Mr. Death in the Steam World

Without even considering why Vera knew his name, Arthur stepped forward.

He raised his longsword, and the silvery-white holy light transformed into a sharp sword aura, aiming straight for Sidwin's flank.

Sidwin dodged to the side, but Vera's barrier blocked his retreat.

The sword energy grazed his shoulder, leaving a charred mark on his robe.

"You—" Sidwin's face darkened completely, "you ants—"

Moen didn't give him a chance to speak.

He drew his revolver, infused the bullet with magic, and fired three shots at Sidwin's knee.

The bullets traced three golden-red trails in the air.

Sidwin raised his hand and created a barrier of fire. The bullet struck the barrier and exploded into three bursts of sparks.

But he didn't notice that Phils had already circled around behind him.

"Flame Butterfly".

A butterfly made of golden-red flames flew out from Phils's palm, scattering fine sparks as its wings flapped.

It bypassed Sidwin's barrier of flames and rammed straight into his back.

Sidwin whirled around and raised his hand to block, but it was too late.

Flame Butterflies exploded on his back, engulfing him in golden-red flames.

Sidwin let out a muffled groan and staggered forward two steps.

"You—a second-tier being?" He stared at Phils. "A mere second-tier being dares to compete with me for the position of Executor?"

Phils did not answer.

She turned around and reached out her hand to Melina.

"Come."

Melina looked at the hand, then at the shattered crystal on the altar.

She took a deep breath and grasped Phils's hand.

The two walked up to the altar side by side.

Sidwin stood there, watching them walk past him.

He tried to stop them, but Vera's barrier blocked his way, Arthur's sword was pointed at his throat, and Moen's gun was locked on his brow.

He didn't move.

Phils stopped in the center of the altar.

She looked down at the flame-shaped mark on the back of her hand.

The flower was in bloom, and each petal shimmered with golden-red light.

Melina stood beside her, the mark on her wrist glowing.

Sidwin stood at the edge of the altar, his robes burned and riddled with holes, yet his mark still glowed.

Three candidates stood before the altar at the same time.

The sound of crystals shattering echoed through the cave.

Dark red light surged from the crystal fragments, spreading in all directions like a tide.

When the light touched Phils's ankle, she felt a surge of power rise from the soles of her feet and flow through her entire body along the magic loop.

The little girl trembled slightly when Melina was touched.

His eyes lit up when he touched Sidwin.

The altar began to shake.

Flames leaped up from the tops of the twelve stone pillars simultaneously, illuminating the entire cave as if it were daytime.

Flames gathered and surged above the altar, eventually transforming into a gigantic phantom.

Hesfield.

Lord of Flames, God of Hearthfire, Ender of Winter.

He looked down at the three figures on the altar, his flame-filled pupils devoid of emotion, only scrutinizing the candidates.

"The three of you are gathered together," His voice echoed in everyone's minds, "and the flame will decide."

"I will be here to witness who is qualified to be my agent."

"The selection process shall begin!"

The moment the words were spoken, the flames on the altar suddenly shot up, engulfing the figures of the three candidates in intense light.

Moen instinctively raised his arm to block the blinding light and peered through his fingers at the center of the altar.

Ancient flame-like characters began to appear on the surface of the crystal, each stroke and image carved into the stone by a red-hot branding iron.

He had never seen those words before, yet he could understand their meaning—

"The candidate must extinguish a flame that was once lit for himself and light a flame on the altar for others."

"Both flames must originate from within themselves."

The moment the words appeared, Sidwin's laughter rang out.

"Extinguish your own fire? Light a fire for someone else?" His voice was full of disdain.

"Flames are only for the strong! The weak are not even qualified to approach them!"

He raised his hands, flames surging wildly in his palms, attempting to forcibly activate the altar.

"I am the heir to the Ashton family! The future master of Ironcrown City! This position of successor should rightfully be mine!"

Flames erupted from his palm and crashed into the crystal at the center of the altar.

The crystal remained completely still.

The moment the dark red flame touched the surface of the crystal, it seemed to hit an invisible wall and vanished silently.

Sidwin's expression changed.

"impossible--"

He activated his magic again, this time using all the power within the magic circuit.

Flames erupted from every pore of his body, turning him into a burning torch.

However, the altar did not react; instead, the fiery characters began to extinguish one by one.

It spreads inward from the edge of the crystal, as if an invisible hand is wiping them away.

The flame flower mark on the back of Sidwin's hand began to flicker.

Its light flickered uncertainly, as if it were making a final struggle.

Then--

It suddenly went out.

The flower of flame, like ashes scattered by the wind, silently peeled away from the back of his hand, turning into fragments of light and disappearing into the air.

Sidwin stared wide-eyed down at his empty hand.

"No...impossible...this is impossible!"

He suddenly looked up and roared at Hesfield's phantom.

"I am Sidwin Ashton! I am the strongest candidate! Why—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

An invisible force surged from the center of the altar, like an unseen giant hand, and flung him off the altar.

His body traced an arc in the air before crashing heavily against the cave wall, sending pebbles tumbling down.

He slid to the ground, lay motionless, and passed out.

Moen glanced at Arthur, who nodded slightly, walked over and dragged Sidwin out of the rubble, binding his hands and feet with ropes formed from holy light.

Vera stood to the side, looking at Sidwin's pale face, remained silent for a moment, and then looked away.

On the altar, Melina was still standing there.

She hadn't moved since the flame-like characters appeared, staring intently at the ancient symbols on the crystal's surface.

"Extinguish...your own fire."

She murmured the words repeatedly, raised her hand, and looked at the flame flower mark on her wrist.

She didn't know when the fire had started.

Perhaps it was during those days and nights when he was locked in the stone building, amidst fear and despair, that subconscious thought of not giving up ignited it.

Perhaps even earlier, in those years in the shantytowns, after my father's miner's lamp went out, after my mother couldn't survive that winter.

During those long days when no one came to her rescue, the fire continued to burn.

She never knew.

But now, it's time to extinguish it.