Brisena hurried through the cool corridors of Lumindale. Her footsteps echoed steadily against the stone floor of the castle. Behind her, Nyx and Elandra followed, faces full of questions but mouths sealed in silence. Brisena marched forward, breath quickening, until she arrived at a small garden behind the palace.
Beneath the shade of a large banyan tree sat Veynor Lauxi—her famously eccentric and mildly drunken mentor—lounging with a cup of liquor in hand. His sharp features bore the same cheery look as always, though the sting of alcohol filled the air even before Brisena reached him.
"Master Veynor!" Brisena called out, urgency thick in her voice.
Veynor lifted his cup without turning. "Ah, my sweet pupil. What has you storming in like a dragon's on your tail?" he asked casually.
"Master, Minister Thaldrim has returned to Lumindale! He came with his finest troops to join the Knights' Altar Tournament!"
Veynor let out a long sigh and took another sip. "And what's the problem with that, child? Isn't battle a common pastime in Smokeland?"
Brisena huffed in frustration. "This isn't just any fight, Master! I heard the prize this time is Vermithor, my grandfather's legendary axe! How could a weapon of such glory be turned into a tournament prize?"
Veynor looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes, as if amused by his student's distress. "Calm yourself first, Brisena. Take a deep breath. Wine?" he offered, holding out his cup.
Brisena glared. "Of course not, Master!"
He chuckled. "Alright, alright. Listen, your mother was the one who gave Vermithor to the Elders of the Knights' Altar. She saw great potential in her children who wish to fight. Believe me, Vermithor is a legendary weapon—it always chooses its wielder. Whether through battle or fate, that's the greatest secret behind every mythical weapon."
"But Master," Brisena pressed, "Thaldrim is incredibly powerful! What if the elders allow him to compete? He could easily claim Vermithor!"
Veynor leaned back against the tree trunk, his face serene. "Every battle has its own destiny, Brisena. Don't fret too much. Your brothers are joining, aren't they? Young, full of fire, and immensely gifted. This is the perfect ground for them to prove themselves."
Brisena frowned. "My brothers? You mean Vuuxi and me, right?"
Veynor smiled mysteriously. "Your two other brothers have also entered. Vuuxi already registered them and they've drawn their numbers."
Brisena's eyes widened. "Robb and Rogg are joining? Are you serious?"
"As serious as the wine in my hand. I never joke when it comes to battles."
The tension in Brisena's face melted into a radiant grin. "Then I don't have to worry about Vermithor falling into the wrong hands. Especially not when it belongs to my grandfather."
Veynor raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you care more about the axe than your brothers?"
Brisena smiled casually. "Like you said, fate always finds its way. So really, there's nothing to fear, right?"
With a light step, she turned and left her teacher behind, who could only sigh at her remark.
"Typical student—always inheriting the worst parts of their master," Veynor muttered, sipping his drink with a wry grin.
.
The day of the Knights' Altar Tournament had finally arrived. Lumindale buzzed with the roar of spectators and warriors readying themselves in the arena. The viewing stands were packed, adorned with colorful flags fluttering above the heads of an eager crowd.
Among the fighters, Vuuxi stood tall, exuding confidence. His powerful stature and calm demeanor cast a commanding presence that made people whisper in awe.
Beside him, Robb let out a short laugh and clapped Vuuxi on the shoulder. "Vuuxi, as your older brother, don't embarrass me with a loss, alright?"
Vuuxi shot him a smirking glance. "Huh? Now you call yourself my brother? Fine, I'll make sure to make you proud."
Robb burst out laughing. "That's the spirit I'm talking about!"
When Vuuxi's number was called, every eye turned toward him. A heavy silence settled over the arena. For many, Vuuxi was a living legend of the Knights' Altar. He had been the youngest champion of the tournament in history, and his name still echoed as a symbol of strength and bravery.
The once-noisy crowd fell quiet, gazes filled with awe and a touch of fear.
"Elandra," whispered Brisena from her seat high in the stands, distant from her brothers, "Look at their faces. It's like they've seen a ghost."
Elandra chuckled. "They never forgot Vuuxi. He's the shadow that haunts them all."
Brisena smiled proudly. "Let's hope he makes history again today."
