When Franklin stepped into the trial, he expected something bad.
Maybe a battlefield. A dungeon. Some tragic horror show of him losing control.
Instead—
He was in a city.
A massive city.
The buildings scraped the sky, taller than mountains, pulsing with Titan Core energy. The air shimmered with power. The roads weren''t stone—they were alive, glowing veins of raw energy flowing through the streets.
People flooded every avenue, climbing onto statues, hanging from balconies.
And they were cheering.
"FRANKLIN! FRANKLIN! FRANKLIN!"
He blinked.
Wait… what?
Banners hung from the monolithic structures, his emblem emblazoned across them. His face—on posters, holograms, currency.
Then he noticed the throne.
It sat at the heart of the city, atop a grand staircase that felt like it climbed forever.
And it wasn''t made of gold. Or stone.
It was made of Titan Cores.
Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.
His hands trembled as he stepped forward. The city roared for him, voices like a tidal wave crashing over his mind.
It didn''t feel real.
It felt like a dream.
But then—
He spoke.
"Uh—hey, guys?"
The crowd froze.
Not a breath. Not a whisper.
A sea of wide, unblinking eyes.
He lifted his hand. Every single person in the city dropped to their knees.
Franklin''s stomach twisted.
Not respect. Not admiration.
Fear.
His throat went dry.
The banners. The statues. The throne of Titan Cores.
This wasn''t a dream.
It was a nightmare.
He wasn''t a hero. He was a king.
And then—
A whisper.
"You made it, Franklin."
He spun.
No one was there.
"You won."
The voice was soft. Familiar.
"This is what you always wanted… isn''t it?"
Franklin turned back toward the city—
And saw the graveyard.
Rows upon rows of graves, stretching into eternity.
His breath hitched.
Names.
Names he knew.
His friends. His allies. The people who stood beside him.
Gone.
His hands shook.
They were stained red.
The whisper turned to a chorus.
"You can''t stop this, Franklin."
"This is who you were meant to be."
"This is the path you walk."
His chest ached.
He staggered back.
The Titan Core throne loomed behind him, casting a shadow that swallowed the city.
The people kneeled. The graves stretched on.
This was his fate.
This was his destiny.
He was the king of a world he had crushed.
His fingers curled into fists.
His Core burned inside him—hot, pulsing, alive.
His destiny?
His fate?
The city thought it owned him. The throne thought it controlled him.
Franklin grinned.
"Screw that."
?? The air ignited.
?? The streets melted.
?? The banners burned.
A deep, guttural rumble filled the world—then the throne cracked.
The Titan Cores at its base exploded, molten fire erupting into the sky.
The people screamed.
The graves turned to dust. The banners curled into embers. The sky itself split apart.
Franklin''s voice rang through the chaos.
"I DON''T CARE IF THIS IS MY FUTURE—"
"I MAKE MY OWN DAMN PATH."
The throne collapsed. The statues crumbled. The entire illusion shattered.
And Franklin—
Was free.
---
The moment Franklin opened his eyes, he knew where he was.
And he hated it.
Scorch Clan Fortress. The night of the Black Sun.
But something was off.
No flames. No corpses. Just silence.
It was worse.
A battlefield without fire? A massacre without blood? It felt like a joke. A cruel one.
Franklin took a step forward. The sound of his own boots against the cracked stone echoed too loudly.
He looked around. The banners of the Scorch Clan still hung. Torn, burned at the edges, but still there. That wasn''t right. The banners had burned to ash that night.
His fingers twitched. His Core pulsed.
This wasn''t real.
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"No… I know what happens here. I don''t need to see this."
"You don''t have a choice," the illusion whispered.
And just like that—he was forced to remember.
---
The Twist – He Wasn''t Just a Survivor. He Was Chosen.
The Titan''s voice rumbled through the fortress like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
"You are not ready… but you will come."
Franklin grit his teeth.
That voice. That same damn voice. The one that had haunted him for years.
