In ATLA with a system

A/N: As I said b4, 100 stones you get bonus chapter. Also I am gonna say this now but Ren will not be a character that should be idolised or such. Simply because he isn't a great character and you will see why in the upcoming chapters. Though he will develop later on

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The early morning air carried a sharp chill, biting at Ren's skin as he stepped into the quiet edge of the camp. Most of the soldiers were either still waking up or busy tending to their morning routines, leaving the sparring area empty for now.

Ren rolled his shoulder, the ache from yesterday's matches still fresh in his muscles. He drew his sword slowly, the blade catching the faint light of the rising sun. Its weight was familiar now, but the memory of his clumsy swings during the sparring matches lingered in his mind like a bad taste.

Alright, let's see if yesterday actually did anything

He positioned himself in the middle of the cleared space, adjusting his stance carefully. Feet apart, knees slightly bent, he could almost hear the jeering voices from the sparring soldiers correcting him.

Ren raised the sword and swung, focusing on keeping his movements tight and deliberate. The blade cut through the air with a faint hiss, and while it felt better than his wild swings from before, it still lacked precision.

Better... but not good enough.

He tried again, this time practicing a block. The motion was slower than he wanted, the weight of the sword pulling slightly against his grip. Ren frowned, resetting his stance and trying again.

The repetitive motions became a rhythm, strike, block, step, repeat. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he pushed himself harder, correcting his footing with each attempt. The system didn't chime, and there were no floating messages to reassure him he was making progress. It was just him, the sword, and his stubborn refusal to accept failure.

I don't need the system to tell me I'm improving. I'll know when it feels right.

The sound of distant voices broke his concentration, and Ren glanced toward the camp. A few soldiers had gathered nearby, their casual chatter occasionally drifting his way. None of them seemed to be paying much attention to him, but their presence was enough to add a faint edge of self-consciousness to his movements.

Focus, Ren thought, tightening his grip on the sword. He took a deep breath and swung again, the blade cutting through the air with more force this time.

The repetitive motions became a rhythm, his focus narrowing with each swing. Block, strike, reset. The movements began to feel rote, predictable. Frustration bubbled up as he lowered the blade, his chest heaving slightly from exertion.

This isn't enough. I need more... something to push me.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow breath to centre himself. The memory of the compact soldier he fought in the sparring circle surfaced in his mind. The way the man moved, his relentless strikes, it was burned into Ren's thoughts.

Alright, let's see if I can picture this.

Ren imagined the soldier standing before him, poised to strike. In his mind, the man lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Without thinking, Ren's body moved, his feet shifted, his sword coming up to block the imagined attack.

The motion was clumsy, but it was real. His muscles tensed as though facing an actual opponent, and he felt the strain of his balance adjusting.

Again.

Ren pictured the soldier pressing forward, swinging at his side. His body twisted, the blade in his hand coming down in a sweeping arc to meet the strike. He pivoted on his heel, stepping back as though dodging a follow-up blow.

Each imagined strike forced his body to respond, to adapt. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he moved across the sparring field, his breathing growing heavier with each exchange.

When Ren opened his eyes, his body was still moving. His sword sliced through the air in a fluid arc, his feet adjusting instinctively as though the soldier was still there.

And for a moment, just a moment, he thought he saw something.

A faint shimmer in the air, a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision.

Ren blinked, and it was gone.

He stopped, lowering his sword as his chest heaved. His body ached, but there was a strange satisfaction in the movements, like they were becoming sharper, more deliberate. 

A faint chime echoed in his mind, catching him off guard:

| Skill Progress: Basic Swordsmanship (Lv 5 – 0%) | (Not the best border but it should work)

How long has it been?

Looking up Ren recieved his answer as he looked up at the sun shining directly above his body. 

Sheathing his sword and his breath still uneven, he wiped the sweat from his brow. His stomach grumbled faintly, a reminder that he hadn't eaten yet. He turned toward the camp, only to spot a familiar figure approaching from the edge of the field.

