All Fuel Fears Its Flame

In a cheap apartment in the Lower District, a hunt was nearing its end.

Only, it was ending in a completely different way.

Ignoring the man gnawing at him from behind, Horn practically enthusiastically embraced the woman before him. The muscles in his arms tightened, locking her in place.

He would not allow even the slightest resistance.

A blazing orange-red light flared in his eyes, carrying scorching heat.

Who was the hunter, and who was the prey?

Pouring spirituality into [Flame of Destiny] at any cost, the colorless flames spread wildly along the invading scarlet force, greedily devouring it as they gradually transformed into a greater form.

The gap in spiritual magnitude was erased by reckless burning. Flames that grew ever deeper in color ignited across the woman's body, bringing corrosive agony. As she howled like a wounded beast, the Awakening Level that had remained still for so long suddenly rose, tracing a dangerous arc as it shot upward like flames.

[You suddenly understand that spirituality can be burned.]

[55%... 68%...]

The Awakening Level, which had shown no progress for so long, soared as though awakened. The numbers flickered rapidly, growing brighter and brighter.

[77%... 86%...]

"Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz—"

The experience equivalent to a hundred rounds of alchemy flooded into his soul. The sound of an engine igniting thundered like drumbeats, giving Horn a splitting headache. His consciousness itself felt ready to burst from the searing knowledge.

[91%... 99%...]

The screen within his consciousness flickered unsteadily, brilliant sparks bursting from its edges as though it were about to explodeexplodeexplodeexplodeexplodeexplodeexplode—

[--100%]

The mutated, distorted spirituality of [Grail], like high-quality smokeless coal, made the colorless flames burn ever more fiercely. They passed through murky black, refined into blinding pure white, then dyed into bright yellow, before finally ascending into vivid gold-red—

Because it could not be defied, it was called destiny; because it ignited all things, it was called flame.

[At the height of brilliance!]

[Every destiny has its color, every flame has its fuel. Do not believe your dreams—]

The quotation on the screen began to burn violently the instant it appeared, merging into the magnificent flames like moths rushing into fire.

The gold-red blaze surged upward like a blazing sun. It flashed for only an instant, then seemed to become an invisible vacuum pump. A terrifying pull like a black hole suppressed every terrified scarlet strand of spirituality trying to escape, sweeping them all into the azure core of the flames, where they vanished without a trace.

Beneath Horn, the struggling abruptly stopped.

In its place came an illusory crackling sound, like oily pine branches bursting in a furnace. The woman's once-scarlet, smooth skin, poised at the edge of transformation, rapidly shriveled. The spirituality writhing through her body like parasites was drawn out to the last drop and burned away in phantom flames.

In just a few seconds, Horn's expanded spiritual limit had increased more than it had through the previous month of alchemy. More than half of the spirituality still could not be absorbed, condensing into a scarlet point of light that floated within his consciousness.

Beneath him, after the strange spirituality within her had been burned away, the woman finally ceased struggling. She did not even have the strength to raise an arm, simply allowing herself to collapse onto the floor.

Her eyes, which should have irreversibly fallen into madness, forever scarlet and forever chaotic, were washed clean like the sky after rain. Their blue base slowly emerged like reefs as the scarlet tide evaporated.

Her unfocused pupils twitched into focus, as though she had awakened from a nightmare. Horn actually read a trace of humanity upon her beastlike face.

The woman stared blankly past Horn at the man behind him, like the living dead. Looking at his face smeared with blood, her lips trembled, but her mutated throat could no longer produce human speech.

Clear tears slid down her cheeks, falling into the pool of blood and sending ripples across its surface.

Then her body collapsed, turning into black embers and vanishing.

[Fate Deflection—]

[Ember, reignite!]

[The First Flame has been ignited.]

The prompt appeared at just the right moment. Its words had already turned dim gray-black, like the embers left behind after a fire.

