The sun had started to dip below the horizon, painting the sky nearly in hues of midnight and flame. Jiro walked along the gravel path back to his old, lonely house nestled at the edge of the mountain village. His eyes, calm and observant, were scanning the surroundings—but his voice broke the silence.
"How long are you going to stand there like some spirit from the past?" he asked aloud, staring at the empty path ahead.
A faint breeze stirred. Then, slowly, from within the swirling wind, a figure began to form—tall, cloaked in robes that fluttered with unnatural grace. Jiro's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't flinch.
"…Master," he said.
The man's face came into view with a warm smile that masked centuries of knowledge and burden. The wizard.
"How's the kid doing?" the wizard asked casually.
Jiro scoffed gently. "Thanks to your training back then, he did well. But ninety-two percent? That's impossible," he replied, shaking his head. "That wasn't even one within our knowledge of growth. No one reaches that point so fast."
The wizard chuckled, folding his arms behind his back. "He jumped into the sky, Jiro. With raw instinct and pressure, he converted mana into pure air propulsion—just to fly. He didn't learn it. He made it."
Jiro was silent for a long moment.
"He's something else," the wizard continued, staring at the setting sun. "He didn't get that from anyone. Not from you. Not from me. He created it from the depths of himself. One day… he will surpass us."
Jiro smiled faintly. "Yes. Slowly. But surely."
"I placed a barrier just in case," the wizard added. "He may not even have the chance to fight today. But I think fate's already made its move."
Suddenly, the wind from the sea while the sun was setting near the arena roared unnaturally, and everyone turned toward it. A loud voice echoed, reaching across the waves.
"Wait."
All eyes followed the sound—towards a tall edge of the coliseum . A figure stood there, wind tugging at his cloak. A boy.
His voice carried firm across the silent crowd, his clothes fluttering in the wind,hair partially visible and the lower jaw had something white but was not clear.His bonny mask ."Will you fight me… for that stone?"
Gasps echoed across the coliseum.
"You aren't even registered in this match," someone called out.
"Sorry," Kyota replied calmly, "I was late. Training."
Laughter rang from below as the reigning fighter—King Orune—looked up with amusement. He stood tall, majestic, battle-hardened, his spear glinting with power.
"You're a bold one," Orune said with a laugh. "But I don't fight kids. Go back to your parents. Come when you've grown."
Kyota didn't flinch. "Did you ever bother to ask how I reached the top of this collusion?"
There was silence.
"I didn't come here because I was weak," he said firmly. "Anyone can climb ladders. But I fought my way through."
The crowd stirred.
In that moment, Kyota's face turned crimson with fury and pride. His spirit, high above, whispered: Don't.
But Kyota moved.
"You got guts, kid," Orune called. "You've got five minutes. Come down, and then I'll fight you."
Inside the king's mind, the voice of the arena itself echoed.
It'll take more than ten minutes to climb down from there… But the kid's different. He has a lot of aura. He might get stronger in the future. But this fight—he shouldn't try it.
But then—
A collective gasp.
The king's eyes widened.
A woman in the audience fainted.
"Did he just—?" someone yelled.
That kid just jumped.
From the top of the collusion, without hesitation, without fear, he dove.
The crowd screamed, expecting a body to break upon the stone.
But the arena ground shattered instead.
Kyota stood, surrounded by crumbled stone and dust, bruises fresh from training but no injury from the fall. Just raw, reckless power.
The king rushed forward, shocked. "You didn't die… but these bruises…"
Kyota stood tall. "They're not from the jump. They're from training."
"How the hell did you do that?" the king asked.
"I used wind to reduce pressure… then earth to soften the ground—just a small area. But the overall structure collapsed under that force."
The king narrowed his eyes. "So you have two elements."
Kyota's eyes met his. "I have fire too."
The arena went silent.
Three elements. Wind, earth, and fire.
The king let out a low whistle. "Three elements… the gods who once ruled the world had that much. Maybe… someday… you'll be equal to them."
The king's eyes glinted. "You've got guts, kid. Wind and fire? You're equal to me now. Let's fight."
Steel clashed against will. Kyota and Orune leapt into battle, their aura sparking against the sky. Flames roared and wind howled. The earth beneath them trembled.
But Kyota was already injured. Blood soaked his side. He coughed violently, vomiting blood on the stone slabs.
Still—he stood.
"Don't… use dirty tricks…" he shouted aloud.
No one responded.
Then—Kyota vanished.
Screams broke out as he reappeared, clutching a woman's neck.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
He hurled her to the ring, revealing a concealed bamboo tube and a needle weapon.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But I need to win."
The woman screamed in rage, drawing the weapon back to aim.
The crowd roared in fury—until a massive hand caught the weapon and snapped it like a twig.
Gasps.
The king himself had stepped in.
His voice thundered. "Enough!"
He turned to the woman,a knight of that kingdom. "You dishonor the ring! You want to fight dirty—leave now."
Turning to Kyota, the king placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're injured. You need healing. We have a healer."
"I… I know healing," Kyota muttered.
"Don't exhaust your mana," the king said with rare gentleness. "Let us help. Get some rest."
He stepped back. "Maybe… you'll be the next king after you beat me."
The coliseum erupted in shock.
Gasps. Cries. Panic.
But before anything else could settle—a loud voice echoed from the top chamber in the arena.
"I won't fall for that crappy little child."
A girl stepped into the light—beautiful, crimson-haired, with ruby eyes that gleamed like daggers. Her aura was ferocious, regal. Her hair shimmered red like Kyota's—though with no black. Just fire.
Kyota grinned weakly. "A little shrimp dares to talk?"
Her eyes flared.
She kicked his face—hard.
He stumbled back, barely conscious.
"Who are you calling a shrimp, idiot!?"
Kyota blinked. "I thought… Ayame would be the only tsundere…in this world...."
And then, he collapsed.
The girl snorted. "It'll take a million years for you to impress me."
His face, hidden beneath his black overcoat, gave no clue to the crowd.
The king watched silently.
"Take him," he commanded. "Heal him."
The guards moved swiftly.
The crowd didn't cheer or boo. They stood frozen, still trying to grasp what they had witnessed.
A boy who leapt from the sky.
A king who saw a future in him.
And princess whose eyes shone with crimson fire.
The winds whispered the boy who challenged king-
The boy no one knew.
And the storm was only beginning.