Flames of Progression

Nathan lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling as he flexed his fingers. His skin still tingled with residual heat from his latest experiment, a prickling sensation that was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. This fire, his inner fire, was more than just a symbol of defiance—it was becoming something real, something he could feel and, if he focused hard enough, shape.

Each session left him with a fraction more control, and with that control came a strange sense of calm. The System's ominous message still echoed in his mind: "Practice, lest the fire consume you." It wasn't a warning he could afford to ignore.

He sat up, took a deep breath, and centered himself. This time, he allowed the warmth to grow, letting it expand beneath his skin. Slowly, it wrapped around him like a shield, faint and thin, but undeniably there—a fragile, flickering barrier.

The System's notification appeared, an unexpected comfort amidst the bleakness of his confinement: Skill Unlocked: Heat Shield I. Fire Affinity Branch: Level 1.

Nathan couldn't help but smile, the kind of grim satisfaction that tasted like victory in a world that had offered him only chains. "Heat Shield, huh?" he murmured to himself. "Guess I've got more in me than they think."

Days slipped by, and with them, Nathan continued to nurture his newfound skill. Each time he felt the heat rise, he coaxed it into forming a shield, strengthening it little by little. It wasn't much—yet—but the idea that he was cultivating power right under the GRA's nose made every minor success feel like a rebellious triumph.

On the third day, while practicing, he heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps. The cell door slid open, and two agents entered, their expressions unreadable behind standard-issue visors. Following them was a thin, sharp-eyed man with a tablet in hand, tapping away as he approached. Nathan recognized him as Dr. Lynch, a senior researcher who took particular interest in "progressive anomalies" like Nathan himself.

"Mr. Wilson," Dr. Lynch drawled, his tone as cold as the sterile walls surrounding them. "You're looking… warm today."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you people wanted? To see how hot I can get?"

Lynch smirked, though there was nothing friendly in it. "Indeed. But it seems you're adapting a bit faster than expected." He glanced at his tablet, then leaned forward, as though inspecting a caged animal. "We're noticing some… interesting readings from your vitals. Higher-than-normal body temperature. Increased resilience. Care to share what you've been doing with your idle time?"

Nathan shrugged, suppressing the urge to smirk back. "Just keeping warm in this freezer you call a cell. You know, wouldn't want to catch a cold."

Lynch straightened, not amused. "We'll see how flippant you are when we move you to a place that suits your… developments. A higher-security cell, for a start."

Nathan's face hardened, his fingers twitching slightly. They thought they could just move him, contain him even more tightly because of the tiniest hint of progress? Let them, he thought, forcing himself to stay calm. Every step they took to restrain him only confirmed that they feared him. And fear, he knew, was a weapon all its own.

"You know, doc," Nathan said, his voice low and edged, "for all your tests and talk of containment, you don't seem to understand that fire doesn't cage easily."

Dr. Lynch's smirk faltered, just for a moment. But he quickly recovered, tapping his tablet dismissively. "Containment is our specialty, Mr. Wilson. And as long as you remain useful, you'll be given the privilege of our protection. Misbehave, however, and your privileges may be… reduced."

With that, Lynch turned on his heel and left, followed by the agents. Nathan waited until the door clanged shut, then let out a slow breath, feeling the heat simmering beneath his skin. For now, he was still here, still caged—but he was learning, evolving. And one day, he'd be strong enough that even Lynch's threats wouldn't be enough to hold him.

The next time he practiced, he let the heat build until it danced just beneath his skin. He didn't just create the shield; he infused it with every ounce of defiance he could muster. This shield wasn't just protection; it was a promise to himself that he wouldn't remain here forever.

Then, as he focused, something flickered before his eyes. For a split second, he saw flames—thick, roaring, all-consuming flames—followed by the shadowy outline of a world he knew could not be this one. It was the Fire Realm, the place he'd glimpsed in fleeting visions. The sight sent a thrill of both fear and awe down his spine.

He gasped, the vision fading, but the heat within him surged in response, stronger than before. The System lit up once more, words scrolling across his mind: First steps taken. Strength will bring you closer to freedom.

Freedom. The word felt foreign in his mind, but he clung to it, let it anchor him. For the first time, it didn't seem like a cruel illusion. It felt real, close—something he could almost touch if he kept pushing forward, if he kept fanning these flames inside him.

The next inspection arrived, as routine as the tick of a clock. This time, it was a different pair of agents, both tall and imposing, their expressions masked by visors. One of them frowned as his scanner flashed with higher-than-expected readings, glancing down at Nathan with a skeptical look.

"What the hell's going on with this guy?" he muttered to his partner. "Temperature's off the charts."

The other agent narrowed his gaze, leaning in closer. "Could be a heat-related mutation," he suggested. "We've seen it before in other anomalies, though… this is different."

Nathan listened quietly, though inside, his heart raced. He knew he'd caught their attention. He needed to be careful, keep his progress hidden as best he could. If they sensed he was growing stronger, they'd clamp down harder. Yet, part of him thrilled at the idea of showing them his strength, of proving he was more than they thought, more than they could control.

Finally, the agent pulled back, typing notes into a device. "Guess we'll be logging this one as an anomaly risk," he muttered. "Better increase his security level."

As the agents left, Nathan watched them go, their words lingering in his mind. Anomaly risk. They could classify him however they wanted, but they couldn't change what he was becoming. One way or another, he would show them that they'd only made a grave mistake.

That night, he lay on his cot, feeling the heat simmering just below the surface. He let the flames rise gently, coating his skin with a thin veil of warmth—a heat shield. It was more tangible than before, more controlled. But as he reached deeper, he felt something else—a faint hum, as if his Gate ability was responding to the fire, resonating.

He closed his eyes, reaching out to the Gate in his mind, summoning it like a dormant instinct. A brief flicker of the Fire Realm flashed before him, just long enough to see the flames swirling, vast and uncontained. He saw shapes in the fire, creatures that seemed to watch him, waiting.

His Gate didn't fully open, but that flicker was enough to leave him breathless, his body thrumming with energy. It was as though he'd touched the edge of that otherworldly power, absorbed a tiny piece of its essence.

The System's prompt appeared once more, its words as vivid as the flames he'd seen: First steps taken. Strength will bring you closer to freedom.

Nathan breathed in slowly, his mind racing. His path was clearer than ever.