Absolute Avatar Chapter 3.

Chapter 3: The Spirit Sages. (Art Above)

(Adam's P.O.V)

They didn’t waste time.

One minute I was standing under the Spirit Tree, still trying to process the whole “Saviour destiny and Chaos storms” thing. The next, Iroh was leading me into a wide clearing beside the Tree, where four figures waited.

Not people. Spirits. And not the kind you sip from a bottle, either.

The first was a hawk made entirely of sparkling fire, wings blazing so hot the air shimmered around it. Its eyes burned with an ancient intensity, feathers flickering like molten glass.

Next came the wind—no real body, just a swirling current of air. But as it spun, eddies formed the outline of a girl’s face, young and sharp, smiling with a mischief that promised trouble.

The third was water itself, flowing upward into the shape of a woman. Her body was an endless tide, life blooming and dying within her like sparks in a river. Beautiful, unsettling, eternal.

And last was the earth. A massive dark brown boulder, rough and jagged with glowing lava veins across the surface. When it shifted, I felt it in my bones—like the ground itself had chosen to stand and watch.

Four elements. Four spirits. Four supposed teachers.

Iroh’s voice was calm but weighted. “They have offered to guide you, Adam. To help you master what lies within. Few Avatars are blessed so early.”

Sounded good. Real noble.

Except the new voices in my head didn’t agree.

'Pathetic,' hissed the dragon tattoo burning on my arm.

'Weak echoes,' the falcon on my shoulder muttered.

'Not worth bowing to,' rumbled the turtle on my chest.

'You have us,' whispered the badgermole on my ribs. 'You need nothing else.'

I clenched my jaw. Even here, I couldn’t escape backseat drivers.

“Adam?” Iroh asked, watching me carefully. “Something troubles you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Troubled that my inside voices think these guys are jokes.”

The fiery hawk flared its wings, heat rolling across the ground. The wind spirit’s laugh turned sharp, like blades slicing through air. The water-woman tilted her head, amused. The earth giant just rumbled, unimpressed.

Iroh frowned. “Respect, Adam. They come freely, and with purpose.”

“Respect?” I scoffed. “Back on Earth, respect didn’t keep me alive. Work did. Pain did. I didn’t wait around for teachers to hand me wisdom—I made myself strong. Broke myself until I broke everything else. And I’m not stopping now.”

What was he expecting? your typical obedient shonen protagonist eager to discard his values and adopt new ones just because he was told to? Oh heck, someone's uncle was gonna be disappointed.

Iroh studied me, his gaze sharpening. “You are reckless. And arrogant. Dangerous traits for one who must carry balance.”

“Or maybe,” I said, grinning, “I’m just confident. So let’s make a deal.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“If I can beat them—all four of them—right here, right now, then I don’t need their lessons. I train myself. My way.”

The clearing went still. Even the spirits seemed to pause.

“And if you lose?” Iroh asked softly.

“Then I’m yours,” I shrugged. “Your training, your rules. No complaints.”

Iroh’s smile faded. He didn’t look like the tea-drinking uncle anymore. He looked like the Dragon of the West—the general who’d commanded armies and burned through nations.

“You have never bent even a candle’s flame,” he said. “Yet you would challenge the elements themselves.”

“Yeah.” I cracked my knuckles. “Because I trust myself. Always have.”

Silence stretched, then Iroh sighed, setting down his cup. “Very well. But remember, Adam—the Avatar is not about power. It is about balance. Today, you will learn your limits.”

'Or surpass them.'

He raised a hand toward the spirits. “Begin.”

The fiery hawk’s wings spread wide, heat surging across the battlefield.

And me?

I smiled, walking forward, the anticipation of battle, a feeling, I'd come to love shivering across my skin. 'Finally—something I'm good at.'

For context, names carry weight here.

Even the way the 4 spirits said theirs felt like a hammer on the soul.

The fiery hawk’s feathers spread wide, every plume a lick of living flame. “I am Zhāohuǒ (朝火), the First Flame. The spark that kindled the sun, the fire in every breath of creation.”

Beside it, a whirling current of wind took shape, eddies folding into the outline of a girl’s face. Her voice was laughter and storms at once. “I am Wújí (無際), the Boundless Expanse. The sky without edges, the breath without end.”