The Earth bender was taller than Ren, carrying himself with a relaxed confidence. His sharp, angular features were streaked with dirt, and his dark hair was tied back loosely. In his hands, he carried a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

Ren's eyes narrowed as recognition flickered in his mind. This was the same Earth bender who had pulled him out of the chaos during the last battle. The one who had kept the flames and their benders at bay while Ren scrambled to safety.

"Still at it, huh?" the Earth bender said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Ren straightened, his muscles protesting. "Something like that."

The man stopped a few paces away, holding out the bundle. "Here. Figured you could use this."

Ren hesitated for a moment before taking it. The cloth unfolded to reveal a simple meal, some rice, a piece of dried meat, and a small, misshapen fruit.

"Thanks," Ren muttered, his tone cautious.

The Earth bender crossed his arms, his smirk softening into a more neutral expression. "Saw you out here swinging away earlier. Thought I'd drop by."

Ren glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

The man shrugged. "Maybe I'm curious. Not every non-bender sticks around after a day in the sparring circle, let alone comes back for more."

Ren huffed lightly, sitting on a nearby crate and digging into the food. "Yeah, well, I've got plenty of reasons not to die."

"Good attitude," the Earth bender said, leaning against a nearby rock. He watched Ren eat for a moment before speaking again. "Name's Wei, by the way. Though I think we've met before."

Ren paused, looking up at him. "Yeah, we have. You're the guy who pulled me out of that mess. Name's Ren"

Wei nodded, his expression unreadable. "Figured I'd see if you were still breathing. And here you are."

Ren frowned slightly, his gaze dropping to the half-eaten meal. "Why'd you bother? Back there, I mean."

Wei shrugged. "You looked like you needed a hand."

Ren didn't respond, his thoughts swirling with the memory of that chaotic battlefield. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, just another soldier doing his job. But now, with Wei standing here, and the conversation from the previous night, it felt... different. 

Wei pushed off the rock, motioning toward the sparring field. "Anyway, if you're already putting in the work, why not make it a little more interesting?"

Ren narrowed his eyes slightly. "Interesting how?"

Wei gestured to the sparring area. "Join me for a match. You've got determination, but your form needs work. Might as well get some pointers while you're at it especially in dealing with the other benders during the upcoming battle."

Ren finished the last bite of rice, his gaze flicking between Wei and the empty sparring area. "You offering out of the kindness of your heart, or is there a catch?"

Wei chuckled. "No catch. Just figured it'd be worth my time. You've got grit, and I want to see how far you can take it plus it's really hard to get a serious spar with a non-bender in this camp."

Ren stood, stretching out his arms as he studied the Earth bender. There was no mocking edge in his tone, no sneer of superiority. If anything, there was a faint glimmer of genuine interest.

"Alright," Ren said, rolling his shoulders. "I hope you are serious about that serious spar and won't go easy on me."

Wei grinned, stepping toward the field. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Wei led Ren to the centre of the sparring field, his movements measured, his gaze focused. Ren followed reluctantly, gripping his training sword tightly.

"So, what's the lesson today?" Ren asked, his tone half-curious, half-wary.

Wei smirked faintly. "Fire benders. How to fight them and not get roasted in the process."

Ren stiffened slightly at the word. Memories of crackling flames, blistering heat, and screaming soldiers flooded his mind.

"Not exactly my favourite opponent," he muttered.

"They shouldn't be," Wei said simply. "Fire benders are faster, more aggressive, and less forgiving than most Earth benders you'll face. If you're not careful, they'll cook you before you can lift that blade."

Ren gripped his sword tighter. "Great pep talk. So what do I do?"

Wei's expression sharpened. "Pay attention. First, Fire benders love to get close. They think they can overwhelm you with speed and pressure. Your job? Don't let them. Stay mobile, stay unpredictable. Distance is your best friend."

Ren frowned. "What if I can't run forever?"

"You won't need to," Wei replied. "That's where timing comes in. Watch their movements. Fire benders telegraph their attacks more than they realize, look for the shoulder shift, the way they plant their back foot before throwing a punch. If you see it coming, you can dodge before the fire even starts."

