almost suffocating, as if he were trapped in a kiln. Sweat beaded along his forehead, and his breaths came in shallow pants.
Then, he saw it—a flicker of flame dancing in the darkness.
Nathan blinked, squinting, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. But there it was again, this time larger, bolder, a fiery apparition cast against the wall. It looked almost like a symbol, a sigil branded into his vision. He closed his eyes, but it lingered, imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.
"What… is this?" he whispered, his voice weak and disbelieving.
The symbol pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of fire, resonating with the rhythm of his own. He didn't know how, but he could feel that it was part of him—something primal, waiting to be unleashed.
By morning, the symbol had faded, but the fire within him had only intensified. When the guards arrived, he saw them exchange uneasy glances. It was subtle, but the way their eyes darted to him, lingering a moment too long, told him they'd noticed something strange.
It didn't take long for the facility's agents to escalate the situation. They watched him with renewed caution, suspicion clouding their expressions as they entered his cell, armed with strange devices that emitted low hums.
One of them, a tall man with hawkish features and a hard gaze, approached him. "We've been noticing… irregularities with you, Wilson," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Care to explain?"
Nathan held his gaze, forcing himself to keep his composure. "Irregularities? Maybe your machines are broken."
"Don't play games with us," the agent snapped. He leaned in close, his eyes searching. "We've seen your aura spiking. It's only a matter of time before whatever's festering in you breaks loose."
Nathan shrugged, forcing a smirk. "Maybe it's indigestion."
The agent's expression darkened. "You think this is funny? You're no different than the other anomalies we contain. You can either cooperate, or we'll make things… uncomfortable."
Nathan's smile faded, a cold edge slipping into his tone. "Uncomfortable? What do you call this, then? A luxury stay?"
The agent's eyes flashed with irritation. "Enjoy your little rebellion while it lasts," he hissed, stepping back. "Soon, you'll see just how little control you really have."
As they left, Nathan felt the fire pulse within him, as though it were reacting to the agent's words, his threats. He clenched his fists, feeling the heat throb in his palm, the sigil still lingering there, faint but undeniable.
The day dragged on, the oppressive heat gnawing at his mind, distorting his senses until he could hardly tell if he was awake or trapped in another vision. The walls of his cell seemed to flicker, shadows morphing into tongues of flame that danced and curled along the corners, taunting him.
It wasn't until he caught sight of his reflection in the small, scratched mirror that he realized the extent of the change. His eyes looked hollow, fever-bright, as though lit from within. And on his palm, faint but undeniable, the sigil glowed—a symbol of the Primordial Fire Realm, imprinted on his skin.
Nathan reached up, touching the sigil gingerly, and as his fingers brushed it, a searing pain shot through him. He gasped, clenching his hand as the fire surged, his vision spinning.
He collapsed to his knees, breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts, the fire roaring within him, a crescendo of heat that felt like it would split him open. It was as though he were on the brink of something, a threshold he couldn't cross, trapped in this feverish agony.
Hours later, he was roused by the sound of voices outside his cell.
"—projecting symbols. We've confirmed it. He's manifesting signs of the Primordial Fire Realm," one voice whispered urgently.
"This goes beyond simple containment," another replied. "If he's accessing that realm, we might need to consider more drastic measures. His resistance is… unusual."
Nathan smirked to himself, his eyes closed. Resistance. They think it's resistance? They have no idea what's happening.
But even his smug satisfaction faded as the heat within him continued to grow, pressing against the limits of his endurance. Every nerve felt raw, as though he'd been stripped down to his very essence, each spark of pain igniting another layer of agony.
You cannot escape the fire.
The System's cryptic message flashed through his mind, an echo of words he couldn't escape. Was it a warning? A promise? It was as if the fire itself was mocking him, daring him to resist.
In the dead of night, the visions returned with a vengeance. He was back in the Primordial Fire Realm, standing amidst the blazing landscape. The entity—a towering, flame-wreathed figure—watched him, its form shifting and undulating like molten lava.
It extended a hand toward him, fingers made of pure flame, a wordless invitation. Nathan felt an inexplicable pull, an urge to reach out, to accept whatever power it offered.
He took a step forward, the heat intensifying until it felt like his very soul was aflame. His hand lifted, trembling, reaching toward the fiery being.
The moment their fingers touched, he felt the fire surge within him, a torrent of raw, ancient energy flooding his senses, scorching every part of him until he thought he would burn alive.
But instead of pain, he felt… strength. A fierce, unyielding strength that roared within him, a power that felt as natural as breathing.
Then, just as quickly, he was back in his cell, the flames receding, leaving only the faint glow of the sigil on his hand. He took a shuddering breath, staring at his hand, a strange sense of certainty settling over him.
The fire wasn't something he could escape. It was a part of him now, an inescapable bond.
But he wasn't about to break. Not now. Not ever.
The next morning, the guards found him sitting cross-legged, his expression calm, almost serene. One of them sneered, gesturing to the faint glow on his hand. "Look at that. Thinks he's got something special."
Nathan looked up, meeting the guard's gaze with a cool intensity. "You have no idea what I've got," he said quietly, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.
The guard rolled his eyes, but Nathan caught the flicker of unease in his expression. They could sense the change, even if they didn't understand it. And for the first time, Nathan felt a surge of confidence, a quiet, simmering power that burned steady and fierce within him.
The System's words echoed once more: You cannot escape the fire.
He didn't need to.