Brix stopped in front of a floating scroll that had refused to fall. It hovered just inches off the stone floor, spinning slowly. Its script, once sealed shut by wax and warning sigils, now unfolded before him like it had been waiting.
The symbols didn't make sense.
But he could feel them.
They were angry. Hungry. Familiar.
[Upgrade Path – Wrath Tree Tier 1 Active.][Skill Evolution Opportunity Available.]
A list opened before his eyes:
🔥 Burning Fist – Rank F → E
Refines flame concentration on impact. Adds a sear chance.
🔥 Hot-Blooded Surge – Rank F → E
+5% strength boost when injured. Increases with each wound.
🔥 Scorchfield – Passive Aura Level Up
Radius expands by 0.5 meters. Heat increases ambient pressure.
Then came the final line.
[Warning: Emotional calibration required. Progressing further into Wrath Tree may dull additional empathy and joy. Proceed?]
Brix stared at it.
His reflection flickered in the polished obsidian shelf to his left—eyes glowing faintly orange, like cooled steel hiding something molten.
He thought of the fire. The way it obeyed now. The control.
He also thought of that last spark of warmth he'd felt when Kairon touched his shoulder.
"…How much do I need to give up," he murmured.
[System Note: Only what you aren't willing to protect.]
Brix blinked. "Was that sarcasm?"
[Unknown. Possibly poetic compression.]
He reached toward Burning Fist, hovering just above the others.
And whispered: "Then burn cleaner."
[Upgrade Confirmed. Burning Fist – Rank E.]
His hand pulsed. A soft heat glowed under his skin. More focused. Sharper.
No flare. No flash.
Just fire, finally doing what it was told.