The Kingdom of Soul stood tall at the center of the world the heart of the Alliance and the throne of peace. Its king, Gareth Stone, was known throughout the lands as the Father of Unity. He was the man who had ended the War of Twenty Years, the one whose voice had silenced the thunder of swords.
King Gareth ruled with wisdom and a strange kindness that few kings possessed. Beside him stood his two queens women as different as dawn and dusk.
The first was Queen Elisha, once a common villager, now the heart of the kingdom. Her eyes carried the calm of rivers and the weight of memory. Few knew her story that she had once lost a son to the chaos of war, that she still prayed for him in silence every night.
The second queen was Lady Ella, noble by birth and firm by nature. She had been King Gareth's first wife, proud and graceful, and mother to Princess Elena, the jewel of the Soul Kingdom.
Elena was as radiant as the sun that shone upon the palace walls gentle yet fierce, beloved by all. Her beauty was known across the Alliance, and her kindness was said to soften even the hardest hearts.
When news spread that Princess Elena's hand would be offered in marriage, the entire realm erupted in celebration. Banners were raised, bells were rung, and the other kings rode to Soul to witness the Festival of Unity the event that would mark the marriage between peace and destiny.
But not all who came to the festival were nobles.
Among the crowds stood the forgotten the slaves who had once fought in the war, men with scars that told stories no songs could sing. They were given a final chance by King Gareth himself a chance to fight for honor, freedom, and love.
"Let every man, noble or slave," the King of Soul had declared,
"prove his worth by strength, not by name.
The one who stands till the end shall win the hand of my daughter,
and the right to live free beneath the banner of Soul."
And so began the Battle Royale of Freedom, a grand contest within the royal arena. The people roared with excitement as warriors clashed, not to kill, but to show their strength and courage before the throne.
In the shadow of the cheering crowds stood a man with silvered scars and weary eyes Viki, one of the few surviving slaves of the old war.
He did not know that the Queen watching from the royal balcony her hands clasped, her eyes filled with tears she dared not shed was his mother, Elisha.
He did not know that the young woman smiling beside her was his sister, Alex Ago, now a princess of the realm.
And he did not know that the princess he was destined to fight for Elena, daughter of Queen Ella was to be his bride.
The crowd cheered as the next name was called.
Viki stepped forward into the light of the arena, unaware that his family was watching.
The war had taken everything from him
but fate had brought him back to where it all began.
The Hollow of the Arena
The roar of the crowd rose like a storm.
It was supposed to be a friendly match a festival of peace, not a war of rage. King Gareth Stone had made it clear: no killing, no hatred, only honor.
But when Viki stepped into the arena, peace itself seemed to hold its breath.
He carried no sword like the others.
He wielded a battle axe, large and old, the steel scarred and blackened a relic of the long war. The crowd murmured as he lifted it to his shoulder, his expression unreadable, his steps slow and steady like a beast that had forgotten fear.
"Who is that man?" someone whispered.
"They say he's one of the old war slaves."
"They call him the Hollow… the man who feels no pain."
The title followed him like a shadow.
The Hollow.
He had earned it long ago on battlefields soaked in blood, where he had fought like a creature born of nightmare. He never screamed, never cried, never laughed. Even when wounded, he only stared, empty and silent, as though his soul had been left behind in the ashes of his childhood.
No one knew his true name.
No one knew that before the war, before he was taken, he had once been a small boy called Erin the son of Elisha, the brother of Alex.
Now, he was a stranger even to them.
From the royal balcony, Queen Elisha and Princess Alex watched as the match began. The queen's heart stirred strangely when she saw the man with the battle axe, but she could not understand why. His face was roughened by years of war, his eyes hollow, his movements sharp and inhuman.
"That man…," Elisha whispered softly.
"He fights like he's been through hell."
Princess Alex turned toward her mother.
"Do you know him?" she asked.
"No," the queen answered after a pause.
"But something about him feels… familiar."
The match began with twelve warriors all former slaves, all scarred by war. They charged with roars of pride and desperation, their chains replaced by blades. But when Viki moved, everything stopped.
He didn't fight like a man.
He fought like a storm.
Every swing of his axe crashed against shields and sent warriors flying. He did not aim to kill, yet each strike carried the weight of twenty years of pain. His opponents fell one after another, their weapons shattered, their courage fading before the cold emptiness in his eyes.
The crowd cheered and shouted his name
"The Hollow!"
"The Hollow fights again!"
"He's unstoppable!"
But Viki heard none of it.
In his mind, the cheering was the sound of fire and screams. The arena was the battlefield once more. His heart pounded like war drums, his breath ragged and empty.
He did not see kings. He did not see crowds.
All he saw were enemies.
All he felt was survival.
And yet, somewhere deep within the hollow shell, a small part of him a voice long buried whispered the name he had forgotten.
Erin.
He blinked. The sound of the king's voice broke through the haze.
"This is not war," King Gareth called from his throne.
"This is peace! Remember, no death only honor!"
Viki froze, his axe inches from another man's neck.
His chest rose and fell, his eyes trembling for the first time. He lowered his weapon slowly, as the arena fell into silence.
Queen Elisha stood, unable to breathe. Something in her heart cracked open.
"Erin…" she whispered without meaning to.
The name vanished in the wind, unheard by the one who bore it.
The match ended with Viki standing alone at the center of the arena, his axe resting at his side. The crowd roared in admiration but to him, it was only noise.
He did not smile.
He did not bow.
He only stared at his own hands the hands that had forgotten what peace felt like.
And above, in the royal balcony, his mother's tears fell silently, without reason she could understand.
The Hollow had won.
But peace had yet to reach his heart.