The air around Arthur shimmered as Salaark stepped forward, her presence exuding an undeniable weight of authority. Unlike Tyris and Leegaain, whose teachings had been steeped in discipline and controlled mastery, Salaark's aura crackled with an untamed ferocity. Her piercing gaze assessed him, searching for the untapped potential lying dormant within.
"Now, we uncover the true depths of your power," she said, her voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "You have learned the purity of Origin Flames, but power does not always manifest in creation alone. There exists another path—one of entropy, decay, and transmutation. These are the Cursed Flames."
Salaark raised a single clawed finger, and from it, an eerie light flickered to life. Unlike the silver brilliance of Origin Flames, this fire pulsed with a myriad of hues—dark, shifting, unstable. It was neither wholly fire nor light, but something in between, something fractured and incomplete.
"Cursed Flames are the corrupted counterparts of Origin Flames. Each element possesses a cursed form, a perversion of its natural state. Mastery over these flames requires an understanding of the balance between destruction and transformation."
She gestured, and before Arthur, six ethereal flames sprang into existence, each a representation of a different element, twisted into their cursed versions:
Blight Flames (Light): A sickly green fire that exuded an aura of decay, capable of eroding even the strongest enchantments and unraveling magic at its core.
Void Flames (Darkness): A swirling black inferno, an embodiment of chaos itself, warping reality and devouring all in its path.
Noxious Flames (Air): A wisp-like fire, translucent and deadly, capable of suffocating foes by consuming the very oxygen around them.
Nether Flames (Earth): A deep, molten crimson that corrupted whatever it touched, turning stone into sludge and rendering defenses useless.
Frost Flames (Water): A paradox of fire and ice, burning with absolute cold that sapped energy and halted all motion upon contact.
True Flames (Fire): A smoldering ember of destruction, reducing anything to cinders and leaving no trace behind.
Arthur watched, transfixed, as the flames danced around him. Each seemed to whisper to him, tempting him with power. Salaark's gaze bore into him. "These flames are yours to command, but they do not come without cost. Will you claim them?"
Arthur clenched his fists. He had already embraced the path of power; he would not falter now. With a deep breath, he extended his hand toward the flickering flames. As he did, his vision warped, a sensation unlike anything he had felt before overtaking him.
A surge of energy erupted from within him as his body instinctively absorbed the flames, twisting them into his very core. His veins pulsed with an otherworldly force as his life force adapted to the new power. His once-silver energy turned darker, infused with shades of violet, crimson, and black.
"Curse Maelstrom," Salaark intoned, watching him carefully. "Just as Life Maelstrom channels the world's essence to create, Curse Maelstrom distorts it, reshaping reality itself."
Electricity crackled around him, but this was unlike the silver bolts of Life Maelstrom. These were darker, heavier, carrying the essence of ruin and reconstruction. Arthur could feel the raw potential surging through him, capable of both destruction and unmaking.
Salaark nodded in approval. "You are adapting well. But power alone is not enough. You must now learn how to wield it."
The Splitting of the Body - The Power of Ten Tails
Salaark stepped back, her expression unreadable. "The final piece of your awakening lies within your very essence. You are not bound by a single form."
Arthur felt a strange pull from within. He staggered for a moment as his body seemed to stretch and shift unnaturally. Then, with an overwhelming burst of force, he found himself splitting apart—not in pain, but in perfect synchronization. Where he had stood moments before, ten identical versions of himself now stood, each moving with the same awareness, the same consciousness.
He looked down, eyes widening as he saw ten powerful tails, each one pulsating with elemental energy. Each tail granted him an affinity—six bound to the classical elements and four to the ethereal forces:
Fire Tail: Burned with the power of True Flames.
Water Tail: Pulsed with Frost Flames, chilling the air around it.
Earth Tail: Corrupted the ground with Nether Flames.
Air Tail: Moved like a spectral force, infused with Noxious Flames.
Light Tail: Glowed ominously with Blight Flames, unraveling magic upon touch.
Darkness Tail: Swirled with the chaotic Void Flames.
Spirit Tail: Radiated unseen power, connected to the fabric of the soul itself.
Dimensional Tail: Bent space and time, warping movement.
Gravity Tail: Weighed heavily with an immense force, pulling the world around it.
Chaos Tail: The most unstable, brimming with unpredictable energy, capable of untethering reality itself.
"With these tails, you are no longer limited by singular action. You can be in ten places at once, think ten thoughts at once, fight ten battles at once. However, the more you divide, the weaker each body becomes. This power is absolute—but reckless use will lead to your undoing."
Arthur took a steady breath, feeling the weight of his newfound abilities settle upon him. The power was exhilarating, intoxicating even, but he understood the cost. If he wasn't careful, this strength could consume him.
Salaark watched him closely before speaking again. "Your tails are not just extensions of yourself. They are weapons."
At her words, Arthur felt a shift within his body. His fur bristled, hardening into razor-sharp quills. He instinctively willed them to extend, watching as they transformed into deadly spikes, each one radiating with chaotic energy.
"These quills," Salaark continued, "can pierce through even the hardest of substances. Adamant, enchanted steel, divine armor—nothing can withstand their power. With control, you can shape them into any form, using them for both attack and defense."
Arthur tested his newfound control, shaping the quills into long, curved blades along his arms. He slashed forward, the air itself parting as the chaotic energy lashed out, sending a wave of devastation forward.
Salaark smiled. "Good. You are ready."
Arthur stood there, his ten forms merging back into one as he reigned in his abilities. He had undergone a transformation unlike any before. He was no longer just Arthur. He was something greater. Something unstoppable. And soon, the world would know it.