Episode 91: The Final—Ellahar's Victory
Even after the unrest subsided, the resolve in Rian's eyes did not waver. He stabilized the capital and decided the tournament must reach its rightful end. As the city returned to normal, he proclaimed:
"We resume from the semifinals," Rian declared. "We will uphold the dignity of the Elysium Empire. Our warriors' duels will quell turmoil and stand as a symbol of our unity."
The arena filled once more. Despite the recent upheaval, the crowd buzzed with anticipation for the semis and the final. From the high dais, Rian watched, eager to see what Ellahar and his companions would unveil.
Ellahar and his comrades were already in the last four, along with Brakka, Caron, and Leon—the Empire's Captain of the Guard, a stalwart who wielded his sword to keep the peace. Many revered Leon, and his steadfast gaze shone now as well.
With distinct styles, each fighter dominated their matches and advanced smoothly to the final. There, Ellahar and Brakka—two titans—would clash.
They faced each other at center ring, seizing the arena's air. Brakka was famed for a massive frame and explosive axe power; Ellahar, for elven agility and cool, strategic command. The contrast promised a riveting duel.
Hoisting his great axe, Brakka smirked. "You won't outrun my axe today, no matter how quick you are!" The crowd roared at his booming taunt. His axe had terrifying power, though it leaned on strength more than fine control.
Ellahar smiled faintly. "Strength matters. But strength alone doesn't win. I'll show you that today." His voice was soft and steady; he had already mapped the flow in his mind.
At the signal, Brakka charged, axe high. His opening strike was a detonation—each swing split the air and hammered the earth like thunder.
He hounded Ellahar with a flurry of sweeping blows, shrinking Ellahar's space with raw pressure. "Just going to dodge forever? Your footwork won't surpass my power!" he barked.
But Ellahar refused to be drawn into Brakka's rhythm. He slipped past every massive arc with windlike grace, predicting the line and stepping half a beat ahead, always keeping optimal distance. It was power versus speed—but Ellahar wasn't merely defending.
Each time Brakka's swing overcommitted, Ellahar's blade bit back—short, precise cuts to the ribs, arm, thigh. Each strike disrupted Brakka's balance, and steadily his movements dulled.
At first, Brakka dismissed the nicks. "You think scratches will beat me?" He kept heaving the axe, but his stamina bled away. Ellahar, by contrast, seemed tireless—still sharp, still gliding, still landing exacting hits.
At last Brakka raised the axe for an all-or-nothing finish, pouring everything into a single, killing arc. The crowd held its breath as the blade scythed toward Ellahar.
In a blink, Ellahar slipped aside. A ghost of a smile. "Your strength is superb—but it isn't enough." As Brakka's center opened, Ellahar spun and struck like lightning, his sword pinning the exact tendon at the wrist. The great axe fell from Brakka's numb hand; his balance broke. In that instant, the outcome was sealed.
Brakka stared at his hand, then exhaled and dropped to one knee. "The victory is yours, Ellahar…" He looked up with a wry grin. "I relied too much on brute force—that was my downfall." For a heartbeat he remembered his past: a father among the orcish rebels of the south, a childhood dream barred from the imperial army, a life as a mercenary to grow strong. He had hoped this duel might open another path to that dream.
Ellahar did not gloat. He offered a hand. "Your strength was formidable. I won today—but no one can dismiss your skill."
Brakka took the hand and rose. He nodded, a touch bitter, yet respectful. "Next time, I'll be the one who wins. Count on it."
When Ellahar stood as champion, the arena erupted. It was not just a triumph of force, but of balance and strategy—a true strong man, mastering the whole, not merely the swing.
Rian stepped forward and spoke evenly. "Ellahar, you are the victor of this tournament. Your skill is proven to all—and now your name enters the history of Elysium."
Thunderous cheers followed as Ellahar bowed to receive the medal of the champion. Unmoved by praise, he lifted his head with quiet humility. "This wasn't won by my strength alone. We all fought to make it possible."
Rian smiled. "Your humility matches your prowess. But what you and your companions showed today is too great to end as a mere tournament result."
Resolve hardened in Rian's eyes—more than congratulations, this was a decision. He would not let them slip away as simple winners.
Brakka and Caron listened at Ellahar's side. Brakka chuckled, eyeing the medal. "A potent symbol. I didn't earn it today—but proving oneself by strength is better anyway." Even in defeat, his easy confidence remained.
Rian nodded to the three. "Ellahar. Brakka. Caron. What you did today will not end as your own victory. I want you with us to make the Empire stronger. I ask you to fight under Elysium's banner."
