The arena had not yet cooled down after the Dragon's Pursuit fight when more names echoed through the stands.
— On the left side — the commentator's voice boomed. — Wolf's Edge! A team that has become famous in previous tournaments for its brutal efficiency and excellent coordination! Their captain, Arok — known as the Wolf King of the North!
The crowd roared when Arok entered the arena. Tall, with long blue hair, he carried a double-edged sword on his back, its blade glistening like frozen glass.
— And on the right — continued the commentator. — the Fallen Knight's! Those who once swore allegiance to the crown now fight to redeem their name! Their captain, Borg, is a former general of the Third Legion, known for his iron discipline and code of honor!
From the opposite side came Borg, a heavily armed warrior with a dark gaze. Each of his steps sounded like a hammer striking steel. Behind him were four warriors in black armor with red marks on their chests — a symbol of redemption.
The emperor leaned forward slightly, looking at the arena.
— Two forces representing two different worlds. — he said quietly. — Wolves and Knights. Instinct versus discipline.
Valdor sat nearby, leaning against the spectator barrier. His eyes followed every movement.
— Arok won't back down. — he said in a low voice. — For him, it's not a tournament, it's a hunt.
Mayuri glanced at him. — What about Borg?
— He's not fighting for victory. He's fighting to redeem what he lost.
The gong rang out.
The sound of metal striking metal echoed across the arena. Arok moved first, with a speed that no one expected. His blade cut through the air, striking the shield of one of the Knights. The force of the blow was so powerful that the knight was knocked back several meters, leaving marks in the sand.
— Speed and power! — the commentator shouted excitedly. — Wolf Blade is launching a furious offensive!
However, the Fallen Knights were no novices. Borg raised his sword with both hands, parrying the attack, and his team immediately regrouped into a defensive formation. Their every move was rehearsed, every turn of their shields synchronized.
— Remember what we're fighting for! — roared Borg. — Let them come to us!
Alaric smiled predatorily and shouted. — With pleasure!
He leaped forward, and the team followed close behind. Translucent silhouettes of wolves flickered in the air—spiritual reflections of their power. Every member of Wolf's Edge, except for Arok, was surrounded by a misty aura resembling a wolf's shadow, moving in unison with them.
— It's their ancestral technique! — exclaimed the commentator. — The Spirit of the Wolf! Each of them connects with their totem, gaining lightning-fast reflexes and devastating attack power! Although... in Arok's case, it's not a wolf, but a dragon!
Valdor jumped up from his seat. — A dragon!? — he croaked, staring at the arena. — I've seen it before... — He trailed off, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. — No... it can't be...
Mayuri frowned, approaching him uncertainly. — Valdor, is everything all right...?
Valdor replied quietly, — Yes... — and then slowly sat back down in his seat.
The blows were lightning fast. The Knights' armor sparkled from the impact, but the formation held. Borg was like a fortress. He took every blow, his sword parrying successive strikes with clockwork precision.
Arok jumped back, wiping blood from his mouth. — Fine. You want war on steel? You got it.
Borg nodded. — War is all we have left.
Their blades clashed again. This time with greater force. A loud bang tore through the air, and the protective barrier around the arena shook.
Valdor watched closely.
— You see, Mayuri? — he muttered. — They're not fighting for the title. They're fighting for the meaning of existence.
Mayuri remained silent, staring at the battlefield. — And they both know that only one of them will find it.
Blood and dust mingled with the flash of steel in the arena. Wolf's Edge moved to the flank, attempting to break the Knights' formation. One of the wolf warriors struck from above, leaving a scratch in his opponent's armor.
Borg countered, pushing him with his shield and striking him in the side with his sword. The blow was clean — precise. The wolf warrior fell, and the sand beneath him ignited with energy from the barrier.
The commentator shouted, drowned out by the noise:
— It's incredible! The Fallen Knights are launching a counterattack! Wolf's Edge is losing ground!
Arok snorted. — Not this time.
His eyes flashed, and the aura around him took the shape of a huge dragon with silver eyes.
— Now I'm pissed off... — he whispered.
The air exploded. Borg shielded himself with his shield, but the energy knocked him back several steps. The entire arena was lit up by the pale moonlight emanating from Arok.
Valdor raised an eyebrow, his voice trembling with tension. — Impossible... Arok...
The emperor nodded slowly. — The ancient art of the north. It reminds me of dragon fire... only colder.
Borg stood up straight, raising his sword. "Honor demands that I do not back down. — A red light appeared in his eyes. — Fallen does not mean broken.
Their auras collided. Fire and dragon light intermingled in the arena, creating a dazzling spectacle.
The commentator could barely keep up with the description. — Ladies and gentlemen! This is not a fight — it's poetry in steel! Wolf versus Knight! Element versus principle!
Valdor watched silently, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. — This is just the beginning. This tournament will change everything.
