The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the town. Lanterns flickered to life along the streets, their light reflecting off the cobblestones and painting golden trails across the festival stalls. The clamor of laughter, the scent of grilled delicacies, and the distant cheers from smaller games made the evening feel almost magical.
Aurelian—still catching his breath from the semi-final—walked alongside Keira and Lyria, their steps slow as they wandered through the crowd. Despite the exhaustion in his muscles, his heart felt light, basking in the rare moments of calm between battles.
"Look at all this," Keira said, her ears twitching slightly at the buzz of the festival. "Even after the semi-finals, people are still cheering. Makes you feel like a hero, doesn't it?"
Aurelian smiled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess… though I'm still feeling the fight with Fenric. That guy… he really kept me on edge."
Lyria smirked, teasing, "You? On edge? I thought you were supposed to be the Chosen Hero. You weren't scared at all, right?"
"Of course not!" Aurelian protested, cheeks heating slightly. "I mean… maybe a little…"
Keira snorted quietly, elbowing him playfully. "You sweat a lot when you lie, you know."
The group laughed, the tension of the tournament temporarily melting away. They stopped at a game stall where a strongman contest was ongoing. A stout, boisterous dwarf was attempting to ring a bell with a single swing of a hammer, and the crowd cheered him on enthusiastically.
As Aurelian shook his head at the commotion, a small voice called out beside him. "Excuse me, sir! Are you… Aurelian, the Chosen Hero?"
Aurelian looked down to see a young boy, around fourteen, with sharp eyes and a notebook clutched tightly in his hands. "Uh… yeah, that's me," he said, a little amused.
"I'm Taren Albright," the boy said proudly. "I've been following the tournament and taking notes on all the participants. I want to be a great adventurer one day, so I study strong warriors. I… I really admire you, sir!"
Aurelian crouched slightly to meet him at eye level, curious. "Notes? Let me see them."
Taren handed over his notebook eagerly. Aurelian flipped through pages filled with meticulous observations, sketches, and detailed analyses of fighters—their techniques, aura, weapons, even their rumored past victories. He laughed aloud at some of the overly dramatic descriptions Taren had jotted down.
"Fenric the Coldblade: moves like a shadow, strikes like a storm.' Hah! That's pretty fancy wording, kid." Aurelian tried to puff out his chest, striking a dramatic pose. "If you ever need saving in a fight, you can count on the Chosen Hero!"
Keira rolled her eyes and snickered. "Wow… very convincing, hero. Totally believable." She nudged him, tail flicking in amusement.
Taren blushed but grinned. "I… I think you're really cool, sir! And you're actually living up to the stories."
Aurelian chuckled, handing the notebook back. "Keep studying, Taren. One day you might surpass even me. But remember… it's not just technique, it's about courage too."
The evening stretched on with laughter, food, and friendly competitions. Keira challenged Aurelian to a small archery game; Lyria joined, teasing both while quietly keeping an eye on Aurelian. Even the minor festival games became a stage for subtle, flirtatious exchanges and light-hearted banter.
At the quiet edge of the festival, Selphira Nyxalis appeared briefly among the crowd, her human guise flawless. She observed Aurelian from afar, her smile faint and inscrutable, leaving a subtle ripple of unease in the hero's subconscious without him noticing.
As the lanterns shimmered and fireworks burst overhead, Aurelian finally allowed himself to sit on a low stone wall, gazing at the night sky. The festival's warm glow reflected in his eyes, but his mind was already turning to tomorrow.
"This is the calm before the storm," he murmured softly. "I have to be ready… not just for the final match, but for everything that's coming."
Keira nudged him lightly, sensing his seriousness. "Don't think too hard, hero. Enjoy tonight… at least a little."
Lyria, arms crossed yet smiling faintly, muttered, "Yeah… don't get too big for your boots before tomorrow."
The three of them laughed quietly, the gentle night embracing their camaraderie. Little did they know, beyond the lantern-lit streets and festival cheer, the threads of fate were already weaving the next challenge—one that would test their strength, hearts, and unity like never before.