After the battle, Ichirou made his way toward the guild, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. As he walked, he kept replaying the encounter in his mind—the bird man who claimed to be a descendant of the phoenix race. He looked like an ordinary human, but the way he flew through the air and commanded flames with his wings was undeniably real. Could he actually transform into the legendary bird phoenix, or was it just an illusion? Ichirou wondered.

Lost in thought, Ichirou finally arrived at the guild, and without wasting any time, he rushed to find Olivia. She was sitting behind the counter, flipping through a book when he approached her.

"Hey, Olivia!" he said, still catching his breath. "I met this guy… I call him Bird Man. Do you know anything about him?"

Olivia looked up, amused by his excitement. "Bird Man?" She chuckled. "You mean the Phoenix? Yeah, I know him. He's quite the character."

Ichirou leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "He said he’s part of the phoenix race. Can he really turn into the mythical bird?"

Olivia nodded, her expression turning more serious. "That’s right. His element allows him to fully transform into the phoenix—an incredibly rare ability. But it’s not something anyone can just learn."

Ichirou’s eyes widened. "So, how can someone get that element?"

"You can’t," Olivia explained with a slight smile. "It's an inherited ability, something only those from the phoenix race are born with. Bird Phoenix is half-human and half-phoenix, so he inherited the element. People like us, though, we don’t have that luxury."

For a moment, Ichirou’s excitement faltered. The idea of being able to turn into a mythical bird seemed thrilling, but he quickly realized it wasn’t possible for him. "So, there's no way I can obtain a transformation element?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"Not as of now, sadly," Olivia said kindly. "You see, elements are separated into two types. Type A allows people to control and manipulate their elements, while Type B is usually locked by a certain race. Type B elements allow the user to fully transform into animals, gaining their natural abilities and strengths. But those are usually race-locked, meaning only people from that race can use them."

Ichirou was surprised by this information. He hadn’t realized there were different types of elements, let alone that some were locked to certain races. His mind raced with questions, but one thing still lingered at the forefront: the Wisdom Eye.

"Speaking of elements," Ichirou said, "how do I activate the Wisdom Eye?"

Olivia smiled, clearly expecting the question. "Ah, that’s easy. To activate it, just say 'Wisdom Eye: Open'—either out loud or in your mind. The settings appear in the top right corner of your vision, and by default, nobody can see your Wisdom Eye except you. But you can configure it to allow allies to see it if you want."

She continued to explain the system, telling Ichirou how to navigate through the menu, add allies, and use the Wisdom Eye to avoid accidentally hitting friends in battle. The system had full access to a user’s stats, elements, and even basic needs like thirst and hunger. It could even help guide his attacks to avoid friendly fire.

Ichirou was intrigued. "So, can I add you as a friend to test it out?" he asked, hesitating a bit.

Olivia grinned. "Sure! My username is OliviaLover," she said playfully.

Ichirou laughed and typed her name into the system, sending her a friend request. A moment later, a notification popped up in front of him: Friend request accepted.

"Thanks, Olivia," Ichirou said, feeling a bit more at ease with the system now. "Is there any way to message people through the Wisdom Eye?"

"Like a mail system?" Olivia asked, tilting her head. "There’s supposed to be, but no one’s figured it out yet. It doesn’t appear in the menu, so we still use good old-fashioned letters."

Ichirou sighed, slightly disappointed. "Well, that’s a bit of a letdown, but thanks for the help!"

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Olivia stood up and went to fetch something from the back. When she returned, she handed Ichirou a shining orb (ball). "Here, this is the Adventurer’s Manual. To link it to your Wisdom Eye, just place your hand on it and let the energy flow into you."

Ichirou did as instructed, and he could feel the energy coursing through his hand as the system linked itself to his Wisdom Eye. A message flashed before his eyes: Adventurer’s Manual successfully linked.

"Now, to access it, just say 'Wisdom Eye: Adventurer’s Manual,' and it’ll give you a list of everything you need to know," Olivia explained.

"Thank you, Olivia," Ichirou said, feeling much more prepared. Despite having a low-class element, he was determined to prove his strength.

Ichirou was about to leave but his attention was caught by the hushed conversation between two adventurers seated near the entrance. He had been on his way out, but the word “dragon” was enough to make him pause and eavesdrop, his curiosity piqued.

"Did you hear about a dragon appearing in the mountains of some kingdom?" one of the adventurers whispered, leaning closer to his companion.

"A dragon?" the second adventurer replied, a mix of surprise and excitement in his voice. "Which kingdom?"

"I’m not sure," the first one admitted, lowering his voice even more as if speaking of the dragon was enough to summon it. "But there’s a rumor that it’s been sleeping in the mountains for a long time."

"A sleeping dragon?!" The second adventurer's eyes widened. "You think it's about to awaken its true power?"

