The Gold Mist Arena in Cinder was a vast, circular basin carved into the very stone of the citadel, now abuzz with anticipation. It was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with the people of Aethelgard and a surprising number of curious foreigners. The annual Golden Sword's Next Master Tournament had finally arrived, drawing crowds from far and wide.
A tournament that had never produced a single champion since its inception centuries ago would normally garner little attention, yet the Golden Sword's Next Master seemed to defy that logic. For those Aethelgardians who could not physically attend, the spectacle was broadcast via powerful, ubiquitous magic, allowing citizens across the entire empire to watch the action unfold from afar.
The fighting stage itself was a huge, rounded ground permeated and filled with the ethereal, coiling gold mist that emanated from the hilt of the legendary Golden Sword. The blade remained rigidly pierced into the center-piece of solid rock, waiting for a master to claim it.
Among the spectators, dressed in inconspicuous travelers' cloaks, Luisa and Athena sat quietly. They had scanned every corner of the entry points, their hearts heavy with dread.
"It turned out we didn't run into Valerus after all," Luisa said, her voice low and edged with disappointment.
"Maybe he didn't come here," Athena suggested
A very special, elevated dais was reserved for the reigning monarchs. Emperor Arthur Delacronix and his wife, Queen Lysandra, sat quietly until it was time for the official declaration.
Arthur rose, a magnificent figure clad in ceremonial platinum armor. The noise in the immense arena immediately ceased, the silence a tribute to the Emperor's power.
Miles away in Flux, a province known for its highly unstable magical currents, the local people watched the broadcast not through polished scrying mirrors, but through large bowls of water. Because the regional magic was so turbulent, the image would frequently ripple and change form; at other times, it would simply blur, making it difficult to follow the action.
Caius, one of the seventeen spies, stood watching from afar, hidden among the common folk. He thought perhaps he could gather vital intelligence about the ruling family or the sword itself from the spectacle.
Back in Cinder, where the tournament was actually taking place, Emperor Arthur concluded his brief but powerful speech.
"Aethelgardians, I welcome you all to our annual Golden Sword's Next Master Tournament. May the warrior with the purest intent and greatest strength claim this ancient prize! May the tournament begin! Let the warriors come out!"
Arthur's words prompted a deafening, unified round of applause from the spectators. He sat down and, with the practiced affection of a long-standing marriage, planted a quick kiss on Lysandra's cheek.
Lysandra returned the gesture with a forced, practiced smile, but her eyes were visibly worried, darting across the empty space where Monday had just disappeared. The memory of his chilling warning still echoed in her mind: the queen who cemented her nation's status as world power through betrayal. She managed to hide her unease from Arthur, but it took all her considerable willpower.
As the Emperor settled, the hundred warriors who were participating in the tournament began to file out onto the gold-misted ground.
Luisa's and Athena's eyes were widened in instantaneous shock. Among the heavily armed participants, moving with recognizable, coiled tension, was a familiar face.
"What? Monday? What is he doing there?" Athena stammered, pulling her mother's sleeve. "I thought he went to Talon! What is he doing in Cinder? Even more so, fighting in the tournament?"
Luisa's expression hardened, a dark shadow crossing her features as she watched the Vylonian prince take his position. "Well, there can only be one reason why he's here."
"Which is?" Athena asked.
"Vengeance," Luisa stated flatly.
"Oh. Lysandra Delacronix, huh?" Athena said, understanding dawning on her face.
"You see, Monday loved Lysandra so much. But she, or Sariel as she was then, betrayed him and his entire nation. My guess is he wants to use that sword—a symbol of the highest power—to kill Lysandra as a way of Vengeance against the Delacronix clan." Luisa quickly explained, the urgency of their situation multiplying.
"Interesting," Athena murmured, a dangerous smile touching her lips as she watched the drama unfold.
Luisa quickly grasped Athena's arm. "Athena, stay on your guard. We have a primary mission, but if Monday gets too close to the Queen, or if the opportunity arises, at my command, we could step in at any moment."
"Right!" Athena nodded, her focus shifting from spectator to potential combatant.
The participants were numbered one to one hundred. The rules were simple: they were to fight each other until only one remained capable of attempting the final feat. Whoever successfully drew the Golden Sword became its next master.
At the sound of a magical fireball being shot high into the air as a signal, the battle began.
The fight was instantly fierce, swords clanging and elemental magic flashing as the warriors clashed. It was total chaos for everyone—except for Prince Monday. Ignoring the brutal melee swirling around him, he ran straight for the Golden Sword, his eyes fixed only on the hilt.
As long as I get the sword, I win, right? Monday thought to himself, completely bypassing the brutal requirement of fighting all his opponents.
He reached the rock, planted his feet firmly, and used both hands, pulling the sword with all his considerable Vylonian might. The sword didn't even shimmer. It remained stubbornly rooted in the stone, refusing to move even a fraction of an inch.
Prince Monday hammered at the Golden Sword's hilt, pulling with the concentrated force of Vylonian strength and rage. The blade didn't even shiver. Frustrated, he began to slam his fists against the stone, but his hand simply recoiled in pain.
Suddenly, a shockwave of invisible force slammed into his chest, sending him reeling. He tumbled across the gold-misted arena floor. When his eyes snapped open, he saw four other participants—powerful Aethelgardian warriors—already circling him, launching a coordinated magical attack.
