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However, he also felt conflicted and failed to understand why the praise of a fanatic incited faint delight in him. Could anyone make him happy with simple praise?

\'No… no way. That must just be part of my mental state now.\'

Though balanced, his mind still remained influenced by the Flame\'s earlier actions of corrupting his realm. So, perhaps that delight came from the fact it was another person who bore the Flame speaking.

\'That could be possible. Like the Flame vicariously stroking his ego through me… us.\'

Kieran nodded subtly. That line of thought sounded much more reasonable than his growing desire for others\' praise. He couldn\'t stomach having that kind of kink.

\'There are people like that, though.\'

The thought of those people had Kieran grimacing. The things they would do for praise and how they would react to it were nothing short of disturbing and faintly sad.

What trauma had they suffered that they needed praise to appease them and make them feel worthy? Kieran wondered because the answer was likely not uniform — several forms of torture, torment, and abuse existed.

Not to mention, there was also the Flame whose words verbatim were: "And now I\'m divorced from it, and our relationship is estranged and vicarious. Now everything must burn because I have become the Flame."

That meant the Flame could no longer wreak havoc alone but could possess, empower, and corrupt vessels to do its ruinous bidding. Remembering the bits of disparate but meaningful information he had gathered from the Flame, Kieran realized that one of his primary focuses upon return — other than continuing to train, deepen his understanding of mysticism to unlock more Syllables and return to restoring his soul with its help — he needed to sort and gather more information from the Flame.

It played an integral role in this Trial, and it seemed with each passing day that Flame\'s presence grew more definitive and its purpose grew more distinct. 

The connections would soon be made in his mind, and that would be when he could start devising plans to unravel the entire Testament of Dying Blood.

\'Don\'t worry, little Flame, I\'ll be learning more about you. And then… we can have a good talk.\'

Kieran\'s grin was cold, and his eyes ignited with a zealous light. Not zealous in the way the followers were, but zealous towards triumph, towards solving this Trial once and for all.

…If that was possible.

For reasons unknown, Kieran felt that even if he beat this Trial, he would never be free from it. It would always wrap around him like a titanic chain and weigh him down.

He didn\'t understand why he felt that way, though.

This was all ancient stuff, and the Condemned Chain linked to the Oath of the Chained Myths was attached to Significance itself, not a Trial. So why? Why did his mind keep telling him he\'d never wake from this Trial?

What was his mind trying to tell him through subconscious warnings? Much more importantly, what was the Flame drowning out? Those blotches of dullness were not harmless. They likely tainted key information that the Flame didn\'t want Kieran getting ahold of just yet.

For that… Kieran would need to learn ways to relight a soul.

\'Relight? Like… rekindle? Like a flame? Is the soul a flame? Can it be looked at in that way?\'

Kieran sat amidst the razed ground and noxious miasma that stung his opened skin, finding comfort in his aligning thoughts. The shifts were subtle, but he was happening upon important information through prescient questions.

The correct question usually got the mind thinking in the correct way.

Soon, Kieran\'s thoughts went on a tangent that remained within the complex tapestry of soul theory.

\'If the soul can be looked at as a flame that can be extinguished, rekindled, and stoked… then would that mean the Flame is a soul? Whose soul is it?\'

Kieran felt like he was forgetting something important, like the memory to contrast this all against and find the correlation was being forcibly locked away. Then, he recalled the state of his Realm of Self.

\'Pieces of memories and fragments of my power were locked away inside me. There lies the answers… but I can\'t break those open or even attempt to. Not yet…\'

The Flame was too treacherous and coercive of a force, and after experiencing its unbridled rage, Kieran learned it set a forced dampener on itself. It likely possessed enough Significance to destroy the Anchor.

Luckily, that also ensured the Flame\'s destruction — mutually assured destruction. Only something absurd and maniacal would opt for that outcome. But… the Flame was both those things in spades.

However, Kieran felt like that would be failing the Trial. 

A disturbingly glib voice spoke in the back of his mind, convincing him: "Don\'t let the Flame raze mutually assured destruction. Your path forward will be severed."

\'Right… my path will be severed. If I lose to the Flame, only a Vain or Broken fate awaits me. Neither seeming all too delightful.\'

Kieran closed his eyes and exhaled.

He quieted his thoughts with the help of Three As One.

\'No… not Three As One. The scales give me a sense of further balance. And if we want to give the apparatus an apt name… only one works: Furthered Scales of Balance.\'

Furthered Scales of Balance.

That was the name of Kieran\'s first working construct. It took roughly years of studying, but the Trial was generous in that aspect. Since he had begun the Trial, roughly two years had passed, which is why his body displayed evident signs of growth that even disregard couldn\'t ignore.

\'I wonder if this is a construct Eni knows? What am I saying? Of course, he knows…\'

Kieran shook his head and sighed. 

How wouldn\'t the Lord of Mysteries and Endless of Knowledge not know basic constructs? He could likely manipulate the Syllables in ways Kieran could not fathom.

That idle thought made Kieran feel small, and what occurred in his surroundings contributed to that feeling.

While he may have been complimented for his savage fighting style, the Cardinal\'s fighting was absolutely absurd. A herd of those same mammoths had appeared, but Kieran could not yet get up from where he sat.

Aware of this, Cardinal moved in. At first, he was sent flying like a broken rag doll after those large tusks of pale flames lanced his torso. But when he returned… his aged, lean body was spewing ruinous crimson flames.

Then, he shouldered and rammed a hulking mammoth\'s side, rocketing it somewhere far away like a trio of misfits getting booted off a screen. A harrowing and light rumble echoing from the distance was the only sign of how far it had been tossed.

\'I want… need power like that.\'

Eventually, Cardinal Weiss walked up to Kieran, and in his wake was a mess of mangled, broken corpses, all consisting of the decrepit herd of mammoths.

"You going to sit all day, boy? We\'ve got some feeding and beating to do."

Kieran furrowed his brow with a strange glint in his eyes.

He healed up quite nicely with the Flame\'s felt, and now only minimal scarring was left upon his upper and lower arms. The rags… not much could be done for those.

Indecent exposure, some would say. What was the meaning or presence of laws in this expanse of lawlessness where no peering eyes existed?

Kieran hoped not.

\'Feeding and beating? …Why does that sound so odd?\'