Kieran's suspicions deepened with every subsequent thought he had.
The Flame grew quiet after delivering its message, leaving Kieran to stew in the enigmatic meaning of its words.
Just when his thoughts regarding the Trial's meaning, the Flame's aspiration, and his purpose gained an inkling of perspective… it was all turned on its head, leaving Kieran perplexed.
The Flame's origins and current conditions were definitely more complex than it led on. At every turn, a new facet of its power and identity was being unraveled, but the core of it had yet to be grazed.
The Maddened, Resentments, Ruin, and a myriad of other infernal and boundless powers had one thing in common — the Flame. What also struck Kieran as odd was that the Land of Ruin was suffused with these principles.
Did that mean its history was intricately connected to the Flame's presence here? It made sense.
According to the Cardinal of War and Flame and the Flame's stories… it had awoken amidst the Lifeless Pass.
But why there?
Kieran suspected the Flame rose there because the massive loss of life left a slew of dead fates to feed upon and regain a modicum of its original power. If Kieran considered everything until now, even bloodlust was a form of resentment because it was usually a reaction to an infuriating stimulus.
But wasn't the power of fate the Domain of the Hecate?
'No, that thought is wrong.'
Kieran realized he had it all wrong there.
The Flame hadn't manipulated anyone's fate, and the Hecate were more like the Keepers of Fate rather than its dictators. That meant there had to be a presence above them who could dictate an esoteric concept like fate.
The thought of manipulating someone's fate made Kieran shiver. What level of power did that require? The power of a God, perhaps even beyond that.
'So what is the Flame, a thief?'
Kieran ruminated over that notion.
The Flame was, in fact, a thief through and through, but not in the way Kieran accused it. The dead fates it consumed had been ownerless. And without an owner, it could no longer be considered stealing. The Flame did, however, steal reason and sense of self from those it attempted to reforge into a Child of Resentment.
Nevertheless, it was far beyond Kieran's understanding, prompting him to shake aside the perplexing thought.
What remained important was this was the path he had chosen for himself, and despite its difficulties, setbacks, or obstructions… he would blaze the trail with unfaltering courage.
Hopefully.
With his mind off the Flame, for the time being, Kieran focused on the Testament before him. His understanding of it was shallow despite having been the one to create it.
But Kieran expected this outcome because of the nature of the Trial.
The disconnection from the Zenith Frequency prevented Kieran from understanding the remarkable changes, but he sensed the Blood Rune had achieved a complete overhaul.
The Zenith Frequency wasn't needed to tell him how much of a boon this situation was.
He had melded the principles of four skills by following the methodology of Manic Integration. And while it was undoubtedly far from perfect, the sheer delight of him taking a step down a path true to his nature left Kieran feeling bubbly and restless.
The Testament of a Fiend's Defiance left Kieran feeling strange, but it was a euphoric strange feeling — filling him with triumphant glee.
Part of that delight came from the servile nature of his blood after reaching a concord. It had understood that Kieran was not its enemy despite being the reason they now existed as resentment.
There was a bigger threat — an enemy that could only be defeated if they came to an accord.
Considering what he had learned about the Flame, Kieran gave it the nickname Fiendmaker, which was apt considering what it had done in search of a worthy child.
Eager to test out his transformed might, Kieran left the confines of his Realm, returning to the sight of many restless Fiends surveying him with fervid gazes.
The next strongest Fiend, who was capable of talking, spoke up.
"Are you ready to rumble, Valdu? I've not disturbed you, but I can't curb my desire for battle much longer. Let us test who is superior."
Kieran looked at this particular Fiend, who wielded two large twin axes. He looked like Kieran would expect — savage-looking, with a physique larger than his own and murderous eyes.
Kieran answered with a nod as he rose from the rock he sat upon, but before he could prepare, the large Fiend was upon him, the giant axe in his right hand traveling in a beautiful arc that collided with Kieran's bare chest.
Unlike when Cardinal Weiss hit him, however, Kieran had not been sent flying back. The strike was ferocious, carrying an absurd might, which was evident by the two deep groves Kieran's feet made in the hardened, razed ground.
But Kieran had experienced worse.
The large Fiend laughed uproariously from his belly, the nearby pebbles shuddering from the intense vibration. But the laughter was met with an eerie, heavy silence. Tension grew, and alarm rose in the large Fiend's mind, prompting him to cease his laughter.
While it had never been explicitly stated, there was a hierarchy amongst the followers, and they enjoyed the distinction of power. Kieran's presence was somewhat of an intrusion upon the sanctity of that order.
There wasn't any open malice as the Flame curbed that, but it did allow the followers to harbor a sense of pride toward their current position.
It gave them a sense of belonging in this melange of wild people.
In that regard, the followers of War and Flame were more beastly than manly. The Flame had instilled pack tendencies in them, where only the apex predator could lead after proving its ability to lead.
Understanding that thought, Kieran embraced his innate nature. After all, one of his abilities was Wild Hunt — which enhanced Kieran's predation.
A primal sense of fear awoke in the Fiends that remained near Kieran. They looked on and saw his chest practically undamaged by that frightening strike. Not because he was much more robust but because his blood had formed a dense breastplate to absorb the impact.
That was not something Kieran intended to do. His blood had reacted to his subconscious need for protection and understanding that its salvation would never come if he died… it responded instantaneously.
Kieran touched the brutalized breastplate with a surprised gleam in his eye.
Then, he exploded with such frightening rapidity that the large Fiend could only react by overlapping his twin axes in a cross-guard to defend.
A whirlwind of destructive strikes hammered against the Fiend's axes while he retreated with ungainly steps. The ground cracked from the tyrannical pressure bearing down on him, and the bones in the Fiend's arms did, too.
Enduring that unending, ruthless rhythm was a struggle.
Soon, Kieran's blade of blood grew so large it cast a shadow larger than their bodies, and then he lifted it skyward. The crimson sword looked majestic and menacing, but it dropped with the world-ending intensity of a cataclysm.
Fiends did not know what it was to yield.
Thus, the large Fiend resolved to meet that incoming guillotine… until he couldn't. The large Fiend almost crumbled and perished beneath the pressure until Kieran dispersed the attack.
There was a hand on his back, and it felt familiar.
"Condemned Fiend… you have grown much stronger in my absence."
The Cardinal of War and Flame had finally emerged from his isolation.
