'I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!'
Chapter 57: Golden Wings vs Infernal King

Chapter 57: Golden Wings vs Infernal King

The Infernal Hollow trembled as the molten titan Vulkris crashed into the magma floor, his lava-coated body sending plumes of fire and steam high into the choking, ash-filled air. His fiery mane sizzled with fury, and smoke hissed from the jagged cracks in his armor-like hide.

He shook his massive head, disbelief etching itself deeper into every glowing ember of his being.

Someone—some thing—had struck him.!?

Hard.

He, the Infernal Sovereign. The Devourer of Plains. The Beast of Flame.

He had leveled up three times since his last awakening. His strength had grown vast enough to tear mountains asunder, to boil rivers dry. He had believed—no, he knew—there was no force left in this territory capable of standing against him.

And yet... here he was. On the ground.

What in the burning planes of Wha-la just happened?

His volcanic eyes snapped upward.

Above him floated a figure wreathed in divine gold—Auren.

Golden flames radiated from the human’s body, licking at the charred sky.

His regal armor shimmered, trimmed with emerald edges that caught the light like dew in a storm. Six majestic golden wings, each one burning with supernatural power, flowed like banners of a forgotten god. A half-face helmet crowned his head, revealing only one eye—glowing with righteous fury and barely contained power.

And worst of all?

The heat of Inferna Hollow—the realm Vulkris had made his throne—was helping him?

"Just who..." Vulkris growled, voice guttural and thick like lava boiling in his throat.

"No... What the hell are you?"

Auren said nothing, floating higher, golden wings beating with rhythmic authority. His aura rippled outward, pressing down like judgment.

Vulkris’s brow twisted,"That aura... it’s not just similar—it’s the same of the Phoenix? The Holy Phoenix.!?"

Vulkris’s body began to rise, the molten ground bubbling beneath his paws. His towering frame loomed once again, wings of magma stretching outward with renewed fury.

"No," he snarled. "This is impossible."

The golden aura around Auren flared again—and Vulkris felt something cold coil in his chest.

There was only one being on this continent who carried that flame. It had slept for millennia beneath the scorched plains of the Thunga Desert.

It was sacred. Untouchable. Royal.

Auren had no Divine Frame. He wasn’t even one of the chosen.

So what was this flame? How could he be using the same power of the Phoenix?

More questions churned through Vulkris’s mind like wildfire, and he hated it. He despised confusion. He was a king of beasts—not a philosopher.

The fresh scar running down his lion forehead from Auren’s earlier strike still hissed, but it was healing. Glowing veins of molten energy pulled the wound closed like invisible threads stitching reality itself.

In seconds, it was as if the strike had never happened.

From above, Auren watched it all—and his expression darkened.

This transformation wasn’t new to him. But it was never meant to last.

He had held onto it like a final trump card, saving it for only the most desperate of battles.

This was one.

He knew the cost: after three minutes, the power would tear itself from his body. He would be left with nothing. Helpless. Defenseless. Vulnerable for three whole days.

But if he didn’t use it now—he’d lose everything.

He thought of Elarya—wounded but still fighting.

He thought of Runewood—the forested kingdom that had taken him in.

And then...

He saw Robert and Marissa’s faces, innocent and smiling, twisted in a vision of fire and death.

He clenched his fists.

’No. Not today.’

"Alright, Bigbird," he whispered, flaring his wings wide. "Three minutes. Let’s go make history."

Inside his soul, the voice of Bigbird echoed with a thrill of anticipation.

"It’s now or never!"

Down below, Vulkris locked eyes with him again. This time, there was no confusion—only wrath.

"You!" the beast roared. "I have never expected a human to be able to stand against me..."

Golden flames danced in Auren’s wake as he descended slowly like a fallen star reborn.

Vulkris’s eyes narrowed, tuning out the rest.

The queen, her soldiers, the world—they all could wait for his vengeance.

But right now, the Phoenix fragment should die first.

"You think you can deceive me!?" Vulkris snarled, unleashing a massive shockwave of heat and force that shattered the lava crust beneath him.

"You carry the flame, but it’s not yours! You’re a shadow, a copy—nothing like the true Phoenix!"

Auren didn’t flinch.

He could feel Vulkris’s power. The beast was right: this wasn’t the true Phoenix’s strength. Not even close. After all, what he got is just a fragment from the awakened bloodline.

But that didn’t matter.

"I know," he said calmly, cutting through the shockwave as if it were mist.

He raised his Divine Rapier, its blade pulsing with concentrated light.

"But I don’t need the full Phoenix."

He slashed downward with divine fury.

"I have just enough to take down an overgrown flaming cat!"

[Fire Breathing – Second Form: Robert Slash!]

A monumental crescent of golden flame erupted from his blade, wide as a river and glowing like a miniature sun. It ripped through the sky, displacing ash, fire, and air in its wake.

Below, the elves scattered in panic as the wave bore down on Vulkris.

"Did... did you see that!?" Kardel gasped, clinging to the back of the massive skitterbolt.

"I’m not blind," Rhiki growled. "And yes—if that thing touches us, we’re toast."

"Faster! Let us not waste this chance that the human is giving us!" Elarya urged, her silk-like wings straining against the infernal winds.

"But what if Vulkris follows us to Runewood?" Kardel asked, struggling to keep pace.

"If he does, then we evacuate everyone," she said, jaw clenched. "Right now, our people’s lives are the priority. I can’t see through Inferna Hollow’s barrier, and I have no idea if Runewood still stands!"

Her heart thudded with unease—heavy, aching, as if something precious was slipping through her fingers.

Meanwhile, the burning crescent hurtled toward Vulkris like judgment itself.

The beast glared up at the golden blaze—and smiled.

"So you want to face Fire with Fire?! So be it."

He raised his massive wings. Fire expanding rapidly.

"I will show you who’s the true king of flames, Frameless human freak!"

A red crescent of molten flame tore from his wings and streaked skyward to meet Auren’s golden arc.

ZIIIIISH—BOOOOOOM!

The collision was cataclysmic.

The entire dome of Inferna Hollow lit up like a second sun, waves of molten energy surging across the air. Flames bent and split. Chunks of scorched rock rained down like dying meteors.

But Vulkris didn’t wait.

He flung another crescent. Then another. Then two more and more!

"Come on! Entertain me, freak! Show me what you’ve really got!"

Auren responded in kind, launching his own radiant waves of destruction.

"Hyaaa!"

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM!

The sky became their battlefield—fire clashing against fire, light against darkness, Phoenix against Infernal King.

Each wave struck with terrifying force, melting the air, cracking the dome, leaving trails of flame that painted the sky like a masterpiece of war.

Their power was nearly equal. But Auren had something more—resolve.

He dove straight into the chaos, dodging flame arcs, letting his wings absorb the heat. His Divine Rapier glowed brighter now, charged with every passing second.

His heart raced.

His time was running out.

"I guess I’ve got no choice but to be the bait..." he muttered bitterly.

But he didn’t slow down.

Elarya and the others had to escape.

This wasn’t just about defeating Vulkris.

It was about buying time. For the elves. For the realm. For hope.

And once again, the golden warrior—flameless, nameless, unrecognized by the gods—charged straight toward the King of Fire.

"This better be worth it," he whispered, channeling all his mana into his right arm for his next plan.