The chaos of the Nightmare Deity had ended with minimal casualties.
Whispers of the event still rippled across the lands, yet life within the Fire Clan soon returned to its rhythm. The clan elders, alarmed by the neutralization of the Ember's Gate, wasted no time. They forged new protective techniques and reinforced their sacred barrier.
Among the clan were countless seekers—outsiders drawn by the allure of mastering the Fire Attribute. Yet the path was treacherous; few ever reached the Zenith Flame, and even fewer were born with the gift to command it freely. Those who did were called prodigies, said to appear only once in a century.
A thunderous explosion shattered the afternoon calm.
Boom.
A blazing fireball erupted high above the training fields, painting the sky in molten red.
The disciples below stumbled back, shielding their faces from the heat.
At the center of the storm stood a boy—hair and eyes both burning crimson. His flames danced wildly around him, untamed, alive.
He was that once-in-a-century prodigy.
Two days earlier, something inside him had changed. A mutation—his fire had deepened, evolving from scarlet to crimson. The elders whispered of it: The Crimson Flame, rarer and far more destructive than any ordinary blaze.
He reined in the inferno carefully, lest the entire village be reduced to ash.
The sky glowed red, reflecting the power that pulsed within him.
> "That should do for today," he murmured, gazing up. "These flames… they're getting harder to control."
"Talk about showing off," came a voice behind him.
The boy frowned. "You again? You've been following me for days. What do you want?"
The stranger grinned. "Name's Shita. What's yours?"
"…"
"Come on, bro, don't just ignore me," Shita said, tugging at his sleeve.
"...Red Fire."
"Whaaat? That's a name?"
"If you don't like it, ignore it."
In truth, he had made it up on the spot. His real name was buried deep in painful memories—ones he didn't intend to revisit.
"Fine then, Red Fire," Shita smirked. "How about a spar?"
"And if I decline?"
"Well, you better not."
Before he could react, Shita kicked off the ground, launching himself forward with a wooden blade aimed at Red Fire's chest.
The sword never landed. The weapon burst into flames mid-swing, reduced to ashes.
Red Fire exhaled sharply. "You assaulted me first—don't expect me to hold back."
The temperature spiked. The air shimmered, so hot it burned to breathe.
The sky, the ground, the wind—everything turned crimson.
"So this is supposed to scare me?" Shita laughed, tightening his grip on a second blade. "I've faced something far worse than fire."
In an instant, he vanished. A blur of motion.
Before Red Fire could react, Shita appeared at his flank—the sword's edge stopping at his neck.
For the first time in his life, Red Fire tasted defeat.
Over the years, he'd been called a genius, the future leader of the clan, the hope of the Fire. Yet in that moment, all he felt was a storm of emotion—anger, jealousy, admiration, and hatred—all aimed at the boy before him.
> If I'm to restore my name… I must become stronger.
The world around him ignited.
The sky became fire.
The ground became fire.
Even the air burned.
His flames turned blue—the mythical color spoken of in clan legends. The temperature soared; Shita's skin blistered, his clothes scorched, his lungs seared. He gritted his teeth and kept moving, dodging wave after wave until—
Boom!
The blue flames exploded, consuming the entire field.
Death felt close enough to touch.
Then, the inferno vanished.
A hand had absorbed the blaze—every flicker drawn into a single point.
From the rippling heat, a man stepped forward.
> "To see the blue flames of myth," he said calmly. "What an honor to be burned in this century."
Jaze.
Red Fire's eyes widened. His flames, unstoppable mere moments ago, had dissolved in this man's presence. He tried again—another surge of fire—but it scattered like dust in the wind.
> "It seems Shita's presence triggered your evolution," Jaze remarked.
Before Red Fire could respond, Jaze disappeared and reappeared behind him in the same breath.
A soft impact—then darkness. Red Fire collapsed, unconscious.
"Situation resolved," Jaze muttered, then turned toward Shita. "Yo. You alright?"
"Yeah," Shita groaned. "But my head hurts."
"You'll get used to it." A grin flickered across Jaze's face. "Listen—your training here ends today. I'm assigning you to a mission squad. Details will be sent soon."
He raised a hand, and space folded around him.
In a blink, he was gone.
The night air fell still once more, but in that silence, Shita could still feel the echo of the blue flames—and the heavy promise of the path ahead.