In a world where the gods demand pain as tribute, Yuda has served as the Great Shrine Maiden of Asterion for over a century—a Regeneration-blessed tool of the state, burning and healing without end, never permitted to die. She has long since stopped believing in the voice she speaks for.
But when a northern village is reduced to ash by a rogue flame-blessed, Yuda is dispatched to investigate. What she finds is a young man consumed by fire that will not kill him, cradling the charred body of a g
Fire Punch: Flame of Atonement - Kalkerun — The Truth of the Pyre, the Maiden's Tears
The elevator descending into the depths of the royal capital Vermina was a box of iron, like a cage.
Inside it, Yuda stood with her spine straight. The hem of her white vestments trembled faintly in time with the shudder of the steam engine. Beside her stood two men in the uniforms of the Blessed Management Bureau. Silent. Their gazes fixed straight ahead, they would not look at Yuda's face.
(What do these men take me for?)
Yuda murmured within her heart.
(Do they revere me as the High Priestess? Or do they already see me as firewood?)
The steam-driven elevator sank slowly. The pipes running along the walls pulsed like the veins of some living thing. The smell of iron and oil grew thick. The cold air of the surface no longer reached here. In its place, a heat that seemed to scorch the depths of her lungs filled the cage.
The Seventh Layer.
The place where the Blessed Management Bureau headquarters and the internment facility Carcel were located. In her hundred and thirty years of life, Yuda had never once set foot here. Her days had been spent descending to the surface only to read oracles aloud from the highest tier of the Great Temple Asterion. She knew of the underground only through reports.
(I thought I knew.)
(But I did not know.)
(I knew nothing at all.)
The elevator stopped. The iron doors opened with a grating sound.
"This way."
The man's voice was flat. Yuda followed in silence. The corridor was dim, the wall sconces casting a feeble light. Steam leaked from the ceiling, and the floor was damp. The soles of her shoes made a sound like treading through muddy slush.
With every step, the heat grew stronger.
Iron bars lined both sides of the corridor, and from beyond them came faint groans. She could not tell whether they were human voices or the cries of beasts. Yuda did not move her face; she only looked ahead.
(So this is Carcel.)
(The place where the Blessed are used as firewood—to heat the city and forge its weapons.)
(Eighty meters beneath the kingdom, a hell like this.)
The officer stopped before a heavy iron door. A plaque on it read "Turbine Room." The man drew out a key and turned the lock. The sound of metal scraping.
"The Administrator awaits you inside."
Yuda nodded.
The door opened.
—Heat.
In an instant, a heat like being steamed alive surged over her. Her skin burned. Her lungs screamed. Yuda instinctively clutched the collar of her vestments.
(This is not heat.)
(This is pain.)
(This entire room is filled with pain.)
The turbine room surpassed all imagining.
The ceiling was high, and three colossal steam turbines roared at the room's center. Iron gears meshed, steam hissed, and the floor trembled. Pipes crawled over every wall, and at their ends—
Were people.
Twenty of the Blessed were fixed to metal chairs.
Countless tubes pierced their backs, their arms, their thighs. Through the tubes flowed a dark red liquid. Tubes for drawing out the energy of blessing. Every one of the inmates remained conscious.
"Aaaaaaah!!"
"Stop... please, stop...!"
"Let me die... just let me die already...!"
Screams echoed throughout the room.
One man arched his back upon his chair. Each time the tubes drew from him, his body wasted away before her eyes. But in the next instant, the blessing of regeneration took effect, and the lost flesh returned. Wasting. Returning. Wasting. Returning. Each time, a scream spilled from the man's mouth.
(A regeneration Blessed.)
Yuda's feet seemed to stick to the floor, unable to move.
(The same as me.)
(Those with the same power as mine, here—)
(Enduring pain, infinitely.)
"Welcome, High Priestess Yuda."
A voice spoke.
Yuda slowly turned her face.
From the shadow of the turbines, a man stepped forward. Mid-forties. A thin body clad in the gray uniform of the Bureau, fitted precisely. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were smiling.
"I am the Administrator of this facility. Please, come this way."
The man beckoned to Yuda.
Yuda looked at his face.
(This man is smiling.)
(In the very heart of this hell.)
(With no emotion at all.)
Yuda stepped forward. One step. Then another. The floor seemed to reject the weight of her feet.
The Administrator stood beside the turbine. Behind him, a regeneration-type Blessed screamed as he wasted away and returned, again and again and again.
"Beautiful, is it not?"
The Administrator said.
"They warm this city. They protect two hundred and eighty thousand people from the winter's cold."
Yuda remained silent.
"The regeneration Blessed are especially wonderful. No matter how much energy is drawn from them, they return to normal at once. They are like firewood that burns forever."
Adjusting the position of his spectacles, the Administrator smiled at Yuda.
"You understand, don't you?"
Yuda's fingertips trembled faintly.
(I understand.)
(I understood.)
(That my blessing of regeneration holds the highest value in this country—as fuel.)
(I understood, and I looked away.)
"I will speak plainly."
The Administrator's voice suddenly dropped low.
"Your blessing of regeneration has been confirmed for the highest rating—as perpetual firewood."
Yuda exhaled.
(Highest rating.)
(As perpetual firewood.)
(That I, in this place—)
"Here is your examination record."
The Administrator drew a single document from his breast pocket. Yellowed paper. Characters in old ink.
"It is from a hundred years ago, when you were fifteen."
The Administrator began to read the document aloud.
"'Subject Yuda. Regeneration Blessed. Cauterization examination conducted by a flame Blessed. Burned continuously for three days and three nights. Regeneration speed, damage tolerance, pain resistance—all recorded at maximum values. Suitability: perpetual firewood. Rating: Special Grade.'"
Yuda's vision wavered.
(Three days and three nights.)