Wei bent down, scooping up a small rock. "Here. I'll show you."

He tossed the rock lightly into the air, catching it as he mimicked a Fire bender's stance. His weight shifted forward, his arm moving in a deliberate arc as he flung the rock toward Ren.

Ren sidestepped quickly, the rock sailing past him.

"Good," Wei said, straightening. "Now imagine that was a fireball. Same principle, move first, stay out of range."

Ren nodded, his mind racing. "What about when they don't miss?"

Wei's smirk returned. "Glad you asked. Fire benders rely on their eyes almost as much as their flames. You blind them, distract them, or throw them off balance, and they'll lose control of their bending. Use the environment. kick up dirt, throw something at their face, force them to react to you."

Wei stomped the ground lightly, sending up a small cloud of dust. "See this? Simple, but effective. You're a non-bender, so you've got to use every dirty trick in the book. There's no such thing as a fair fight against a Fire bender."

Ren's grip on his sword tightened as he absorbed the advice. "And if I'm close enough to swing?"

Wei's expression turned serious. "If you're close, you'd better make it count. Fire benders aren't tanks, they're quick, but they're not durable. Hit hard, hit fast, and don't hesitate. Go for their legs if you can, most Fire benders rely on their stance for balance and power. Take that away, and they're done."

Ren nodded, stepping back to adjust his stance. "Alright. Show me what else I need to know."

Wei grinned, motioning for Ren to prepare. "Let's put it all together."

He mimicked a Fire bender again, shifting into a low, aggressive stance. This time, his movements were faster, more deliberate, as he hurled small rocks at Ren in quick succession.

Ren ducked and weaved, his footing unsteady at first but improving with each dodge. When Wei flung a particularly well-aimed rock, Ren dropped low, scooping up dirt with his free hand and flinging it toward Wei's face.

Wei flinched slightly, just enough for Ren to close the distance. His training sword came up in a sharp arc, aiming for Wei's legs.

Wei reacted quickly, sidestepping and sweeping his foot to send Ren tumbling. Ren hit the ground hard, groaning as the air left his lungs.

"Not bad," Wei said, offering a hand. "You're getting the hang of it."

Ren glared up at him but took the hand begrudgingly. "Feels like I'm just getting the hang of eating dirt."

Wei chuckled. "Then you're learning. Remember: Fire benders are predators. You stay sharp, stay one step ahead, and they won't know what hit them."

As Ren dusted himself off, still catching his breath from their sparring session, a thought nagged at the back of his mind something he recalled from the series. He glanced at Wei, who was crouched nearby, scooping up a handful of dirt to illustrate yet another technique.

"All right," Ren said, his tone edged with hesitation. "What if... what if they don't use their hands or feet?"

Wei froze mid-motion, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at Ren. "What?"

"You know," Ren continued, awkwardly gesturing with his sword. "What if they can bend fire from... I don't know, somewhere else? Like their head or-"

"Stop," Wei said, holding up a hand. His expression teetered between confusion and disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

Ren shrugged. "I'm just asking. Hypothetically."

Wei snorted, standing up and dusting off his hands. "Hypothetically, you're wasting your time worrying about nonsense. Fire Benders use their hands and feet. That's it. Always have, always will."

Ren frowned. "But what if they didn't?"

"They do," Wei said firmly, crossing his arms. "The fire comes from their movements, strokes, punches, kicks. You take that away, they're nothing. It's how bending works."

Ren's grip on his sword tightened as he processed the response. "But..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I mean, I heard stories. There was this Fire Nation general, right? Supposedly, he could bend without moving his arms or legs."

Wei raised an eyebrow, his scepticism plain. "You mean General Iroh?"

Ren nodded.

Wei shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I've heard the stories too. Guy breathes fire, they say. But you know how it is, exaggerations, legends. People always make these generals out to be gods. You think a normal soldier can do that?"

Ren shrugged. "I don't know. But what if someone learned how?"

Wei's face hardened, the humour draining from his expression. "Then you'd better pray you never meet them. Because if they're anything like the stories, you're already dead."