But this time… something was different.
This time, he saw more.
A shadow moved near the sacred pyre. A flicker of movement—a figure.
Franklin turned—and froze.
A man stood before the Titan''s flame.
A man who should have died that night.
Marcus Scorch.
Franklin''s stomach dropped. His breath caught in his throat.
He could still hear Marcus'' voice. Could still remember how the man had fought to the bitter end.
"He… survived?"
A cold chuckle slipped through the illusion.
"No," it whispered. "He was taken."
---
The Titan''s flames didn''t consume Marcus.
They changed him.
Now, Marcus stood within the fire.
Unburned. Untouched. Like the flames had never been his enemy at all.
He looked calm.
That wasn''t right. Marcus wasn''t calm. Marcus had been a man of war. A man of fury.
This… wasn''t Marcus.
A Herald of Fire.
A Titanborn.
A being beyond human.
Waiting. Watching. Unwavering.
A voice slithered through the flames, curling around Franklin like smoke.
"You carry the same flame."
"You will follow him."
"This is your fate."
Fate.
That word made something in Franklin''s chest snap.
---
How Franklin Breaks Free
At first, he refuses to believe it. "This is a lie. Marcus is dead."
But then—he feels it. A pulse in his Core. A message, hidden for years.
The Titan never let him go. It had always been there, lurking beneath his skin, waiting.
And now?
It was calling him home.
Calling him to surrender.
Calling him to burn.
Franklin clenched his fists.
"I don''t care if this is my fate—"
??m "I make my own damn path."
He rejects the call of the Titan.
He burns through the illusion.
He steps into the future.
And just like that—
The Trial of Origin ended.
Franklin gasps awake.
His body is drenched in sweat.
His Core is BURNING, pulsing in a way it never has before.
His hands are shaking.
Because something is different now.
Something inside him is awake.
And far, far away in the real world .
Marcus Scorch opens his eyes.
And he whispers…
"He saw me."
---
S
?? Franklin blinks.
The dungeon is gone.
No cold stone beneath his boots. No ancient glyphs humming with eerie power. No crushing weight of his Core burning inside him.
Just… warmth.
He stands on a quiet hill. The sky is blue—not the harsh, endless blaze of the Ember Wastes, but something softer. A sky untouched by war.
Before him, a forge.
Not a grand, sprawling smithy—just a small, simple workshop. Wooden walls. A stone chimney. The rich scent of fresh iron drifting through the air.
He knows this place.
"What…?"
A shadow moves inside the forge. A voice—familiar, warm, impossibly distant.
"Franklin! Get in here, lazy boy, we''ve got work to do!"
His mother.
---
Franklin steps inside.
The forge is… different. Not the roaring, molten heat he remembers, but something gentler. Controlled. Tame.
His mother stands at the anvil, wiping soot from her hands, smiling like she always did when the day''s work had just begun.
"I swear, you get slower every year."
Franklin stops cold.
She''s safe. Alive. Untouched by fire.
"…Mom?"
She laughs. A sound so casual, so real, that it hurts.
"What''s with that look? Did you hit your head again?"
Then—something wrong.
Franklin tries to feel his Core.
Nothing.
No lava simmering beneath his skin. No heat clawing at his chest. No power.
Just… himself.
A blacksmith.
A normal man.
---
A life unfolds.
The forge becomes his world. He works alongside his mother.
He wakes up every day without pain.
No Titans. No battles. No voices whispering in the back of his mind.
He laughs with people who know him.
He sleeps without nightmares.
And then—one day, he looks in the mirror.
His hair is streaked with gray.
His hands are rough, but not from war.
His Core is silent.
He has lived. And yet… something is missing.
---
One day, at the forge.
His mother sets a cup of tea in front of him.
"You look troubled."
Franklin hesitates. "…I feel like I forgot something."
She smiles. Softly.
"You did." She sips her tea. "But that''s a good thing, isn''t it?"
