The tower room was silent, but Arjun’s thoughts were a storm.

  The flame in his palm flickered and vanished as he exhaled slowly. Night had fallen over Arvadan, the city bathed in lantern-glow and echoing chants from distant temples. The world outside moved as it always had—blind to the awakening of something ancient and divine in the heart of its slave quarter.

  He was no longer just a slave.

  He was Arjun. The bearer of the Karmic Throne’s will.

  And now… someone was knocking.

  The heavy iron door creaked open. Meera stepped in again, this time holding a tray of food. Rice, lentils, flatbread. Simple, but warm. Fresh. Not the slop they'd fed him before.

  “You didn’t eat,” she said, placing it down.

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  She eyed him, skeptical. “The flames didn’t change that you’re still made of flesh.”

  Arjun let out a short breath—almost a laugh.

  “I suppose even vessels of divine systems need lentils,” he said, reaching for the food.

  She studied him in silence as he ate, her arms crossed.

  “You're not like the other ‘blessed’ men the priests talk about. Most of them become drunk on power. Start preaching like they’ve already ascended.”

  “I haven’t ascended,” Arjun said, wiping his mouth. “I’ve only escaped a pit.”

  “Then what now?” Meera asked. “What does a man do when the chains fall off?”

  Arjun looked toward the window, toward the golden spires in the distance, rising above the smoke.

  “He learns the weight of his name,” he said.

  The next morning, Arjun stood in the Hall of Mirrors.

  The temple’s high priest—an emaciated man draped in silver cloth—had summoned him here. The hall was vast, with mirrored panels covering the walls, showing not just reflections, but illusions—flashes of the past, alternate futures, fragments of karma left behind by those who once walked here.

  The high priest raised a gnarled hand.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Kneel,” he commanded.

  Arjun didn’t move.

  “I bow to no man,” he said, calm but firm. “Not anymore.”

  The hall fell into murmurs.

  But the priest only smiled. “Good. The Karmic Throne chooses only those who will not be broken.”

  He gestured, and the mirrors began to shift.

  In one, Arjun saw a boy—himself—being whipped, crawling in the mud.

  In another, he saw himself in golden armor, seated on a throne of light and flame, people bowing before him.

  But in a third… he stood alone in ashes, blood on his hands, his eyes hollow.

  “Karma remembers everything,” the priest said. “Your past. Your potential. Your sins yet to come.”

  Arjun looked at the mirrors.

  “I will not run from any of it.”

  > [System Notification: Path of Karma Update]

  Current Alignment: Neutral Good

  Deeds Weighted: 4 Virtuous, 0 Selfish, 1 Violent (Justified)

  Karma: 30 → 35 (+5 for Resisting Ego)

  That night, as he walked the temple gardens—still under guard but with growing respect—Meera found him again.

  “There's someone you should meet,” she said.

  She led him to a hidden chamber beneath the temple archives. A makeshift clinic, lit by glow stones. Inside were injured slaves—wounds untreated, some dying. Meera kneeled beside a small child whose leg had been broken.

  “The priests ignore them,” she said. “They’re not ‘worthy’ of the temple’s divine healers.”

  Arjun knelt beside her.

  He placed his hand gently on the child's forehead.

  The system stirred.

  > [Karmic Action Detected]

  Would you like to attempt Healing through Flame call?

  Warning: Low Skill Level. Possible consequences.

  Arjun didn’t hesitate.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  The flame flickered to life in his palm—not a weapon now, but a balm. He focused, pushing the warmth gently through his fingers. The child whimpered, then… relaxed.

  The swelling faded. The wound began to mend, cell by cell.

  > [Healing Successful — Karma +10]

  [Skill Upgrade: Flame call – Level 2]

  Flame call can now Purify & Heal minor wounds.

  [Hidden Trait Progress: Flame Healer – 30%]

  Meera’s eyes widened. “You… actually did it.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Arjun said softly. “The flame chose to help. I only guided it.”

  By dawn, word had spread.

  Not among the nobles or the priests, but in the whispers of the forgotten—slaves, beggars, orphans. A new fire had been lit. One not of war… but of hope.

  The temple guards began to bow slightly as Arjun passed.

  Meera walked beside him, no longer just a guide, but a witness.

  > Quest Completed: Build the First Flame

  Follower Loyalty Bonded: Meera (+15 Karma)

  Unlock: Flame Sigil – You may now form Karmic Bonds with virtuous followers.

  > Karma: 35 → 60

  New Feature Unlocked: Flame Sigils

  You may now mark allies with a Flame Sigil, granting minor protection and communication link.

  Later that day, the High Priest summoned him again.

  “There are forces that will not let you rise,” he warned. “The king of Arvadan fears prophecy. The nobles fear change. You have stirred the wind, Arjun.”

  “I won’t stop now.”

  “Then take this,” the priest said, handing him a scroll etched in gold.

  “This is a decree. It allows you to leave the temple and walk the city—as a pilgrim of the flame, not a slave.”

  Arjun took the scroll, his heart steady.

  He was no longer bound.

  As he descended the temple steps into the city of Arvadan for the first time as a free man, the sun rose behind him, casting a halo of fire across his shoulders.

  Beggars watched in awe.

  Children whispered his name.

  And far above, in a dark tower where smoke never ceased rising, a pair of cold, jeweled eyes watched him through a scrying mirror.

  A voice spoke behind the shadows.

  “So… the Karmic Heir walks again.”