Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher
Chapter 22: Forged Flame, Faint Hope

Chapter 22: Forged Flame, Faint Hope

His eyes burned silver-grey, then paled into stark white—blank, blinding, transcendent.

And he screamed.

Not in pain. Not in rage.

But as if his very soul cracked open under the weight of something he couldn’t hold back.

From deep within him, two ancient forces surged: Mindforce and Soulforce, once subtle and dormant, now roaring out like a storm.

The island shook.

The sky split—day and night flickering back and forth like a broken reel.

The air churned. The sea at the edge of the island thrashed.

Then came the light.

From the very soil, from the null-saturated ground, small lights began to shimmer—souls. Tiny, weak, formless... but undeniably alive. And the Null responded.

It wrapped around the lights, shaping them gently—wrapping them in instinct, bone, and breath. Like an unseen hand crafting clay.

Muscle formed.

Limbs stretched.

Eyes blinked open for the first time.

And all across the island... animals emerged. Birds, wolves, small deer-like creatures with glowing fur. Insects shimmered into being, wings buzzing with energy. Amphibians croaked near crystal-clear ponds.

The island had come alive.

Not just in energy—but in spirit.

In life.

Meanwhile, Ethan floated, completely unaware of time. His body alight with energy, screaming with all his being as something ancient inside him was finally let loose.

The little spear spirit—the one he’d just brought into being—trembled near the forge. Her small body, demonic and dragon horns twitching, halo dimming with fear. She shrank behind a half-finished shield, wide eyes watching her creator become something terrifying.

And then—stillness.

The white light faded.

The sky settled into a calm twilight, dotted with stars.

The island breathed.

Ethan dropped to one knee, gasping, his eyes slowly returning to their usual glowing purple. Sweat streamed down his face.

"...What the hell..." he muttered, breath ragged. "What was that...?"

He looked up.

Birdsong.

Distant growls. The flutter of wings.

And souls—real souls—floating above the land before sinking into newly formed bodies.

"...Are those... universes?"

The question wasn’t rhetorical.

Because... he’d seen them.

In that moment—during the trance—his mind had opened wide enough to glimpse everything.

He’d seen them.

Worlds. Incomprehensibly vast and countless. Each one unique. Each one full.

Worlds teeming with life. Technology. Magic. Chaos. Peace.

Multiverses upon multiverses. Layered realities. Spirals of dimension and creation.

The cosmic ocean of existence.

He staggered back, trying to calm the whirlwind inside his skull.

"I knew... I suspected that evolving the soul would get me closer," he said softly, staring at the ground. "But this..."

He looked toward the heavens again, pupils contracting. "That wasn’t just an evolution. That was... a threshold."

He paused, thoughts aligning.

"In the beginning, I only wanted to move," he whispered. "That’s when the energy body formed."

"Then I wanted to grow stronger. To create. To understand. That’s when the energies were born."

"And eventually, I wanted to be real again. A body. So I got one."

"But this... this desire to leave..."

His hands trembled slightly.

"I never had the power. Not until now."

The null stirred around him faintly. Not in rebellion. Not in power. Just... acknowledgment.

That desperate, raw need to leave, to escape this timeless, spaceless Nowhere... it had finally hit the threshold. And with it, something clicked.

Even if he hadn’t broken out yet—he had seen the path.

"I saw them," he muttered. "So many. So close... yet impossibly far."

He sat down, hand running through his hair, staring blankly at the newly born sky.

"No-Where’s messing with my perception. But those weren’t dreams. Those were real."

He looked toward the horizon—where the edge of his island shimmered like a mirage.

"I want to go," he said, with renewed determination. "No. I will go."

A flicker of flame danced on his fingertips—then shimmered into a silver blur.

Then, he smiled slightly.

"But first... I’ll figure out how."

A faint hum vibrated in the air, space magic flaring up around him.

Ethan stood at the edge of the island, eyes locked ahead.

"Alright. Space jump attempt 369... initiating in 3... 2... 1..."

Bluish-black magic circles began forming above him, below him, and around his back—interlaced with glowing runes and pulsating arcs of power.

For a second, the air shimmered. A rift of space flickered open.

He launched forward.

But—

Thunk!

He hit the invisible boundary again.

Nothing.

He skidded to a stop right at the island’s edge, teeth clenched.

