At once, the ground shook violently. Streams of flame erupted from the left side of the valley while icy winds swept from the right, colliding in the center and forming a cyclone of molten embers and shards of ice. The geniuses standing near the entrance steadied themselves, activating defensive auras to withstand the sudden burst of energy.

"Looks like it's time," Victor said quietly, his golden eyes reflecting both the glow of fire and the shimmer of frost.

Max nodded. "Let's see what this trial has in store."

Without hesitation, he stepped forward. The moment his foot touched the luminous seal, a force pulled him in. The world around him blurred, dissolving into streaks of red and blue light. One by one, the other geniuses followed suit—Victor, Seraphina, Chris, Christine, and dozens of others from different worlds, all drawn into the heart of the trial.

The moment the portal drew them in, light devoured everything.

Max felt his body twisting through layers of reality before it finally steadied. When the brilliance faded, he found himself standing in a world unlike anything he had ever seen.

Everywhere his eyes fell, there was fire—but it wasn't chaos. It was beauty shaped from destruction. Rivers of molten gold ran through valleys of black rock. Mountains glowed as if their cores were made of magma. The air shimmered like liquid heat, and the sky burned with layers of crimson, orange, and gold that moved like a living canvas.

But the flames here weren't ordinary. They burned in every color imaginable—blue, violet, white, even transparent—and each seemed to breathe with a will of its own. Some swirled gently like mist, others coiled like serpents, and some stood still, flickering faintly like solemn guardians.

It wasn't just a world of fire. It was a world of concepts.

Max's gaze deepened. Through his heightened senses, he saw how each flame carried a distinct resonance—some wild and untamed, some tranquil and warm, others cold, detached, yet destructive in their silence. They weren't just random manifestations. They were fragments of truths—of the essence behind fire itself.

He could sense it. The flames that danced closest to the ground carried the aura of Ignition, the most basic understanding of flame's nature—birth and burn. Higher up in the sky, the flames shifted, swirling with rhythm and intensity that represented 2nd and 3rd levels of flame comprehension.

But farther beyond—at the heart of the fiery horizon—Max saw it. A blazing sun, suspended high above, burning in absolute stillness. It radiated no heat, no light that harmed, only overwhelming presence. The 4th Level Concept of Flame.

"That…" someone whispered behind him, voice trembling.

When Max turned, he saw dozens of geniuses from countless worlds standing in awe. Flames reflected in their eyes, their faces lit by the sheer wonder of what they were seeing. Even those from ancient worlds—those born into lineages of divine fire—couldn't hide their astonishment.

"Are these all pure flame concepts?" a cultivator from the Holy Radiance World asked, his voice almost reverent. "I can feel the truths just by standing here…"

Another genius, a woman wreathed in golden sparks, whispered softly, "So this is the true origin of fire…"

Everywhere around him, geniuses tried to grasp the surrounding flames. Some stretched out their hands to touch them, only to watch as the fire coiled away like living spirits. Others sat down immediately, closing their eyes to meditate, hoping to capture even a fragment of the concepts swirling freely through the air.

Victor, standing beside Max, tilted his head back with narrowed eyes. "This place feels magical..."

Seraphina, who was attuned to the flame element herself, had already surrounded herself with an aura of golden fire. "Incredible…" she said under her breath. "Every breath I take feels like I'm inhaling the essence of flames itself."

Christine and Chris stood slightly apart, their twin energies resonating faintly. "The heat here isn't ordinary," Christine said softly. "It's as if the flames are whispering lessons to our souls."

"It's dangerous too," Chris added. "Anyone without a strong foundation could lose their mind here."

Max said nothing for a moment. His gaze was locked on the burning sun above—the center of the trial. He could feel the energy pulsing from it, ancient and intelligent, as if the flame itself was aware of his presence.

Then the same deep, ageless voice echoed across the fiery realm once again.

"First Trial: Flames of Origin."

"Comprehend the truth of fire."

At once, the ground trembled. The rivers of lava surged, the air shimmered, and pillars of flame erupted into the sky. Within those flames, shapes began to form—beasts, spirits, humanoid figures made of molten light.

Each radiated a distinct aura, representing a concept of fire. Some glowed with creative warmth; others with destructive fury.

Geniuses across the realm took defensive stances or began meditating immediately. The test had begun.

Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the scorching air fill his lungs. The heat in this world wasn't ordinary—it wasn't meant to burn flesh, but to test one's will and soul.

Every breath carried with it the essence of flame itself. He could feel it crawling beneath his skin, urging him to submit, to burn away all distractions until only his truest self remained.

The flame pillar before him towered endlessly into the sky, a colossal column of fire that pulsed like a living heart.

Within it, countless forms of flames flickered in rhythm—some calm and nurturing, others fierce and ravenous. Each shape that emerged from the pillar represented a fragment of truth, a reflection of what the flames were capable of becoming.

Max opened his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed on the shifting patterns. "So this is where the secrets of the flame are stored," he murmured, his tone quiet but certain.

He crossed his legs, lowering himself onto the molten ground that solidified beneath him with each passing second. Once seated, he steadied his breathing and let his soul perception expand, connecting his mind to the rhythm of the pillar.

He could sense hundreds of flame essences within it—each distinct, each echoing a different law. There were flames that symbolized life and rebirth, flames that represented creation and illumination, and flames that embodied destruction and chaos.

But none of them resonated with him. Not the sacred flames that purified, not the divine flames that healed, not even the celestial flames that burned without smoke or shadow. He could appreciate their beauty, their precision, their control—but they weren't his.

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