Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The journey back to the Fire Chasm was swift and purposeful. The pain in my arm had faded, but the memory of that searing agony remained—a stark reminder of what I was about to willingly subject my entire body to.

"This is where we part ways," I said, turning to The Man with the Mustache as we stood at the rim of the massive pit.

Heat shimmered in waves above the chasm, distorting the air like a mirage. Far below, true fire danced and writhed, a living entity of pure destruction.

"Last chance to reconsider this madness," he said, nervously tugging at his facial hair. "There are other ways to gain power—slower, yes, but considerably less likely to kill you."

"We don't have time for slow," I replied firmly. "Isabelle doesn't have time."

The Man with the Mustache sighed heavily. "If you survive this—and that's an enormous if—meet me at Jade Moon Villa in one month."

"One month? Why so long?"

"Because that's how long it will take you to recover, if you manage to survive at all." His usually playful eyes were deadly serious. "This isn't like any injury you've sustained before, Liam. True fire burns the soul as much as the flesh."

I nodded, my resolve hardening. "One month, then."

"Remember everything we discussed. Don't fight the fire—that's a battle you cannot win. Instead—"

"—surrender to it, while maintaining my core identity," I finished. "Let it transform me without consuming me."

"Easier said than done," he muttered.

I was about to respond when his body suddenly tensed. He tilted his head, listening to something I couldn't hear.

"We have company," he whispered urgently.

Before I could react, three figures in purple robes materialized at the edge of the clearing, moving with inhuman speed and grace. Purple robes—the elite hunters of the Veridia City Martial Guild.

"Liam Knight," the lead figure called out, his voice cold and emotionless. "Your interference with Guild affairs ends today."

The Man with the Mustache backed away slowly. "Well, it's been fun," he said quietly. "Good luck with... everything."

Then, displaying speed I didn't know he possessed, he vanished into the surrounding forest.

"Some friend," I muttered, turning to face my pursuers alone.

The lead hunter removed his hood, revealing a sharp-featured face with eyes like chips of ice. "Knight. You've led us on quite a chase."

"Happy to have provided the exercise," I replied, casually moving closer to the edge of the chasm. "Your Guild members could use more fresh air. Too much time in those dusty halls, plotting world domination."

A second hunter stepped forward. "Where is the Cindercore you stole?"

"Safe," I answered truthfully. The Man with the Mustache had it now—probably halfway to our rendezvous point already. "Though I'm curious why the mighty Guild is so concerned with one small crystal."

"You understand nothing of what you meddle with," the third hunter said, a woman whose voice carried the weight of authority. "Surrender now, and your death will be swift."

I laughed, genuinely amused by their confidence. "Three of you against one of me. Those aren't great odds."

"For you," the lead hunter clarified, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

"No," I corrected, taking another step backward toward the chasm's edge. "For you."

Their stances shifted subtly, preparing for combat. They were among the Guild's finest—trained killers with powers far beyond ordinary cultivators. In a direct fight, I'd be fortunate to take one down before the others overwhelmed me.

But I had no intention of fighting them.

"What would you say," I asked conversationally, "if I told you I know how to achieve an invincible body? One impervious to any weapon, any attack?"

The female hunter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'd say you're stalling."

"Perhaps," I admitted with a smile. "Or perhaps I'm about to demonstrate something you'll report to your masters for years to come."

With that, I stepped backward—right off the edge of the chasm.

Their expressions of shock were the last thing I saw before I was falling, plummeting toward the sea of true fire below.

"Knight!" one of them shouted, their voice fading as I descended.

The heat intensified with every foot I fell, quickly becoming unbearable, then beyond unbearable. My clothes began to smoke, then ignite, burning away from my body in seconds.

When I hit the surface of the true fire, it wasn't like striking water or even normal flame. It was like plunging into liquid agony—a substance that instantly enveloped me, invaded me, seared into every pore.

I screamed, but no sound emerged—only fire, rushing into my lungs, down my throat, into my very core.

