Rogg, Robb, Yara, and little Rex were enjoying their time in Smokeland, blending in with the Doliex tribe's people. Meanwhile, Brisena and Vuuxi were spending time with their siblings, learning more about the Doliex civilization that had thrived for centuries.
During one quiet moment, Vuuxi approached Rogg.
"Brother—or may I call you that?" Vuuxi asked respectfully.
Rogg smiled. "Of course. I'm your brother now. But as for Robb… hmm, he probably prefers being called the 'cool older bro.'" Rogg threw a quick glance at Robb, who was training intensely nearby.
Robb heard the tease but only scoffed without breaking his focus.
"Brother, the annual Knights' Altar Championship is happening in Lumindale next week. Will you be joining?" Vuuxi asked excitedly.
At the word "championship," Robb immediately stopped his training and sprang over, eyes wide with interest.
"Knights' Championship? That sounds awesome!"
"It is," Vuuxi replied with a nod.
"What kind of competition is it? Do they just duke it out?" Robb was curious.
"Exactly. It's a test of strength and skill to rank Smokeland's knights," Vuuxi explained.
Robb raised a brow. "Can anyone join? I haven't had a decent fight in a while. I need a real challenge."
Vuuxi chuckled. "Of course. It's a serious combat tournament. Last year, I couldn't join because I had to guard Brisena."
"What's the format like? Does it get bloody? Dangerous?" Rogg asked.
"Blood? Maybe. But killing is forbidden. Injuries? Definitely a risk," Vuuxi answered with a serious tone.
Rogg nodded firmly. "Alright then, count us in."
Without wasting time, they registered with Veynor Lauxi, the elder and trainer of knights in Lumindale.
Robb was training alone on a flat cliffside, gripping a pair of Heraxes blades—Rogg's gift. The twin blades, each thirty-five centimeters long, had become his weapons of choice.
With the agility typical of the Grifindor people—relying on footwork and aerial finesse—Robb moved like a wild gust over the stone. His movements fused natural instinct with a technique known as Sikka.
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed.
"Beautiful movements, young man."
Robb nearly tripped in surprise. He turned to see Veynor Lauxi standing with his arms crossed.
"Old man? How long have you been standing there?" Robb blurted, half-startled.
Though they spoke different tongues, Veynor simply smiled and said, "Let's train together."
Robb scratched his head. "Training's good… I just hope you're not too old to handle a beating."
They began sparring. Despite his age, Veynor moved with the speed and strength of an elite assassin from a bygone era. His strikes were swift and deadly—but Robb, with his nimbleness, held his own.
He couldn't help but admire the old man's mastery—still sharp, still strong.
Their duel was fierce, yet elegant.
At last, Veynor raised his hand. "Enough. My breath can't keep up with your youth."
They sat atop a stone, gazing across the vast, green Guava Valley.
"This valley used to be wild… but fertile," Veynor began.
Robb nodded. He didn't understand every Doliex word, but the meaning came through.
"Now what thrives here… is evil and injustice," Veynor continued. "I hope you'll lead the empire one day."
Robb gaped. "Whoa—me? That's… probably not gonna happen, old man."
Veynor chuckled. "Yes, yes. Better to drink than talk in riddles." He pulled a flask of arak from his bag.
They sat, sipping in silence, while the setting sun cast golden shadows across the Lakhsa Mountains in the distance.
"Is it strong?" Robb asked, sniffing the drink.
"Strong enough. But don't worry. If you pass out, I'll just roll you off the cliff," Veynor joked with a grin.
They both laughed, wrapped in the warmth of Smokeland's twilight.
At the Grand Altar of Lumindale, the roar of the crowd filled the air. Over eight thousand knights had gathered—lined up across a vast field etched with ancient Doliex symbols. The sun beat down on their gleaming armor, and the trumpet's blast signaled the start of the match draw.
Rogg, Robb, and Vuuxi stood at the edge of the arena, eyes scanning the endless rows of participants.
"Damn, are there this many knights in Smokeland? Does everyone here fight for a living?" Rogg squinted in disbelief.
"Yeah, this many. From renowned warriors to farmers who think they're tough. Everyone's welcome," Vuuxi replied casually, taking his match number.
"Farmers? In a combat tournament?" Robb raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this for professionals?"
Vuuxi laughed. "That's the point—anyone can sign up. No killing allowed, but you still need guts. Think of it as training for real-world threats. Smokeland may be safe, but folks here still crave the thrill of a real fight."
Rogg shook his head. "Impressive spirit. But… where's Brisena? Haven't seen her since yesterday."
"She's gone to the Whiteheaven Palace," Vuuxi said.
"Whiteheaven?" Robb's eyes lit up. "Aren't you supposed to be her ever-loyal guard? Why didn't you go?"
Vuuxi sighed. "Because of your comment last time, she now prefers traveling with Nyx Varelyn and Elandra Faelin."
