The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 31: The Mad King’s Wrath

The sun had barely moved when the real attack began.

From the fractured earth beyond the camp’s ruins, the cry came:

”CHAAARGE!”

Like a tide of green armor and crushing might, the earthbender infantry surged forward.

Tens of thousands.

Dust plumed into the sky like a storm made of bones. The sound of stomping boots and shifting stone was deafening, a rhythmic thunder that made the air itself quake. Their front line was led by iron-shouldered boulder-hurlers, reinforced with steel bracers. Behind them, rank upon rank of hardened warriors moved like a wall, bending and throwing slabs, spears of compressed rock, and molten debris as they advanced.

The sky, already clouded from the earlier explosion, darkened even more, not by weather, but by projectiles.

Stones the size of heads rained down from mid-range benders who created slingshot-launchers of solid earth. They flung missiles that tore through flesh and armor alike. Screams erupted as Fire Nation soldiers were ripped apart, limbs crushed, skulls caved in, torsos thrown backwards like ragdolls.

The once-ordered camp had become a graveyard maze of half-destroyed tents, fire-scorched ground, and broken barricades.

Prince Zuko stood in the center of it all, eyes blazing, twin streams of fire erupting from his fists as he deflected stone after stone. His bandaged ribs screamed with every movement, but he bit through the pain. No time now. No space for weakness.

Beside him, General Rulo held his ground with terrifying ferocity. A massive boulder smashed down at him, and with a single upward stomp, he broke it into gravel midair. He punched a second rock and sent it flying back toward the enemy line, shattering one of the lead benders’ heads into pulp.

Rulo shouted, “Form the wedge! Channel them into the narrows!”

But there was no wedge. There was no formation left to reform.

The line had already broken.

Screams tore through the smoke.

Not far off, Commander Donji had formed a small knot of survivors. He wielded a pair of fire-daggers in a whirlwind of strikes, slashing through oncoming boulders and slicing at the throats of any earthbender who came too close. But his right arm hung limp, dislocated or broken, it didn’t matter. He fought one-handed, and every time he turned, another man fell beside him.

“Where’s the medic?! WHERE’S THE FUCKING MEDIC!?” he bellowed as a stone spike impaled one of his officers beside him. The poor bastard didn’t even scream, just slumped, the jagged rock jutting from his abdomen like a gruesome banner.

Rin was barely faring better. His fire was fierce, fast, almost artistic but he had never faced a siege of this magnitude. He dueled three benders at once, dodging pillars that shot from beneath his feet and redirecting waves of compressed sand that moved like scythes. Blood trickled from his temple. He wasn’t going to last.

Zuko saw him.

He moved.

He lunged between waves of fire and stone, parrying a slab of jagged shale mid-air with a spinning kick that ignited into a crescent-shaped arc of flame. He rolled over debris and flung a flame-whip toward Rin’s attackers. It coiled around the nearest one’s neck and burned through bone and flesh. He fell without a sound.

Rin collapsed to her knees. “Thank…”

“No time,” Zuko said, pulling him up. “Fall back to the supply trench. Use the tents for cover.”

“But Donji…”

“I know,” Zuko growled. “We’ll get him.”

Behind them, another massive wave of enemy benders surged forth. They hurled platforms of earth that exploded on impact, shattering into molten shards. The smell of burning flesh and oil choked the air.

From above, King Bumi watched, his grin impossibly wider than before. He hadn’t even joined the battle. He was watching it like a composer listens to his symphony of screams.

“Beautiful,” he said aloud. “Such chaos... such madness! That’s how you shake a war awake!”

And then… he jumped again.

This time, he landed near the rear flank of the Fire Nation defenders.

Zuko saw him, and his blood ran cold. “Shit. Rulo! He’s flanking…!”

But it was too late.

Bumi dropped into a crouch, punched the ground with both fists, and the earth exploded upward. A wave of spiked pillars raced outward in a line, like a giant hand unzipping the field. Fire Nation soldiers screamed as they were launched skyward, impaled, or buried alive in the rolling quake.

Rulo turned, just in time to see Bumi sprinting at him, arms waving, laughter echoing.

“I’ve always loved a good brawl!” Bumi screamed.

Rulo charged.

They met in an eruption of stone and flame, two titans clashing, fire and earth locked in raw, unyielding power.

Zuko stood, catching his breath, helping Rin back to the trench as burning fragments and shattered stone whizzed past.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a massacre.

And it had only just begun.

Smoke hissed off the shattered terrain, the ground still trembling from the colossal crater Bumi’s assault had carved into Zuko’s camp. The sky above Nan-Hai’s coastline dimmed unnaturally, not from cloud cover, but from the settling ash and scattered stone dust hanging in the air like a veil.

Through the haze, a massive surge of earthbenders, soldiers clad in moss-colored armor, their arms and legs caked in clay, roared forward like a living avalanche. They poured down from the higher ridges surrounding the flattened camp like angry water down an open sinkhole, flanked by support benders who hurled slabs of stone and debris from makeshift catapults anchored on natural elevations. The silence shattered in an instant.

