The oppressive heat of the Crucible, even within the phantom reality of a Glimpse, was physical. It wasn't just warmth; it was an active presence, a dry, ancient heat that felt like it could bake the moisture from my bones and crack the resolve of lesser men. Lord Kharonus' voice echoed in my mind, a silken wave of condescending power that coiled around my thoughts, his question hanging in the shimmering, ember-filled air. He saw my desperation, my desperate, gnawing need for answers, and his immense, timeless ego clearly intended to savor every single moment of it.

But this time was different. I wasn't the terrified, half-drowned boy who had prostrated himself on the cold obsidian floor just to survive his presence. I was a leader, a strategist on a vital reconnaissance mission, and this was my simulated negotiation. The knowledge that this was a Glimpse — a consequence-free sandbox where I could test the limits of this primordial being without permanent incineration — lent a sharp, cold, and now familiar edge of confidence to my resolve.

I straightened to my full height, my newly reforged armor making no sound, a stark contrast to the clatter of my old, crude plates. I let the Soulfire within me burn steadily, not as a raging, defiant inferno, but as a controlled, unwavering pilot light. It was a quiet declaration that I was no longer afraid of the fire, only respectful of its original, terrifying source.

"I seek knowledge, Lord Kharonus," I sent back, my mental voice as level and firm as I could possibly make it. "Not just another painful lesson this time. A proper education."

Kharonus tilted his massive, horned head, a slow, predatory movement that seemed to stretch for an eternity. A deep, rumbling chuckle echoed in my mind, a sound like mountains grinding together, filled with pure, unadulterated amusement at my sheer nerve.

"An education!" he boomed, the mockery dripping from every conceptual syllable. "The little spark returns to my forge, puffs out its insignificant chest, and demands I enroll it in the grand university of cosmic power! You have grown a sliver of strength, tasted a crumb of victory in your pitiful little backwater world, and now you believe you can stand before me and demand answers to the universe's great and terrible mysteries? The Audacity! I must warn, a most dangerous quality."

He leaned forward on his throne of jagged rock, his crimson eyes narrowing, the condescending amusement fading into a sharp, analytical glint that felt far more dangerous. "Why should I? Why should I part with knowledge that empires have slaughtered millions to conceal, that mages have given their souls to glimpse? The last time you were here, you offered me nothing but your pain and your pathetic, tenacious will to survive. What currency do you bring to my table now, little spark, other than your amusingly inflated ego?"

I didn't flinch. I had anticipated this line of questioning, this demand for payment. "I bring an asset," I answered coolly. "A Kyorian Overseer, a Master-Tier entity like yourself, spoke of a 'purged' Bloodline when he witnessed my power. His reaction was not just surprise; it was fear. He saw me as a threat of the highest order to his Master, a 'Lord Hadrian Vorr.' I am, it would seem, an existential threat to an Empire you clearly hold in contempt. An enemy of your enemy. An investment in future chaos. That is the currency I bring. My potential."

Kharonus considered this, stroking a single, obsidian claw along his jawline. The sound was a faint, sharp scrape in the vast, silent hall. "A clever reframing," he admitted, his tone shifting from outright mockery to genuine interest. He seemed to appreciate the game itself. "You offer your future growth as collateral against present instruction. Interesting. Very well. Your impudence has earned you a lecture."

He rose from his throne. It was the first time I had ever seen him stand fully near me, and the sheer scale of him was breathtaking, humbling my recent growth completely. He was a nine-foot colossus of crimson flesh and smoldering power, a being of perfect, terrible majesty. "You exist on a ladder, little spark," he began, his voice taking on the cadence of a primordial professor lecturing a particularly dim-witted student. "Fifteen rungs, the Tiers of power. Most beings live and die on the first few, like insects scrabbling in the dirt, never accumulating the necessary power to reach Evolution Thresholds, to take the first true step."

He paced before his throne, each footstep a silent, crushing weight upon reality itself. "The first evolutionary gate is at Tier 5. The next at Tier 9. Then 12, then 14, and the final gate at the precipice of godhood, Tier 15: the limit of system categorization, at least according to myths. The climb grows steeper, the rungs further apart with each ascension. Those who manage to reach the higher Tiers become forces of nature. A Tier 11 being can extinguish a sun with a little effort. At Tier 12… at that stage, they say one's very existence begins to warp local reality, their passing whims capable of rewriting physical law on a planetary scale. In all my eons, I have heard only legends of such beings. I have never had the... pleasure... of meeting one myself."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"And you, Lord Kharonus?" I asked, my curiosity a reckless fire that burned through my caution. "What Tier are you?"

