The Grand Arena of Sol-Regis Academy. Midday – Exactly 12:00 PM.
The sun hung at its zenith, casting a sweltering heat that seemed to set the white sands of the mini-colosseum ablaze. The air was dry and stifling, thick with the anticipation of thousands of eyes packed into the stands. Students, professors, and even visiting nobles had gathered, while whispers of illegal betting ran rampant through the crowd.
In the East: Valerian Morvath.
He stood with practiced arrogance, clad in shimmering light silver plate—a masterpiece forged from a costly Mithril alloy. His sword, Solaris, hummed with a thin, dancing aura of magical flame. His silver hair whipped in the wind, and his handsome features radiated a supreme confidence as the shrill cheers of his female admirers echoed his name.
In the West: Lady Rhea Sudrath.
The contrast was jarring. She wore no heavy steel, opted instead for a form-fitting black leather combat suit that accentuated her athletic build. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, highlighting the sharp, decisive line of her jaw. Her weapon was a plain, unadorned rapier. There were no cheers for her, save for Roland's shrill shouts from the corner of the stands, amplified by a makeshift megaphone.
"Remember the rules," the referee's voice boomed across the arena. "Fight until one yields or is no longer able to rise. Intentional killing is strictly forbidden. Begin!"
GONG!
Valerian didn't waste a heartbeat. He lunged. "Hyaaah!"
He swung his blade in a broad, sweeping arc. A Fire Slash cut through the air, scorching the sand as it hurtled toward Rhea. The audience held their breath; an opening long-range magical strike was considered a brutal act of intimidation.
Rhea stood rooted until the final microsecond. Her eyes narrowed, focused. With a sidestep of millimeter precision, she let the tongue of flame hiss past her. The heat licked her cheek, leaving behind a faint scent of singed air.
"Slow!" Valerian mocked.
He blurred forward, his speed surging thanks to a Haste enchantment on his boots.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The exchange of steel happened at a blistering pace. Valerian's strikes were heavy and empowered; every impact sent a violent tremor through Rhea's wrists. Her rapier was too slender to withstand Solaris in a frontal collision. She was forced into a constant retreat, her boots plowing through the arena sand.
"What's wrong? Only know how to run?" Valerian smirked, his eyes flashing with hubris. "Where is that big mouth from yesterday, My Lady?"
Valerian unleashed a flurry of rapid thrusts. Rhea parried, defecting the tip of his blade aside in a circular motion. She saw the opening.
Rhea executed a lightning-fast Riposte toward Valerian's exposed shoulder.
TINK!
The tip of her rapier merely bounced off the Mithril plating without leaving so much as a scratch.
"Futile!" Valerian's laughter erupted. "My armor is anti-physical! Without magical empowerment, you are merely a fly trying to sting a mountain!"
Capitalizing on the momentum, Valerian drove a heavy kick into Rhea's solar plexus.
THUD!
Rhea was sent reeling back several meters, tumbling over the scorched sand. Her leather gear was coated in dust, and a thin trail of crimson leaked from the corner of her mouth. The crowd erupted into a roar, hailing the Prince of the Academy.
In the VIP box, Rianor adjusted his spectacles calmly. His expression was flat, as if he were merely reading a weather report. "Steady," he whispered to Elara, who had begun to white-knuckle the hem of her robes. "She's measuring the distance and the tempo."
In the center of the arena, Rhea rose slowly. She spat to the side, clearing the blood and grit from her mouth. She fixed Valerian with a cold stare. Fine. Mithril plate, flaming sword, and haste magic. You have only one weakness: You're far too fond of that pretty face of yours.
Rhea shifted her stance. She dropped her center of gravity, taking a rooted, classical fencing posture. Her left hand tucked behind her back, her right arm extended, pointing the blade directly at Valerian's eyes.
"Come and get it, you pampered brat," Rhea challenged, her voice dripping with disdain.
Valerian's temper snapped. "I'll burn you to cinders!"
He channeled his remaining Mana into his blade. Solaris ignited with a blinding brilliance, resembling a miniature sun ready to go supernova.
"Die! SOLAR FLARE!"
A massive wave of flame erupted, engulfing Rhea's position entirely. The audience shrieked in horror, and Roland stood up, his face turning deathly pale. But behind that wall of roaring fire, Rhea raised her left hand, which bore Elara's bracelet.
Now! she thought.
The Nullifier on her wrist surged with an electric blue light, emitting a high-pitched, agonizing screech as it struggled to contain an energy load beyond its capacity.
WUNG...
Valerian's massive wave of flame seemed to be sucked into an invisible vortex around Rhea's wrist, then snuffed out instantly.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the silence. The silver bracelet burst into fragments, scattering across the sand. The skin on Rhea's wrist was slightly scorched from the overloaded circuit, but she didn't flinch.
