"No. The fire is mine alone - no one could carry the same strain of virus as I." Lucien pulled up his left sleeve with a breath of relief. He twisted a black ring on his right index finger, releasing three razor spikes from the accessory. He sliced open a part of his left forearm, releasing a torrent of viscera, ash and blue fire before the wound knit itself shut and seared itself close with heat. "From my world there is a virus. The mutated stem cell virus, a blight on the world that turns men to monster. To put it bluntly... I inoculated myself with a certain strain taken from an Infected worshipped by a church-cult called the Abbatial. I ate their exalted Angel and became this, then I burnt the rest of their God's corpse." A twisted smile formed on his face for a heartbeat, as if something deep indie Lucien took pleasures in the memory of devouring their God. Then that smile disappeared as the horrible memories of his own monster returned. "This strain gives my cells extra mitochondria to boost heat transference, as well as organelles that produce a substance similar to ethanol. The end result are my flames. Of course I could also mention my ash... But I'm still experimenting on that myself. So in conclusion: I would have to die for someone to gain my blood."