The words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Ren stayed quiet, his thoughts churning.

Wei sighed, clapping Ren on the shoulder. "Look, don't overthink it. Most Fire Benders you'll meet stick to what they know, punches, kicks, and fireballs. If someone comes along breaking the rules, it won't matter what tricks you know. Focus on what's in front of you, not what's lurking in some bedtime story."

Ren nodded slowly, but the unease lingered. What if there were others like those monsters who could bend by breathing. 

"Come on," Wei called, his smirk returning. "You ready for another round, or are you done philosophising?"

Ren smirked faintly, raising his sword. "Depends. You gonna start breathing rocks at me next?"

Wei laughed, dropping into a low stance. "Not today. Now move!"

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sparring and drilling. Wei's lessons were relentless, each session pushing Ren to his limits. They ran through mock skirmishes, testing strategies against Fire Bender tactics. Wei's advice, though rough around the edges, was practical, every move had a purpose, every action aimed at survival.

Ren practised relentlessly, each swing of his blade sharpening his skills further. By the time the sun began its descent, a familiar chime echoed in his mind:

| Skill Progress: Basic Swordsmanship (Lv 6 – 0%) |

The notification brought a faint sense of satisfaction, though it was buried beneath exhaustion. His body ached, his mind felt like it had been wrung out, but he couldn't deny the progress.

As the camp settled into its evening routine, murmurs began to ripple through the soldiers. Ren, seated near one of the quieter areas of the camp with a half-eaten meal in hand, caught snippets of conversation.

"Jiro's calling for everyone," a grizzled soldier muttered as he passed. "Something about new orders."

Ren straightened slightly, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. New orders. That usually meant trouble.

The crowd gathered near the camp's centre, a tense mix of weary soldiers and eager recruits standing shoulder to shoulder. The firelight danced over the rough faces of the assembled troops, casting long, jagged shadows.

On a raised platform of uneven stone, Commander Jiro loomed over them, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with a look that silenced even the faintest whispers. The torches lining the platform flickered as he stepped forward, his heavy boots grinding against the stone.

"When I speak, you listen," Jiro barked, his voice cutting through the night like a whip. "You are soldiers of the Earth Kingdom, and tomorrow, we stop hiding like cowards behind our walls. We take the fight to them. We show the Fire Nation that the Earth Kingdom does not bow, does not break, and does not forgive!"

The murmurs in the crowd stilled, replaced by a heavy silence. Jiro's gaze swept over them, his presence as unyielding as the rock beneath his feet.

"At dawn, we march on their lands," he continued, his voice low and sharp, like a blade dragged across stone. "We will remind them what fear feels like. Every one of you, benders and non-benders alike, has a duty to fulfil. Some of you will fight. Some of you will die. But all of you will make them bleed."

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. Ren felt the words hit him like a blow, his fingers tightening involuntarily on the hilt of his sword.

Jiro's attention shifted to the groups of non-benders near the edges of the gathering. His sharp, disdainful gaze lingered on them for a moment too long.

"You," he said, his voice dripping with authority, "will lead the charge. You are the tip of the spear. You will break their lines, force them back, and weaken their formations. Your sacrifice will open the way for our Earth Benders to strike."

Ren's stomach turned. The word "sacrifice" was barely veiled, the implication clear. The non-benders were fodder, nothing more.

Jiro turned his focus to the Earth Benders in the crowd, his tone softening into something closer to reverence. "And you, my warriors, will follow. You will crush the remnants of their forces, shatter their resolve, and bury them in the dirt where they belong. Together, we will grind the Fire Nation into dust!"

The crowd shifted uneasily. Some cheered, their voices loud and forced, while others remained silent, their faces grim.

Jiro stepped closer to the edge of the platform, his gaze boring into the soldiers as though daring them to falter. "The Fire Nation has burned our fields, slaughtered our families, and stained our lands with their filth. We will show them no mercy. We will take everything from them, just as they've taken from us. When we march tomorrow, you will fight with the fury of the Earth itself. And if you die..."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"...you will die knowing that your blood fed the seeds of our victory."