This was different from reaching in with a protected arm to grab the Cindercore. This was total immersion. Total vulnerability.

My skin blackened instantly, charring and peeling away like paper in a bonfire. Flesh followed, melting from my bones in ribbons of liquefied tissue. The pain was beyond comprehension—beyond what any human mind was designed to process.

In those first moments, death seemed not just inevitable but merciful.

Then, miraculously, my Saintly Body Skill activated of its own accord. Golden light erupted from within me, pushing back against the fire's consumption. Flesh regenerated even as it burned away, creating a horrific cycle of destruction and renewal.

I could feel myself being unmade and remade, over and over, a thousand times per second.

Remember the technique, I told myself through the haze of unimaginable pain. Surrender without being consumed.

I stopped fighting the fire's entry into my body and instead welcomed it, directing it toward my meridians—the pathways of energy that flowed through all cultivators. The true fire surged eagerly along these channels, burning away blockages, widening and deepening the paths.

My bones began to glow, visible through the constantly burning and regenerating muscle tissue. They shimmered with heat from within, absorbing the essence of the fire.

Then came the moment I'd feared most. My bones—the foundation of my physical being—began to crack under the strain.

Tiny fractures appeared first, then larger breaks. The marrow boiled and evaporated. The very calcium that formed my skeleton began to change its molecular structure, responding to heat no human bones were ever meant to endure.

Above, at the rim of the chasm, the three purple-robed hunters peered down into the inferno.

"Is he truly dead?" one asked uncertainly.

The female hunter knelt at the edge, extending her senses downward. "I detect no life signs."

"This is Knight we're speaking of," the lead hunter cautioned. "He's survived the unsurvivable before."

To test the fire's potency, the second hunter drew his dagger and dropped it into the chasm. They watched as it fell, glowing red-hot before it even reached the flames. When it made contact with the true fire, the metal weapon melted instantly, disappearing without a trace.

"No flesh and blood could survive that," he said with satisfaction.

"Nevertheless," the lead hunter decided, "we will maintain watch. One day, two at most. If he somehow emerges, we'll be waiting. If not, we'll return to the Guild with confirmation of his death."

The female hunter nodded. "I'll establish a perimeter. The coward who fled with him may return."

Deep in the heart of the fire, I was losing my battle to maintain my identity. The pain had transcended mere physical sensation, becoming something so fundamental that it threatened to erase all memory, all sense of self.

Who am I? The question echoed in the void of my consciousness.

Liam Knight, I answered, clinging to the name like a lifeline.

Why endure this torment?

For Isabelle. For revenge. For power to change the world.

The fire seemed to respond to these thoughts, surging into my cracking bones with renewed intensity. I could feel myself being rendered down to basic elements—carbon, calcium, iron—then reconstructed in ways that defied natural law.

My skull, the fortress protecting my brain, began to fracture. With it came new pain, and visions—hallucinations born of a mind under unimaginable stress.

I saw Isabelle, reaching for me through the flames, her beautiful face twisted in anguish. I saw my enemies, laughing as I burned. I saw possible futures—myself rising from the fire as a god, or reduced to nothing but ash and memory.

The true fire had entered my brain now, touching the very neurons that generated thought. It rewrote pathways, forged new connections, burned away limitations I hadn't known existed.

I was dying. I was being reborn. I was both and neither.

Time lost all meaning. Had I been in the fire for minutes? Hours? Days?

My bones continued to crack, the fractures spreading like spider webs across their surface. But just when it seemed they would shatter completely, something unexpected happened.

The breaks began to fill with molten fire, which then solidified into something new—neither bone nor fire but a fusion of both. This substance spread, replacing my original skeletal structure with something far more resilient.

The process repeated with my muscles, my organs, my skin—each burned away completely, then reconstructed with fire essence woven into their very fabric.

Eventually, even my mind adapted, incorporating the fire's sentience into my own consciousness. Not a possession, but a partnership—a symbiosis of human will and elemental force.