Though the description had been long, only an instant had truly passed. Horn had no mind for sentimentality. Focusing on the prompt before him, he let his consciousness actively sink and "saw" the true form of something.

—The Limit of Man-Made Things.

Dark cyan gears meshed and turned. An unbelievably complex transmission structure fit together as seamlessly as a puzzle, concealing every detail beneath it as it miraculously formed an utterly flat tabletop.

At that moment, a flame burned steadily at the very center of the tabletop. Its core was a cold black, while its gold-red outer flame was as docile and harmless as could be, showing no sign of the violent destruction and renewal it had just wrought.

Four points of light revolved around the flame along fixed paths, like planets surrounding a star. The instant his gaze swept over them, Horn instinctively understood their meaning.

Black, white, yellow, red.

[Corruption and Calcination], [Refinement and Exaltation], [Dissolution and Dyeing], [Transmutation and Sublimation].

Yet all four points were dim at the moment, as though some condition had yet to be fulfilled. Only one name could be discerned.

Before he could look any longer, Horn abruptly withdrew his mind from the space of his consciousness. It seemed to have taken only a moment.

—The ashes had not yet scattered, the ripples were still spreading, the blood splashed across his face was still warm, and the man behind him was still stiffly twitching his facial muscles, trying to sink his sharp teeth into Horn's skin and drink that lethally tempting blood.

So Horn moved.

He turned, spread two fingers apart, and viciously plunged them into the man's eye sockets!

His newly replenished spirituality dropped sharply. Transparent flames blazed from Horn's fingertips, scorching the man's still-moist, fragile brain tissue, which had not yet fully mutated. They stirred it into a literal mush, making his throat emit hoarse rattles as he convulsed madly and toppled backward.

A one-hit kill!

Unlike the woman, whose scarlet spirituality had practically overflowed, the man who had clearly only just been transformed had pitifully little scarlet spirituality in his body.

He had not merely failed to infect others; he had not even made an instinctive attempt to resist before the flames brutally uprooted it, leaving no future trouble behind.

Or rather, future trouble no longer mattered.

Watching the unknown male corpse fall again, now truly a corpse—his eyes... oh, they had just been poked in, but he still looked fairly peaceful—Horn felt his spirituality slowly recover a little. He rubbed his temples, finally having the leisure to consider his own situation.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry.

What the hell was all this?

He had only gone home to sleep, yet somehow ended up in the middle of a zombie movie. His cheat, which had originally only been good for alchemy or lighting fires, had also evolved into something completely unfamiliar.

The commotion from the fight had been loud enough to sound like demolition. Fortunately, the tenants upstairs and downstairs were probably still working overtime. Otherwise, the situation would only have become more chaotic.

Besides, who could say for certain that there was only one of these monsters?

It was only a guess, but infectious things like this were like cockroaches. Once you saw one, there might already be a hundred lurking in the dark.

It truly left one uneasy.

Tugging at his torn alchemist's coat, Horn stepped over the shredded apartment door and headed toward the city center, in the direction of Birmingham Police Station.

He was not sure whether he possessed some trait that attracted monsters, but staying where he was and pretending nothing had happened was no different from waiting to die.

Besides, in certain respects, public safety in this world was better than in Britain in his previous life. They might turn a blind eye to gangs collecting protection money and bullying men and women, but whether it was a plague, a fire, or a sudden explosion, if you reported it, the police would genuinely handle it.

Mentor Olive had left in a hurry that afternoon due to an urgent matter, without even leaving instructions, so he could not seek her help now. No matter what, seeking protection from the authorities was better than facing the risk alone.

The evening wind cut to the bone, and there were few pedestrians on the streets.

Inside the warm duty room of the police station, the potbellied police chief clinked glasses with a tall, thin officer. The scarlet liquor rippled, reflecting knowing smiles at the corners of both their mouths.

Within their meeting eyes, scarlet glimmers appeared and vanished.

They were hungry again.