The cheers this time were louder, though Ren noted the uneasy glances exchanged between some of the non-benders. Jiro didn't seem to care. He turned sharply, his back to the crowd.

"Prepare yourselves," he said over his shoulder. "At dawn, we march."

The soldiers began to disperse, their movements slow and muted. Ren lingered near the edge of the crowd, his thoughts a tangled mess.

"We will take everything from them," he muttered under his breath, a bitter taste in his mouth as he too started leaving for his tent. "Yeah, easy for you to say when you're not the one being thrown at the front."

Later that night, Ren sat alone in the dim confines of his tent, the faint light of a single candle flickering on the uneven ground. The night outside was still, save for the occasional murmur of soldiers or the rustle of canvas in the wind.

He stared at the training sword beside him, its dull edge reflecting the faint glow. His fingers brushed over the hilt as his mind churned with restless thoughts.

Lead the charge.

The phrase clung to him, a weight he couldn't shake. It wasn't spoken outright, but Jiro's meaning had been clear enough. The non-benders were to be the shields, the bodies breaking against the Fire Nation's first wave.

He exhaled sharply, leaning his head back against the tent wall. So that's what this second chance is? Not even a week here, and I'm already marked for death.

His lips pressed into a thin line. He'd been here before, not in a war, but in the same position. Disposable. Invisible. In his old life, it was rejection emails and empty promises. Here, it was swords and fire. The method had changed, but the message was the same:

You don't matter.

His gaze flicked to the candle's wavering flame. Its fragile light struggled against the dark, as though one strong gust could snuff it out entirely.

For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind: what if he just stopped? Didn't show up tomorrow? Let the others take his place in the front line?

But he knew that wasn't an option. Jiro wouldn't tolerate cowardice. And even if he slipped away, where would he go? The Fire Nation would find him. And it's not like he knew the world itself. Heck he doesn't even know what time period he's in. All he knows is that Iroh is famous so probably after his son died. 

So, what then? Walk into their fire and hope for the best and survive?

The faint chime of the system's interface echoed in his memory.

| Skill Progress: Basic Swordsmanship (Lv 6 – 0%) |

The system didn't care if he lived or died. It offered tools and reward if he lived, not salvation. If he wanted to survive, it would be on him.

His hand tightened around the hilt of the sword, the cool steel grounding him. A slow, bitter realisation settled over him.

It's not about glory. It's not about heroics. It's about staying alive. That's all that matters.

Ren closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at the edges of his consciousness. The flickering flame of the candle danced behind his lids, vivid and fragile.

If I have to fight, I will. If I have to kill, I will. But no one is going to take this life from me, not again.

The thought lingered as sleep finally took him, his grip on the sword loosening.

Morning came with the blare of horns and shouted orders, the camp springing to life in a flurry of movement.

Ren strapped on his armour mechanically, the motions familiar after days of repetition. The weight of the sword at his side felt heavier than usual, its presence a constant reminder of what lay ahead.

As he stepped out of the tent, the horizon greeted him with a pale, grey dawn. The soldiers around him moved with a tense urgency, their voices low and clipped.

Wei passed by, giving Ren a nod. "You ready?"

Ren didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

"Doesn't matter," he said finally, his voice low. "I'm going."

Wei didn't press further. He turned and walked ahead, leaving Ren to fall into step behind him as the army began its slow march.

Ren's mind was quiet, save for one persistent thought.

Survive. No matter what.

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A/N: I know it got edgy but trust me its important. Now one of the things I will say right now to destroy hopes and dreams for this fanfic is that he will not remain as a non-bender for too long. Yes he will bend and not what most ppl will assume Earth bending or Fire. I can say that what bending has been slowly foreshadowed and I have given hints, its just you guys picking up the hints and guessing it.  Now as for other matters. I won't say for now lest I spoil stuff I have planned and have to rework. 

Now Here comes the promo. 

Pls join my discord :) I will answer any questions you have on there and hopefully connect as a communityish. 

https://discord.gg/s7MGNuqSkQ