It was a massacre.

Fire Nation troops scrambled, some too green to form defensive formations, others tripping over the wreckage of what used to be watchtowers or half-burnt tents. Blood sprayed the mud, arrows whistled into torsos, and bodies shattered against the broken ground like glass.

But in the heart of it, holding ground like pillars, stood Commander Donji, Sergeant Rin, and General Rulo.

Rulo was a giant of a man, not in stature but presence. His armor clung to his muscular frame, and the ends of his mustache had long since been singed from war. His fists blazed with heat as he weaved fire like twin dragons snapping at the earth.

From the ridge opposite, King Bumi watched, calm as a corpse, wild eyes gleaming beneath white eyebrows. And then, without ceremony, he stepped forward. No rallying cry. No bellow. No war chant.

Only a slight roll of his shoulders, and the snap of his knuckles.

“King Bumi,” Rulo muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Damn ghost of a man...”

Then, he lunged forward.

The duel began like thunder clashing against stone.

Rulo hurled a tornado of flame forward, a spiraling column that coiled with heat so intense the moisture in the air hissed as it evaporated. Bumi side-stepped, the fire grazing his robes and charring them instantly but he didn’t so much as flinch. In response, he twisted his palms and erupted a spike of rock from beneath Rulo’s feet.

Rulo jumped, twisting mid-air and launching a fireball at Bumi’s head. The old king raised one hand lazily, and the rock at his feet jumped up like a shield, absorbing the blast and crumbling into steaming pebbles.

Then he retaliated, three rapid punches into the ground sent a wave of jagged stone teeth tearing through the battlefield like a serpent. Rulo backflipped twice, landing near a shattered cart. He planted his feet, arms whirling, and unleashed a stream of fire like a whip that cracked across the space.

Bumi smiled as the flames neared. Then with one breath, he lowered his center, flattened his palm, and sank into the earth.

“What the hell…” Rulo shouted, eyes scanning.

Then Bumi burst from below, his fist connecting with Rulo’s gut, lifting the man clear off his feet and sending him crashing through a stack of weapon crates. The wood shattered.

Zuko, watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes.

“Rin! You and Donji… get the others back to the harbor!” he shouted.

“But sire…”

“Go!” Zuko barked. “Wait for Admiral Kuvak! That’s an order!”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Flames erupted beneath his feet as he propelled himself forward and landed beside the dazed Rulo.

The general, groaning, wiped blood from his mouth. “About time.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” Zuko muttered. “But clearly… we need two dragons for this old ox.”

Bumi stood now at the center of a freshly upturned plateau. “Oooh, I get to fight the prince now too?” he giggled. “Twice the flames. This is gonna be spicy!”

Zuko’s left foot dug in. Fire gathered in his fists. Rulo stood beside him, his chest heaving. Together, they charged.

The second round began.

Zuko led with a fire-enhanced lunge, a spear of flame shooting straight for Bumi’s throat. Bumi swatted it aside with a rock shield as Rulo came in from the left, hurling twin fireballs. The king spun, raising the earth behind him like a fan that swallowed the blasts. Before the flames could settle, Zuko stomped forward and unleashed a flaming wheel-kick, the blaze arching toward Bumi’s side.

This time, Bumi met it with a dense slab of granite that he hurled forward. The stone and fire collided, erupting into a violent explosion that sent embers and shrapnel raining down on all three.

Zuko staggered but kept his footing. Rulo wasn’t so lucky. A stray chunk of stone hit him in the shoulder, and he dropped to one knee.

“Keep going!” he barked through clenched teeth.

Zuko ignited both arms, dashing around Bumi to draw his attention. He landed a punch across the king’s back but Bumi twisted with it, rolling his shoulder as if massaging a cramp, then slammed his elbow backward, catching Zuko in the ribs. The prince coughed blood.

Rulo took the moment and charged with a wall of fire that nearly reached the treetops. Bumi didn’t flinch. He stomped, and a sinkhole opened beneath Rulo, swallowing the fire and nearly the man himself.

Rulo leapt out just in time, barely landing upright.

Zuko pulled himself up, bruised, coughing. “You need to go, General!”

Rulo shook his head. “I’m not leaving you…”

“You’re holding me back!” Zuko roared, voice filled with desperation. “I can’t fight him like this!”

Rulo hesitated and that moment was all Bumi needed.

The king dropped his posture. His arms swirled once, then twice. Then he slammed both fists into the ground.

The world cracked.

From beneath Rulo, spikes of earth shot upward in a perfect circle, then closed like a vice.

Rulo’s scream was muffled by stone.

The general’s body was crushed in an instant.

Zuko stumbled back, eyes wide, disbelief painted across his blood-smeared face. “No…”

Bumi turned slowly toward him, dusting his palms. “I didn’t want to do that. But you two wouldn’t stop buzzing.”

Zuko fell to one knee, pain flaring through his ribs and chest. Blood dripping down his side. Eyes narrowing.