Vuuxi stepped into the center of the arena with unwavering steps. The very sight reminded everyone that today's battle would be far from ordinary.
But in the far eastern stands, Thaldrim sat with a sly grin on his face. "Let's see if a legend can survive the weight of time," he muttered, voice laced with schemes.
On the opposite side, Veynor watched with his cup in hand, whispering softly, "May fate choose wisely this time."
And then came the sound of the gong—deep and echoing—signaling the start of Vuuxi's battle.
The duel erupted with an intensity that shook the arena. Vuuxi's opponent, a muscular knight wielding a gleaming spear, lunged forward with fierce resolve. His spear cut through the air with lethal precision. Yet Vuuxi, without drawing a weapon, dodged with effortless grace—like a wind-dancer weaving through danger.
With a simple turn, Vuuxi swept his opponent's legs, sending the man crashing to the ground. The crowd roared at the display of the living legend's prowess. Calmly, Vuuxi walked toward the edge of the circle. But his opponent rose again, face flushed with shame and burning determination.
"Don't you dare underestimate me!" the knight shouted, eyes blazing. "I've trained for years for this moment! At least draw your weapon and fight seriously!"
Vuuxi stopped, turning with an emotionless gaze. "Very well," he said calmly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
In the blink of an eye, Vuuxi moved—like a shadow too fast for the naked eye. His opponent couldn't react in time. Vuuxi's kick slammed into the man's chest with precise force, launching him out of the circle. He hit the ground hard beyond the altar's edge. Dust erupted.
Silence.
And then the crowd exploded in thunderous cheers that rolled through the skies.
Vuuxi had claimed a flawless victory, effortlessly sending his opponent flying out of the battle ring—a clean elimination.
"Vuuxi! Vuuxi!"The crowd roared his name, chanting with the fervor of those who had long revered the living legend of the Knight's Altar.
Having descended from the altar, Vuuxi moved aside as the next match was called. In the thick of the crowd, Brisena called out to him.
"Vuuxi!"
He turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he saw her approaching."Brisena? You're back already?"
"I returned yesterday," she said, breathless. "But I went straight to my teacher's estate. I have something important I need to discuss with you."Without another word, she grabbed Vuuxi's hand, urgency in her grip.
From ahead, a teasing voice chimed in."Well, well... someone couldn't wait to see Vuuxi again, huh?" Robb grinned. Rogg, standing beside him, gave a silent nod of agreement, while Nyx and Elandra trailed behind Brisena to catch up.
Brisena beamed."Robb? Rogg? You're both really entering the tournament?"
"If not to knock this overconfident little brother of ours down a peg, why else would we be here?" Robb chuckled.
Vuuxi shook his head with a quiet smile."Stop teasing her."
"What's this important thing you wanted to tell me?" Vuuxi asked, leaning in a little closer.
Brisena rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh."Now that I see my amazing brother Rogg standing here, it doesn't feel quite as urgent anymore."
Vuuxi frowned. "I'm serious. What happened?"
Brisena took a deep breath."Minister Thaldrim is here. He's seated at the eastern altar."
Vuuxi's expression turned grave in an instant."Thaldrim? He's fighting?"
She nodded quickly."Yes. He brought several elders of Covarthis with him. Word is, he's here because he heard Grandfather's axe is being offered as the prize. He wants it."
Vuuxi's eyes narrowed, sharp as a falcon locking onto its prey."And you're afraid of that? I'll end him right here in this tournament."
Brisena looked at him, unsure."The last time you fought, it ended in a draw. But that was only because he let it, right? He said he didn't want to defeat you because you were still young."
Vuuxi clenched his fist."That was just an excuse. He was exhausted. He didn't want to disgrace himself—one of Doliex's so-called greatest warriors—by losing to someone half his age."
Brisena nodded, her eyes gleaming with belief in her brother."Then show them. Show them all who the real legend is. Though... honestly, I'm placing my hope on my other brother."She smiled warmly at Rogg.
Rogg simply shook his head in silence.
From across the distance, Thaldrim stood, eyes cold and calculating—watching, waiting. The air around him felt heavy with purpose, as though fate itself were setting the stage for a rematch that would echo through history.