At dawn, the entire camp stirred with excitement. Soldiers lined up in formation, preparing to greet the new arrivals. The air itself seemed heavy, carrying with it a strange tension — as if the wind bore the scent of fire.
Noa stood silently among the ranks. His heart beat faster with every breath. "The Jogan clan... the Fire Dragons... could the stories about them really be true?"
Then came the sound of distant footsteps, deep and thunderous, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Slowly, a formation emerged from the horizon — it was the Jogan clan.
They looked unlike ordinary men. Each soldier's body was broad and powerful, their skin glowing faintly as if lit by inner heat. Their eyes burned like flames, and when they exhaled, steam rose into the air. Even their armor seemed alive — black iron etched with fiery patterns that shimmered as though the metal itself still remembered the forge.
At the front marched several young warriors and a single girl. She stood apart from them all. Her eyes glowed like molten rubies, her hair flickered like living flame — yet it did not scatter in the wind, but moved with a will of its own. She was the fiery princess of the Jogan.
The soldiers stared in awe. Some shrank back, unsettled by the oppressive heat these warriors carried with them. But Noa did not flinch. His eyes widened, fixed on every step they took.
"This is the Jogan clan," Zobid declared, his voice ringing through the camp. "From this day on, they are your comrades. Show them the respect they deserve."
The fiery warriors stopped before the ranks. One of them smirked at Noa, his gaze sharp and mocking.
"So this is it? A soldier without mana?" he sneered. "In our clan, the weak don't last long."
Laughter rippled through the line. Noa raised his head and met the warrior's eyes, his own gaze firm and unyielding.
"Do you think being born with mana makes you above me? If I had it, you wouldn't even dare look me in the eye."
Silence fell. The fiery princess tilted her head ever so slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. None but she seemed to notice — as if she saw something in Noa that others could not.
"Enough!" Zobid's voice cut through the tension. "Today you rest. Tomorrow the training begins. Then we'll see your strength."
The Jogan clan moved past the soldiers and settled into the camp. The air grew heavier still, thick with heat, as though their very presence smothered the wind. Ordinary recruits stepped aside, making room for them.
Noa's chest tightened. "Something has changed in me these past six months," he thought. "Not my strength — my spirit."
Later that day, as the fiery warriors gathered in groups, Noa studied them closely. Every step they took carried the weight of power. "They don't even seem human... more like creatures born of another world."
The same mocking warrior approached him again.
"Hey, mana-less boy," he said loudly, so all could hear. "You'll march beside us tomorrow? Careful. If you fall, we'll burn what's left of you."
Noa said nothing, his eyes sharp. The warrior laughed and slammed his hand against Noa's shoulder — not lightly, but with force enough to topple him.
Pain flared through Noa's body, but he braced himself and stood firm.
"I won't fall," he said quietly, yet with steel in his voice. "No matter how hard you try."
The warrior's grin faltered. Around them, the camp hushed, watching.
Then the fiery princess stepped forward. Her movements were calm, yet filled with authority. She regarded Noa for a moment, then spoke.
"Enough. Even without mana, he did not fall. That means he has strength."
The warrior flushed but stepped back, forced to obey her word.
Noa locked eyes with her — and in that fire, he saw not only power, but something else: curiosity. As though she saw in him a spark no one else could.
"I won't fall before them," Noa whispered to himself. "Not even before her. I'm done being weak."
Later, the Jogans lined up in formation. They towered over Noa, their bodies carved with strength, their eyes burning with inner flame. They were called Fire Dragons for good reason — not only for their muscles, but for the heat they carried in their veins.
Standing at the edge of the line, Noa thought: "Here they are — my new rivals. Will they laugh at me, or will I force them to treat me as their equal?"
Zobid stepped forward, voice stern.
"From today, the Jogan warriors are your classmates. You will train together, you will fight together. Show weakness, and you will be cast out."
A tall, red-haired youth with blazing eyes strode forward.
"My name is Rairon!" he thundered. "We are born of fire! Strength is life, weakness is death!"
The words sent a shiver through the ranks. Most nodded in fierce agreement. Only Noa stayed silent.
Rairon's gaze found him.
"You... the boy without mana. A useless rag. How are you still alive?"
Laughter erupted once more. Noa clenched his fists, his heart pounding, but there was no anger this time. Only a strange, cold calm.
"I've heard these words before. I'll hear them again. But I am not the same. Even hatred has left me... my feelings are frozen."
"Quiet!" Zobid barked. "If you want to prove yourselves, do it in the field."
The first trial was set: carrying blazing stones across the grounds. Each soldier was to choose one. The Jogans took the heaviest with ease, muscles taut, faces fierce.
Noa did not choose the smallest. He knew if he did, they would mock him more. He chose a stone of middle weight. His hands trembled as he lifted it.
The run began. The Jogans thundered ahead, each step like fire scorching the earth. Noa fell behind, his breath ragged, palms bleeding. But his heart repeated a single phrase:
"I am not weak. I am not the rag they think I am."
From afar, Zobid watched. "This boy... he has little strength, but an iron will. Will the Jogans be able to break him?"
Noa pushed on. He was not the first to finish — but neither was he last. When one of the Jogans collapsed, dropping his stone, Noa picked it up and ran past him. The camp erupted in surprise.
Rairon's lips curled into a smile. Not one of warmth, but of challenge. "So you're not just a rag after all. Fine. Then I'll be the one to break you."
And Noa whispered to himself, breath ragged but steady:
"I'm still standing. And I haven't even begun."
Why is the princess of the Jogan clan interested in Noa? What brought a fiery, noble girl like her into a place meant for battle and blood? Could this really be the spark of love between them—or something else entirely?
Also, I want to ask you, dear readers:
Do you prefer new chapters to be released in the morning or later in the evening?
I can write up to three chapters a day, but since there are no comments or Power Stones, my motivation drops and I can only manage one chapter daily. So if you enjoy this story, don't forget to support it—leave your Power Stones and save it to your Library! Your support keeps this fire burning