His chest tightens.
Something isn''t right.
Something was taken from him.
But no matter how hard he tries—he can''t remember.
---
That night, a storm rolls in.
Franklin wakes to the sound of rain.
He steps outside—and someone is waiting.
A man in a hood, standing in the downpour.
Franklin frowns. "What do you want?"
The man lifts his head—
And Franklin sees himself.
Scarred. Burned. With fire in his veins.
"You chose this, didn''t you?" the hooded Franklin says. "You gave it all up. You walked away."
Franklin clenches his fists. "I… I didn''t… I don''t remember."
The hooded man laughs. Bitter. Cold. "Of course you don''t." He steps closer. "That''s the price."
The illusion is breaking.
The forge flickers.
His mother''s voice fades.
His memories twist.
"No," Franklin breathes. "No, I—"
The hooded man reaches out.
"Let me show you what you left behind."
And suddenly—
Franklin REMEMBERS.
The Scorch Clan.
Marcus''s sacrifice.
The Titan''s voice calling him.
The fire. The war. The rage that never stops burning.
His Core IGNITES inside him.
---
The forge is collapsing.
His mother stands there, smiling, unchanged.
"You don''t have to go back, Franklin."
"Stay here. Stay safe."
His hands shake.
Because he wants to.
For the first time in his life—he could be at peace.
But—
"Peace isn''t real."
"Not if it costs me who I am."
??Franklin clenches his fists.
And then—
HE BURNS IT ALL DOWN.
---
Franklin gasps awake.
The dungeon walls loom arouWhen Franklin stepped into the trial, he expected something bad.
Maybe a battlefield. A dungeon. Some tragic horror show of him losing control.
Instead—
He was in a city.
A massive city.
The buildings scraped the sky, taller than mountains, pulsing with Titan Core energy. The air shimmered with power. The roads weren''t stone—they were alive, glowing veins of raw energy flowing through the streets.
People flooded every avenue, climbing onto statues, hanging from balconies.
And they were cheering.
"FRANKLIN! FRANKLIN! FRANKLIN!"
He blinked.
Wait… what?
Banners hung from the monolithic structures, his emblem emblazoned across them. His face—on posters, holograms, currency.
Then he noticed the throne.
It sat at the heart of the city, atop a grand staircase that felt like it climbed forever.
And it wasn''t made of gold. Or stone.
It was made of Titan Cores.
Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.
His hands trembled as he stepped forward. The city roared for him, voices like a tidal wave crashing over his mind.
It didn''t feel real.
It felt like a dream.
But then—
He spoke.
"Uh—hey, guys?"
The crowd froze.
Not a breath. Not a whisper.
A sea of wide, unblinking eyes.
He lifted his hand. Every single person in the city dropped to their knees.
Franklin''s stomach twisted.
Not respect. Not admiration.
Fear.
His throat went dry.
The banners. The statues. The throne of Titan Cores.
This wasn''t a dream.
It was a nightmare.
He wasn''t a hero. He was a king.
And then—
A whisper.
"You made it, Franklin."
He spun.
No one was there.
"You won."
The voice was soft. Familiar.
"This is what you always wanted… isn''t it?"
Franklin turned back toward the city—
And saw the graveyard.
Rows upon rows of graves, stretching into eternity.
His breath hitched.
Names.
Names he knew.
His friends. His allies. The people who stood beside him.
Gone.
His hands shook.
They were stained red.
The whisper turned to a chorus.
"You can''t stop this, Franklin."
"This is who you were meant to be."
"This is the path you walk."
His chest ached.
He staggered back.
The Titan Core throne loomed behind him, casting a shadow that swallowed the city.
The people kneeled. The graves stretched on.
This was his fate.
This was his destiny.
He was the king of a world he had crushed.
His fingers curled into fists.
His Core burned inside him—hot, pulsing, alive.
His destiny?
His fate?
The city thought it owned him. The throne thought it controlled him.
Franklin grinned.
