Sylas took out the box that held the flame crystal.

The moment he lifted the lid, a surge of scorching heat burst forth. The crystallized flame glowed like a red-hot gem, radiating an unimaginably high temperature that turned the space inside the box into a blazing furnace. Even the air itself seemed to ignite, twisting and warping under the oppressive heat.

Startled by the sudden rise in temperature, Sylas quickly shut the lid again. Thankfully, the box had been reforged to withstand such extremes; if it had been made of ordinary metal or stone, it would have melted to slag long ago.

But before sealing it completely, Sylas managed to extract a small fragment of the crystallized flame. Though only fist-sized, it burned with a heat of several thousand degrees. In an instant, the spacious laboratory became as stifling as midsummer.

He placed the fragment onto an iron block, and it burned through almost immediately. Set upon bricks and stones, they cracked and melted, collapsing into molten lava. Yet when Sylas pressed the crystal against the Balrog's corpse, nothing happened.

What shocked him most was that after Balrog's death, its body had hardened into a rock-like shell of ice once the Balrog's heart crystal was removed. But now, as soon as the flame crystal touched the body, that rigid shell began to soften, not from melting under the searing heat, but as though life itself was slowly returning. The once-rigid flesh regained elasticity, becoming pliant and strangely active.

Sylas's eyes lit up in astonishment. This unexpected reaction went far beyond his predictions.

Eager to test further, he pried open the box once more. With a flick of his wand, he expanded the inner space of the container and carefully placed the Balrog's entire body inside.

The heat within the box was intense enough to liquefy the hardest metal in an instant. Yet the Balrog's body was not consumed. Instead, it regained vitality, its form pulsing with movement as flames licked across its surface, as if it had been resurrected.

Sylas nearly jumped in fright. His heart raced until he confirmed that the creature had not truly come back to life. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Sylas found the Balrog's body crystallizing in the flames. Perfectly preserved, it was still active. Without hesitation, he collected the body along with the flame crystal. The essence of the Balrog came from its elemental body of fire and shadow. Normally, after death, such a body would gradually dissipate until it was nothing more than useless stone. But with the crystallization preserved, Sylas was overjoyed.

Restoring the Balrog's body, he noticed the wound on its chest still flowed with blood like molten lava. He carefully collected this blood into a silver bottle, adding a grain of flame crystal the size of a rice grain to prevent it from hardening into stone again. Looking at the fiery blood in the bottle, he felt curious.

"This should be divine blood," he thought. "I wonder what use it might have?"

Driven by curiosity, Sylas went out in search of test subjects. He gathered common birds, reptiles, lizards, snakes, even wolves, trolls, and a few orcs. Pouring the Balrog's blood into their bodies, he watched closely. The results were violent. The subjects did not simply burn into ash. Instead, their bodies exploded, unable to withstand the lava-like heat of the blood.

But Sylas did not stop. He remembered that he had also collected fragments from the Balrog's heart. Picking up an ash-sized piece of crystal, he inserted it carefully into the heart of a lizard and began to observe.

At first, nothing happened. The lizard showed no reaction, and Sylas began to doubt whether the fragment was simply too small to have any effect.

But after a second the lizard's body turned crimson, heat radiating from its scales. Sylas dropped a single bead of the Balrog's blood into it. At once, the creature writhed in agony, thrashing violently until its strength ebbed away. Just as Sylas thought it would burn to ash, the lizard leapt from the table, hurling itself into the fireplace.

Instead of perishing, it transformed within the flames, its form shifting into a blazing orchid of five colors. The creature sat nestled in the fire as if it belonged there, radiating pulses of magic.

Sylas was astonished. What had been a common lizard, when infused with the Balrog's heart fragment and blood, had shed its mortal shell and become a magical being.

He stepped closer to study it, peering into the hearth. The lizard tensed, remembering him, and spat a spark of flame in warning. Sylas brushed the fire aside with his hand and smiled.

"Still holding a grudge, little one?"

He extended his wand and carefully drew the lizard out of the hearth to examine it on the table. But the moment it left the fire, the glow dimmed. The flame weakened, flickered, and began to die.

Sylas frowned and flicked it back into the hearth. Immediately, it revived, burning bright again. After repeating the test several times, he confirmed the truth: the fire-born essence could not survive outside the flames. The longer it was removed, the weaker it became, until it was extinguished completely.

Sylas, quick-witted as ever, saw that the fire-born lizard weakened whenever it strayed from flame. So, with a flick of his wand, he summoned a ring of fire around it and moved the creature safely to his workbench.

Careful study with his wand revealed its nature: no longer an ordinary lizard, but a flame-bound magical beast. Its attacks were small, spurts of fire no stronger than a hearth spark, easy to quench, but the mere fact that it had evolved from a mundane reptile into a new species filled him with delight.