Then I turned to the water spirit. A figure, luminous, feminine. She stepped forward gracefully. “I am Yuánquán (源泉), the Wellspring. The mother of life, the tide that remembers.” Her voice shifted, warm and sly. “And yes, Adam… I’ve heard of you. The rumors said you were the new Avatar. They didn’t say you were so handsome—or so arrogant.”

I couldn’t help the grin. “Careful. Don’t mistake confidence for arrogance.” I rolled my shoulders, gesturing to all three. “If you’re done with introductions—come at me.”

Yuánquán tilted her head, amused. Zhāohuǒ’s eyes blazed hotter. Wújí’s laughter turned sharp, cutting like blades of wind.

“So be it,” Zhāohuǒ said.

The hawk’s wings snapped open, and suddenly the air itself ignited. Heat pulsed across the clearing, making the Spirit Tree’s leaves glow molten gold.

Wújí spun upward, dragging the fire into a spiraling vortex, a cyclone of flame and wind that cracked the sky with thunder.

The clouds above swelled heavy and black, then broke open. Rain poured—except the drops never touched the ground. They hung midair, suspended, gathering into a shimmering curtain around the three spirits.

Fire. Wind. Water. Perfect harmony, three elements sharpening each other.

I was ready. I braced, pulling on the strange hum in my tattoos, the raw power buzzing under my skin—

—and didn’t notice the ground until it hit me. In my anticipation I'd forgotten about the last Spirit sage.

The Spirit Tree's leaves shuddered as the earth split open. A colossal fist of stone erupted from beneath my feet and smashed me square in the chest.

No warning. No flashy entrance. Just a freight train of dirt and rock.

I flew, hands trembling from the cross guard. Hundred meters easy, maybe more, until my back slammed against the trunk of the Spirit Tree hard enough to rattle the stars out of my skull.

And who was sitting right there, sipping tea like this was a lazy afternoon?

Uncle damn Iroh.

He raised his cup in greeting as I slid down the bark, groaning. “You should be more careful, Adam. The earth is not as forgiving as the sky.”

I groaned, dragging myself up. “Thanks for the tip, Coach.”

The spirits’ voices echoed together, shaking the clearing. “The Avatar seeks to prove himself? Then let him rise.”

Iroh’s eyes flicked to me over his cup, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You still have the option to forfeit, you know. An apology would smooth out the disrespect.”

I spat blood into the dirt and grinned. “Not a chance.”

The Earth fist had proved a theory. Indeed I was not like the other Avatars. To echo me, my badgermole Tattoo thrummed.

-0

The ground in front of Adam, groaned as it split open. From the fissure, a colossal Golem figure of stone pulled itself free, jagged shoulders rising higher than the trees. Eyes like molten amber studied Adam in silence before a deep, slow voice finally rumbled out.

“I am Gǔshí (古石), the Primeval Stone. I see pain and scars in your eyes, Lord Avatar… but no fear.”

Adam spat dust, rolling his shoulders against the fading ache of the last hit. “Fear? No. Like the crust of the earth, I’ve learned to endure.” He faintly smirked. “Though I’ll admit, that sucker punch rattled my bones. Good thing the Weavers’ silk absorbed some of it.”

And then, to the surprise of everyone watching, Adam stripped off the blazer—the only real defense he had—and let it fall into the dirt, leaving his torso naked.

The Spirit Sages stilled. Even Iroh raised an eyebrow. Then his gaze sharpened, caught on the flexing muscles across Adam’s back. The tattoos were invisible but he could sense them flaring and almost imagine the veins of power threading through skin scarred by years of violence.

That was when the impossible happened.

Stone crawled up Adam’s feet, spreading across his body in jagged patches, condensing into a rough armor of living rock.

Iroh’s teacup slipped, and for the first time since Adam met him, the old general lost his composure. Tea sprayed. “Great dragons… he’s bending earth?”

On Adam’s back, the Yin-Yang appeared like a brand. Iroh’s eyes widened. “Ah… so that’s it.” His voice was low, almost mournful. “Paired with that stubborn commitment… oh dear. I’ve already lost the wager, haven’t I?”

Adam only smiled. One element awakened. Three more to go.

The smile widened to a battle crazed grin when Wújí shrieked. Her body spun into blades of air, scythes lashing across the clearing, carving trenches through the soil. Iroh sighed, holding his robe steady as he conjured a blue barrier of spirit energy to shield himself and the Spirit Tree.

