Exiled To Rule

The mural glowed.

My hand had barely brushed the last etched line—an ember spiraling upward like a soul—when the world collapsed beneath me.

No tremor. No warning.

Just darkness, so sudden and complete that I thought I had blacked out.

Then—light.

It started as a single dot. Ember-orange. Flickering softly.

Then it bloomed into dozens, spreading in symmetrical patterns. The darkness peeled away, revealing a smooth obsidian floor beneath my feet and a dome stretching high above me like the inside of a hollow mountain.

And in the center—an altar of flame and runes, pulsing like a heartbeat.

I stumbled forward, breath fogging from the sudden drop in temperature. The air wasn't hot like the rest of the temple—it was cold, heavy with ancient silence. But there was no denying what this place was.

A control room.

Massive circular platforms extended from the altar, each etched with spiraling scripts of flame. Crystals floated midair, displaying flickering runes and broken projections of things I couldn't understand—cities, faces, constellations, numbers ticking down.

The temple was alive.

And this… this was its brain.

For a moment, I simply stood there, overwhelmed.

I'd read hundreds of dungeons in webnovels before. Most were simple trial-and-error labyrinths—fight beast, gain loot, repeat. But this place was different. It wasn't just physical.

It remembered.

It watched.

And now it had let me inside.

"I'm not the protagonist," I muttered aloud. "So why is this happening to me?"

No answer. Just the crackle of unseen flames flickering behind polished walls.

I stepped forward, onto the glowing spiral of the main floor.

It didn't reject me.

[Executor System: No interference detected.](Unrelated system operating independently.)

Spiritual Flame Interface detected. Initiating…

Wait. Did that message just say—?

I stared up.

This wasn't my system.

This wasn't connected to the "Executor" protocol I'd seen since arriving in this world. The architecture was entirely different—older, wilder. Like the difference between a modern smartphone and a mythical relic humming with power.

This was not a game system.

This was something holy.

The platform shifted.

A map flared to life beneath my feet—an outline of the temple, layered from above to deep underground.

I watched, eyes widening, as red pulses marked locations I'd already been: the entry chamber, the false sanctuary, the hallway of illusions. Other areas remained dark.

Then something shifted.

A single point began to glow deep beneath the surface.

[Priest Resonance Confirmed.]Flame Memory Reignition: Partial.Trait Unlocked: Priest of Ember

You are recognized as a successor of the Ember Temple.While inside the Temple, you may:

– Draw spiritual energy from flame-based nodes– Commune with residual echoes of the Flame Lineage– Stabilize failing sanctum cores– Increase fire-affinity skills' growth rate by 20%

My knees went weak.

A Priest?

I hadn't trained for it. I wasn't chosen by some grand ritual. I hadn't even passed a trial!

And yet the temple had decided.

Not because I was strong.

But because I was here.

Because I listened.

I walked toward the edge of the platform. There, lining the outer ring of the room, were twelve crystalline obelisks, each dull with age—except one.

One flickered faintly.

I placed my hand against it, and the room shifted.

The crystal lit with internal flame, and the wall behind it opened.

A narrow walkway emerged, descending into a lower chamber pulsing with deep-red light.

I followed.

The second chamber was not mechanical.

It was spiritual.

Rows of stone tablets lined the walls, each marked with a name. The names burned softly, as if written in ember-light, yet most were flickering—unstable.

Only one name burned clearly:

Sethiran, the First Flame-Bearer.

Below it, another line:

"He was broken and cast away. And in his exile, he forged a fire that could never be extinguished."

I froze.

The same story.

A man forgotten by history. Betrayed. Exiled. And yet he rose—not through destiny, but through flame.

Was this the founder of the Temple?

No, more than that. This wasn't just a man.

This was the origin flame. The one who had turned this place from ashes into a sanctuary.

And now… I stood where he once stood.

I spent hours in that chamber.

Touching the tablets. Watching the faint flickers of names long forgotten.

Many were too dim to read.

Some felt angry. Others sad. But all shared the same pain—that of being cast aside by the world.

I didn't realize how long I'd been kneeling until a soft voice filled the chamber.

Not spoken aloud.

It echoed within my skull.

"You are not one of us… but your heart echoes our pain.""Walk carefully, Priest. The world has not changed."

The chamber dimmed.

The path back opened.

When I returned to the control room, I felt different.

Not stronger.

But seen.

Acknowledged.

This temple—this monument to forgotten power—it hadn't given me cheats or weapons or easy outs.

It gave me connection.

A line drawn from one discarded soul to another.

From Sethiran, the First Flame-Bearer…

To Lucien Elvar, the exiled third son.

But far away… someone else felt it too.

A dark mountain, lost beneath stormclouds.

Inside, a cave that hadn't known light for centuries.

An old man sat in stillness.

His body was thin, barely held together by sinew and will. His robes were tattered red. His eyes—closed for decades—suddenly opened as a wave of warmth swept through the air.

A flicker.

A signal.

He turned his head slowly.

There, floating in the darkness, was a single ember. Burning unnaturally. Spiraling with shape and direction.

The old man stood, cracking joints that hadn't moved in ages. The ember hovered before him, pulsing in rhythm.

He smiled.

A wild, unhinged grin.

"So… another one walks the path."

He waved his hand. The ember zipped into a series of ancient runes carved on the floor. Symbols lit, one by one, in a circular formation.

"I waited too long," the man rasped. "They will come for him. They always do."

He wrapped himself in a faded red mantle, scorched at the edges.

"But this time…"

He turned toward the exit of the cave, eyes gleaming.

"…I'll be ready."