In a quiet, weathered wooden house on the edge of a struggling farming village, a child came into the world. His mother, Elina, was a young woman with sun-kissed blonde hair and hands worn rough from years of labor in the fields. She wasn't anyone special in the eyes of the world—just a farmer's daughter trying to get by.
But fate, for a brief moment, had touched her life.
Years earlier, a wandering branch disciple from the Fujin Clan had passed through her village. He wasn't some noble warrior or famed cultivator—just a low-ranking clansman patrolling forgotten lands. But to Elina, he had been everything. Her love, her hope, her escape. They married quietly, without fanfare, and soon she was carrying his child.
Then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he was gone. Killed during a simple, low-risk mission. All he left behind was a name—a legacy—for his unborn son: Noah Fujin.
Noah grew up small and wiry, shaped by the same hunger and hardship that had defined his mother's life. But he had something rare: a sharp, curious mind. At just four years old, he sat beside Elina, watching her trace the faded words in one of the few books she owned. Sensing his interest, she began to teach him to read.
By six, he was devouring anything with words—old scrolls, forgotten pages, broken tomes. He read about heroes who slayed dragons, sorcerers who commanded storms, and warriors who rose to godhood. To Noah, these weren't just stories. They were a promise—proof that there was more to life than cracked soil and empty bowls.
At seven, his moment came: the affinity test. The day that would decide his future.
The Fujin Clan prized wind above all else. If Noah had the gift—if the wind answered his call—he might earn a place among them. A future beyond farming. But if not, the gates to their academy would close forever.
With his mother beside him, he stepped into the dim testing hall. An elderly woman stood waiting, her eyes sharp, her expression unreadable. Behind her loomed a statue of a dragon, its eyes cast downward as if judging him already.
"Kneel," she said.
Noah dropped to his knees, hands outstretched and shaking. The woman took his palm, her magic reaching into him.
A second passed.
Then—
Flame.
A small flicker, no bigger than a candle's tongue, danced across his skin.
Noah's heart sank.
Not wind.
The examiner gave nothing away, but he already knew what it meant. Fire was useless to the Fujin Clan—unless you were born into power. He wasn't. His dream of becoming a warrior, of rising above the dirt, crumbled then and there.
But that tiny flame still burned.
And maybe—just maybe—it would be enough.