Reincarnated as a failed hero?! Watch me Defy Fate! - Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Multiple Blessing?!
I still couldn’t believe it—Flareth had acknowledged me.

After our intense battle, Flareth led me deeper into the Spire of the Fire God, toward his throne in the grand chamber. The massive hall was bathed in an eerie crimson glow, the flickering flames casting wild shadows across the walls. Pillars of enchanted fire lined the room, illuminating the ornate throne where Flareth, the ruler of this domain, presided.

He settled onto his seat with a smirk and crossed his arms. “You’re nothing more than an Flea.” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

I scowled, irritation rising in my chest. “My name is not ‘Flea.’ It’s Naoki von Blackmore,” I corrected him, standing my ground.

Flareth let out a short, amused chuckle but did not argue. Instead, he leaned forward, his fiery gaze locking onto mine with newfound curiosity.

“Tell me,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “that black flame you wield—where did you get it?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t something I had ever questioned deeply before. The Black Flame had been part of me for as long as I could remember, growing stronger with each battle. But how had I come to possess such an unusual power?

Flareth’s expression darkened. “That flame is not ordinary. Do you understand what it means?”

I shook my head, waiting for him to explain.

With a sigh, Flareth leaned back against his throne. “The God of Darkness has the power to corrupt all elements, twisting them into something unnatural. Even my flames are not immune. The fact that you wield Black Flame means one thing…”

I felt a chill despite the heat of the room.

“…It means that Zorx, the demon you fought, must have stolen that power from me—or at least a fragment of it.”

His words hit me like a hammer. Zorx’s power had originated from the Fire God?

Flareth clenched his fists, his frustration evident. “That bastard of a god… he betrayed us all,” he muttered, voice thick with old resentment.

The weight of his words settled heavily in my mind. The God of Darkness, a being powerful enough to steal from the divine, had once stood among the gods only to turn against them. He had stolen from Flareth, from other gods, and had gifted those stolen fragments to his demonic followers—Zorx included.

“So then…” I hesitated. “The Black Flame inside me… I got it by accident?”

Flareth studied me for a long moment before sighing. “Yes. And for that, I will forgive you.”

The air in the room felt lighter, though my mind was still clouded with questions.

Then, as if remembering something, Flareth gave me an intrigued look. “You’re from the Blackmore family, aren’t you?”

I nodded. It wasn’t a secret. The Blackmores were known for their strong affinity to darkness—our lineage was one of warriors who wielded Dark Magic, yet we had never sided with the demons.

Flareth nodded in understanding. “That explains it. Your family is an exception—humans who, despite their connection to darkness, have always fought for mankind. The greatest of them all was Hiro von Blackmore, one of history’s strongest heroes.”

Hearing Hiro’s name sent a shiver down my spine. The legendary warrior who once sealed away the Demon King—he was an ancestor of mine, a name that carried immeasurable weight in our family.

Flareth chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe you’re his reincarnation.”

I laughed dryly, shaking my head. “That’s not possible. I can use Divine Magic without it consuming me.”

At that, Flareth’s amusement faded into something more serious. “True… That is strange,” he admitted. “Divine Magic should be lethal to any Dark Magic user, yet you’ve endured it—not just once, but multiple times.”

I nodded, recalling my battle against King Aslan von Braveheart. The King had unleashed powerful Divine Magic against me, and not only had I survived, but I had also managed to counter his attacks. Though, in fairness, I had taken considerable damage in the process.

Flareth tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne, lost in thought. “Dark Magic users should never be able to withstand Divine Magic. Your survival shouldn’t be possible… unless there’s something unusual about you.”

His words sent a new wave of unease through me. I had always known my abilities were different, but now it felt as though I was an anomaly even among my own kind.

“Perhaps,” Flareth continued, “Miranda’s Blessing has something to do with it. That girl’s power is exceptional, after all.”

I clenched my fists. The [Blessing of Sealing Magic] that Miranda had given me allowed me to temporarily suppress my Dark Magic, making it possible for me to wield Divine Magic without severe repercussions. But there was always a risk.

Flareth’s voice dropped into a warning tone. “However, you must be cautious. If your Dark Magic grows too powerful, it could shatter the Blessing entirely.”

I tensed. “What do you mean?”

“The nature of Dark Magic is destruction and corruption. It consumes, it taints—it is why no ordinary wielder can control it without consequences. If your power surpasses the limits of the Blessing, you will lose the ability to contain it. It will consume you.”

His words were clear, and the weight behind them was undeniable.

For the first time in my life, I wondered… Am I strong enough to keep my power in check?

Flareth leaned forward, his fiery gaze sharp. “Do not lose control. If you do, even I won’t be able to save you.”

I swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“…I understand,” I said.

He watched me for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. “Good. Then I’ll ask you again, Blackmore… What will you do now?”

I took a deep breath, steadying my resolve.

“I’ll do my best—no matter what happens,” I answered firmly.

Flareth grinned, his fiery aura flaring slightly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

And with that, our conversation ended—but deep inside, I knew that my true battles were only just beginning.

….

Flareth let out a deep breath before settling onto his throne. His golden eyes flickered with an unreadable expression as he leaned forward, resting one elbow on the armrest.

“Alright,” he said, his voice laced with something akin to reluctance. “Get ready. I will now bestow my Blessing upon you.”

Despite his words, I noticed a brief hesitation in his movements. His fingers tightened slightly against the throne, and his fiery aura wavered ever so subtly. Why did he seem uncertain?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I stepped forward, standing at the center of the magic circle he had inscribed into the floor. Ancient symbols of fire gleamed beneath my feet, radiating intense heat.

Flareth rose from his seat, raising one hand as his divine halo glowed brilliantly above his head. Simultaneously, the symbol of the Fire God in the center of his palm ignited, bathing the chamber in an overwhelming golden-red light.

The Spire of the Fire God itself responded to the ritual. The entire structure trembled as a towering inferno erupted skyward, piercing through the heavens like a divine beacon. The very air crackled with power, a force beyond mortal comprehension.

Then, pain.

A searing agony spread through my shoulder, as though a brand of molten iron was being pressed against my skin. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to endure the unbearable burning sensation.

Through the haze of pain, I realized what was happening—the mark of the Fire God’s Blessing was forming on my body. The fiery sigil carved itself onto my chest, settling beside the Blessing of Protection I had received from Miranda.

[You have obtained the Blessing of the Fire God!]

[This blessing allows you to use Flareth’s Divine Fire!]

[This blessing increases your fire elemental attack damage by 50%, and fire elemental damage by 80% when fighting demons]

This is a powerful blessing!

As the ritual concluded, the flames receded, and silence fell over the grand hall.

But Flareth…

Flareth was frozen in place, his expression one of pure disbelief. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple—an unusual sight for someone who literally thrived in heat.

“…What?” he muttered under his breath. His voice, usually filled with unwavering confidence, wavered ever so slightly.

I frowned, still feeling the lingering heat of the new blessing etched into my skin. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Flareth snapped his gaze toward me, eyes narrowed as if he were struggling to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

“…This shouldn’t be possible,” he finally said. His voice was sharp, carrying an edge of concern.

I crossed my arms. “What do you mean?”

Flareth exhaled, rubbing his forehead in exasperation before explaining, “Every hero who has come here has only ever been able to receive one blessing from the gods. No exceptions.”

I blinked. “…But I now have two?”

He gave a slow nod, his expression hardening. “Yes. And that is not how this world works.”

Flareth began pacing in front of his throne, the flames surrounding the chamber flickering in response to his unease.

“For centuries, heroes have been granted only the blessing that aligns with their elemental affinity,” he continued. “The Flamemore family, for example, has always received my blessing. The Winterfell bloodline can only inherit the Blessing of Aqualia, the Goddess of Water and Ice. These affinities are absolute. Unchangeable.”

He turned back toward me, eyes burning with curiosity—and caution.

“Yet, you, a descendant of the Blackmore family, have broken this law of nature.”

I absorbed his words, realization slowly dawning upon me.

The Blackmore family, unlike others, had always received Miranda’s Blessing instead of a traditional elemental affinity. This was because the God of Darkness had perished, leaving his followers without a patron deity. Miranda, the Goddess of Protection, had extended her divine favor to our lineage, ensuring we had a means to survive despite our connection to Dark Magic.

But now…

I had been granted another blessing—one that was supposed to be impossible for me to receive.

A slow smile crept onto my face.

Flareth scowled. “Why are you smiling, brat?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I think I finally understand why Miranda chose to give me her blessing. I’m from the Blackmore bloodline… and she must have been watching over us for a long time.”

For a moment, Flareth just stared at me, his lips curling in disgust. “Tch. That sentimental goddess. She always was too soft on humans.”

Then, as if shaking off his thoughts, he let out a long sigh. “Regardless, this changes everything. Normally, once a Trial of Blessing is completed, the hero automatically moves on to the next Trial—yet you’re still standing here.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Something is preventing you from progressing. And I don’t like things I can’t explain.”

His tone suggested that whatever was happening wasn’t just a small anomaly—it was a dangerous mystery that needed answers.

Flareth ran a hand through his fiery hair, looking thoroughly frustrated. Then, after a brief silence, he made a decision.

“…Fine. We don’t have time to sit around guessing,” he muttered. “I’ll call for an emergency meeting with the other gods. We need to figure out what you are.”

I stiffened. “What I am?”

Flareth’s gaze bore into mine. “You may truly be the Child of Fate. And if that’s the case, we need to find a way to get you through this trial—fast.”

A chill ran down my spine at his words.

The Child of Fate.

I had heard the term whispered in legends before—a prophesied warrior who would either save the world or bring about its ruin. A soul untouched by the normal rules of the divine, meant to change the very course of history.

Could I really be that person?

The thought both thrilled and terrified me.