The dawn broke pale and cold over the outpost, painting the wooden barracks and training yard in a soft orange light. The smell of smoke still lingered from last night's campfires, mingling with the faint metallic tang of weapons that never seemed to rest.
Alex woke to the sound of a horn deep, commanding, impossible to ignore. His body ached from yesterday's drills, every muscle stiff, his hands blistered and sore. He blinked against the light filtering through the cracks in the roof, forcing himself upright from the thin straw mattress. For a moment, the temptation to curl back under the rough blanket gnawed at him. But then he remembered the System's soft chime, the faint blue glow that only he could see.
[Ding!]
[Condition: Fatigue Reduced by 10% – Passive Endurance Growth applied.]
His chest swelled faintly with relief. The soreness was still there, but it was bearable. He could move. He could fight again.
He sat up fully, clutching the wooden sword that never left his side. For a heartbeat, he ran his fingers across the splintered hilt, thinking of Elderleaf of Keal's steady hands guiding his swing, of Erynder's patient voice teaching him balance. His heart ached, but he pressed the memory down like a coal smoldering deep inside him.
The horn sounded again, followed by the bark of orders. "All recruits, assemble! Caravan leaves in thirty minutes!"
The room stirred to life. Children groaned, cursed under their breath, or scrambled clumsily to their feet. Some noble-born boys adjusted silk-lined tunics beneath their armor. Others, like Alex, wore plain cotton still damp with yesterday's sweat. The contrast was glaring, but no one spoke of it.
Alex slung his satchel over his shoulder, tightened the strap around his chest, and followed the stream of children outside. The courtyard that had once echoed with the sound of drills was now filled with wagons lined in rows.
Soldiers in crimson armor walked among them, checking supplies and securing straps. Horses stamped their hooves impatiently, their breath misting in the morning air.
The sheer size of it all made Alex stop for a moment. The caravan was enormous. Dozens of wagons, each pulled by two or four horses, stretched in a line toward the horizon. Wooden crates stamped with the Fire Nation's crest were stacked high grain, weapons, barrels of water. Soldiers marched in disciplined formation on either side.
"Move it, recruits!" a soldier snapped, shoving a boy in front of Alex who had stopped to gape. Alex quickly hurried forward, falling into step.
The recruits were herded toward the third wagon, where an officer with a scar running down his cheek waited with a clipboard. He read names aloud, assigning each child to a specific cart.
"Liora, wagon two.
Korrin, wagon three.
Seren, wagon three.
Alex, wagon three."
Alex climbed up into the third wagon. Inside, straw lined the floor, and rough benches were bolted to either side. Six other children had already taken their places three nobles in fine boots who immediately scrunched their noses at the smell, and three commoners who sat hunched, clutching their small bags.
Alex slid onto the bench closest to the door, his satchel pressed against his chest. His heart beat quick, his palms slick with sweat.
The nobles whispered to each other, shooting him sidelong glances. "That's the half-breed from Elderleaf," one said in a mocking undertone. "Couldn't summon a spark yesterday."
The others chuckled, not bothering to lower their voices. Alex's stomach knotted, but he kept his gaze fixed on the straw floor. He didn't rise to the bait. Not here, not now.
The wagon lurched as the soldiers shouted orders. Hooves clattered against stone, wheels creaked, and the caravan began to roll forward.
The journey stretched on.
At first, Alex watched in awe as the outpost walls fell behind them, replaced by the vast open road cutting through rolling hills. The sky widened above him, endless blue broken by the faint shadow of birds soaring high. To the east, the horizon shimmered with heat; to the west, jagged mountains loomed like broken teeth.
The noble children soon grew bored, their laughter filling the cramped wagon. They bragged about family estates, tutors who had trained them since birth, and the sparks of flame they could summon. One boy even conjured a flicker of fire in his palm, holding it proudly until the others applauded.
Alex stared quietly, his chest aching. He clenched his hands against his knees, willing himself not to speak. He remembered the humiliation of yesterday's drills the laughter, the jeers, the sting of dirt against his face.
The System's faint glow returned at the edge of his vision.
[Ding!]
[New Quest: Survive the Journey.]
[Objective: Endure the trip to Pyrelith without collapsing or falling behind.]