The ground quaked, dust rose, and when it cleared—Adam still stood. The armor of earth reknit itself, cracks sealing as if the rock itself refused to let go of him.

Zhāohuǒ screeched, sparks raining from his wings. “Enough. Together!”

He rose, a comet of fire, then dove. With a cry, he unleashed a torrent of searing orange flame.

Adam braced, heat licking across his skin as the stone cracked and melted, blistering him raw. He gritted his teeth.

'Wait...' His Falcon tattoo pulsed, rhythm steady, patient. Wait…

'Now!'

And then he spun, one leg pivoting, his arm slashing outward. A blade of wind burst from his palm, cutting the inferno in two.

Zhāohuǒ screamed as the windblade sheared one wing away, fire spilling like broken glass as the hawk tumbled from the sky.

Before Adam could catch his breath, Yuánquán rose tall and terrible, her body swelling with rain. A twenty-foot tsunami surged upward, her voice carried in the roar.

“Have you not heard, Avatar? Water erodes even stone.”

The tide struck. Adam vanished in a wall of crashing water, swallowed whole. The sea froze solid an instant later, locking him in an iceberg glinting sharp as crystal.

Cheers erupted. By now Spirits had gathered by the dozens, then by the hundreds. The 3 weavers children, tiny spiders weaved makeshift seats of silk attached to the spirit Tree's branches, turning the battlefield into a stadium. Others hawked glowing fruit and bottles of nectar, skittering through a network of webs, voices carrying like carnival barkers.

Iroh sat calm at the edge, now flanked by the Weavers Nona and Decuma. Decuma twisted nervously, mandibles clicking. “Oh no, the Lord Avatar will suffocate—”

Nona’s voice was steadier, though mournful. “Have faith, sister.”

Iroh sipped his tea, unbothered. “Keep watching.”

Zhāohuǒ landed beside Yuánquán, his wing already reforming in sparks. His gaze narrowed. “Be careful. He’s been letting us hit him. Using our unique affinities to awaken his elements.”

"Dangerous." Gûshi rumbled.

Wújí scoffed. “More insane than dangerous.”

Yuánquán’s laughter rang proud and clear. “It matters little. That ice is cold enough to extinguish even Zhāohuǒ’s flame and freeze Gūshi's lava. He cannot escape.” She turned to the crowd of spirits. “Remember this. We are the Spirit Sages. The true protectors of the Spirit World. Even this new Avatar must kneel to us.”

The words barely left her lips before a sharp crack split the air.

The ice fractured.

Adam’s voice cut through, mocking, defiant. “You’re delusional.”

A thunderous crack followed, and the glacier exploded in steam.

Adam stepped out, wreathed in red-hot fire that bled into a golden halo. The aura softened, settling into a yellow ring of flame encircling a sphere of air. Steam curled into a second halo of water, crossing the first in an X. Beneath, the ground heaved and split, four massive boulders rising to orbit the sphere.

Adam hovered above the battlefield, the sphere of elements bending seamlessly to his will. Each finger gesture was subtle, almost lazy, yet absolute.

Gasps rolled across the spirit crowd. Even the Sages faltered, their forms shuddering under the pressure.

Iroh snorted into his cup. “Show-off.”

Adam looked down, his voice carrying across the clearing. “Spirit Sages, or whoever you think you are—it doesn’t matter. If you believe yourselves the real protectors of the Spirit World, let me prove you wrong.”

The tattoos across his skin ignited, glowing with the fury of the Primordial Spirits.

A wave of raw aura burst outward. Every spirit dropped instantly, bowing, their forms pressed by the sheer force of it.

Adam’s voice thundered, steady and unyielding. “At the Primordial level, the elements under my control are no longer techniques. They are laws.”

The Sages faltered. Yuánquán’s proud smile cracked, Wújí’s laughter died, Zhāohuǒ lowered his head, and even Gǔshí bowed beneath the weight. One by one, they surrendered, their power breaking against the tide.

Slowly, Adam let the sphere dissipate. The boulders dropped, the halos faded, and the fire dimmed to embers. He descended back to earth, his tattoos dimming as he exhaled.

Iroh watched, unreadable but secretly impressed.

Adam caught his gaze and grinned, tired but sure. “Guess I win.”