Robb chuckled. "Hah! Let me guess—because I said you were like a clingy shadow that never leaves her alone?"
"More or less," Vuuxi replied with a bitter smile.
"So what's she doing there?" Robb asked.
"Could be anything—reporting Smokeland's status to the nobles, visiting the royal siblings, or… maybe just escaping you two and your endless chatter." Vuuxi grinned.
Rogg laughed. "No wonder you seem a little lonely. Missing your favorite sister, huh?"
"Haha, don't worry. She'll be back in two days—just in time for the tournament. Oh, and she's competing too."
"What?!" Rogg and Robb shouted in unison.
"Yep. I drew her number already," Vuuxi said nonchalantly.
"Wait, women compete too?" Rogg asked, still surprised. "Can she really fight?"
Vuuxi shot him a sharp look. "She's no ordinary woman. Brisena is the personal student of Veynor Lauxi—the finest swordmaster in all of Smokeland."
Robb's eyes widened. "That old guy? He's a teacher? Seriously?"
Vuuxi nodded, full of conviction. "He's a legend. Every knight here wishes they could train under him."
Robb let out a dry laugh. "Brisena's got some serious skills, then. I just sparred with that old man yesterday… still can't believe he's that strong."
Vuuxi patted Robb on the shoulder.
"If you can keep up with him, that means you've already earned a place among the best knights, Robb. But be careful—Brisena won't hold back if you two end up facing each other in the arena."
"If I have to fight Brisena, I'll be the first to beg for mercy," joked Rogg, earning a round of laughter from the group despite the tension of the upcoming tournament.
The roar of the crowd returned as the names of the contestants were called out, marking the beginning of battles filled with challenge and glory waiting to be claimed.
The thundering cheers of warriors filled the Altar of Grandeur in Lumindale. The clear sky looked down upon thousands of determined souls gathered under the blazing sun. Incense smoke drifted into the air, adding a sacred aura to the ancient arena that had stood for centuries.
Amid the vast field of participants, a high elder stood atop a stone podium. His black robe fluttered in the wind, and in his hand was a staff adorned with a shimmering lovarian crystal. His voice echoed—firm, commanding, yet full of dignity.
"As always, in the name of pure strength and the honor of knighthood, we hold this annual trial once more," the elder's voice carried across even the furthest rows. "But this time, the prize goes beyond mere victory. This year, you will fight for one of the Ten Legendary Weapons long kept hidden—crafted from lovarian steel, forged by our Emperor in the ancient days. The prize… is Vermithor—the legendary axe once wielded by Vortharian Aedrin, the great knight you all revere."
A heavy silence fell over the arena for a heartbeat before an explosion of cheers erupted from the crowd of warriors. Even the skies seemed to tremble under the weight of their roaring voices. Faces that had been filled with tension now burned with fiery resolve.
"Vermithor? That was Grandpa's weapon?" Robb whispered in disbelief to Vuuxi beside him.
Vuuxi nodded firmly.
"Yes. Vermithor is one of the Ten Legendary Weapons—meant only for those who possess true strength and honor. If we can claim it, it will be a tremendous pride for our family."
Rogg furrowed his brows.
"Wait... ten legendary weapons? Where are the other nine?"
"Of the other eight," Vuuxi said with a proud smile, "I have two—Solvarya and Cindarel. You guys remember when I used Solvarya to take down that giant Lagosh five months ago, right? One slash was all it took. The beast never stood a chance."
Robb scoffed with a smirk.
"Hah, killing a Lagosh? Please, the powder bomb I made could do that too. One blast, and it'd be gone without a trace."
Rogg burst into laughter, amused by the rivalry between his younger siblings.
"So now you two are comparing weapons? Be careful not to blow up the whole arena—might piss off the Doliex elders."
Vuuxi turned to Rogg, his gaze serious.
"Brother, possessing a legendary weapon is a heavy burden—it comes with responsibility. Evil men will try to steal it, but I'm ready to face that risk."
Rogg nodded, his voice calm but resolute.
"I'm glad to hear that. But don't get cocky—this time, I've set my sights on that legendary weapon too. Let's fight fair, alright?"
Robb clapped Rogg on the shoulder with a challenging grin.
"In that case, I'm the one who'll win. You two better get comfortable watching me from the sidelines!"
"Haha! Believe me, I will be the one holding Vermithor," Vuuxi shot back with cool confidence.
"Then let's make a vow," Rogg said, reaching out his hand.
"No mercy in the arena—but brothers to the end."
Vuuxi and Robb exchanged a look, then clasped Rogg's hand with determined smiles.
"Agreed!"
Beneath the radiant sky of Lumindale, the three brothers sealed their pact. This battle wasn't just about honor or legendary weapons—it was a trial of brotherhood, one that would forge them into something greater.