This time, you messed up—you know it. You're usually reckless but always get the job done. Not this time. The task was simple: kidnap the ruler of a small mountain village. It seemed easy, which is why your leader entrusted it to you alone. But it wasn't.

You entered the village through the front gate, as always, aiming for speed. Your comrades would conquer the village in five days anyway, and you wanted to impress by capturing the leader early. That was your first mistake.

The village's warriors confronted you immediately. You've fought people like this countless times—mere fodder, nothing to fear. At first, you handled them with ease, taking down a dozen or more. But then the tide turned. The warriors moved with precision and coordination, as if guided by a superior mind. Could it be their ruler? No, he was an idiot. But maybe... maybe the stories were true.

The stories of a hero who once defended this village single-handedly. A hero who fought trolls and dragons with sword and fire, saving this mountain from destruction. A man whose punches shattered stone, whose dominance over fire earned him the name "Ember." As fatigue overtakes you, the rumors swirl in your mind. You collapse, captured by the remaining warriors.

When you wake, there are no prison bars. Instead, you're in a massive training hall, sand beneath your feet. You spring back as a sword skids toward you, kicked by a figure standing before you.

You look at the figure—a woman. Not just a woman, one hell of a woman. Her clothes are humble and simple, yet unusual for a girl - No dresses or ornaments, just plain pratical clothes, free of ornaments. Beautiful scarlet locks hanging in a ponytail, contrasting with the deep turquoise of her eyes. One look at her expression, and you know: she’s the one they call Ember. She wields her sword and assumes an unusual, yet beautiful stance. She dashes towards you, her movements like a graceful dance.

"What do you want with my village?" She asks, her expression not angry, but serene.