Chapter 110: The Spark, the Primordial Flame, and the Priestess

A harbinger of death? No, it was not that simple.

Amy squinted, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings before his gaze settled on the high priest standing before him, clad in a flowing white robe, his splendid hair gleaming like molten gold.

— There were no wounds on him; the robe once stained with blood was now pure and immaculate.

Similarly, the grievous injuries that had once crippled the young man had vanished entirely. His body, which should have been covered in scars, bore not a single mark—perfect and pristine as a newborn infant.

Such a method of healing was truly extraordinary.

“Are you still alive?”

Undoubtedly, these anomalies were inseparable from Edgar.

“Alive?” The man most revered in Hemtica lifted a handsome brow, a gentle smile gracing his refined features. His voice, deep and measured, replied, “No, we are already dead. This is the afterlife, the Nine Hells.”

“Oh.” The youth responded softly, his gaze tinged with subtle skepticism. “Are you trying to trick a child?”

“Of course not.” The high priest spread his hands, his expression heavy with sorrow. “As I said, you are dead. To defeat Pandora, I had no choice but to detonate the Flame Seed. In the blink of an eye, the raging fire swallowed us whole—our flesh, bones, everything—none of it endured even a fleeting moment. Burned to ashes in the searing heat. Though it may be hard to believe, this place where we now stand is indeed the world beyond death.”

The young Radiant remained silent at Edgar’s words.

At the edge of his memory, he had indeed been engulfed by an unbearable heat. Facing such a force, survival was impossible, which explained why, upon regaining consciousness, the instinctive thought of a death omen had crossed his mind.

Only that could shatter the seemingly inevitable fate.

Yet, regrettably, the arrival here was not caused by such an omen. The environment was unfamiliar. Though the architectural style resembled the Hephaestus Temple, it was strikingly austere. The sizeable chamber contained only simple stone furnishings, devoid of any ornamentation that might be called luxurious.

In all his memories, he had never been here.

This meant the death omen had not been triggered.

In other words, the crucial trump card he’d relied on to determine life or death had failed to function as intended—either he had been saved by the high priest of the Hephaestus Temple, or... he was now truly dead.

Having personally felt himself melt away in flames, Amy knew the first possibility was nearly impossible.

Then, was it the second?

He was dead.

This was the afterlife.

Clearly, this too was a fabrication born of human belief—or so he had thought. Thanks to his abilities, he had walked the boundary between life and death countless times and held unique insights on mortality. He had always believed the so-called afterlife was merely a construct of the living’s emotions toward the departed, a fictitious realm born of humanity’s fear of death. This was why he initially scoffed at the high priest’s claims.

Yet, later, doubt crept in.

Not about the existence of the afterlife, but whether he was really alive.

— No matter how he thought about it, the sensation of being consumed by flames was not an illusion.

He was dead, truly consumed by the scorching light and fire.

Having faced death more than ten times, the youth was certain of this.

But if the afterlife did not exist, then what was he now? Surely not a soul.

Amy did not know the answer, but he knew one person who could explain it. In silence, his dark eyes fixed upon the man before him—someone of vastly different status and presence.

“You really fell for it,” Edgar shrugged, a rare hint of amusement flickering in his black eyes. “I was about to say kids these days are sharp—couldn’t fool even a child. But in the end, you still took the bait.”

“What do you mean?” the young Radiant frowned.

“Nothing special,” the high priest smiled openly, unmasked. “Just teasing you, that’s all.”

“Then let’s get to the point.” The answer was expected, and the youth showed little surprise. “Where exactly are we?”

“The afterlife? The Nine Hells?” Edgar paused, chuckling softly. “Of course not. This is the Interstice of Inheritance—the space between legacies of the Hephaestus Temple.”

“Is it safe?”

“If we imagine our world as a single line, this place is another line intersecting it. Though it cannot compare to the real world in magnitude, its concealment is flawless.” The high priest shook his head, voice darkening. “Unfortunately, we’ve run into that monster Pandora. The pinnacle of the mortal realm—this title is no joke.”

“So it’s not safe here.” Amy summarized bluntly. “What’s the plan, then? Don’t tell me you intend to just keep chatting.”