[Reward: +100 EXP, +1 Resilience.]
Alex inhaled slowly. Survive the journey. That much, at least, he could do.
Hours turned into days.
The caravan rolled through forests where the air was thick with pine and damp moss. It passed rivers that shimmered under the sun, their currents carrying whispers of distant lands.
Sometimes, they crossed villages where peasants stopped their work to watch the procession of soldiers and wagons rumble past. Children waved. Some soldiers waved back.
Alex drank it all in. For the first time since Elderleaf's destruction, the world seemed vast and alive again. But that vastness also terrified him.
Nights were worse.
When the caravan stopped to camp, soldiers built fires and set watch rotations. The recruits huddled together in small groups, sharing food. The nobles stayed apart, eating from carefully packed meals that smelled richer than the stale bread Alex had been given. They laughed and mocked, their voices carrying easily in the still night.
Alex sat alone at the edge of the camp, clutching his wooden sword. He swung it quietly, practicing Keal's lessons under the moonlight. Inhale, exhale, cut. The sword whistled weakly through the air, his arms trembling from fatigue.
[Ding!]
[Skill Progression: Basic Swordsmanship +12 EXP.]
[Progress: Lv. 4 (41% → 53%).]
Each chime steadied him. Proof that he was moving forward, however slowly.
Sometimes, he whispered his brother's name as he swung. Sometimes, his mother's. The memories ached like fresh wounds, but they also kept him from breaking.
By the fifth day, the road grew busier. Merchants with ox-drawn carts passed them, giving the soldiers wide berth. Travelers on horseback watched warily, their eyes darting between the banners of flame stitched on the soldiers' cloaks.
The nobles in Alex's wagon became crueler.
"Still no flame, Elderleaf boy?" one sneered, conjuring a spark in his palm and letting it flare close to Alex's face. The other nobles laughed.
Alex flinched but did not move away. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
The System chimed faintly:
[Hidden Stat Increased: Resilience +1.]
[Condition Gained: Focused Will (Minor).]
[Effect: Resistance to intimidation slightly increased.]
Alex's lips pressed tight. They could laugh all they wanted. He would endure.
On the seventh day, the landscape changed.
The caravan climbed a long hill, the air growing hotter with each step. When they reached the top, Alex's breath caught.
There, stretching across the horizon, was Pyrelith.
The Fire Nation's capital glowed under the midday sun like a city forged of flame. Crimson walls towered high, their surfaces shimmering as though heat itself radiated from the stone.
Spires of blackened steel rose beyond the walls, sharp as lances, their tips reflecting firelight even in broad daylight.
Dragons massive statues, wings spread wide perched along the battlements, watching with eternal vigilance.
The nobles gasped in delight, pointing eagerly. "Look at the banners!" one cried. "That's the dragon crest my father fought under it!"
The common-born children shrank back, their faces pale.
Alex's chest tightened. Awe and dread warred within him. This was no mere city. This was power, carved into stone and steel. For the first time, he felt the weight of what lay ahead.
The System whispered again:
[Ding!]
[Quest Update: Survive the Journey – Progress: 78%.]
Not yet complete. He had made it this far, but the gates of Pyrelith loomed like a final trial.
The wagons rumbled down the hill, closer and closer to the city. The sounds of Pyrelith reached them even before the gates distant clangs of forges, the roar of voices in crowded markets, the faint but unmistakable crackle of fire magic alive in the air.
Alex pressed a hand against his chest, steadying his breath.
Whatever awaited him inside those walls, he would endure. He had to.
The caravan slowed as they approached the colossal gates, where crimson-armored guards stood at attention. The banners of the Fire Nation rippled overhead, their dragon crests seeming to snarl in the wind.
Alex swallowed hard, his heart hammering.
[Ding!]
[Quest Complete: Survive the Journey.]
[Reward: +100 EXP, +1 Resilience.]
[Swordsmanship Lv. 4 Progress: 53% → 67%.]
The chime lingered as the gates groaned open, revealing the shadowed streets of the capital beyond.
Alex gripped his satchel tighter. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to hold steady.
The journey had ended. But his true trial life inside the Fire Academy was only beginning.