"Screw that."
?? The air ignited.
?? The streets melted.
?? The banners burned.
A deep, guttural rumble filled the world—then the throne cracked.
The Titan Cores at its base exploded, molten fire erupting into the sky.
The people screamed.
The graves turned to dust. The banners curled into embers. The sky itself split apart.
Franklin''s voice rang through the chaos.
"I DON''T CARE IF THIS IS MY FUTURE—"
"I MAKE MY OWN DAMN PATH."
The throne collapsed. The statues crumbled. The entire illusion shattered.
And Franklin—
Was free.
---
The moment Franklin opened his eyes, he knew where he was.
And he hated it.
Scorch Clan Fortress. The night of the Black Sun.
But something was off.
No flames. No corpses. Just silence.
It was worse.
A battlefield without fire? A massacre without blood? It felt like a joke. A cruel one.
Franklin took a step forward. The sound of his own boots against the cracked stone echoed too loudly.
He looked around. The banners of the Scorch Clan still hung. Torn, burned at the edges, but still there. That wasn''t right. The banners had burned to ash that night.
His fingers twitched. His Core pulsed.
This wasn''t real.
"No… I know what happens here. I don''t need to see this."
"You don''t have a choice," the illusion whispered.
And just like that—he was forced to remember.
---
The Twist – He Wasn''t Just a Survivor. He Was Chosen.
The Titan''s voice rumbled through the fortress like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
"You are not ready… but you will come."
Franklin grit his teeth.
That voice. That same damn voice. The one that had haunted him for years.
But this time… something was different.
This time, he saw more.
A shadow moved near the sacred pyre. A flicker of movement—a figure.
Franklin turned—and froze.
A man stood before the Titan''s flame.
A man who should have died that night.
Marcus Scorch.
Franklin''s stomach dropped. His breath caught in his throat.
He could still hear Marcus'' voice. Could still remember how the man had fought to the bitter end.
"He… survived?"
A cold chuckle slipped through the illusion.
"No," it whispered. "He was taken."
---
The Titan''s flames didn''t consume Marcus.
They changed him.
Now, Marcus stood within the fire.
Unburned. Untouched. Like the flames had never been his enemy at all.
He looked calm.
That wasn''t right. Marcus wasn''t calm. Marcus had been a man of war. A man of fury.
This… wasn''t Marcus.
A Herald of Fire.
A Titanborn.
A being beyond human.
Waiting. Watching. Unwavering.
A voice slithered through the flames, curling around Franklin like smoke.
"You carry the same flame."
"You will follow him."
"This is your fate."
Fate.
That word made something in Franklin''s chest snap.
---
How Franklin Breaks Free
At first, he refuses to believe it. "This is a lie. Marcus is dead."
But then—he feels it. A pulse in his Core. A message, hidden for years.
The Titan never let him go. It had always been there, lurking beneath his skin, waiting.
And now?
It was calling him home.
Calling him to surrender.
Calling him to burn.
Franklin clenched his fists.
"I don''t care if this is my fate—"
??m "I make my own damn path."
He rejects the call of the Titan.
He burns through the illusion.
He steps into the future.
And just like that—
The Trial of Origin ended.
Franklin gasps awake.
His body is drenched in sweat.
His Core is BURNING, pulsing in a way it never has before.
His hands are shaking.
Because something is different now.
Something inside him is awake.
And far, far away in the real world .
Marcus Scorch opens his eyes.
And he whispers…
"He saw me."
---
S
?? Franklin blinks.
The dungeon is gone.
No cold stone beneath his boots. No ancient glyphs humming with eerie power. No crushing weight of his Core burning inside him.
Just… warmth.
He stands on a quiet hill. The sky is blue—not the harsh, endless blaze of the Ember Wastes, but something softer. A sky untouched by war.
Before him, a forge.
Not a grand, sprawling smithy—just a small, simple workshop. Wooden walls. A stone chimney. The rich scent of fresh iron drifting through the air.
