The forge courtyard of Emberleaf was carved from volcanic stone and mana-hardened clay, lined with pillars etched in elemental runes that shimmered faintly as the sun slipped below the distant ridge. Forge smoke coiled through the upper air like silent streamers, and heat from the day's labor still pulsed from the cobbled ground beneath Kael's boots.

In the center of the courtyard, a single glyph burned.

Circular. Precise. Waiting.

Kael stood over it, still and quiet, dressed not in robes or armor, but in a dark-trimmed tunic and leather gloves worn from work. His sword was sheathed. His voice, unraised. But the fire within him… that flickered steady.

Before him, the thirteen chosen stood in formation.

Each carried scars in different forms.

A bear-blood beastkin with mismatched eyes, arms folded rigid over his chest.

A goblin girl barely taller than Rimuru, her fists trembling but her chin tilted up defiantly.

An elven scout, silver-haired and silent, who had not spoken once since joining—yet had passed every trial without hesitation.

Others wore bandaged arms, ritual markings, braids from their home tribes, or weapons carved by hand. Different heights, builds, skin tones, bloodlines. No two were the same.

But all thirteen had passed Zelganna's gauntlet, Gobtae's mental tests, and Nana's logistical trials. They had fought, calculated, endured. They had stood again.

Now they were here.

Rimuru floated just beside Kael's shoulder, wearing her self-declared ceremonial crown forged from acorns, bronze bolts, and two sugar crystals. Her gooey exterior shimmered with excitement.

Kael let the silence stretch a moment longer. Then he spoke.

"You weren't chosen because you were the strongest," he said, voice calm but sure. "You weren't chosen because of birth, bloodline, or title."

His eyes moved down the line—catching each recruit's gaze.

"You were chosen because you fell… and you got back up. Again. And again. You stood when it hurt. You stood when it mattered."

The wind shifted.

Somewhere, far off, the bellows of the forge exhaled a deep breath.

Kael stepped forward, toward the center of the stone circle where the flames waited beneath.

"You are not swords. You are not shields. You are torches."

A low flicker danced at his heels.

"You will burn before anyone else has to. You will bring fire into the places the world has left cold."

Rimuru whispered, half to herself, "Torch Squad... I love that."

Kael extended his hand, lowering it to the glyph at the center of the ring.

As his palm met the stone, the courtyard reacted.

With a sound like breath igniting, a ring of fire bloomed—low, controlled, elegant. It circled him completely, but no heat burned from it. Instead, it radiated presence. Mana. Identity.

His.

The flames bent slightly in reverence.

And then—without being called—the first recruit stepped forward.

A goblin girl with a jagged scar across one brow.

She approached with shaking steps, dropped to one knee, and pressed her palm beside his.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The fire responded.

A stream of Kael's mana moved through the glyph into her hand—not like lightning, but like ink in water. It curled up her wrist in a spiral of gold-tinged flame… then etched itself permanently into her skin.

No pain. No sound.

Only fire choosing its next bearer.

One by one, the rest followed.

Thirteen warriors. Thirteen bonds.

Each time, the flame shifted color—adjusting, matching. One blazed silver. One roared with orange sparks. One even hissed a deep blue.

By the end, Kael's chest ached—not from strain… but from what he was giving them.

And what he might never get back.

He looked out at them all, lined now in glowing symbols, standing taller than when they arrived.

"You are bound to me," he said.

He hesitated—then added, more softly—

"But this land, this fire, this future… they belong to you."

Rimuru pulsed beside him like a small star.

And the flame between them all burned quietly—but forever.

The glyph circle still smoldered beneath Kael's boots, faint traces of red and gold rippling outward like dying coals. The air smelled of charged mana, iron, sweat, and something older—something sacred.

The thirteen chosen stood now in a tighter formation, their wrists still glowing with the flame-mark that had tethered them to Kael's core.

But the ritual wasn't finished.

Rimuru hovered above the flame ring, now trailing a thread of liquid mana like a ribbon through the air. Her slime-form had shifted slightly—more translucent, her core glowing with quiet stability as she synced with Kael's breathing.

