The mountain winds howled like old spirits, their cries echoing across the scarred valley of Rokuen Plains a desolate land hidden between the borders of the western frontier.
Few ever came here.
Fewer still returned.
And among those who dwelled in this place… were people who rejected Shinrei.
They were the Affinityless, a forgotten branch of humanity that relied not on elemental gifts or spiritual power but on pure martial mastery and the art of Taishin.
The ground cracked faintly under the boot of Master Vince, the Wandering Fist of the North
His tall frame stood against the fading dusk, cloak fluttering with dust and dry wind. His hair a wild mullet streaked with silver caught the sunlight like fire before dusk swallowed it whole.
His presence was silent, yet immovable.
Even without radiating Shinrei, the air around him bent with quiet strength like the calm center of a storm.
He had traveled for days without rest, guided only by Master Isen's command:
