Main Continent – The Capital of the Theocracy
The morning air was crisp and alive with the hum of activity. The capital was always bustling, but today felt different. The announcement of the upcoming tournament had stirred excitement across the city, and the streets were filled with hopefuls dreaming of glory.
Damon adjusted the strap of his pack as he and his best friend, Arianne, made their way toward the training grounds. The pair had grown up together in the capital just under the shadow of the Temple of the Three, and now, for the first time, they had a chance to step out from under it.
"I still can't believe it," Damon said, his voice tinged with both excitement and nerves. "A tournament to choose the representatives. Us. Can you imagine?"
Arianne smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her short, practical haircut suited her athletic build, and her movements were deliberate, honed by years of sparring.
"I can imagine it just fine," she said. "I've been waiting for something like this my whole life. Haven't you?"
"Yeah, but I mean, this is serious," Damon replied, his steps faltering slightly as they turned onto a busy avenue. "We'll be up against nobles, Knights, Trained warriors. People with connections and tutors. How are we supposed to compete with that?"
Arianne rolled her eyes. "By not psyching ourselves out before we even start. Besides, connections don't win fights—skill does. And we've got plenty of that."
Damon hesitated but nodded. It was true that they had spent years training together under Arianne's father, a retired knight who had served the theocracy in his prime. Still, the idea of standing on the same stage as the heirs of families like the Eloises or the Banfields made his stomach churn.
"I wonder if the Demiurgos kid will show up," he mused, trying to shift the topic.
Arianne's smirk widened. "You mean the 'heir in closed-door prayers'? Please. Everyone knows that's just a cover. They're probably scared to compete."
Damon laughed despite himself. "You're braver than I am, saying that out loud. What if someone hears you?"
"What are they going to do? Challenge me?" Arianne said, flexing her arm mockingly. "Let them try."
The two of them reached the training grounds, a sprawling complex on the edge of the city where would-be competitors were already gathering. The air was thick with anticipation and the metallic scent of weapons.
Damon scanned the crowd nervously. "There's so many people here already. How are they going to narrow it down to just five?"
Arianne shrugged. "That's the point of the tournament, isn't it? They'll weed out the weaklings. You just need to make sure you're not one of them."
"You make it sound so easy," Damon muttered, pulling his practice sword from his pack. The worn leather grip felt familiar in his hand, but it did little to ease his nerves.
"Easy?" Arianne said, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing about this is easy. But that's what makes it worth it."
They found an open spot near the edge of the grounds and began stretching, the sounds of clashing blades and shouted instructions filling the air around them. Damon couldn't help but steal glances at the other competitors. Many of them were older, their movements precise and powerful.
Arianne noticed his unease and punched him lightly on the arm. "Stop staring. You're just as good as any of them."
"Sure," Damon said, though his voice lacked conviction. "But what if we don't make it? What if this is just... too much?"
Arianne sighed and crouched down, meeting his gaze. "Listen to me, Damon. We've worked too hard to back out now. You think my dad let us train every day just for you to chicken out?"
"No," Damon admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Exactly," she said, standing up and offering him a hand. "So stop doubting yourself and start acting like the warrior I know you are."
Damon took her hand and got to his feet. Arianne always had a way of cutting through his insecurities, and for that, he was grateful.
They spent the next hour sparring, their movements fluid and familiar. Arianne's speed and precision were impressive, but Damon's strength and resilience made him a formidable opponent. By the time they finished, they were both breathing hard, sweat dripping from their brows.
"See?" Arianne said, grinning. "You're not half bad."
"Thanks, I think," Damon replied, wiping his face with a cloth.
As they rested, a figure in a richly embroidered robe approached. He was flanked by two attendants, his presence commanding immediate attention.
"Competitors," the man announced, his voice carrying over the noise of the training grounds. "The tournament begins tomorrow at sunrise. Report to the central arena for your assignments. Prepare yourselves well—only the best will represent the theocracy."
The crowd murmured in response, a mixture of excitement and apprehension rippling through the gathered hopefuls.
"Tomorrow," Damon said quietly, the weight of the announcement settling over him.
Arianne clapped him on the back. "That's right. Tomorrow we show them what we're made of."
They left the training grounds as the sun began to set, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The city seemed even more alive in the evening, lanterns casting a warm glow over the bustling streets.
As they walked, Damon couldn't help but voice the question that had been nagging at him all day. "Do you think we really have a chance? I mean, against people like the Eloises or Banfields?"
Arianne stopped and turned to him, her expression serious for once. "Damon, you've got to stop comparing yourself to them. They might have fancy names and big houses, but at the end of the day, they're just people. People who can bleed, just like you and me."
Her words struck a chord, and Damon nodded slowly. "You're right. Tomorrow, we'll give it everything we've got."
"That's the spirit," Arianne said, her grin returning.
They parted ways near the city center, each heading home to prepare for the day ahead. Damon's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he climbed the stairs to his modest apartment.
This is it, he thought, staring out the window at the Temple of the Three in the distance. Its spires glowed faintly in the moonlight, a constant reminder of the faith that guided the theocracy.
He clenched his fists, determination hardening his resolve. Tomorrow, everything changes.