1200 Years Ago…
A flash of memories ripped through Escarion's mind, twisting through blood, battle, and broken earth. In the present, his eyes were open—but he wasn't in the present anymore.
He was drifting.
Drifting through a time long buried.
Through a name long forgotten.
"Am I… weak?" Escarion murmured to himself, eyes clouded as memories from another life surged to the surface.
The world was calm.
Not the war-torn land he knew now, but a peaceful, warm morning, touched by the golden sun.
The sky was clear above a small village nestled near the border of the Kazan Clan's territory—known for its volcanic terrain and fiery beasts. A place of heat, a place where only the strong survived.
In that humble village, a boy stirred in bed.
"Ruji! Wake up!"
A warm voice called out from the kitchen.
"It's already 10:00 a.m.!"
The boy shot up from bed, his wild black hair a mess, his eyes wide.
"Oh my god! Sorry, Mom!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet.
His mother, Ayumi, chuckled softly from outside the small wooden home.
"It's okay, Ruji. Just go feed the red cows before they get grumpy."
Ruji quickly threw on his tunic and rushed outside, the sun hitting his face. The smell of morning dew mixed with heat radiating from the earth. The village was built near lava channels, so everything felt warmer, sometimes even suffocating—but it was home.
He lived on the outer edge of the Kazan Clan's borders, not important enough to be called part of the clan, but close enough to feel its shadow.
Ruji was 19 years old.
Born without power.
Without recognition.
Without a future, as the elders once whispered.
His father, Yoshiharu Kazan, had once been a powerful warrior of the Kazan Clan, respected and feared, known for his ability to summon firestorms with a swing of his blade. But he'd been killed in a brutal clan war, a conflict that tore apart half the region.
After his death, Ayumi and Ruji were pushed out of the main clan land. They were given a small patch of scorched earth, a place just enough to raise red cows—creatures that thrived in heat and were said to have blood that boiled in their veins.
"Hey, old friends," Ruji smiled, walking through the wooden gate, a bucket of lava-infused feed in hand.
The red cows mooed, their thick, leathery hides glowing faintly in the sunlight. Some had horns that steamed when the air was cool. They were massive creatures, and though they looked dangerous, they loved Ruji.
As he fed them, Ruji looked up toward the lake on the other side of the hill.
Warriors.
Clad in black and crimson, training with their weapons, harnessing fire and heat as if it were part of their flesh.
Blades danced in the air. Flames curled around their fists. Boiling water shot from one's hands as he sparred with another.
Ruji paused, the feed in his hands.
"I'm… not strong enough to become like them."
His voice trembled with disappointment.
He watched one of the warriors leap into the air and strike a training dummy with such force that the shockwave cracked the ground. Another summoned a ring of fire around himself, laughing as the others clapped in admiration.
Ruji's fingers curled around the wooden fence.
He wanted that.
The strength. The respect. The legacy.
Not because he craved power—but because he wanted to protect what little he had left. His mother, their home, the memory of his father.
But how could a boy with no power do that?
Even the elders had said it—Ruji was a powerless child born into a bloodline of flame. A cursed flame with no spark.
"Tch…" he sighed, turning back to his cows.
One of the red cows nuzzled his shoulder, and he smiled bitterly.
"You believe in me, huh? Even when no one else does."
Back in the present—Daigo's strike still echoed in Escarion's mind.
Blood still dripping.
But in his heart—something had awakened.
Something ancient.
Something human.
Something named Ruji.
A whisper, soft and forgotten, echoed once more through his soul:
"Live for Yamato… not for me."
The fury in his eyes wasn't just rage now.
It was purpose.
And from the shadows of 1200 years ago, Ruji was waking up again.