He carefully drew a vial of the creature's glowing blood and stored it, before placing the lizard back into the fireplace, where it thrived. Yet one specimen wasn't enough. Sylas quickly repeated the process, infusing another lizard with a fragment of crystal and a drop of Balrog blood. Soon, two fire accumulators flickered side by side in the hearth.

To his amazement, they immediately began interacting, circling one another in a fiery dance. Sylas' eyes widened. 'Could they breed?' If so, he might have just created a self-sustaining species of flame-dwellers.

Relieved that these creatures couldn't survive outside of fire, meaning they'd never roam the halls setting everything ablaze, Sylas turned his attention elsewhere. His next subject slithered nervously on the table: a venomous snake.

The serpent hissed and raised its head, its voice clear to Sylas' mind:

"Human, stay away! I am deadly. Do not force me!"

Sylas chuckled softly, answering in fluent Parseltongue.

"Little one, don't be so hasty. Right now you're just a common snake, short-lived, fragile. But what if you could be stronger… live longer… even transform? Look at those two lizards. They were ordinary, yet now they thrive in living flame."

His words were half-truth, half-promise.

The small brain of the serpent trembled until it grew dizzy, unable to recall anything clearly. The only thought echoing in its mind was a single phrase: I can become stronger. Some unseen whisper urged it onward, and when it tried to change its mind, it was too late. All it could do was weep inside, convinced its end had come as the man before it stepped closer.

For the larger serpent, however, Sylas chose a greater shard of the Balrog's crystal. He pressed the shard into the creature's heart, let the blood of a Flame Fiend seep in, and then silently waited.

The serpent writhed in agony upon the stone table, its body swelling and splitting with fine cracks that glowed as though molten rock pulsed beneath its scales.

"Fire! I want fire!" it hissed in a voice that carried like the desperate cry of a parched traveler.

Sylas heard and obeyed. Flames leapt from his palm, engulfing the snake. The beast drank them in greedily, as if a dying man had been given sweet rain. Its entire body shimmered with heat as it absorbed every lick of fire.

At last, the serpent shed its old skin, the discarded husk burning to ash in the blaze. From beneath emerged gleaming gray-white scales, each one faintly glowing as if lit from within by a living flame.

Sylas folded his arms, studying the creature with curiosity. "Well then," he said softly, "what gift did this change bestow upon you?"

The serpent lowered its head, examining its own form with wonder. "I… I think I can cause my body to explode," it said hesitantly, "and in that instant unleash a torrent of heat to burn my enemies to death."

Sylas froze for a moment, his face twitching as though caught between laughter and horror. 'A self-detonating snake? Is that truly an ability? Or is this some grim jest of fate?'

The serpent tilted its head, flicking its tongue uncertainly. "My venom… it feels different too. I can't explain it. It's as if it's no longer what it was."

Sylas leaned in, raising a brow. "Different, you say? Tell me then, how exactly has it changed?"

Sylas rose to his feet, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

The serpent parted its jaws and struck. A mouse, caged nearby, let out a pitiful squeal as the venom coursed through its veins. Then, to Sylas's astonishment, the creature ignited from the inside out, its body consumed in a blaze until nothing remained but a faint scattering of ash.

Sylas's gaze sharpened, a spark of delight lighting his face. 'So it isn't all folly after all. This serpent's rebirth brought forth more than madness.'

But before he could speak, the serpent shifted uneasily. "There is… something else," it muttered.

Sylas leaned forward, expectation rising. "Another gift? Tell me."

The serpent's brow creased as though in confusion. "I feel as though I… I want to give birth."

"What?" Sylas blinked, certain he had misheard.

"I want to lay eggs!" the serpent declared, its voice both earnest and mortified.

Sylas nearly stumbled back. "Lay eggs? Were you already carrying young before this transformation?"

The serpent squirmed, its massive coils twisting bashfully. "It is my first time. I've no experience in such matters. Once, long ago, I… encountered a rather handsome serpent, and, well, who could have known this would be the result?"

For a moment, Sylas was struck silent. 'So I've captured not only a transformed beast but a mother heavy with eggs.'

No longer merely a venomous serpent, this creature was now a Fire Serpent, kin in nature to the Fire Accumulators. Yet there was a difference. The Accumulators could never leave the flames they dwelled in, while this Fire Serpent could endure the world outside for nearly an hour.

Driven by instinct, the serpent slithered toward a shadowed corner of the chamber, far from Sylas's fire. With a final convulsion it pressed out seven gleaming eggs. Each one shone red as molten stone, radiating fierce waves of heat.

Sylas studied them in awe. He realized then why the serpent had chosen a place without flame, if birthed in fire, such eggs would detonate like living bombs. Only in shadow could they rest, waiting for their time.

The serpent lingered only a moment, then, exhausted, coiled back toward the hearth, desperate to return to the comfort of the flames.