Beast Master: I'm the strongest.

The ruins of the ancient city stretched out before them, a labyrinth of cracked stone and scorched earth. Broken towers jutted into the sky, their silhouettes distorted by the heat rising from the ground. The air thrummed with mana, thick and oppressive, each breath a struggle against the energy saturating the atmosphere.

Yǒnghéng and Seris paused at the city's edge, the weight of the Ethereal Flame pulsing in his chest. It felt alive, reacting to the ruins as if recognizing an old home.

"This is it," Seris murmured, her voice subdued. "The Cradle lies at the heart of the city, but the path will be perilous. The mana here is unstable, and the wraithforged will grow more aggressive the closer we get."

Yǒnghéng gripped the talisman his grandfather had given him, its cool surface grounding him. "I'm ready."

Seris studied him for a moment, her silver eyes unreadable. "Stay close to me. We move quickly, and if we're separated—"

"I'll find you," he interrupted, his determination evident. "Let's go."

The two entered the ruins, the ground beneath their feet crunching with the brittle remains of a once-thriving city. The architecture was unlike anything Yǒnghéng had seen, the buildings etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly, as though the city clung to life despite its desolation.

The first wraithforged appeared almost immediately. It emerged from the shadows, a hulking figure of molten metal and flickering light, its body dripping with liquid fire. Seris reacted swiftly, her hands weaving intricate patterns as barriers of light sprang to life around them.

"Yǒnghéng, focus on defense!" she shouted. "Conserve your strength!"

But the Ethereal Flame had other ideas. It surged within him, eager to be unleashed. Ignoring Seris's command, Yǒnghéng summoned the fire, its chaotic energy roaring to life in his hands. He charged the creature, his movements instinctive, each strike fueled by the flame's volatile power.

The battle was fierce, the wraithforged relentless. Every blow Yǒnghéng landed seemed to enrage it further, its molten body reshaping itself to adapt to his attacks. The whispers of the flame grew louder, urging him to release more of its energy, to burn everything in his path.

"Control it!" Seris yelled, her magic slicing through another wraithforged that had joined the fray. "Don't let it control you!"

With a guttural roar, Yǒnghéng unleashed a wave of fire, the explosion consuming the wraithforged and reducing it to smoldering rubble. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, the whispers receding but leaving behind a searing ache in his chest.

Seris was at his side in an instant, her hands glowing with healing magic. "You can't keep doing this," she said, her tone a mix of frustration and concern. "The flame is feeding on your emotions, amplifying them. If you don't learn to master it, it will destroy you."

"I know," Yǒnghéng rasped, his voice hoarse. "But it feels… alive. Like it's trying to tell me something."

Seris frowned but said nothing, helping him to his feet. They pressed on, the ruins growing darker and more labyrinthine, the air thick with anticipation.

At the city's heart, they found the Cradle.

It was a massive chamber, the walls lined with intricate carvings that depicted a story of creation and destruction. At the center of the room stood a towering brazier, its flame long extinguished. Around it, the ground was scorched black, the remnants of ancient battles etched into the stone.

Yǒnghéng felt the Ethereal Flame stir within him, its energy resonating with the brazier. The whispers grew louder, clearer, as if the flame was calling out to its source.

"This is it," Seris said, her voice barely audible. "The Cradle of Embers."

As Yǒnghéng stepped forward, the brazier erupted into flame, the sudden light illuminating the chamber. The carvings on the walls began to glow, the story they told coming to life in a cascade of images.

He saw a great forge, its fires burning brighter than the sun, shaping worlds from raw mana. He saw beings of pure energy wielding its power, their creations both wondrous and terrifying. And he saw the forge's downfall, its energy fracturing into countless shards, scattering across the realms.

The whispers in his mind coalesced into a single voice, deep and resonant.

"Bearer of the Flame, why have you come?"

Yǒnghéng froze, his heart pounding. The voice felt as though it was speaking directly to his soul, its presence overwhelming.

"I want to understand," he said, his voice trembling but resolute. "Why was this flame given to me? What am I supposed to do with it?"

The brazier's flame flickered, the voice shifting to a more measured tone. "The Ethereal Flame is not a gift, but a burden. It chose you not for your strength, but for your potential. You stand at the threshold of creation and destruction. What you become will shape the fate of this world."

Yǒnghéng clenched his fists, his mind racing. "But why me? I'm no one special. I don't have the strength or wisdom to handle this."

The chamber trembled, the carvings shifting to depict a lone figure standing against a storm. "Strength is not given—it is forged. Wisdom is not inherited—it is earned. The Ethereal Flame sees what you cannot: the spark of perseverance that refuses to yield. Prove yourself, and you may yet master its power."

Before Yǒnghéng could respond, the chamber darkened, and the brazier's flame erupted into a swirling vortex of fire. From its depths emerged a figure wreathed in flames, its eyes glowing with the same chaotic energy as the Ethereal Flame.

"Face your reflection," the voice commanded. "And claim your destiny."

The fiery figure lunged at Yǒnghéng, its movements mirroring his own.