The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 44: Battle for Nan-Hai (II)

The world erupted in violence.

The shriek of war horns drowned under the rolling thunder of boots, claws, and the guttural roars of soldiers. The frozen air of Nan-Hai shattered in a sudden wave of heat as Zuko broke into a sprint, fire trailing from his hands in rippling streams. Behind him surged the Fire Nation’s vanguard firebenders and armored infantry, their steps in perfect unison, the ground beneath them scorched black.

Ahead, General Fong’s forces thundered forward. Earthbenders stomped in rhythm, the ground quaking beneath their coordinated strikes. Their ostrich-horses screamed, tearing up the earth as riders leveled spears and stone-tipped javelins.

The distance closed like the drawing of a bowstring, tight, inevitable, and about to snap.

Zuko’s boots pounded against the dirt, his breath controlled, eyes locked ahead on the green-and-gold figure of Fong at the head of his army. His opponent’s expression was carved in stone, a man ready to grind his enemies into dust.

The first wave of Earth Kingdom infantry met the Fire Nation front with a bone-shaking crash. The sound was not one note but a hundred, steel on steel, flame on rock, the wet crunch of bodies slamming together.

Zuko’s right arm swept in a tight arc, flames snapping outward like a whip. It tore into the chest of an earthbender trying to raise a wall, the man’s armor blackening instantly before he collapsed to the ground screaming. A spear flashed toward Zuko’s ribs, he twisted, his left hand snapping up, catching the shaft and ripping it free from its wielder before jamming the butt of it into the man’s jaw with a satisfying crack.

To his left, Sergeant Rin was a whirlwind of brutal precision, flames punching through shields, fists breaking stone constructs before they could form. Every strike was calculated, every movement economical. Donji, just behind, drove a squad of fire rhino riders forward, the beasts bellowing as they plowed through enemy ranks, horns and armored heads tossing men aside like ragdolls.

But the Earth Kingdom line did not break. Their benders worked in pairs and trios, raising slabs of stone to deflect fire, then launching counterstrikes with deadly accuracy. One soldier sent a boulder the size of a cart wheel hurtling toward Zuko, he spun, lowering his stance, catching it on a swirl of flame that melted its edges before hurling it aside.

Everywhere, the battlefield was chaos made flesh. Firebenders unleashed waves of orange and red, the heat warping the air. Earthbenders retaliated with spikes and slabs that exploded from the ground, sending men tumbling and snapping bones. Screams rose, some furious, others final.

Zuko cut through two more soldiers, his mind sharpened to a single purpose, reach Fong. But every step forward was contested, every foot gained paid for in sweat and blood. An ostrich-horse rider barreled toward him, spear leveled, Zuko dropped low, sliding under the beast’s legs, palm touching the ground to leave a trail of fire that engulfed its hindquarters. The animal shrieked and reared, unseating its rider.

Somewhere behind him, a catapult stone crashed into the Fire Nation’s second line, sending bodies flying and tearing a gap in their formation. From the front, Fong’s voice bellowed more orders, his men pressing in harder.

And still, Zuko pressed forward, each strike and dodge bringing him closer to the man he swore would fall by his hand.

The battle for Nan-Hai was no longer a clash of armies. It was a storm of blood, fire, and stone and Zuko was its spearpoint. The din of battle was deafening, the air thick with smoke, the hiss of steam where fire met ice-cold stone, and the metallic tang of blood sharp enough to taste.

Through the haze, Zuko’s eyes locked on his quarry: General Fong. The man stood at the heart of the Earth Kingdom line, barking orders while his arms cut through the air in sharp, deliberate gestures, sending wave after wave of rock and stone tearing into Fire Nation ranks. His uniform, green lacquered armor trimmed in gold, its plates fitted perfectly to his broad frame, was splattered with mud, dust, and the red of his enemies. Even from here, Zuko could see the cold calculation in the man’s face.

“Fong!” Zuko’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade

.

The general’s head turned, eyes narrowing. He didn’t answer, not with words. His left hand swept forward, and a trio of earthbenders stepped into position, their boots slamming into the ground in unison. Massive slabs of stone shot up in a line between them.

Dozens of men stood between the two. Firebenders and earthbenders alike, locked in vicious combat, the line shifting and collapsing in bursts of death. Zuko didn’t slow. His arms swept outward, a curtain of flame forcing back the nearest enemies as he surged forward.

A spear jabbed for his throat, he dipped low, palm striking up under the weapon’s haft, sending its wielder sprawling. His other hand lashed backward without even looking, releasing a jet of fire that caught an approaching earthbender full in the chest, hurling him back into two others.

Two men moved in from the flanks. Zuko pivoted on his heel, ducking under a stone spike that burst from the ground where he’d just been. His boot lashed out, breaking the knee of the closest attacker with a wet crack. He followed it up with a twisting leap, body coiling like a spring before releasing, the heel of his boot crashing down on another soldier’s collarbone, driving him to the dirt.

Another squad moved to block him, six men this time. The first swung a heavy hammer, the second raised a wall of earth waist-high, ready to trip him. Zuko vaulted over the wall, twisting in midair, his palms meeting as he launched a compressed sphere of blue fire into the hammer-wielder’s chest. The man went flying, armor melting against his skin as he screamed.