"Wh-What?!" Valerian gaped, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. He couldn't comprehend his ultimate move vanishing without a trace.
Rhea smirked through the lingering haze of smoke. His defense was wide open. "My turn."
Rhea lunged with explosive force. She didn't aim for the hardened chest plate. She aimed for the one fatal weakness: the narrow eye-slit of the helm.
ZWING!
The tip of her rapier stopped exactly one millimeter from Valerian's left pupil. It was so precise that his eyelashes brushed against the cold, lethal steel.
Valerian froze. Beads of sweat the size of corn kernels began to roll down his temples. He knew if Rhea pushed even slightly, the steel would pierce his brain. The arena fell into a deathly silence, as if time itself had ground to a halt.
Valerian trembled. Solaris slipped from his grip with a mournful clang.
Rhea leaned in close, staring straight into his eyes, which were now filled with pure, primal terror. "Your armor is expensive. Your magic is flashy," Rhea whispered in a voice so calm it was chilling. "But if you die before you can finish an incantation... it's all just useless trash."
Rhea withdrew her blade in one fluid motion. Then, with a swift backhand, she slapped Valerian across the face.
SLAP!
Valerian collapsed onto the sand, his nerves paralyzed by sheer psychological shock.
"The winner... LADY RHEA SUDRATH!" the referee shrieked, breaking the silence.
"WUUHUUU! THAT'S MY SISTER!" Roland roared, jumping for joy in the stands as he immediately began scooping up the piles of gold coins from his shell-shocked classmates who had lost the bet.
Rhea didn't engage in excessive celebration. She walked over to the dazed Valerian and held out her hand. "The Tower keys," she demanded curtly. "A deal is a deal."
Valerian looked at her with an indecipherable gaze—his pride was in tatters, yet there was a flicker of strange admiration in his eyes. With a trembling hand, he reached into his armor and produced the golden key that granted access to the Armory Tower.
"Y-You... you cheated. How did my fire vanish?" he rasped.
"It wasn't cheating," Rhea said, snatching the key and tucking it into her belt. "It's called science."
The Academy Armory Tower. The Highest Peak.
The night wind whipped violently at this height, carrying a piercing chill. The entirety of Sol-Regis lay below, shimmering like a bed of gems. Rianor, Roland, Rhea, and Elara stood on the dark rooftop of the tower.
They had just finished installing the transmitter—a bizarre structure of copper and Mithril expertly hidden behind the tower's stone gargoyles.
"Device is live," Elara said, checking the mana crystal indicators. "The signal is remarkably stable at this altitude. It should reach the border relay without issue."
Rianor pulled out his Telegraph unit. "Let's test it. Hail Northreach."
Rianor tapped out the Morse code in a steady rhythm:
Calling Wolf Den. Check. Check.
Silence fell. Only the howling wind filled the air. Roland began to bite his nails in a fit of nerves. A minute passed without a reply.
Suddenly... Tik. Tik-Tik. Taaap.
The receiver in Rianor's hand hummed. He translated the code instantly.
Incoming: This is Wolf. Signal is loud and clear, Boss. Riven is eating noodles. Over.
"YES!" Roland and Rhea shared a resounding high-five.
"Unbelievable, we can actually communicate across the kingdom instantly!" Roland exclaimed in awe.
Rianor offered a satisfied smile, but his gaze drifted toward the Royal Palace in the distance. On one of the palace towers that usually remained dark, a pale green light flickered ominously.
"That's no ordinary lantern," Elara whispered, her face suddenly turning ashen. "That's a Necromancy flare. Someone is performing a forbidden undead ritual in the very heart of the palace."
Rianor narrowed his eyes. "Morvath?"
"No," Elara said uneasily. "Morvath is a Dark Element mage. This is different... this is ancient. Magic from the era before this kingdom was even founded."
Rianor thought back to the Golem they had faced in the Northreach cave. Ancient technology and ancient magic were beginning to resurface. "Something is wrong with this land's history," he murmured.
Suddenly, the telegraph in his hand buzzed again. This time, the tapping was rapid and erratic—a sign of panic.
Tik-tik-tik-tik!
Rianor read the code intently. His face went deathly pale, his eyes widening in horror.
"What is it, Rianor?" Rhea asked, noticing the drastic shift in her brother.
Rianor looked at them with hollow eyes. "An emergency transmission from Riven."
"Our factory... it's gone. Exploded. Riven says it wasn't an accident. It was sabotage from within. One of our inner circle is a traitor."
Rianor clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "And the perpetrator intentionally left a symbol at the blast site."
"The Black Sun symbol."
Morvath was no longer waiting. He had just struck their most vital points: House Sudrath's economy and their trust.