Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 174: Soulflame Ignited

The arena shook.

Vorgan didn’t hold back anymore.

His runes blazed blood-red across his arms and neck, each one igniting with a visceral heat that shimmered in the air.

His breath came out in visible huffs, and as he charged, the very earth beneath him cracked with each step. Mana gathered thick around his hammer—a molten aura that twisted and churned like liquid iron.

The crowd roared as one, sensing the shift.

This wasn’t just rage.

This was bloodline magic.

Ian didn’t move at first. He watched. Measured.

Then he breathed in.

The air grew cold.

Not in temperature, but in presence—the kind of chill that doesn’t touch the skin but wraps around the soul like a chain.

His pupils narrowed. The two bone daggers in his grip began to flicker, first faintly, then brighter with every heartbeat.

A pale gray flame—cold, otherworldly, and silent—engulfed them.

Soulflame.

The same flame they watched burn a man from the inside out. The same flame that devoured what remained after death. The audience fell quiet, a wave of hush crashing through the tiers.

Everyone knew what that meant.

Ian was trying now.

Even if just a bit.

Vorgan didn’t hesitate. He swung with everything he had, the weight of his mana-enhanced hammer ripping through the air with a sound like thunder.

The first strike collided with Ian’s dagger—

And the crowd saw light.

Soulflame met enchanted steel.

A shockwave burst out from the clash, sand exploding outward in a ring. A ripple of force made the first few rows stagger back, shielding their faces. The hammer vibrated in Vorgan’s grip. Ian skidded back only a few steps, his boots dragging a clean line through the sand.

Vorgan grinned.

"That’s more like it."

Ian raised his daggers again. No smirk. No banter. But a gleam now lingered behind his gray eyes—something sharp and hungry.

This time, Ian moved first.

He vanished. Or so it seemed to most of the crowd. But Vorgan had fought real killers before—he saw the blur, the flicker of motion to the left, and turned just in time to block a dagger slash with the hammer’s shaft.

Ian twisted, reversed the grip, and stabbed low. Vorgan pivoted, letting it scrape off his reinforced greaves.

But Ian wasn’t stopping.

He danced inside the hammer’s reach, moving with lethal economy. The Soulflame left smoky trails behind each strike, and even the near-misses left scorched etchings across Vorgan’s armor.

Daggers moved like fangs in a storm, each cut laced with the burning gray of the soul-consuming fire.

The big man finally shoved Ian back with a bellow and stamped his foot.

A rune beneath the sand flared.

Too late to dodge.

The ground exploded.

Ian was thrown into the air, flames licking at his coat as debris spun around him.

Vorgan leapt after him, hammer over his head, spinning once in the air before bringing it down like the fist of a god.

The hammer crashed into Ian mid-air—

—but it wasn’t Ian.

Just a shadow.

A conjured one.

The real Ian landed behind him, boots digging into the sand, eyes glowing faintly now with necrotic power. The shadow soulbound burned into ash in Vorgan’s grip, and he spun with a guttural growl, swinging wide.

Ian ducked, then slashed.

The blade caught Vorgan’s side. Flesh sizzled. Not from heat—but from corruption.

The Soulflame worked fast.

Vorgan staggered. His breath hitched.

"What—what is that fire?"

Vorgan didn’t back down.

Instead, he slammed his own chest with his fist, activating a second layer of runes that pulsed outward across his back. His muscles swelled. The veins along his throat and biceps bulged with mana.

The crowd gasped at the transformation. His hammer grew heavier in aura, nearly shaking with destructive potential.

And Ian smiled.

Because now he could really test something.

The Soulflame flared higher.

It no longer clung just to the daggers—it trailed from Ian’s arms, spiraled off his shoulders in ghostly wisps. Where he stepped, sand turned black. The smell of burnt ozone filled the arena, and a low, unnatural hum began to build around him, as if the air itself recognized the presence of death.

They charged at once.

This time, the blows didn’t miss.

Hammer met dagger in a crescendo of force. Vorgan’s swings could’ve crumpled a carriage, but Ian matched him—redirecting, deflecting, carving.

Each clash brought roars from the stands. Dust filled the air. Cuts opened. Blood sprayed. But through it all, Ian stayed calm. His movements were sharper now, no longer lazy.

No longer casual.

Vowbreaker moved with serpentine grace.

The Soulflame hissed against flesh and mana alike, and Vorgan grunted with every strike that slipped through. He managed to land a glancing blow to Ian’s ribs—a wild swing that flung the necromancer into a column at the edge of the arena.

The impact cracked the stone.

Ian fell to a knee.

The crowd surged to their feet.

But the gray flame didn’t flicker.

It flared.

He stood, blood dripping down his side, and exhaled.

With that breath, the Soulflame coalesced—gathering between his daggers, then expanding, crawling down to his legs.

A sudden rush—and he was gone.

He appeared above Vorgan, both blades descending in an X-shaped arc.

Vorgan raised his hammer to block—

CLANG—SZZZZZHHHHT!

The steel screamed. Sparks flew. Vorgan dropped to a knee from the force. His hammer bent—not broken, but damaged.

The crowd lost their minds.

Vorgan stumbled back, panting. One arm was scorched, barely responding. Gray fire licked across his gauntlet, burning even through mana-hardened steel.

Still, he laughed.

Breathless, bloodied, eyes wild with battle.

"You’re a demon, then," he spat. "They weren’t exaggerating."

Ian said nothing. His Soulflame swirled like a halo around him now, casting flickering shadows across the Crucible’s bloodied sand.

"You could’ve done this from the start," Vorgan said, lowering his hammer. "So why didn’t you?"

Ian’s voice was low, calm, even now.

"what point is there in killing you early,"

Vorgan’s jaw clenched.

"You’re strong," Ian admitted. "But such strength alone is far from enough."

Vorgan growled.

He raised his hammer.

The Soulflame flared so high it scorched the clouds above.

Ian walked forward.

Daggers drawn.

The killing blow hadn’t landed yet.

But everyone in the arena knew—

It was coming.