"Possibly… It’s said to be ancient, older than most kingdoms we know of. If it wakes up, it could wreak havoc."

Ichirou’s heart raced. A dragon? It sounded like a tale from the stories he had grown up hearing, but the way the adventurers spoke about it made it feel real. The thought of such a powerful creature awakening intrigued and terrified him at the same time.

Just as he was about to step outside, still lost in thought about the possibilities of facing a dragon, the atmosphere in the guild shifted suddenly, as if the very air had become heavier. A strange silence fell over the room, and Ichirou could feel a change in the energy around him.

It was then that he sensed it—an overwhelming presence near the entrance. Ichirou turned slowly, and there, standing in the doorway, was a figure radiating power. His eyes were immediately drawn to the unmistakable yellow hair that caught the light, and the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

"Hey there, once again." The voice boomed through the crowd, causing a ripple of disbelief. Could it really be him, back so soon? Heads turned, eyes widened in shock. There he was, standing tall despite the blood trickling down his leg, his shirt torn and barely hanging together. His arms were crossed over his chest, an almost defiant stance, even though his body bore the marks of battle.

The crowd couldn’t believe their eyes—whispers spread like wildfire. He was bleeding and bruised, yet radiating an undeniable aura of strength.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Veridia

The sounds of a roaring crowd echoed through the massive Colosseum-like arena. The audience was on the edge of their seats, watching with bated breath as a fierce battle unfolded before their eyes. On one side stood Eleanor, her dark hair tied back tightly, her eyes gleaming with determination. Across from her, a young boy with fiery red hair and piercing dark eyes was struggling to keep up. The heat in the air was suffocating, intensified by the flames swirling around Eleanor.

With a powerful shout, Eleanor’s voice cut through the noise, "**Fire: Ember Waves!**" She thrust her arm out to the side, fingers spread wide. In an instant, flames began to spiral around her wrist, twisting like a living serpent made of fire. The audience gasped as she flicked her wrist with a snap, and the flame unraveled into a long, crackling whip of pure fire.

She moved with grace, swinging the fire whip in fluid, precise arcs. It danced through the air, leaving streaks of red and orange as it sliced toward her opponent. The crackle of burning heat echoed in the arena, each strike of the whip sharp and devastating. The fire wrapped itself around the boy, burning through his defenses. His scream pierced the air as he fell to the ground, his body engulfed in searing pain.

"Get water! SAVE MY SON!" His father's desperate voice broke through the chaos, and panic spread through the crowd.

The audience, previously mesmerized by the spectacle, now buzzed with a mix of awe and fear. They had seen power before, but Eleanor’s display was on another level. They hadn’t expected such mastery from her, not today, not in this fight.

"Eleanor! Eleanor!" The crowd began chanting her name, their voices rising like a wave in the Colosseum.

Eleanor glanced up at the cheering masses, a confident smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She had earned their admiration, their respect. But her victory meant more than that. It was a step toward proving something far greater.

High above, seated in the luxurious VIP section, her parents watched with satisfaction. The section was lavishly adorned, far from the noise and heat of the commoners. It offered a perfect view of the fight below.

"This is fantastic," Eleanor’s mother remarked, her voice smooth, betraying only a hint of amusement.

Her father leaned back, a smirk plastered on his face. "At least she’s not useless like that son of ours. The coward even escaped," he scoffed, shaking his head. His laugh was cold and bitter.

Eleanor's mother chuckled softly, nodding. "Yes."

Below them, the guards rushed forward, dousing the boy’s scorched body with water. He groaned in pain as steam hissed into the air, his burns sizzling from the rapid cooling. Eleanor approached him, her hand extended in an unexpected gesture of help.

"Let me help you," she offered, her voice calm yet firm.

But the boy, still smoldering with pride and embarrassment, shook his head weakly. "I can take care of myself," he muttered, swatting her hand away. His voice was laced with bitterness, unable to accept help from the very person who had just defeated him. He didn’t want to seem weak—especially not to a woman.

Eleanor’s gaze hardened for a moment, but she quickly brushed it off. She knew why he refused her help. It wasn’t about the fight; it was about her being a woman, about the deep-seated prejudices that ran through their world. But she refused to let that bother her.

She turned from the boy, her chin held high, her eyes glinting with the fire of her ambition. Eleanor wasn’t just fighting for her own glory—she was fighting for something bigger. She had dreams of becoming the strongest woman in the world, of shattering the chains of tradition that kept women in the shadows. Who said a woman couldn’t be a swordsman? Who said a princess couldn’t get her hands dirty?

As the cheers of the crowd echoed in her ears, Eleanor smiled to herself. She would prove them all wrong. She was bigger, stronger, and more determined than anyone had ever imagined.