(Burned.)
(At fifteen, I—)
Memory revived.
A hundred years ago. When her emotions were still so much rawer than now. An iron room. Flame. Burning skin. Peeling flesh. Melting bone. She screamed. She wept. She begged for help. No one came. Three days and three nights. Burned, healed, burned again.
(That was an examination?)
(That was training?)
(For this day?)
"It is precisely because of that examination that you stand here today."
The Administrator smiled.
"Your being welcomed into the Great Temple as High Priestess was also merely an ornament to gather the people's faith. The true purpose was for you to become fuel here in Carcel, forever. Your hundred and thirty years were the preparation period for that."
Yuda's throat twitched.
(My hundred and thirty years—)
(Were not for hearing the voice of God.)
(Were not for guiding the people.)
(Were preparation—)
(For becoming fuel.)
The Administrator folded the document and returned it to his breast pocket.
"Well then, I shall take my leave. Please, take your time looking around."
The man departed with light footsteps.
The roar of the turbines echoed on in the depths of her ears. The screams continued without pause. The heat scorched her skin.
Yuda stood.
She simply stood.
How much time passed, she did not know.
At last, her knees gave way.
—Without a sound.
Yuda slumped down against the wall of the turbine room, sliding to the floor. The cold stone wall. She rested her back against it. The wing-shaped mark pressed against the stone, radiating heat.
(For what have I lived?)
(To hear the voice of God.)
(To guide the people.)
(To serve this country.)
(No.)
(To become fuel.)
(It was decided from the very beginning.)
(My pain, my suffering, my solitude—)
(All of it was a component to raise my value as firewood.)
Tears came.
A hundred and thirty years. Through pain, through fear, through despair, she had never shed a tear. Her emotions had worn away, and she had even forgotten how to cry.
But now, hot drops traced down her cheeks.
No voice came.
Only the tears, unstoppable.
(Ah.)
(I am—)
(Crying.)
(For the first time in a hundred and thirty years.)
(Like a human being.)
"...You too, eh."
A voice spoke.
Yuda raised her face.
An old woman fixed to the adjoining connection platform was looking at her. A wasted body. Several tubes pierced her. Her white hair had fallen out, and her scalp showed through. Yet the old woman's eyes looked steadily at Yuda.
"You came here too... eh."
Yuda could say nothing.
"Pretty vestments. A priestess, are you? ...Even fine folk like you end up as firewood in the end, eh."
The old woman smiled faintly.
"I was a village shaman once, long ago. Folk revered me, said I could hear the voice of God. ...It was all a lie. My voice was never God's voice. Just a side effect of the blessing."
The old woman's body wasted for an instant as the tubes drew energy from her. The blessing of regeneration restored her at once. Her face twisted with pain.
"...You're not special."
The old woman said.
"Everyone here is the same. Not one of us was chosen by God. We're all just firewood."
Yuda's tears overflowed again.
(I was not special.)
(Not a priestess, not one who hears the voice of God.)
(I was nothing more than one among countless pieces of firewood.)
(And that is—)
(So—)
(Painful.)
Yuda wept on, voiceless.
The roar of the turbines swallowed her sobs.
——
At that hour, in the underground prison of the Blessed Management Bureau on the surface.
Aguni burned beyond the iron bars.
His arms were hoisted by chains, his back pressed against the wall. The remnants of Doma's flame clung to his back, burning on without ever going out. Burning. Healing. Burning. Healing. A voiceless groan leaked from Aguni's mouth.
(Luna.)
(Luna...)
(Where are you...)
Aguni's vision warped in the heat of the flame.
The ceiling of the dark prison seemed to waver. The shadows of the iron bars stretched long across the wall, lit by the fire.
—Big brother.
A voice spoke.
Aguni raised his face.
In the corner of the prison stood a white-haired girl. Blue eyes. Small hands. His little sister, Luna.
"Live, big brother."
Luna's figure wavered faintly beyond the flames.
"Luna...!"
Aguni reached out.
The chains clanked. The restraints bit into his wrists, and he could move his arms no further.
"Luna... wait... I'll...!"
"Live, big brother."
Luna smiled.
"Live for my sake too."
Luna's figure vanished into the flames.
"Don't go...! Luna...!!"
Aguni shouted. The chains tore at his arms. Blood flowed, and was at once burned away by the flame. Regeneration closed the wounds. Again, they tore.
Then, beyond the iron bars of the prison, he saw a woman in white vestments standing.
White hair. Blue eyes.
It was Yuda.
No—it was not.
(That is...)
In Aguni's vision, Yuda's figure overlapped with Luna's. White hair. Blue eyes. The same face.
"You... you're not a god."
Aguni murmured.
"You're... the same as me."
His vision went dark.
Aguni lost consciousness.
Only the flame burned on upon his back, never going out.
——
The elevator ascended toward the surface.
Yuda leaned against the wall inside the cage. Her white vestments were soaked with tears and sweat, and her white hair clung to her face. The Bureau officers beside her were silent as before, looking straight ahead.
(I can still hear those screams.)
(In the depths of my ears.)
(All the while.)
The elevator passed the entrance to the Seventh Layer.
At that moment, from the direction of the underground prison, she heard a faint groan.
It was the voice of the flame Blessed.
Yuda's feet stopped.
(Aguni.)
(That boy too, now, in the underground prison—)
(Being burned.)
(Just like me.)
"High Priestess, please hurry."
The officer urged Yuda on.
For a single instant, Yuda looked toward the underground prison.
(I brought that boy here.)
(I brought him.)
(I did.)
Yuda began to walk.
Her feet were heavy as lead.
——
The Great Temple Asterion.
Yuda's chamber.
Stone walls. A wooden bed. A small desk. Beyond the window, snow was falling.
Yuda sat b
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.