Ellahar dipped his head, thinking. They were independent—unaffiliated warriors seeking the strong. Joining an empire had never been the plan. But the tournament and the unrest had left them with much to weigh.
Brakka scratched his chin, intrigued. "Under Rian's banner, huh? We've never belonged anywhere, but I enjoyed this tournament. And the riot ended quickly thanks to you. Serving the Empire might not be so bad."Outwardly nonchalant, inwardly he felt a childhood dream stirring—barred from the imperial ranks by his father's role in the southern orcish revolt, he'd become a mercenary to grow strong. To enter the Elysium army now… it was the dream at last.
Caron watched Brakka, then considered Rian's offer in silence. True to his nature, he chose his words carefully. "Seeking the strong matters. But sometimes, with greater power at your side, larger aims become possible. With the Empire's strength, we may meet the very champions we seek."
Ellahar listened and nodded, meeting Rian's gaze. "Our path has always been to seek the strong. We never meant to serve any one banner. But in this tournament—and the unrest—we've seen Elysium's strength and worth. Your offer is… compelling."
Rian smiled faintly; he knew Ellahar's answer wouldn't come lightly. "As you say, our aims may align. Elysium grows by strength, and needs the strong. If you wish, you may continue your quest within the Empire—freely, as warriors."
After a moment, Ellahar answered, the soft smile still on his lips. "Very well—we accept. Our journey to seek the strong won't end, but it seems we can carry it on beneath your banner."
Brakka grinned. "So we're saying yes to His Majesty! Excellent. Do we enlist today—or start fighting right away?"
Caron smiled, just a little. "Discipline and battle—both matter. What counts is prowess on the field."
Satisfied, Rian nodded. "Good. From today, you fight with Elysium. Your strength will make the Empire stronger—and the Empire needs you."
Ellahar gave Rian a final look. "We look forward to standing as your warriors. But remember—wherever we go, we are seekers of the strong."
"I understand," Rian said, extending his hand. "From this moment, we are comrades. Under Elysium's banner, let's forge a stronger future together."
And so Ellahar and his companions joined Rian's Empire, beginning a new chapter. They did not abandon their quest; now they would pursue it alongside Elysium.
The crowd roared, celebrating the tournament's end—Ellahar's victory, and a new alliance. The Empire grew stronger, and its warriors united to face the threats to come.
Watching it all, Rian whispered, "A true strong one knows balance—and shares his strength. Today, we gained such men. The future of Elysium is bright."
In that moment, a new page of the Empire's history began to be written.
**
Epilogue: Elven Pride, Elysium's Glory
Ellahar began a new journey as an official operative of Elysium's special forces. Once the "Strongest Swordsman of the Elven Realm" from the northern elven kingdom, he now swung his blade beneath the banner of Elysium, in a broader world. The special-forces dress uniform of Elysium rested on his shoulders, and that image carried a meaning different from the pride he had once borne as an elven warrior.
Some criticized him for abandoning elven pride to serve an empire. There were even those who claimed Ellahar was no longer the pride of the elven kingdom. But Ellahar paid their glances no mind. He believed the path he had chosen was the very road by which elven strength would be known to the world. Elven pride was not a trophy to be kept in an isolated forest; it was something to be proven and displayed upon a larger stage.
Ellahar had spent his life seeking the strong. He had tested his limits and asked himself, again and again, for what purpose he raised his sword. Now he had found his answer. The chance to make his name known once more within the mightiest empire in history was not a compromise—it was the very path of strength he had longed for. Under the name of Elysium, he would still hold his place as the "Strongest Swordsman of the Elves," and he had gained a stage on which his strength could shine even brighter.
The same was true of his family. His wife, Eirina, and their half-elven daughter were the reason he walked this path and the meaning behind his decisions. Securing a safe home for them mattered more than anything. From a place where his family could rest in peace, Ellahar could stride onto the battlefield in pursuit of his dream. And if, one day, his daughter were to take up the sword and stand upon this stage as he had, he would greet her with pride.
Ellahar looked up at the sky. The forests of the elven kingdom now lay far beyond his reach, yet he carried the pride of those woods within his heart. Even as a special operative of Elysium, his sword had not changed. Rather, a stronger purpose and a new goal had been given to him, and he was ready to fulfill them in his own way.
"Ellahar, ready?" Brakka asked at his side.
Ellahar turned to him with a smile. "Yeah. It begins now."
He would move forward to etch elven pride into the Empire—and to open a stronger tomorrow with his family. That was the path of strength Ellahar had chosen, and his legend would continue now alongside the Elysium Empire.