Monday snarled. In an instant, he channeled his Earth Hera, manipulating the stone and soil beneath the arena to create a thick, protective layer that clothed his body. The rock-hard armor shielded him against their magical onslaught. He countered swiftly, his earth-clothed fists slamming into all four warriors, sending them flying off the main stage.
His eyes fell once more on the immovable Golden Sword. He shed his armor of earth and stood before it. If I can't take it with my natural strength, he thought, how about Hera?
Monday began to unleash a barrage of powerful Earth Hera attacks directly at the rock, hoping to destroy the stone and free the blade. But the rock, somehow reinforced by the sword's own magic, remained utterly unbroken. He pressed his hand against the surface, trying to use his Earth Hera to control and fracture the stone from within, but the rock remained unresponsive, alien to his touch.
Unbeknownst to him, another warrior—a swift, blade-wielding mercenary—popped up from behind the rock, raising a sword for a deadly sneak attack.
"Monday!" Luisa screamed in horror, springing up from her seat alongside Athena.
Before the sword could strike, a massive, powerful wave of water swept across the fighting stage, slamming into the mercenary and every other fighter near the rock. The force was tremendous, sending everyone but the momentarily confused Monday flying across the arena floor and into the protective barriers.
The entire arena fell dumbfounded by the inexplicable water attack. Even Athena and Luisa were momentarily shocked by the display of skill.
"Water Hera?" Athena questioned, her gaze fixed on the center of the stage. "Is Alexandra also in Cinder?"
Everyone's gaze—from the Emperor's dais to the cheap seats—fell upon a figure who emerged from the mist. The figure was completely covered in a heavy, familiar cloak, identical to the ones Athena and Luisa wore.
That cloak, Athena mused, recognizing the signature garb of the Chronohelixian spies.
The cloaked figure walked up to Monday with deliberate, regal steps, stopping right in front of the Vylonian prince. Monday tensed, expecting an attack, and Luisa and Athena watched in horror as the figure raised their right hand. But instead of striking, the figure gently patted Monday on the shoulder and walked past him, moving directly toward the Golden Sword.
The figure reached out and firmly grasped the hilt of the blade. A hush fell over the thousands of spectators.
The figure spoke, their voice resonating with an impossible, ancient authority. "Hey, golden blade. It's been four thousand years. You've had a forty-century-long slumber. It's time to wake up, wouldn't you agree? Aureblade!"
With a swift, impossible ease, the figure drew the golden sword out of the rock.
An immense golden aura erupted, whipping itself around the figure. A violent, magical wind began to howl around the stage, tearing the hood and the head-warmers from the figure, revealing Valerus El Joranda. His eyes flashed, instantly changing form to the pure, incandescent light of goldeneyes—the legendary sight of the El Joranda clan.
Queen Lysandra Delacronix stood instantly, her face a mask of shock and fury. "What are you doing there?! You should be in the dungeon now!"
Arthur Delacronix looked at his wife, confused by her outburst. "Honey, what's the matter? Who is that man?"
"Oh, babe," Lysandra hissed, her voice barely controlled. "That man came from the strongest clan in Thorenzia. His name is Valerus El Joranda!"
"What?" Arthur bellowed. He stood, instantly drawing the legendary black blade, the Oathkeeper's Shadows. His gaze, fixed on Valerus, was pure hatred.
At that moment, several other figures, all wearing the same distinctive Thorenzian cloaks, converged on the stage, surrounding Valerus and Monday.
"Athena, let's go," Luisa commanded, relief and urgency battling in her expression.
"Right," Athena confirmed, readying herself.
Luisa and Athena leaped from the stands and joined Valerus and the rest of the newly revealed spies. They all stood together, united by the blinding light of the Aureblade.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He unleashed a powerful slash with the Oathkeeper's Shadows, and Lysandra, her diamond eyes flashing, sent a massive, swirling cyclone of pure Hera magic. The lethal slash and the magical cyclone combined into a devastating composite attack, tearing toward the group.
But Valerus simply raised the Aureblade. The golden blade, now humming with power, absorbed all of the combined attacks, swallowing the deadly energies completely. A plume of harmless golden smoke erupted from the blade, leaving the ruling couple stunned and defenseless.
Without a moment's pause, Valerus swung the Aureblade at Lysandra and Arthur. A golden slash, twice as strong and far more concentrated than the attack he had absorbed, shot from the blade, hitting the couple simultaneously and sending them both flying backward off the dais.
The entire arena descended into panic and screams. When Arthur and Lysandra finally came to, scrambling back to their feet, the entire group of Thorenzian spies—Valerus, Monday, Luisa, Athena, and the newly revealed members of the El Max clan—had vanished into the chaos.
"Damn it!" Arthur roared, slamming his fist onto the stone railing, his injuries already beginning to heal slowly, courtesy of his now immortal body.
"Wait," Lysandra gasped, her eyes scanning the debris.
"What is it?" Arthur demanded.
"Where is the black blade?" Lysandra asked, a new wave of panic seizing her.
They both stared at each other in frozen horror. Arthur frantically searched the area around the dais for the legendary weapon.
"We lost it! We've lost the Oathkeeper's Shadows! How can you be so careless?!" Lysandra screamed, her rage aimed entirely at the Emperor.
"Damn it! Damn it!" Arthur screamed