I don't know how long I remained in the true fire. Long enough for the purple-robed hunters to grow impatient. Long enough for day to turn to night and back again.

Long enough to be remade entirely.

When I finally rose from the depths of the chasm, I was no longer just Liam Knight. I was something new—a being of flesh and fire, human and elemental.

The hunters didn't notice my approach at first. They had established a small camp near the rim, taking turns to watch the pit while the others rested.

It was the female hunter who sensed me first, her head snapping up as I climbed over the edge.

"Impossible," she whispered, her composure cracking for the first time.

The other two spun to face me, weapons drawn instantly. Their faces registered shock, then fear—emotions I'd never seen on Guild hunters before.

I looked down at myself, seeing my body through their eyes. My skin glowed from within, pulsing with internal fire that shone through like sunlight through thin paper. Veins of molten gold ran beneath the surface, tracing patterns that matched my meridians. Where wounds or scars had once marred my flesh, there were now gleaming seams of pure fire-essence.

"How?" the lead hunter demanded, his sword trembling slightly in his grip.

I smiled, feeling the fire rise within me at the prospect of combat. "I told you," I said, my voice resonating with a new harmonic quality, as if multiple voices spoke as one. "An invincible body."

The second hunter attacked without warning, his blade whistling toward my neck with killing force.

I didn't dodge. Didn't even raise a hand to block.

The sword struck my neck and shattered, the metal reduced to fragments against my transformed flesh. The hunter staggered back, staring at the ruined hilt in his hand.

"My turn," I said quietly.

I moved with speed I'd never possessed before, crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. My hand—glowing with internal fire—closed around the hunter's throat.

He screamed as my touch seared his flesh, the sound cutting off as I tightened my grip. In seconds, he went limp, his body crumbling to ash in my grasp.

The female hunter attacked next, unleashing a flurry of energy bolts from her palms. Each one struck me directly, dispersing harmlessly against my skin.

I reached for her, but she was faster than her companion, evading my grasp with exceptional agility. Her fear was evident now, her composed facade cracking as she realized the nature of what she faced.

"Fall back!" the lead hunter commanded. "Return to the Guild! Report what we've witnessed!"

He launched a desperate attack to cover their retreat, channeling all his energy into a massive strike aimed at my chest.

The blow landed with enough force to shatter ordinary stone. Against my transformed body, it produced only a momentary pressure, like a gentle push.

I caught his wrist before he could withdraw, feeling the bones crumble in my grip. "Tell your masters," I said, leaning close to his terrified face, "Liam Knight is coming for them. And for Isabelle."

Then I released him, allowing both surviving hunters to flee into the forest.

I stood alone at the edge of the Fire Chasm, looking down at the flames that had unmade and remade me. The fire within me responded to its larger self below, resonating like two tuning forks of the same frequency.

My trial by true fire was complete. I had surrendered without being consumed. I had allowed myself to be transformed without being destroyed.

And now, I possessed power beyond anything my enemies could imagine.

I turned my gaze toward the distant Jade Moon Villa, where The Man with the Mustache would be waiting—one month from now. I had much to do before then. Much to learn about this new body, these new abilities.

But first, there was the matter of the two surviving hunters. They would report what they had seen, and the Guild would prepare. They would be expecting me.

Good. Let them prepare. Let them gather their forces, their weapons, their most powerful cultivators.

It wouldn't be enough.

As the fire coursed through my veins, I made a silent promise to Isabelle. Soon, I would come for her. And nothing—not hunters, not the Guild, not armies or gods—would stand in my way.

I took a step forward, leaving footprints of smoldering earth in my wake.

My bones creaked softly, still adjusting to their new composition. The sound reminded me that for all my newfound power, I was still in transition—still becoming whatever it was the fire had destined me to be.

The question remained, just as The Man with the Mustache had warned: Was I still Liam Knight? Or something else entirely?

I flexed my hand, watching fire dance between my fingers like living light.

Perhaps I was both. Perhaps I was neither.

One thing was certain—I would have my answers.

And Isabelle would have her freedom.