He stopped pacing instantly. A suffocating pressure, as real as a physical mountain, slammed down on me, forcing me to one knee. My Aura sputtered and died before it could even fully form. His eyes burned with an ancient, terrifying fury that promised agonies I could not even comprehend.

"You dare?" his voice was a whip-crack in my mind, all condescending amusement gone, replaced by pure, insulted rage. "You, an insect, ask the mountain its age? You will address me with the respect I am owed, or this lesson will end with me flaying the skin from your body and sending it back to your people in a jar! Do you understand me, spark?"

"I... understand," I managed to gasp out, the pressure lifting as quickly as it had come. A bead of sweat, real sweat from the sheer mental strain, trickled down my temple. The power difference was still an ocean.

Kharonus huffed, a sound like a blast furnace, and returned to his throne, clearly mollified by my immediate and total submission. "To pass the Tier 5 gate, you must prove mastery. You must evolve in the three core pillars: Body, Mana, and Spirit."

He held up one massive, clawed finger. "The Body. You must awaken your dormant Bloodline."

A second finger rose. "The Mana. You must condense your raw energy until it crystallizes into a Core within your being."

A third finger joined the others. "The Spirit. You must take your 'Aura' — that crude, emotional scream of your soul — and forge it into the beginnings of a Domain."

"The Kyorian Overseer," I stated, forcing myself back on track. "He recognized the shape my fire made. He seemed to fear it."

Kharonus' posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. A flicker of something I couldn't identify — ancient caution, maybe even a trace of awe — crossed his features before being masked by his usual towering arrogance. "The Kyorians keep extensive, tedious records of things they have destroyed. It is their defining quality," he said, his voice clipped and deliberately avoidant. "The shape itself is irrelevant. What matters is the purity of your fire. Its signature. It is an echo of a power that should not exist in one so young and unrefined. That is what would have terrified him." He knew more, far more, but his dismissive tone was a solid brick wall. Probing further on that topic would be fruitless, and likely painful.

"Then teach me to refine it," I pressed, changing tactics. "Teach me how to forge a Domain."

"Ah," Kharonus purred, leaning back, regaining his comfortable, mocking composure. "We return to my tuition. I require a service. A task that only one such as you, with your… unique metaphysical nature, can perform."

"What is it?"

"This Gauntlet has... layers. Hidden depths. There is a specific sub-level, a Vault sealed by the Prime System's own mandate. Its entrance can only be accessed from within this Crucible, but my very essence is anathema to its wards. The System itself prevents me from entering."

"A sealed vault within your own level?" I asked. "Why?"

He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture of profound irritation. "It houses an object whose nature is… contrary to my own. Its presence is a discordant note in the symphony of my power. A cosmic irritant. The System, in its infinite, infuriating wisdom, saw fit to place it here but beyond my reach. I want it. And you will be the one to retrieve it for me."

"Retrieve what, exactly? How will I even know what I'm looking for in a forbidden vault?" I pressed, sensing his deliberate vagueness.

"You will know," he said, his confidence absolute. He flicked his wrist, and a small, jagged shard of black, glassy rock materialized in the air before me. It felt… dead. It seemed to absorb the fiery light of the Crucible, radiating a palpable sense of pure nothingness that was a stark contrast to the overwhelming energy of the hall. "Take this. It is a splinter from my throne, imbued with my resonant signature. The object I seek will react to it. It will… sing to it. That is all you need to know."

I felt a surge of doubt. The request was ludicrously dangerous and impossibly vague. Yet, I could sense his need. Beneath the layers of arrogance and condescension, there was a raw, aching want. This item was more than a simple desire; it was a necessity to him.

"In exchange for this… service," he continued, the words dripping with transactional promise, "I will oversee your evolution personally. I will give you the foundational knowledge needed to begin awakening your Bloodline. I will guide you, I will torment you, I will beat you until you take your chaotic Aura and forge it into the beginnings of a true Domain. I will give you the tools you need to become the monster your Kyorian friends so clearly fear you are."

The Glimpse was nearing its end. I had my answers. I had the price.

"Thank you, I will do what I can," my Glimpse-self stated, giving a curt, respectful nod.

Kharonus laughed, a sound that shook the very foundations of the hall. "Oh, I know you will, little spark. Where else could you possibly go? Run along now. Go bring your little constructs, or whatever you need to prepare. And do try not to get yourself killed before you undertake my grand errand. It would be… profoundly inconvenient."

His crimson eyes flared, and the Glimpse shattered into nothing. I was ripped back into my physical body, the darkness of my hiding spot feeling blessedly cool and stable. The memory of the Crucible and its master was burned into my mind. I knew the path forward. It was a sheer cliff face with an arrogant, flaming demon holding the only rope. The cost of climbing was a journey into a place reality itself had tried to forget. I took a deep, steadying breath. It was time to get to work.

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