The Man's Decree (Favo novel) novel Chapter 5811

The gravely wounded were carried to the spring first. Novice healers rinsed blood, fed pills, and coaxed life-essence into shattered meridians.

Those with lighter cuts ringed the perimeter, weapons ready. Years of warfare taught them prudence even inside Jared's ward.

Others knelt among newborn flame spiritual plants, clipping each stalk like fragile glass, packaging portions for the patients who could best absorb its blaze. The encampment, moments ago a panicked mob, began to hum with ordered purpose.

Gavin and Yvette healed fast. The pair volunteered to help look after heavily-injured folks.

Yvette gently settled Clara beside a warm, glassy slab at the spring's edge.

Clara swallowed one of Jared's pills, then sipped the crystalline water.

Cool vitality threaded through every nerve. Charred channels sent back pinpricks of relief so pure she nearly moaned.

She gathered her focus and set the Sky Scorching Sword Art flowing. Strands of mild fire energy from the secret realm seeped into her veins, mending flesh at a speed the outside world could never match.

Only after order returned did Jared finally lift his eyes to the tallest crystal peak nearby—a mountain crowned by phantom golden halls aflame.

At its summit stood a solitary figure in scarlet robes, back turned to the camp, face toward the deeper inferno.

Heat whipped his sleeves, yet an air of chilled solitude clung to him—dignity laced with quiet sorrow.

It was Reiner.

Jared's body dissolved like mist.

He reformed an instant later beside Reiner, shoulder to shoulder on the sun-hot ridge.

Reiner's frame shivered—barely a breath—yet he did not turn. As though he had foreseen Jared's arrival from the very start.

No words. Only the distant bellow of flame oceans below and the hiss of furnace winds between them—two masters sharing a silence that needed no translation.

His gaze drifted toward the deepest heart of the realm, where the colors of the fire were most violent and the power most inscrutable. When he spoke again, his voice seemed to travel out of some far-distant past.

"The Fire Spirit Lord and the Fire Demon Lord..." Each word felt heavy enough to bend time. "They are my seniors."

"Senior?" Jared's brow arched, the answer so unexpected it cut straight through his composure.

The Spirit Lord and the Demon Lord tried to kill each other the instant they met—nothing about them had ever suggested brotherhood, let alone the bond of shared tutelage.

Reiner nodded, a crooked smile mixing nostalgia with self-mockery. "Yes. That was a very long time ago—so long that level ten had not yet settled into its present shape. Back then, I was little more than a vagrant child, scrambling from day to day, holding life by its tattered edge. Because I carried a faint ember of the Solar-Flame bloodline, I survived a calamity that should have ended me. In that desperate hour, an old wanderer appeared—plain of face, humble of dress, yet his eyes seemed able to pierce the past and future alike, reach into the marrow of the cosmos itself. We called him Master Flame. He saw that, though my talent was meager, my heart was unyielding and my bond with fire absolute. So he broke his own rules and took me in as a disciple."

"Back in those days," Reiner said, his voice low yet bright with memory, "our master already counted two staggering prodigies beneath his wing—my first senior, Lucas Ashborne, and the second, Flegel Emberly."

"Lucas? Flegel?" Jared asked, tasting the names as though they were half-forgotten notes of an ancient song.

Hearing them, Jared realized at once that Lucas was none other than the Fire Demon Lord, while Flegel was the Fire Spirit Lord.