The laughter of King Bumi echoed again.

This time, it wasn’t just mad.

It was terrifying.

Rulo was dead.

The ground where he once stood steamed and bled, the crushed remnants of armor glinting like broken glass between the jagged jaws of rock that had entombed him. Zuko stood still, the roar of the battle dimming in his ears as the world around him narrowed into a tunnel, at the far end, the towering silhouette of King Bumi, half-shrouded in dust and sunlight, stood unconcerned. Zuko’s heartbeat thundered in his chest, fast and erratic. His breaths came sharp and shallow.

”You killed him...” Zuko muttered, his voice trembling with something too old for his age, rage, grief, vengeance, all twisted into something primal.

King Bumi cracked his knuckles. “He was strong,” he said, his tone no longer playful, though a mad smile remained. “But strength is never enough. Not against me.”

Zuko didn’t answer. He pressed his right foot into the dirt, fingers twitching in the air. Something inside him stirred. A burn deeper than firebending, a roaring echo that had haunted him since he woke up in this world.

He wasn’t Zuko.

Not completely.

He was Victor Krane, born on Earth, obsessed with power, obsessed with never being weak again. Obsessed with not losing.

So he let go.

Ki, pure, internal energy, began to rise inside him, and he twisted his wrists. Flame spiraled to life, brighter than ever before. Not yellow. Not orange.

Blue. And White.

Bumi tilted his head, curious. “Hmm…”

Zuko crouched low, fists clenched. Then he vanished forward, a blast of fire propelling him in a blur of speed. He reached Bumi in less than a second, and his first strike was a rising uppercut engulfed in a blue inferno, aimed right for the king’s jaw.

Bumi blocked, arm raised in time, though his feet slid half a meter across the cracked earth.

A first.

Zuko spun midair, twisting into a second strike, a fire-kick laced with white sparks, fueled with raw ki. It howled as it arced, crashing into Bumi’s side.

This time, Bumi grunted, his body shifting slightly with the impact.

Zuko landed, slid back, then lunged again.

He didn’t let up.

His body blurred as he cycled through explosive strikes, every move fueled with white-hot jets of ki-enhanced fire. Twin bursts from his palms flared like miniature suns. He launched a spiraling inferno that resembled a dragon’s breath, the shockwave flattening debris as it roared forward.

Bumi crossed his arms and summoned a barrier of layered stone, the flames crashing into it and pushing the king back a full step.

Then Zuko vanished again.

He reappeared behind Bumi with a roar, blasting fire from both legs to spin himself into a whip-kick that left a trail of embers in the air. He landed three more hits, each one leaving a char mark on the king, each one met with only mild resistance.

But then…

Bumi moved.

Like a storm breaking through silence.

He ducked under Zuko’s next blast and rose with a twisted pivot, his elbow catching Zuko in the ribs with a sickening crunch. Zuko’s breath left him in a single sharp gasp. Before he could fall, a pillar of earth erupted from beneath, slamming into his back and launching him into the sky.

Zuko twisted mid-air, trying to control the arc, but Bumi followed, leaping into the air with impossible speed for his age.

In midair, he hammer-fisted the prince down, slamming him toward the battlefield below.

Zuko crashed through a boulder, smashing it apart and bouncing across the ground in a trail of dust and blood.

His body convulsed.

His arms refused to rise.

But he didn’t scream.

He refused.

Instead, he planted one shaky palm to the dirt. Then the other.

He stood, shaking, coughing blood onto his armor. One eye swollen. One side of his ribs caved in. But still, he stood.

Bumi landed gently, dust puffing around his sandals. “Impressive,” he muttered, rotating his shoulders. “You’re not the same boy who was banished, are you?”

Zuko wiped the blood from his mouth and said nothing.

“I’ll make this quick,” Bumi said, and slammed his palms into the ground.

The earth beneath Zuko rose in a dome, then collapsed inward, trying to crush him.

Zuko blasted fire downward, leaping up, barely escaping the deathtrap but a second wave of boulders struck him mid-air, and he crashed again.

Pain danced across every nerve.

He didn’t have the energy to get up this time.

Not fast enough.

He looked up and saw Bumi walking toward him, hand raised, a dagger-shaped shard of earth hovering at his side.

Zuko tried to summon fire.

Nothing came.

The dagger rose higher.

And then…

FWOOM!

A blast of fire, massive and controlled, hit Bumi from the side, engulfing him in a swirling cyclone of red-orange heat.

Zuko flinched, eyes squinting from the light.

From the smoke, a silhouette emerged. Tall. Robed. Hair in a loose bun.

Zuko’s heart skipped.

“...Uncle?”

General Iroh, surrounded by residual flame, stepped forward, his stance wide, his breathing calm.

His eyes narrowed at Bumi.

Bumi staggered from the impact, his robe scorched on one side. He looked at Iroh… and for the first time, grinned in recognition.

“Well,” Bumi said, brushing soot from his chest. “Now the tea gets spicy.”

Zuko, barely conscious, slumped against a piece of stone. His vision flickered.

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