He knows this place.
"What…?"
A shadow moves inside the forge. A voice—familiar, warm, impossibly distant.
"Franklin! Get in here, lazy boy, we''ve got work to do!"
His mother.
---
Franklin steps inside.
The forge is… different. Not the roaring, molten heat he remembers, but something gentler. Controlled. Tame.
His mother stands at the anvil, wiping soot from her hands, smiling like she always did when the day''s work had just begun.
"I swear, you get slower every year."
Franklin stops cold.
She''s safe. Alive. Untouched by fire.
"…Mom?"
She laughs. A sound so casual, so real, that it hurts.
"What''s with that look? Did you hit your head again?"
Then—something wrong.
Franklin tries to feel his Core.
Nothing.
No lava simmering beneath his skin. No heat clawing at his chest. No power.
Just… himself.
A blacksmith.
A normal man.
---
A life unfolds.
The forge becomes his world. He works alongside his mother.
He wakes up every day without pain.
No Titans. No battles. No voices whispering in the back of his mind.
He laughs with people who know him.
He sleeps without nightmares.
And then—one day, he looks in the mirror.
His hair is streaked with gray.
His hands are rough, but not from war.
His Core is silent.
He has lived. And yet… something is missing.
---
One day, at the forge.
His mother sets a cup of tea in front of him.
"You look troubled."
Franklin hesitates. "…I feel like I forgot something."
She smiles. Softly.
"You did." She sips her tea. "But that''s a good thing, isn''t it?"
His chest tightens.
Something isn''t right.
Something was taken from him.
But no matter how hard he tries—he can''t remember.
---
That night, a storm rolls in.
Franklin wakes to the sound of rain.
He steps outside—and someone is waiting.
A man in a hood, standing in the downpour.
Franklin frowns. "What do you want?"
The man lifts his head—
And Franklin sees himself.
Scarred. Burned. With fire in his veins.
"You chose this, didn''t you?" the hooded Franklin says. "You gave it all up. You walked away."
Franklin clenches his fists. "I… I didn''t… I don''t remember."
The hooded man laughs. Bitter. Cold. "Of course you don''t." He steps closer. "That''s the price."
The illusion is breaking.
The forge flickers.
His mother''s voice fades.
His memories twist.
"No," Franklin breathes. "No, I—"
The hooded man reaches out.
"Let me show you what you left behind."
And suddenly—
Franklin REMEMBERS.
The Scorch Clan.
Marcus''s sacrifice.
The Titan''s voice calling him.
The fire. The war. The rage that never stops burning.
His Core IGNITES inside him.
---
The forge is collapsing.
His mother stands there, smiling, unchanged.
"You don''t have to go back, Franklin."
"Stay here. Stay safe."
His hands shake.
Because he wants to.
For the first time in his life—he could be at peace.
But—
"Peace isn''t real."
"Not if it costs me who I am."
??Franklin clenches his fists.
And then—
HE BURNS IT ALL DOWN.
---
Franklin gasps awake.
The dungeon walls loom around him. The air is thick with magic.
The others are stirring, shaking off the remnants of their trials.
"Damn…" he mutters, rubbing his face.
"That was some choice."
But something is different.
A fire smolders in his chest. Not just from the trial—but from himself.
Because now he knows—
"I would''ve taken it."
If the hooded man hadn''t reminded him—he would''ve stayed.
And that terrifies him.
Because if this happens again?
"Will I make the same choice next time?"
---
To be continued nd him. The air is thick with magic.
The others are stirring, shaking off the remnants of their trials.
"Damn…" he mutters, rubbing his face.
"That was some choice."
But something is different.
A fire smolders in his chest. Not just from the trial—but from himself.
Because now he knows—
"I would''ve taken it."
If the hooded man hadn''t reminded him—he would''ve stayed.
And that terrifies him.
Because if this happens again?
"Will I make the same choice next time?"
---
To be continued