The morning began with screams.

  Arjun stirred from his thin mat of straw, the groggy haze of sleep vanishing instantly as pain and tension crackled through the slave pit. He sat up, muscles sore and blood-crusted from the lashes of the day before. Around him, the other slaves cowered and murmured, their eyes fixed on the top of the stone staircase.

  There, silhouetted against the rising sun, stood a new figure.

  Not the usual overseer. Not the sneering guards with their whips and clubs.

  This man was different.

  Clad in crimson robes, trimmed in gold and stitched with glyphs that shimmered faintly in the light, he looked like he didn’t belong in the filth of the slave quarters. His face was hidden beneath a jackal-like bronze mask, and strange beads clinked as he walked down, his staff tapping the steps rhythmically.

  A hush fell over the pit. Even the boldest slaves dared not breathe too loud.

  “Which one is he?” the masked man asked, his voice sharp and resonant.

  The guards looked at each other, hesitant. One finally stepped forward, pointing at Arjun. “That one, my lord. The one who… glowed.”

  Arjun stood.

  He knew he shouldn’t. Showing defiance meant punishment. Pain. Death, maybe.

  But something inside him had shifted. The system still pulsed quietly in his mind, feeding him fragments of clarity, of purpose. He wasn’t just a slave anymore. He was a vessel for something greater.

  And vessels don’t cower.

  “I am Arjun,” he said, eyes locked on the masked stranger.

  The man studied him, silent for a moment. Then: “Bring him.”

  Chains clinked. Arjun didn’t resist.

  He was dragged into the Temple of Trials.

  A place whispered about in the pits. No one came back from it.

  Massive, circular, and carved into the side of the cliff, the temple was lit by hundreds of floating flame orbs. Statues of forgotten gods loomed in the shadows—some serene, others monstrous. The scent of incense and blood mixed in the air.

  Arjun was shoved to the center of a large circle etched into the floor.

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  The masked man stood on a raised platform, flanked by two armored priests.

  “You are not like the others,” he said. “You bear the mark of the old kings. The blood of the cursed thrones. The Karmic Wheel has whispered your name.”

  > [Karmic Throne System Notification]

  Quest Triggered: The Trial of Worth

  Objective: Survive the Rite of Fire.

  Reward: +20 Karma, Hidden Trait (???)

  Failure: Death.

  Arjun clenched his fists. The glyphs around the floor began to glow.

  The masked priest raised his staff. “If you are truly chosen… prove it.”

  A pillar of flame erupted around Arjun.

  He gasped. The heat was unbearable—searing, hungry, alive. His skin blistered. His breath caught in his throat. Fire wasn’t just around him; it was inside him. Burning. Consuming.

  And yet, something strange happened.

  > [Endure] Activated — Karma +2

  [Endure] Activated — Karma +2

  [Karma: 6 → 10]

  He didn’t scream.

  He didn’t beg.

  Instead, he focused. On the voice. On the system. On the fire within him, not just around him.

  A glowing screen formed in his vision.

  > Karmic Choice Available:

  1. Suppress the flames. Protect the self.

  2. Embrace the flames. Become the vessel.

  > Warning: Choice is irreversible.

  He knew the risk. But he also knew his purpose.

  Arjun chose 2.

  The flames exploded.

  But not outward. Inward.

  They coiled into his chest, into his spine, into his mind. Pain turned to power. The agony twisted and reformed, becoming something else entirely.

  He stepped forward, unharmed.

  His chains had melted off.

  The masked man staggered back.

  “Impossible…”

  Arjun opened his hand. A wisp of flame danced in his palm, golden and blue. Unlike anything this temple had seen.

  > [New Trait Acquired: Ember heart]

  You have bonded with sacred flame. Fire answers your will.

  [Skill Unlocked: Flame call – Level 1]

  Summon controlled fire to attack or defend. Damage scales with Karma.

  > [Karma: +20 (Trial Complete)]

  [Karma Total: 30]

  He looked up.

  “You call this a trial?” he said, voice crackling with heat.

  The priests fell to their knees.

  That night, Arjun was not returned to the slave pits.

  Instead, he was given a private cell in the upper tower of the temple—still bare, still stone, but clean. A guard stood outside. Not to keep him in… but to keep others out.

  He sat cross-legged, shirtless, staring into the flickering flame he’d summoned into his palm.

  He remembered the pain. The rage. The fear.

  And yet… also clarity.

  He was beginning to understand.

  The Karmic Throne System wasn’t just a gift. It was a test. Every moment, every choice would weigh his soul. The stronger he became, the heavier that burden would grow.

  And the world was watching.

  He turned toward the open window. In the distance, the city of Arvadan stretched beneath the mountains like a beast at rest. Smoke from forges. Bells from towers. A million lives, unaware that a forgotten soul had just awakened among them.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

  A girl entered—no older than seventeen. Dressed in simple robes, with a satchel over her shoulder and eyes like stormy water. Not afraid, but cautious.

  She bowed slightly.

  “I am Meera,” she said. “The priests assigned me to assist you. They say… you might be the chosen one.”

  Arjun tilted his head. “Do you believe that?”

  She shrugged. “Belief is easy. Proof is better.”

  He smiled faintly. “Then I’ll show you.”

  As she left, the system whispered once more:

  > Quest Unlocked: Build the First Flame

  Objective: Gain your first follower through virtue, not force.

  Reward: +15 Karma, Unlock: Flame Sigil (Loyalty Bond)

  Arjun closed his eyes.

  One step at a time. One soul at a time.

  He would rise.

  Not as a conqueror of bodies…

  But as a ruler of karma.