The faint roar of distant flames and the echoes of shattered streets faded in Li Wei's mind, replaced by the sounds of a different world, a different time. The battlefield, the chaos, Akira's blazing blue flames—all melted into the shadows of memory.
Li Wei was no older than ten, maybe ten and a half, wandering the narrow, grimy streets of Beijing. The city was alive with life, yet for him, it felt hollow, suffocating, indifferent. Trash littered the cracked pavement; smoke from cooking fires mingled with the smell of sewage and damp stone. The streets were crowded with merchants calling out their wares, beggars huddling in doorways, and children like him—thin, ragged, invisible—scrambling for survival.
Li Wei's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten properly in days. His clothes hung loosely on his small frame, torn in places, patched in others with rags that barely held together. He crouched behind a stack of crates, peering at a vendor selling steamed buns. The bread was warm, soft, and smelled like salvation. But Li Wei knew the vendor wouldn't hand one over for free. He had no coins. No one had given him anything in years.
His small hand reached out instinctively, his heart racing, fingers trembling. He snatched a bun from the cart, biting down hastily. But before he could escape, a firm hand gripped his wrist.
"Stop right there."
Li Wei froze, eyes wide, mouth half-full. He turned, expecting anger, punishment, perhaps even a beating. Instead, he found a man—a tall, imposing figure, strong but calm. His presence seemed to absorb the chaos of the street. The man's eyes, dark and intelligent, scanned Li Wei with a measured curiosity rather than fury.
"You're hungry," the man said quietly, almost as if stating the obvious. "And desperate."
Li Wei swallowed the bun awkwardly, his small body trembling. "I… I had no money…" he mumbled, voice cracking.
The man, Arashi, didn't respond with words of reprimand. Instead, he knelt slightly and placed a hand on Li Wei's shoulder. "Do not steal. There is another way."
Li Wei flinched at the touch, but there was no anger in it. Only calm. Only patience. Only… understanding.
"I… I didn't know…" Li Wei whispered, avoiding the man's gaze.
Arashi's eyes softened, but his intensity did not fade. "You are strong," he said. "Stronger than you know. But strength alone is not enough. It must be guided, controlled… awakened."
Li Wei tilted his head, confusion knitting his brow. "Awakened?" he asked. "I… I don't understand."
Arashi smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Not yet. But one day, you will. If you survive."
The boy looked down at his hands, small, dirty, trembling from hunger and cold. He did not understand the man's words—but something about them, some spark deep inside, made him shiver with anticipation, fear, and curiosity all at once.
Arashi released his grip and reached into a small satchel, pulling out a warm steamed bun and offering it to Li Wei. "Eat," he said simply. "Then, we will talk."
Li Wei hesitated only a moment before taking it, feeling the warmth seep into his hands. He bit into it, savoring every morsel. For the first time in days, perhaps weeks, he felt a flicker of relief. A flicker of hope.
The streets of Beijing stretched on, chaotic and merciless, but for the first time, Li Wei did not feel invisible. Not entirely. Not while the man named Arashi stood before him.
As he finished the bun, Arashi crouched down to his level. "You are alone, yes?" he asked.
Li Wei nodded. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "I… have no one," he admitted. "No parents. No home. No name… nothing."
Arashi's gaze softened further, a rare warmth breaking through his normally stern demeanor. "That can change," he said. "You have potential, Li Wei. And potential… must be nurtured."
Li Wei blinked at the name. It sounded foreign on Arashi's lips. The boy had been called nothing for so long that a name felt like a lifeline. "Li… Wei?" he repeated softly, tasting the sound of it on his tongue.
"Yes," Arashi confirmed. "It suits you. Remember it."
He stood, towering over the small boy, and extended a hand. "Come with me. I will teach you. I will help you awaken your strength. One day, you will understand what that means. One day, you will be ready."
Li Wei looked around at the streets—the alleys, the shadows, the cold stone walls—and then back at Arashi's hand. For the first time, he felt the weight of a choice, a possibility that extended beyond mere survival.
And so, hesitantly, he took it.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Arashi led Li Wei away from the crowded streets, through narrow alleys and forgotten paths. They found a place, small and modest, where Li Wei could rest without fear of being chased away. Arashi provided food, water, and warmth. He spoke little, but his presence was commanding, comforting, and unwavering.
Over the following days, Li Wei began to learn—small lessons at first: control, patience, awareness. Arashi was strict but fair, guiding the boy gently yet firmly. And though Li Wei did not yet understand the meaning of "awakening," he felt it stir inside him. A strange heat in his chest, a pulse in his veins, a sense that he was more than the hungry, ragged child on the streets of Beijing.
Nights were the hardest. The streets called to him in dreams, reminding him of loneliness, hunger, and abandonment. But each time he woke, Arashi was there. A constant presence, a guiding force, a father figure he had never known.
And slowly, Li Wei began to believe in something he had never dared before: that he might survive. That he might be someone. That he might have a future.
Yet even in these moments of fragile hope, a shadow lingered. Arashi had spoken once, in a voice quiet but firm, words Li Wei did not yet fully comprehend:
"Li Wei… one day, the Lord Ghost Demon will rise. When he does, he will seek destruction, chaos, and death. You must be ready. You must train, endure, and grow. And you must protect those who cannot protect themselves."
Li Wei had nodded obediently, but the words felt distant, abstract, beyond the comprehension of a ten-year-old. Still, they lodged in his heart like a seed, waiting, growing quietly in the background.
And in the present, on the battlefield, years later, Li Wei could feel that seed had grown. He could feel the training, the guidance, the lessons that had shaped him, manifesting in every movement, every strike, every breath. The streets of Beijing, the hunger, the cold, the loneliness—they had forged him into who he was now: a warrior, a protector, a survivor.
The flashback began to fade as the roar of battle returned to his ears. Akira's blue flames, Ishita's weak but persistent aura, Kaerath's red fire, and the Lord Ghost Demon's shadows all returned with brutal clarity. Li Wei's fists clenched, wind stirring around him instinctively, aura flaring.
He was no longer a ten-year-old boy on the streets of Beijing. He was a warrior, trained, focused, and ready. And he remembered Arashi's words clearly:
"Protect those who cannot protect themselves."
His gaze shifted toward Ishita, still recovering from overexertion. His heart surged with determination, the fire of the past burning bright in the present.
Kaerath, bloodied and furious, and the Lord Ghost Demon, calm and calculating, were poised to strike again. But Li Wei stood taller now, aura flaring, eyes sharp, muscles ready.
This time, he would not falter.
This time, he would protect.