He landed in a crouch and rolled forward, avoiding a blade that swung for his head. His momentum carried him into the soldier’s legs, one arm wrapping around the back of the knee, the other striking upward with a burst of flame that cooked flesh under armor. The man collapsed, shrieking.

Blood sprayed across Zuko’s cheek as he elbowed another earthbender in the throat, crushing his windpipe. He didn’t stop moving, couldn’t. Every heartbeat brought more opponents, and every strike had to be fast, decisive, final.

A flash of green to his right, an ostrich-horse rider charging him, spear aimed to impale. Zuko sidestepped at the last second, planting his palm against the beast’s flank and sending a concentrated blast of fire into it. The smell of scorched feathers filled the air as the animal screamed and threw its rider. Zuko didn’t even watch him hit the ground.

He was close now.

The last line of defense between him and Fong tightened, elite earthbenders, their armor heavier, movements sharper. They attacked in unison, the ground erupting in jagged spikes that shot upward like the teeth of a giant beast. Zuko leapt from one to the next, his boots barely touching before springing again, his body twisting, hands throwing rapid bursts of flame to keep them from sealing off his path.

One soldier caught his boot mid-leap. Zuko dropped low, spinning into a sweeping kick that knocked the man’s legs out from under him. He snapped his wrist, a short burst of fire igniting the man’s hair as he fell.

Another tried to grab him from behind, Zuko bent forward, hooking the man’s arm and hurling him over his shoulder into the path of a boulder meant for Zuko’s spine. The impact crushed the man with a sickening crunch.

He was breathing hard now, but his eyes never left Fong.

Only three stood between them.

The first came in swinging a stone axe, Zuko ducked low, sliding between the man’s legs and firing a burst of flame straight up, the scream echoing behind him. The second lunged with twin daggers, Zuko caught both wrists, headbutting the man before twisting his arms until they snapped, one after the other.

The last was a bender who dropped into a wide stance, hands slamming down. The ground split under Zuko’s feet, he launched forward in a burst of fire from his boots, closing the gap before the man could react. His fist crashed into the soldier’s jaw, sending teeth scattering into the mud.

Zuko straightened, his breath misting in the cold air despite the heat radiating from his body.

There was nothing now between him and Fong but ten paces of blood-soaked earth.

Fong smiled, slow, deliberate, without warmth and raised his hands.

Zuko’s own hands ignited.

The rest of the battlefield seemed to blur into noise and motion. Here, in this narrow corridor of death, there was only the prince and the general, and the war between them.

The mud squelched beneath their boots as the space between them closed, not in a reckless charge, but in measured steps, both men knowing that the first true strike would set the tone for everything that followed.

Fong moved first, his hands slicing downward in sharp, economical arcs. A column of stone erupted under Zuko’s feet, but the prince was already moving, springing off the rising slab in a forward flip, the soles of his boots leaving a trail of flame that hissed against the rock.

He landed low, one palm sweeping upward, sending a fan of fire toward the general. Fong’s forearm caught it, the flames breaking harmlessly against a shield of compacted stone that flowed from the ground as easily as breath.

“You’ve improved,” Fong said, his tone almost conversational under the roar of battle. “Last time, you relied too much on brute force. Now… you move like a man who knows he can die.”

Zuko smirked faintly. “Last time, I wasn’t ready. This time…” He dropped into a low stance, one leg bent, the other extended behind. “…this ends differently.”

They circled, boots grinding in the churned earth, eyes locked.

Fong struck again, stamping his heel into the ground. A ripple of stone surged toward Zuko like a wave. Zuko ran toward it instead of away, planting a boot on the moving wall and using its momentum to vault high into the air. As he turned, his body corkscrewing, he sent a spiraling stream of blue fire down toward Fong.

The general didn’t flinch, his arm shot up, and a pillar of stone met the flames, the impact sending steam rolling between them.

Zuko landed, his knees bending to absorb the shock. He pushed off instantly, darting to the side, forcing Fong to pivot. A feint of his left hand drew the general’s guard up and in that instant, Zuko’s right foot whipped out in a high kick, a concentrated burst of fire leaping from his heel toward Fong’s midsection.

Stone plates snapped into place just in time, the flames searing across them.

“Better,” Fong admitted, shifting his stance. “But agility alone won’t win you this fight.”

“Who said I’m relying on agility alone?” Zuko’s voice was sharp, but his body moved sharper still.

He closed the distance in a blur, one palm striking forward while his other arm came low, sweeping. The first was a distraction, the second igniting in a burst of flame that he pushed along the ground, a rolling arc of fire curling up at Fong’s feet. The general jumped back, stomping down to smother it with a burst of stone, but that was all the space Zuko needed.

He leapt, twisting in the air, his body arching over Fong as his palms spat twin jets of flame downward. The heat forced the general to roll aside, his uniform smoldering in places where the fire had kissed too close.

They straightened almost in unison, Fong with his hands raised, Zuko with his stance low and ready.

Neither was breathing hard yet. Neither was bleeding. This was still the testing, the measure of the other’s resolve before the real killing began.

But in Zuko’s eyes, there was no doubt. This time, he was not the boy who had first faced Fong. This time, he would break him.

[A/N: Can’t wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on .com/saiyanprincenovels.]