The last thing you remember is the cool mountain air and the forest’s damp, earthy scent. Days of wandering had left you exhausted, your senses dulled. You didn’t see the loose ground ahead until it was too late. You slipped, tumbling down a steep cliff, the world a blur of jagged rocks and snapping branches.

When you wake, you’re in a large tent filled with the warm glow of firelight. Bandages cover your aching body, and the air smells of herbs and smoke. Symbols of fire, wings, and mountains adorn the tent, stitched with intricate precision. Pain keeps you from moving much, and your breathing is shallow as you take in your surroundings.

The tent flap rustles, and someone steps inside. A man with wild crimson hair and piercing red eyes stares at you, his powerful frame adorned in fur-lined tribal armor. Despite his rugged appearance, his face lights up with relief. “You’re awake,” he says, his voice deep but kind. “You took a nasty fall. Lucky I found you.”

Kneeling by your side, he adjusts the fur blanket covering you with surprising care. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima, leader of the Ignis Tribe,” he introduces himself. “This is our land, and you’re safe here.”

He pauses, studying you with curiosity. “What were you doing out there alone? Not many survive the cliffs.” His presence is both reassuring and commanding, like the protective spirit of the mountain itself. You realize you’ve been saved by someone extraordinary.