First Mark: [Blood Scorcher]

Consciousness descended, returning to the tabletop that seemed eternally stagnant, save for the flames burning upon it. Horn grabbed the violently trembling Restlessness, its surface etched with heavy, intricate patterns and on the verge of shattering, and cast it into the raging fire.

The Restlessness, wings spread as if to take flight, was consumed in the flames. The door separating soul from dream manifested due to such scorching passion, standing across the tabletop. The Edict of Liminality sealed all impulses, leaving behind solid locks and chains that stubbornly blocked the Apprentice's path of ascent.

But if it were not meant to be opened, why leave a lock?

In a flash of realization, Horn discovered that the key to open it had been in his hands all along.

And not just one!

A dream-like reappearance: the magnificent pillars supporting the heavens and the earth manifested once more, projecting beneath Horn's feet to create a path of kaleidoscopic colors.

At the end of the path, a curtain composed of vast starlight was stirred aside, and a noble form—solemn, great, and seemingly interpreting the truths of the world—cast its gaze upon him.

One was a scorching furnace, shattering the night and ending the immutable; one was a cup of overflowing blood, tempting the ultimate and filled with agony; one was a cold dawn, harsh, precise, and meticulous. One was a wild beast, filled with wrath and endless growth; one was a full moon, perfect and dazzling; one was a fragrant bud, intoxicating, dreamlike, and forever out of reach...

More paths appeared in succession, but these six were the clearest under the resonance of blood and fire.

Ash Forge, Cup of Insatiable, Pale Dawn, Golden General, Arc Moon in Mirror, Flower Artisan.

The powers left behind by the six great Hours cast their favor, urging this rare and precious talent to make a choice.

Choose one.

By this, determine your fate.

Yet Horn lowered his head, looking at his feet. Ivory-colored wax trails meandered; where he stood was both the beginning and the end of the path.

Before the choice, a vastly different result had already arrived. Before the start, he had already reached the destination that should have been unreachable. Before the answer, the question had become a paradox.

Thus, Horn made his decision.

If I do not go over, will the mountain not come to me?

If you want it, come and take it yourself!

???

It was as if countless question marks were plucked out. Under this unprecedentedly bold declaration, even the projections of the Hours faltered for a moment. For a time, the magnificent scene seemed to freeze, and even Horn couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart.

They wouldn't really refuse to come, would they?

No way, surely not?

Fortunately, after a brief instant, as if destined by fate, the power of one surged suddenly. Flames roared and light overflowed, forcing the other paths to unwillingly fade into the darkness.

Ash Forge overwhelmed all the rest, leaving behind a mark of witness for Horn.

Accompanied by the sounds of engines and hammers at work, a phantom of a burning woman was forged within the furnace. She reached out with gleaming fingers and tapped Horn's chest, touching that heart of flesh and blood.

Right there, the spark of response was ignited.

[Influence: Pulsing Appetite] was consumed as easily as tinder, lighting an even greater brilliance.

Within his consciousness, the dark cyan gears forming the tabletop meshed and rotated. The incredibly complex transmission structure, seamless as a puzzle, was now running with near-mad intensity, digesting this massive gift. Sparks flew from every crevice, illuminating everything in a brilliant, radiant glow.

The massive amount of spirituality snatched from Saliba was swallowed whole by the flames. A golden-red, scorching fire burned violently at the center of the tabletop, with four points of light following fixed trajectories, rotating around the fire like planets orbiting a star.

At this moment, in the vortex at the heart of the flame, under the increasingly strong and irresistible gravitational pull of fate, the black point of light was the first to be captured, joyfully merging into the fire.

Dark, twisted text emerged beside the fire like a hallucination:

[The nobility and baseness of metal, death and rebirth, beheading and the raven. Nigredo is Corruption and Calcination, and also the foundation of the Great Work.]

[You now know how to evoke the fire of Nigredo.]

[Corruption and Calcination], awakened!

The bandages on his back fell away, revealing an incredibly complex spiritual circuit that had been etched at some unknown time. Under this guidance, the impulses and desires burning like fire were refined, folded, and finally constrained into his boiling blood, signaling the completion of the work.

Above the light screen, flame-like patterns spiraled and contracted infinitely toward the center, forming an abstract sun motif. A true and undeniable Mark was now branded into the background of the light screen.

First Mark: [Blood Scorcher]!

From a sense of fulfillment he had never known before, Horn opened his eyes. Through the torn-away ceiling, he gazed at the sky rendered in scarlet, the thunderclouds colliding and rolling like rotting flesh, the ruined hospital, and Saliba, who was biting toward him with the light-spear nearly breaking free from his chest.

Within his pupils, the fire blazed intensely.

Just like that, looking at the behemoth inches away, Horn offered the most sincere greeting to that stunned face.

Have you eaten today?

If not, come and savor the pain and despair within these tears!

The next instant, flames that had transformed into a deep, profound black surged from bottom to top. First, they ignited Horn, then they ignited everything. Under the infusion of that pain and tears, they molded a massive body capable of rivaling the current Saliba.

Then, forward—with the most straightforward of movements, he lunged, bit, and fought.

To vent this endless, lingering rage!

Abandoning all control over his body, Horn instead fought with all his might for control over the spirituality, the ritual, and even the entire boundary, squeezing the last of the fuel from Saliba's reserves, intent on maintaining the persistence of the flames.

If I cannot control the power, then let the power control me.

Above his head, the Crown of Moloch revealed its true form under the irrigation of spirituality, draping the giant of flame in deep black armor that gathered and dispersed like smoke. On the constantly shifting body, one vague face after another emerged, roaring at the top of their lungs, spitting out flames and thick smoke.

Without caring in the slightest how monstrous he looked now, Horn let his body lunge forward. In that split second of surprise, he actually suppressed Saliba, pinning him within a cage of flames, while the countless faces embedded in the armor opened their mouths in unison.

Devour!

Crimson, pulsing blood sprayed like a fountain, and dark, tangible flames tore into the body of Saliba, devouring this generous gift with gluttonous hunger, pressing the attack even further.

Scales, flesh, internal organs, bones.

The pitch-black flames swept through, greedily plundering everything Saliba possessed, while gently returning the heart-wrenching agony to him, forcing a mournful howl from his throat as he felt the warmth of the world.

One sentence, and he would be warm for a lifetime!

Feeling his once-abundant stamina and spirituality vanish into those hellish black flames, even his hard-won, sublimated divinity teetered on the brink of collapse. Having tasted fear for the first time in ages, Saliba could no longer afford to maintain the ritual; even his desire for ascension was temporarily suppressed by the primal urge to survive.

It was fine; the most important status had already been attained, and the Restless Blood now flowed within his veins. Given time, he would be able to recreate today's miracle and complete the final piece of the puzzle.

--As long as he could escape.

When that time came, he would surely exact retribution for every bit of this humiliation!