The exact date, time, and place of my fate is written on my left arm. I was destined to save a country of ruin, from the first day a cry left my throat. Yes, from womb to swaddle, it was decided that I would be the savior of my country.
My country was a dark, desolate place. The fires of other man had long since become a myth on our society, and the sun god refused to ride his chariot across our skies. It was a truly dull and dreary place.
However, when I was born, they had their first experience of light, when my arm gave off a distinct glow. Upon my arm, was lettering, and numbering, listing a date and place. The coordinates of destiny.
'09/25/1273, 2:35 p.m., Konzaku Palace, Courtyard'.
That was the date I was supposed to save my kingdom from the dark that had plagued it for millenia. The day I would be dubbed a hero, and savior of the land.
How naive we were.
I was born under two kind, loving parents. So is the start of many heroes.
King Haliel Konzaku, and Queen Juliana Konzaku, the rulers of the dark country, were those parents. So, I was not only fated to save the kingdom from its immortal gloom, I was also heir to the throne of that very same kingdom. I was set up for greatness, for riches, and power.
I was destined to be coddled.
I was spoiled as a boy, treated fragile, and treated as a treasure. No one dared harm, or snuff the white light I carried with me. What I wanted was done. What I need was done. Whatever beckon or whim relating to me was prioritized above all.
I hated it.
I grew to despise all that doting as I aged, sneaking off as best I could when I'd reached 10 years, covering my arm and escaping to the surrounding forests, caves. I found danger, demons, dire beasts and monsters. I hadn't smiled as truly since I'd been a babe.
When 3 years of my escapades had passed, I became of age to pursue my calling. I demanded of my father that I become a knight. He was furious. Opposing the idea heavily and with great enthusiasm. I challenged him to a duel, and he laughed.
But, to teach me a lesson, and to get his way, he complied. We were both armed with the royal guard's arms, longswords of a golden metal, a strengthened alloy of unknown origin, in regards to creation.
Halagash steel: Dense, heavy, immensely strong, and found deep underground, the pressure making it nigh indestructible.
It was also terribly heavy.
My Father drew his sword right handed, as did I, as the royal stance of battle was designed for those who were inclined to right handedness. Having gained a fascination for our battle procedures, I had already assumed the stance, straining to lift the blade one handed. My Father looked on me with sympathy, and I could tell he saw only weakness.
I ran toward him, the weight of the blade off-balancing my run, but I persisted. I swung, a slow, heavy swing, which he met with his own blade. It slid harmlessly off, and hit the ground, sparks flying form the contact. My father moved his sword arm, lifting the blade to my neck. He moved to announce my defeat.
But I was fast enough to cut in. "You're open!" I shot, my left arm jabbing him in the stomach. He stumbled back, grunting in surprise. I straightened myself out.
My father recovered, his expression hardening as he stood, ready again. He rushed me, swinging down on me from above.
I smacked the cheek of my blade into the edge of his, my left hand supporting the blade, and he bounced off, the reverberations drilling into my right hand, but not my left. In fact, I felt no resistance in that arm at all.
I backed away, switching my grip, holding the blade two handed. It felt quite a bit lighter now, it weight almost fading entirely. My father, recovered, came in again, slashing at me from the side.
With my new grip, however, I moved much faster, meeting his blade with mine, and kicking out at him, knocking him down. when he looked up, prepared to stand again, he was met, wide eyed, with the tip of my blade pointed down at him. I held the blade only in my left hand, the white light ablaze on my arm.
From that day, I was moved to be trained as a knight. I was trained by the captain of the Royal guard, Kaliel, lessons being every morning and night, respectively held before breakfast and after dinner. I trained rigorously, perfecting my right handed stance, as well as discovering something intriguing about my left.
Kaliel suggested that the blade was so easily handled in my deul with my father, was because of some power in my left arm. Through a series of trials, it was proven. I could wield any weapon with ease, as long as it was using my left hand. Thus, we spent my training sessions testing the limits of my ability, what exactly I could lift, even outside the realm of weapons, as well as perfecting my right handed stance.
Kaliel encouraged me to engage in more duels, challenging other nights, and even captains. I spent 5 years challenging everyone I could, to varying degrees of success, until I could beat any of the other knights in single combat.
My final trial was Kaliel, the day before my fated date. This would decide if I was ready to manifest my destiny. If I won, it would be a good omen, that I was ready to be the Hero they so hoped for. If I lost...
If I lost, we'd be left in eternal darkness, as we always had been. Our world was balancing upon the outcome of a simple deul.
None of us could ever know it would turn into a deathmatch.