For the first time since enrolling at the Royal Fire Academy, Kahn finally had a short vacation.
He could finally get away from those spoiled little brats, and his mood was excellent.
The holiday was in celebration of the Fire Nation's founding—not on the actual founding day, but on the birthday of the Fire Nation's first emperor.
It was a three-day festival, and even the front-line soldiers were granted one day of rest.
Halfway through the semester, they had also received a new Firebending instructor.
Apparently, the previous teacher had volunteered to enlist in the army and serve on the most dangerous front lines.
His "noble spirit" was so praised that the academy leaders held a special lecture urging everyone to learn from his example.
Of course, no one actually listened.
Except for Kahn, most of the students were the sons and daughters of nobles and high-ranking officials.
Even if they joined the army someday, they'd be sent to the safest command posts. Only a fool would volunteer for the front lines.
Kahn could only wish that poor man luck.
On the eve of the holiday, most of his classmates were excitedly discussing where their parents would take them—beach villas, island retreats, or Fire Fountain City.
They chattered about vacations as if the war outside didn't exist.
After a hundred years of conflict, the Fire Nation had long grown numb to it.
The war had never touched their homeland, so for the Fire Nation's children, the world still seemed peaceful and beautiful.
But none of that mattered to Kahn.
He would spend the holiday training at home. He was still too weak, and the idea of Ozai watching him sent chills down his spine.
He often woke up at night from nightmares of those golden eyes.
Maybe one day, when he was strong enough to kick Ozai and punch Iroh, he'd finally feel safe.
In this world, strength was the only guarantee.
On the first day of the festival, a grand memorial ceremony filled the capital.
Though Iroh had been "banished to the cold palace," he was still royalty, so he attended the ancestor rites with Zuko and Azula—leaving Kahn alone for a rare day of peace.
The Fire Nation's wartime industry had driven immense technological growth.
They had become richer and stronger with every battle, and that prosperity was fully on display during the celebrations.
Even Kahn, the transmigrator, found himself impressed by the spectacle.
The next day, Iroh returned to the royal council hall as usual.
He no longer openly opposed Ozai as he once had. Now he simply stood silently behind the others—observing, saying nothing, as if he had accepted Ozai's rule.
But Kahn could tell something was off.
Every so often, Iroh's thoughtful frowns or strange late-night musings revealed that the old general's calm exterior hid far more than it seemed.
Kahn didn't pry. Whatever Iroh was planning was beyond the concern of someone like him. He had enough problems of his own.
Zuko, meanwhile, was still suffering. His classes were strict, his teachers relentless, and Ozai's constant scolding left him mentally and physically exhausted.
To make matters worse, he was obedient.
He followed Ozai's every command, unlike Azula—who bent the rules, threatened her instructors, and acted like the world revolved around her.
Kahn couldn't help but sigh.
So this is what happens when you try to be a good person? You get bullied by life itself.
One afternoon, Kahn joined Azula and Zuko in the palace gardens.
But not long after, a servant arrived to drag poor Zuko back to his lessons—leaving only Kahn and Azula on the lawn.
"Do you seriously have classes even during holidays? That's horrifying," Kahn complained.
"No," Azula said, smirking. "It's just because he didn't finish his assignments. So he has to make them up."
"..."
Kahn was speechless.
Zuko, my friend… you really need to work harder.
Azula stood up and stretched lazily. "Don't worry about him. The real show's about to start."
"Huh? What show?" Kahn asked, puzzled.
"Work time," Azula replied. "We're going to find clues about my mother's disappearance."
Kahn froze. "What?! That's… sudden! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Azula blinked innocently. "Because I wanted to surprise you. Aren't you touched?"
"Surprised? Try shocked."
But deep down, Kahn knew the truth—Azula still didn't fully trust him. She probably dragged him into this so he couldn't back out halfway.
Typical Azula—calculating even as a child.
He sighed. "I don't go back on my word. Just… tell me next time so I can actually prepare."
For a moment, Azula's expression softened, but she quickly masked it with a shrug. "Fine. If you insist."
"So, what now?" Kahn asked.
"Follow me."
Their target was Er Shu's courtyard—the quarters of Azula's mother.
Since Ursa's disappearance, the area had been sealed off and guarded, but Azula believed clues might remain inside.
With Ozai in the council hall and Zuko out of the way, this was their perfect chance.
They moved like shadows—slipping along walls, leaping over eaves, crossing patrol routes unseen. Kahn's heart pounded.
This was the Imperial Palace. Getting caught meant instant death.
But the adrenaline sharpened his focus. His movements grew quieter, smoother, more precise.
[Stealth Skill Level Up!]
He almost laughed to himself.
Azula, of course, had everything planned. She knew the patrol schedules, the guard rotations, and every blind spot in the palace.
"I play games like this all the time," she said casually.
All Kahn could do was mentally give her a 666.
This girl was terrifyingly competent—definitely destined for greatness.
Two guards stood watch outside Ursa's old chamber. Azula landed on the roof beside Kahn and whispered, "You take the left, I'll take the right."
"Won't that cause a commotion? What if someone notices?"
Azula smirked. "If they get knocked out, that's their failure, not mine. Father will only punish them. Don't worry—I can handle him."
Kahn sighed. "Rest in peace, nameless guards."
They dropped down simultaneously, striking in silence. Within moments, both soldiers were unconscious.
They pushed open the doors and slipped inside.
The room was vast, untouched, and filled with dust. They split up—Azula to the right, Kahn to the left.
"Sorry for the intrusion," Kahn muttered under his breath as he searched.
After only a few minutes, he found a letter tucked beneath a desk.
Azula rushed over, taking it from him. Her sharp eyes scanned the page—and slowly, her expression hardened.
Whatever was written there… it wasn't good.