"Damn it. Not even this works..."

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Space magic, teleportation bursts, spatial tearing, Null tunneling... Nothing."

The sky shimmered quietly, uncaring.

"Computer," he muttered, turning away. "Log this under Trial No. 369 – Unsuccessful."

[Logged.]

With a flick of his hand, he teleported back to his practice grounds. The silence hung thick.

He sat cross-legged on the scorched training floor, hands on his knees.

"What am I going to do now...?"

A deep breath.

Then he stood.

"...Forget it. Let’s clear the mind."

He made his way toward the forge, letting his thoughts drift.

As the heavy doors slid open, a gentle warmth welcomed him—along with dozens of radiant glows hovering in mid-air.

Swords. Spears. Daggers. Shields. Nunchaku. Axes. Staves. Halberds.

Each weapon hovered in the air, glowing faintly.

And from each of them... small soul forms emerged.

They looked like chibi-sized humans, but with fantastical traits—some had horns curling like rams, others had wings made of crystal or flame. A few had animal tails, halo-like crowns, or glowing runes etched into their skin.

The very first weapon soul—his little spear boy—floated to the front, eyes bright with childlike energy.

"Welcome, Creator!" he beamed, his small dragon and demon horns twitching slightly.

The others echoed in unison, floating in like excited children:

"Welcome, Creator!"

Ethan chuckled, raising a brow. "I told you to call me ’Sir,’ not Creator."

They all paused for a moment, exchanging glances.

Then, in perfect harmony:

"Yes, Sir."

(Though it was clear in their glowing eyes—they really wanted to keep calling him Creator.)

The little spear soul boy hovered closer, grin widening. "Are you making us a new brother? Or maybe a sister?"

He nodded. "Yes. And... thinking about how to get out of here."

Some of the weapon souls brightened.

Others floated a little closer, curious. "What’s it like...? The ’other worlds’?"

Ethan leaned against a tool rack, arms crossed. "I’ve never been to any of them. Not really. Only one universe I belonged to before ending up here."

He glanced up, expression distant.

"There are thousands... maybe millions of universes out there. Some are probably beautiful. Others... probably not."

He clapped his hands together. "But enough chatter. Let me focus."

With that, he strode to the central forge.

The room dimmed.

From behind him, the weapon souls gathered, watching curiously as he raised a new ingot—Adamantite, reinforced with divine and demonic veins.

Then, his Primordial Flame ignited.

It wasn’t ordinary fire. It shimmered with gold, black, and silver—dragon flame, divine fire, cursed inferno... merged into one.

He poured everything he had into the artifact—the deepest of his forging mastery, rune knowledge, flame shaping, mana manipulation, soul weaving. _{f\ree webn ovel(.)com}

His hands were steady.

His vision: clear.

The form took shape—a circular, ethereal crown. It hovered as he forged, never touching the anvil, flickering like a halo made of eternal fire.

And without his notice... his Null started shifting.

Soulforce. Mindforce.

Flowing into the crown like blood into a heart.

His body glowed faintly, but he was too focused to realize.

One final hammer strike—CLANG!

A flash of white light burst across the chamber.

And then... silence.

Floating gently in the air was the finished artifact.

The Crown of the First Flame.

Delicate. Lethal. Divine.

Forged from Adamantite and soul. Glowing faintly red-silver, the flames along its rim whispered like a living thing.

A soft voice rang out, gentle and curious.

"...Who are you?"

He blinked, then turned—eyes widening slightly.

Floating near the crown was a new soul.

A small, fiery girl—hair rising like torchlight, golden skin glowing like molten metal. Her amber eyes flickered like candles, and her charred dress shimmered with ember-threaded ornaments.

The Crown Soul had been born.

Ethan smiled. "Welcome."

The other souls hovered closer, clapping excitedly. "Yay! Another sister!"

But before she could speak again—

He suddenly turned and ran, leaving the forge entirely.

The new soul blinked. "W-What...?"

The spear soul sighed. "He does that sometimes."

"Let me explain," said the axe soul calmly, brushing her small braids aside.

Meanwhile—

Outside, Ethan sprinted into the open field, practically yelling with joy.

"I GOT IT! I never tried this before—but what if it works?! Let’s go!"

His eyes gleamed. His aura sparked.