The blazing sun was high above Kaivelle, casting golden rays over the grand stone coliseum carved into the heart of the city. Towering banners of the five great Kingdoms flapped in the wind—Eshalorn, Embercrest, Silvaria, Vynthera, and Lumisgrave—while the arena echoed with the cheers of thousands. Each citizen, noble and commoner alike, had gathered to witness the momentous event: The Royal Arena Tournament, where each Kingdom's strongest six would compete for glory and favor under the eyes of Queen Maria.
Atop a marble platform enshrined with runes and Dragon insignias, Queen Maria sat, her golden armor glinting under sunlight. Her fiery red cloak waved behind her like a regal flame. Beside her were her elite Magic Knights and General Thamere, all eyes fixated on the central field.
From the balcony overlooking the battlefield, a horn blasted once—deep and thunderous, silencing the roaring crowd. General Thamere stepped forward and raised his voice with magical amplification.
> "Let the Kingdoms present their Champions for the Arena!"
From each Kingdom's assigned side, six knights emerged, armor polished, weapons gleaming. A mix of swordsmen, archers, elemental mages, and martial fighters, all chosen to represent the strength of their homeland.
In the side reserved for Lumisgrave, the Mythics gathered in their obsidian and silver-trimmed battlewear, the symbol of the awakened shining on their shoulders. Arslan stood at the forefront, hands folded behind his back, his black cloak dancing with each breeze. He remained unreadable, sharp eyes sweeping the arena.
Beside him, Malrik adjusted his arm-guards. "Time to break bones and collect some crystals, yeah?"
Tarric smirked. "Just don't vaporize the arena this time."
> Arslan finally spoke, voice calm but firm:
"This is the time to show your skills. I will play only if needed—as substitute."
A few of the Mythics exchanged surprised glances.
Maelis tilted her head. "You sure? We could use your strength from the start."
He gave a small, confident nod. "You don't need me yet."
He stepped back, then announced the team to the board-keeper.
> "Our six: Malrik, Maelis, Tarric, Vaelith, Orien… and I, Arslan, as substitute."
His name was inscribed at the bottom of Lumisgrave's list. The magical parchment glowed.
From her high throne, Queen Maria's brows knit slightly. Her eyes rested on Arslan's composed form. She had seen the dragons bow to him—but not once had he lifted a blade or cast a spell during the event.
> "He placed himself as a substitute? Curious…"
1st match
A flurry of flames erupted in the center of the arena as Embercrest's knights stepped in, cloaked in crimson armor, known for their fire-wielding strength. Their Captain, Kaelion, wielded twin flame-blades and snarled like a lion ready to pounce.
On the opposite end, the Lumisgrave team entered with confidence. Malrik stomped his Rune-laced boots, causing a small tremor as stone veins coiled beneath him. Maelis summoned vines glowing with radiant energy, swirling around her arms. Tarric cracked his knuckles and electricity danced up his spine.
General Thamere roared from the stands:
> "Let the first match… BEGIN!"
A loud gong vibrated through the coliseum.
Embercrest moved first. Kaelion charged forward, flaming swords spinning like wheels of hell. His teammates hurled searing blasts across the field.
But Lumisgrave stood firm.
> "Stonewall!" Malrik shouted, slamming the ground.
A massive barrier of jagged rock erupted in front of them, blocking the fireballs.
> Maelis followed: "Root Lure!"
From beneath Embercrest's feet, thick glowing vines sprang up, wrapping around two of their mages, lifting them off the ground. Orien's hand flared with Soulflash energy as he dashed past, slicing their spells apart midair.
Tarric grinned wildly.
> "Now it's my turn!"
He vanished in a spark—and reappeared behind the Embercrest archer with a lightning-charged uppercut that launched the fighter ten feet into the air.
The battle was fast, brutal, and unrelenting. Crystals scattered across the arena—each one a point of victory. The Mythics picked them off the ground swiftly. Vaelith moved like a shadow, protecting his teammates and keeping them healed, even as the Embercrest team grew desperate.
Their Captain growled and lunged toward Maelis—but just before he landed a blow—
> "Nope," Malrik muttered.
Boom. A wall of spikes blasted upward beneath Kaelion, throwing him backwards with force.
Three minutes later, the match ended.
Lumisgrave stood with all five members untouched, holding 5 crystals, while Embercrest lay defeated, bruised and disarmed.
The arena exploded with applause.
From above, Queen Maria blinked in astonishment.
> "They didn't even need Arslan…" she whispered to herself.
The Rest of the Day: Victories and Rising Stakes
The next few hours saw Kingdom vs Kingdom, each battle more aggressive than the last.
Silvaria clashed with Vynthera in a water-ice duel. Eshalorn's nimble warriors dismantled Embercrest in their second match. Lumisgrave dominated again—Maelis's vines, Orien's soulblades, and Tarric's lightning proving overwhelming.
But Arslan never stepped in.
He watched each match quietly, leaning against the marble wall, hood covering part of his pale face. Eyes unblinking. Even when other Knights eyed him, murmuring about the dragon incident—he didn't react.
Queen Maria's gaze kept drifting toward him.
> "Why does he not fight?" she murmured. "Is he hiding something?"
Beside her, an elder Magic Knight replied, "Perhaps he's testing them."
> "Or testing me," she whispered under her breath.
As the sun dipped behind the western peaks and Kaivelle was painted in hues of amber and rose, the Queen rose from her throne. Her amplified voice silenced the crowd.
> "The Arena has witnessed incredible valor today. But only two remain undefeated—Lumisgrave and Eshalorn."
Gasps and cheers.
> "Tomorrow, these two teams shall clash in the Grand Finale. For now… return to your quarters. Rest. Prepare. For tomorrow, legends shall be written."
Drums rolled as the banners of Lumisgrave and Eshalorn flared with magic. The Mythics bowed as one, then turned toward their apartments.
The marble corridor leading to Queen Maria's chamber was quiet, lit only by enchanted torches. She removed her crown, placing it gently on the nightstand, and loosened her armored robes.
But her mind… wasn't resting.
She paced.
> "Why him? Why can't I stop wondering about him?"
Arslan's silence, his unreadable eyes, the way the dragons bowed before him—none of it left her thoughts.
She sat on her velvet chaise, hand pressed to her temple.
> "Why didn't he fight? Does he doubt himself? Or… is he beyond needing to prove anything?"
She remembered his look earlier—piercing, unwavering.
> "He's not just powerful. He's… something else. Like he's watching everything from a level I cannot yet see."
Then her mind shifted dangerously.
> "What if he's the one the Dragons were waiting for?"
Her breath caught. She stood up and approached the balcony, staring into the silver sky.
> "Could he be the one I'm destined for...My Prince..? No—what am I thinking?" she scolded herself.
But her heart beat faster.
> "You're a Queen, Maria. Not some spell-struck girl."
And yet—she smiled. A small, involuntary smile.
> "Still… I hope he fights tomorrow. I want to see what he's truly capable of."
Behind her, the wind fluttered the balcony curtains like whispers of fate.
Meanwhile, back in the Moonleaf Guest Apartments, the Mythics settled in after the long day.
Tarric tossed his boots aside and collapsed on a couch. "Whew! That was a workout. We crushed them!"
Malrik chuckled, munching on roasted nuts. "And without Mr. Mysterious even joining in."
Vaelith looked at Arslan. "Will you step in tomorrow?"
Arslan glanced out the window. The moon hung low, bathing Kaivelle in a cool silver light.
> "Only if I must," he said softly.
Maelis tilted her head. "You're planning something."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he whispered only to himself:
> "Tomorrow… the storm begins."