Prep Time

Moto spends the night trying to pop the water bubble. He recalls what Mukai said about wind—how it helps others guide their power—and finally notices the breeze is moving in the wrong direction. With a sigh, he sits down to wait for the wind to shift.

While he waits, his thoughts drift to Mukai's question—the one about the dark smoke. The memory reopens an old wound. He'd felt that surge of rage not because Mukai pushed him, but because it reminded him how far he still had to go. How far behind he was from others his age. How powerless he would be in the face of those older, more experienced. That moment exposed a bitter truth: his voice still didn't matter.

A memory surfaces from six years ago—crowded into an old train carriage, cradling his newborn sister Amber in a blanket. They're pressed up against the window while the metal train rattles on warped tracks. Outside, hordes of red-skinned monsters claw at the sides, their blackened shells crashing against steel.

Amber cries in his arms. Trembling, Moto shields her from the sight, whispering to her through the chaos. He promised her that one day she'd live in a world without fear.

Now, the wind shifts. It flows in the bubble's direction.

Moto rises and readies a smoke bomb. He throws it—it glides farther than ever before, sailing through the air and striking the bubble... but the smoke disperses on contact. The bubble ripples, then settles. Still unbroken.

He sighs. Better, but not enough.

Then—heat.

An orange glow flares behind him, and a wave of searing air hits his skin. A fireball screams past his face, striking the bubble with a loud explosion.

Mukai stirs awake. He senses the bubble burst.

Moto spots the trail of scorched air and—pain. His shoulder stings. His shirt catches fire. He pats it out quickly.

He turns, and freezes.

Gwen towers above him.

Without warning, Gwen grabs him by the collar and lifts him up.

"Forfeit the match," Gwen says, voice low and unamused. "It's humiliating enough that the King thought wasting my time was a good idea. I've already chosen my student."

Moto grits his teeth. "No. This isn't about you. I won't be intimidated out of my shot."

Gwen brings him in closer. His hand ignites with flames as he lifts his middle finger, revealing a red ring.

"You see this? The King has the same ring on the same finger. I'm the one he calls when he wants to send a message," Gwen growls. "I'm the most feared of the King's Hand."

Moto tries to fight—punches, kicks—but Gwen doesn't let go. Flames scorch Moto's chest. And yet... Moto doesn't scream.

It catches Gwen off guard. The boy's clearly in pain. His skin blisters. But no fear, no begging. Just grit.

Frustrated, Gwen's power surges. Flames roar up his body, forming burning shoulder guards and gauntlets.

"Moto!"

The voice cuts through the heat.

Gwen pauses and turns, teeth clenched—until he sees who it is.

Prince Mukai steps into the clearing.

"Prince Mukai... what are you doing here?" Gwen asks, hiding his irritation.

Mukai stares coldly. "Go back to your post. Now."

Gwen lowers Moto slowly, brushing past the prince. On his way out, he hisses a parting threat to Moto: "Quit. Or else."

Once he's gone, Mukai rushes to Moto's side and summons water to soothe the burns.

Moto, catching his breath, is fuming. "This long-range thing—it's not gonna work. I'll just have to get in close and take damage if it means I land something solid."

"You sure about that?" Mukai asks, raising a brow.

Moto stands, brushes the dirt off, and nods. Mukai watches him for a moment, then gets an idea.

He forms another water bubble. Moto groans. "I said long range won't work."

"Just wait," Mukai says.

He crafts a long cylinder of water in the air above them, releasing random droplets like scattered rain.

"Pop the bubble," Mukai says, "without getting wet."

Moto squints up at the water and nods. A drill in evasion. Dodging mid-combat attacks.

Moto trains all week. He only leaves to check on Sheu.

Sheu, growing more convinced that something's being hidden, asks Sukai to find out where her father was last deployed.

Sukai tries.

His father refuses.

"It's classified."

That only fuels Sheu's suspicion. Determined, she applies for a travel pass. If they won't give her answers, she'll leave the kingdom and find them herself.

The week passes in a blur. The Succession Trials are now one day away.

In the training grounds, afternoon sun casting long shadows, Moto stands beneath the suspended water cylinder. The bubble waits on the other side.

With a puff of smoke, he dashes forward—weaving, ducking, rolling through the falling droplets. At the last second, he kicks off his shoe.

It spins, strikes the bubble clean, and pops it.

Not a single drop touches him.

Mukai approaches slowly, clapping. "I'm impressed. Looks like you might not die after all."

Moto lands hard in the grass and throws up a tired thumbs up, barely able to lift his arm.

Elsewhere, in the mountains, Najo's training continues.

Dope and Gango watch with pride.

"You've come far, man," Gango says.

Panting, Najo nods. "You guys are good too."

"Hey, brother," Dope grins, nudging Gango. "Think it's time we show him the secret move?"

Gango smirks. "Yeah... we never mastered it ourselves, but maybe he can."

Najo perks up. "A secret technique?"

Dope looks around, spots a bird in the branches. "Yeah. We call it... Hummingbird."

Najo raises an eyebrow. "Hummingbird? That's the name of a lightning technique?"

"You wanna learn it or not?" Dope asks, feigning offense.

"Of course," Najo says. "If it gets the old man off my back, I'm all in."

Gango grins. "Cool. We'll need to go higher. That move's so destructive it might draw attention down here."

Najo nods. The three of them vanish into the forested mountains.

Night falls. The trials are nearly here.

And across the kingdom, the contenders sharpen their edge.