"Hmm, what's wrong?"
Iroh noticed the strange look on Kahn's face.
"Nothing."
Kahn didn't dare say what he was really thinking—if he did, he might end up getting roasted instead of taught.
After a pause, he followed up on Iroh's earlier question.
"I don't really care. As long as peace can come soon, that's all that matters. But objectively speaking, the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribe don't stand a chance. The Fire Nation's victory is only a matter of time, right?"
As someone who had transmigrated into this world.
Kahn didn't feel any deep sense of belonging toward the Fire Nation—nor toward the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribe, which existed to him only as names in history books.
Sure, aggression was wrong. But this war wasn't his to fight, nor was it his to stop.
And honestly, he wasn't wrong.
The Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe could resist, yes—but they couldn't truly fight back.
Their counterattacks were rare, and their strength was dwindling with each passing year.
Even when they managed to reclaim some lost territories during the Fire Nation's two internal conflicts, it had only delayed the inevitable.
The balance of power never really shifted.
Just look at their fleets.
The Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom were still using old-fashioned wooden sailboats, while the Fire Nation had long since switched to steel steamships!
How could they possibly compete against such overwhelming technological might? How could they even hope to?
If it weren't for the miracle of Bending—especially Earthbending giving defenders a home-field advantage—the two nations would have already fallen long ago.
As Kahn thought this through, he glanced sideways at Iroh.
The man had been the Fire Nation's Grand General—surely he understood all this better than anyone.
So again… weren't you the one who used to fight the hardest?!
Iroh, unaware of the silent barrage of complaints coming his way, fell quiet at Kahn's words.
Of course, he knew all of this. He had seen the battlefield with his own eyes.
And that was exactly why Kahn's simple, matter-of-fact reasoning twisted like a knife in his chest.
He had lived his entire life within the Fire Nation's system—shaped by its victories, its pride, its unquestioned righteousness.
But after all he had seen and lost, Iroh could no longer tell if any of it had ever been right.
He looked at Kahn, eyes softening.
No matter how sharp the boy's tongue was, or how mature his thoughts sounded, he was still just a child—one who hadn't yet seen the ugliness of war or the pain of loss.
His heart was clean, unscarred, untouched by the bloodstained world beyond the palace walls.
How enviable.
Then again… had the Fire Nation's education really gotten that bad?
A nine-year-old who felt no loyalty to his country?
Iroh studied Kahn again, then smiled faintly.
Maybe it wasn't the school. Maybe this kid was just… different.
He reached out and ruffled Kahn's hair.
What will this boy bring to the Fire Nation one day?
And where will he lead it?
The thought stirred something like curiosity—and maybe even a bit of hope.
"Can you not always touch my head?" Kahn grumbled, swatting Iroh's hand away and glaring at him.
If Iroh kept this up, he'd go bald before he even turned ten!
"Hahahahaha!"
Iroh roared with laughter again, clutching his stomach.
Kahn frowned but didn't argue.
From Iroh's point of view, he was still a kid—and honestly, he didn't mind staying that way forever if it meant keeping things simple.
But deep down, he knew that in this world… staying a child was impossible.
Meanwhile…
A storm was brewing in the Fire Nation capital.
Fire Lord Ozai sat at his desk, reading through a stack of military reports.
His amber eyes flickered with cold calculation.
The command to resume the war had, on the surface, been about conquest and ambition—but the true purpose went deeper.
First, to fulfill the Fire Nation's century-long dream of global domination.
Second, to solidify his image as a decisive, powerful new ruler.
And third, to quietly eliminate the remnants of his brother's influence.
Iroh had spent decades building loyalty among the ranks—men who still respected him as the Dragon of the West.
That loyalty was a threat Ozai could not tolerate.
He had already purged those who openly supported Iroh, but many still hid behind silence.
Pragmatists, perhaps… or traitors in waiting.
Ozai's lips curved into a cruel smile.
Better to let them die honorably on the battlefield.
He wouldn't dirty his hands killing them outright.
Instead, he'd send them to the frontlines under the guise of patriotism.
They would die in battle "for the glory of the Fire Nation," and he'd even grant them posthumous honors.
It was perfect. Clean. Efficient.
And while the old guard perished, he would raise a new generation—young, loyal generals molded in his image.
That would take time, but he was patient.
Everything served one ultimate purpose: the Fire Nation's eternal reign.
Until his new power base was secure, he could allow Iroh's remnants to die… slowly.
Setting the reports aside, Ozai leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed in thought.
He lacked something critical—top-tier combat power.
Firebending Masters were rare. At present, only Iroh and General Zheng Zheng held that title.
Becoming a Master required not just strength, but spiritual insight into the nature of fire itself—something Ozai had no patience for.
In raw power, he was formidable, but he could not afford to risk himself in direct combat.
Iroh was unreliable. Zheng Zheng, silent and calculating, was just as suspicious. Which meant…
He had no one he could truly trust.
No one—except Azula.
His daughter's genius was unparalleled. Her mind sharp, her heart cold, her Firebending unmatched for her age.
Even if she never attained the title of "Master," her power would rival one.
And, most importantly, she was his.
He had shaped her, trained her, molded her from birth. She would never betray him.
That kind of loyalty couldn't be found—it had to be built.
Still, such prodigies were rare. And he didn't have the luxury of raising another from scratch.
But that was fine. The time for "that event" to unfold was drawing near.
Then, a thought crossed his mind.
Azula wasn't the only prodigy in the palace these days.
He had recently heard rumors—of a commoner boy, taken in by Iroh, with frightening Firebending talent.
Kahn.
Just then, a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Father, did you call for me?"
Azula entered the chamber, bowing with practiced grace.
Ozai opened his eyes, his expression unreadable.
"My dear daughter," he said smoothly, "I heard that the boy named Kahn has been showing remarkable skill in Firebending—and that he's become Iroh's disciple."
His gaze sharpened.
"Do you know anything about these matters?"