At that moment, the arena barrier shook. A wave of energy, stronger than before, swept through the stands. Some of the spectators instinctively stepped back.
The emperor frowned. — It... doesn't come from any of them.
At the edge of the arena, in the shadows, something flashed. For a moment too brief for anyone to be sure, a figure in black appeared.
Valdor spotted her right away.
— This isn't just a regular spectator. — he said coolly. — Someone is watching us from outside.
Mayuri looked in the same place, but the shadow had already disappeared.
Unaware, the commentator shouted again:
— And right now, Arok and Borg are clashing again! The battle continues!
The crowd cheered and the arena shook. But somewhere in the shadows, someone was watching the Dragon's Pursuit — and it wasn't out of mere curiosity.
The air in the arena trembled. The sound of metal echoed off the magical barriers, and the sand turned to mud from blood and sweat.
The Wolf's Blade and the Fallen Knights had been fighting for over fifteen minutes, and neither side was willing to back down.
— It's impossible that they're still standing! — shouted the commentator, trying to be heard above the crowd. — Their strength should be exhausted by now, but they... they're fighting as if they've only just begun!
Arok jumped back, sliding his hand along the edge of the blade. The sword flashed with a silver light, as if reacting to its owner's blood. — Come on, brothers. — he whispered. — Don't back down. A wolf knows no fear.
His team responded with a roar. Each of them had a wounded arm or leg, but none of them stopped moving. Their attacks resembled a collective dance — wild, rhythmic, unpredictable.
Borg stood in the middle of the battlefield, breathing heavily. His armor was cracked, and his shield barely hung on his arm. However, something unquenchable still burned in his eyes.
— We will not yield. — he said calmly. — For a knight who stops fighting is already dead.
Valdor watched from above, leaning against the railing.
— These people... they fight as if there were no tomorrow. — he said quietly. — Do you see that, Mayuri?
Mayuri nodded. — I do. But I also sense something else. Something that doesn't come from them.
A shiver ran down her spine as she looked into the shadows beneath the stands. For a split second, she saw movement again. Someone — or something — was watching the arena from a place no one should have access to.
— The same thing you saw before. — she whispered.
Valdor did not respond. His eyes glowed red with dragon blood as he focused his gaze on the darkness.
— Yes. And I know it's no coincidence.
In the arena, Borg attacked first. His sword cut through the air, striking with such force that the barrier flashed brightly. Arok parried the blow, and when their blades clashed again, for a moment it looked as if two gods were fighting for the right to live.
The wind separated their auras — the silver of the moon versus the scarlet energy of the fallen knight.
Borg raised his blade and roared:
— Oath of the Iron Souls!
His sword burst into red flames. Echoes appeared around him — the ghosts of former soldiers he had fought years ago. Each echo repeated his movements, creating the illusion of an army.
Arok smiled. — Beautiful. But I'm not afraid of ghosts!
He leaped into the air, and his aura burst into a silver glow. — Luna Lupus — Second Moon!
A beam of cold light fell from the sky, freezing part of the sand in the arena. The two attacks collided in the middle of the field, creating a shockwave that shook the protective barrier.
The audience covered their eyes from the flash, and for a moment there was silence throughout the arena. Then — an explosion.
Borg fell to his knees, his shield cracked in half. Arok's dragon shadow raised its head and roared, the echo of its howl reverberating throughout the city.
The commentator shouted, barely catching his breath:
— That's... that's impossible! Borg has been pushed back! Wolf's Edge breaks through the line!
The fallen knights tried to hold their positions, but one by one they fell under the onslaught. Armor cracked, shields shattered, and each blow from Wolf Blade was like waves crashing against a rock.
But Borg refused to give up. He stood up, staggering, and looked straight at Arok.
— I'm not finished.
— You don't have to. — Arok moved forward. Their swords clashed one last time.
A moment of silence. Then — a crash.
Borg's blade snapped in two. Arok's sword stopped just short of his throat.
There was silence in the arena for a second, maybe two. Then the crowd exploded with cheers.
— VICTORY FOR WOLF'S EDGE! — shouted the commentator. — What a battle! What determination!
Arok drew back his sword and nodded to his opponent. — You fought like a knight.
Borg knelt down and replied weakly: — And you... like a beast that remembers it was once human.
Valdor and his team watched silently as both groups left the arena.
When Wolf's Edge passed them in the hallway, Arok and Valdor exchanged glances. Brief, intense — like two blades that had not yet touched in battle, but already knew their destiny.
The emperor leaned back on his throne and smiled slightly.
— The tournament has only just begun. And already I can smell the blood and fire of fifty years ago. — He looked at Valdor. — The blood of dragons has returned, and with it... old demons.
Valdor turned away from the arena. — Back then, we were victims. Now we will be the judges.
Behind him, the echo of the gong announced the end of the fight.
On the horizon, in the shadows, someone dressed in black smiled gently, as if it were all part of a bigger game.