“Why not? It’s rare to have a moment to speak freely without worry or restraint. If that’s the case, why not savor it?” Edgar seemed to shed the aura of high priest in that moment, revealing simply a man named Edgar. “Being a high priest might sound glamorous, but beneath that heavy honor, what remains? A middle-aged man who knows too much to speak freely? A prisoner confined to the temple?”

The youth said nothing.

The high priest of the Hephaestus Temple was, frankly, a more revered position than even Duke Golsworth’s. Yet in all of Hemtica, few remembered Edgar’s name—not because of any deliberate snub, but because his influence on the realm was negligible.

Successive high priests rarely left the temple grounds, let alone meddle in worldly affairs. The temple itself seemed isolated from the world, interacting little beyond necessary supplies. Even Amy, a scion of the Radiant, knew only of its sacredness and had rarely set foot there.

“To wear the crown, one must bear its weight.” Despite his words, Edgar sighed involuntarily. “From the moment I accepted the white robe and staff from my mentor, I understood my fate. The Radiants bear not just glory, but responsibility. Wandering the fringes of the mortal world for twenty years, knowing everything yet forced to keep silent—if all this preserves order and grants life true meaning, then learning patience isn’t so hard.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” The youth asked, a trace of unease stirring within him at the priest’s near-murmured words.

“What I mean is,” Edgar paused subtly, his youthful face lighting up, “I do not regret becoming the high priest of the Hephaestus Temple.”

“And?”

The unease deepened.

“So,” the high priest blinked, a sunny smile breaking across his face, “you will not regret it either.”

“Sounds like I’m getting a pie from the sky.” Amy blinked. “But before we finish, may I ask... do I have a choice?”

Devoting body and soul to the Flame Seed, living like an ascetic.

He could not do that.

“I’m sorry,” came the inevitable answer, “whether for your sake or Hemtica’s, you must become the high priest of the Hephaestus Temple.”

“For... me?”

“Indeed. It’s not entirely a lie that this is the afterlife.” Edgar paused before explaining, “In fact, before entering the Interstice, you had already died once.”

Amy said nothing. It wasn’t a surprise, yet it stole his words in an instant.

Because—

This was the first time the death omen had failed.

“You don’t seem surprised,” the high priest raised an eyebrow but did not press further, offering more explanation instead. “Good—that saves me the trouble of comforting a child. To be direct: our physical bodies were turned to ash in the flames long ago. What exists here now are merely ghosts sustained by the Flame Seed.”

“Sustained by the Flame Seed? Ghosts?”

The contradictory concepts left the youth pondering Edgar’s words.

“Escaping Pandora’s pursuit isn’t simple.” Edgar’s voice was low and steady. “The only solution I could conceive was this: use the Flame Seed’s power to erase our physical forms in the material world, then reshape our souls here in the Interstice. In that brief moment, we experienced a cycle from life to death, then death to life. Exciting, isn’t it?”

His voice rose unexpectedly at the end.

“Not at all.” The young Radiant replied flatly.

“In that case, let me share something even more thrilling.” Edgar’s handsome face broke into a hearty smile. “Our lives are now bound tightly to the Flame Seed. Should anything happen to it, we will vanish silently like bubbles in summer—disappear without a trace from this imperfect yet dearly held world.”

“You said before...”

“Exactly. The Dark Lords’ goal isn’t to awaken the ancient rulers resting here, but the Flame Seed.” Edgar spoke calmly of matters vital to their survival. “They intend to extinguish the Flame Seed.”

“So what will you do?” Amy raised an eyebrow. “Charge out and stop them?”

“If that had any chance of success, I wouldn’t mind sacrificing myself to save Hemtica. But Pandora, the embodiment of the world’s malice against humanity, is no foe we can overcome.” The high priest shook his head, but there was no hint of despair in his tone. “At this point, extinguishing the Flame Seed is only a matter of time. No one can stop her.”

“Is that so?” The youth looked into his black eyes. “But I see no despair there.”

“Because I have never despaired.” Edgar shook his head. “Though the Flame Seed’s extinction is inevitable, I can at least leave behind hope—a newborn fire.”

He paused.

“And you will become the new vessel for that first flame, the one who will awaken the Flame Seed.”