"Steady," she whispered. "Let it flow… not too sharp, or their cores might snap."

Kael nodded, closing his eyes.

He reached inward.

Not to cast. Not to burn. But to offer.

His mana pulsed inside him like a second heartbeat. He coaxed it forward—through his chest, down his arm, and into the ritual glyph at his feet.

Great Sage:

"Begin synchronization. Binding mana thread: 13 nodes. Flame tether active. Emotional link probability: high."

As the spell activated, thin threads of fire lifted from the stone.

They danced like silk in the wind—one strand for each recruit—curling through the air, coiling delicately around wrists, shoulders, chests.

Kael felt each connection as it locked into place.

One flame was calm, patient—a healer's courage. Another throbbed wild and eager—a fighter too young to doubt. Another felt distant but deep—a quiet loyalty that did not need words.

Each soul touched his. Briefly. Powerfully.

And then it was done.

The fire tether marks dimmed to a dull gold on each recruit's wrist, the threads dissolving into their skin. Kael's own hand pulsed red for a moment longer before settling.

Silence followed.

Until Rimuru broke it with a low, approving hum.

"No one exploded. That's a win."

Kael opened his eyes. His legs felt like stone. His chest like it had been cracked open—and carefully sealed again.

Great Sage:

"All thirteen flamebindings confirmed. Mana resonance: stabilized. Caution: bonds will grow stronger with shared experience. Warning: should a bearer fall in combat, you will feel it."

Kael swallowed.

He hadn't told them that part.

Not yet.

He looked to each recruit again—their gazes calm, determined, some unsure but proud.

And he knew: they hadn't just pledged their strength.

They had accepted the cost of his.

The courtyard had emptied.

The flame circle no longer glowed. The stone cooled beneath Kael's boots, and the moon crept higher over the spires of Emberleaf, casting long shadows across the walls and quiet towers.

Kael sat alone on the low steps beside the training arena, arms resting on his knees. The Ember Repeater was slung across his back, untouched. His gloves were off, and his fingers still tingled with residual mana from the ritual.

Each flamebinding had felt like… a thread tied through his ribs.

It didn't hurt.

But he could still feel them.

Thirteen pulses—distant, faint, and alive.

Great Sage:

"Flamebound sensitivity will lessen with time. Emotional echoes may spike during trauma events."

Kael exhaled.

Footsteps approached.

Nana sat beside him without a word, folding her legs and leaning back on her hands. Her tunic was still singed from earlier training drills. She didn't look at him.

"Feels like too much, doesn't it?" she asked after a moment.

Kael didn't respond.

"They're proud," she went on. "You can see it. They'd die for you."

"I know."

Nana turned to look at him now. "You ever ask if you're willing to live for them?"

That made Kael pause.

She watched his face carefully. "Loyalty's not obedience. It's something deeper. Something that doesn't undo easy. You just wrapped your soul around theirs."

Kael looked down at his wrist. The mark was already fading beneath the skin, but he could still see the faint ember outline.

"They volunteered."

"So did soldiers in the last Flamefront War," Nana said softly. "Didn't stop them from being buried by someone else's ambition."

Kael looked up at the stars above Emberleaf. The sky felt wider tonight. Heavier.

He didn't answer.

But Rimuru appeared a moment later, drifting lazily into view like a glowing soap bubble.

"Don't mind her," she chirped. "Nana gets all broody after blood-binding rituals. It's a side effect of having feelings."

Nana rolled her eyes.

Rimuru floated lower and gently bumped her side against Kael's arm.

"They followed you because you gave them something no one else did."

Kael looked over.

"A future," Rimuru said simply. "So be the king they saw when they stood in that fire."

Kael sat back.

Watched the forge lights in the distance flicker one by one as Emberleaf settled into sleep.

Thirteen threads tied to his soul.

One flame bigger than any he'd imagined.

"I'll make it worth it," he whispered.

Nana didn't speak.

But she didn't look away, either.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.