In a dark, cavernous room illuminated only by the flicker of a small oil lamp, the Royal Secretariat Section of the Royal Court buzzed with a palpable tension. A corpulent figure draped in the voluminous robes of a minister held the lamp with a trembling hand, its light casting long, wavering shadows across an array of scattered documents on the table. Their face was completely concealed by the encroaching darkness, the robe's silhouette the only discernible feature. The figure's hands shook, their fear almost palpable as they rifled through what appeared to be critical official papers.
"W-where t-the hell is t-this file?"
"W-hat am I going t-to do now?"
"H-her H-highness is furious."
"I-I m-must survive in this p-palace," the figure muttered, their voice quivering with dread, as they continued to frantically search through the disorganized stack of documents.
A voice resonated from one shadowy corner of the expansive room, its origin obscured by darkness.
"Where is the reconnaissance file from Shadowfell that her highness demanded?"
The fat figure leaped in terror but was swiftly overpowered, collapsing to their knees under the crushing weight of the speaker's energy.
"Y-your L-lordship, p-please have m-mercy," he stammered, his voice strained and gasping for air.
"Mere mortal, how much longer will you exacerbate her highness' wrath? She is incandescent with rage after your inept kingdom's elite force sabotaged her plan. You will bear the consequences!" The voice thundered, each word bearing down on the fat figure like a physical blow.
"Y-your L-lordship, I w-went through the files, but there wasn't any reconnaissance team stationed at Shadowfell as planned..." the fat figure stuttered, his words trailing off into breathlessness.
"Hmm... So you're claiming the elite squad didn't kill Lord Verona?" the voice inquired, its tone shifting to a contemplative murmur, the oppressive energy dissipating slightly, granting the fat figure a moment's reprieve.
"Yes, my Lord. Lord Verona had already been defeated before squad one, the combat unit, arrived to scout Shadowfell," he said, gradually regaining his composure.
"Hmm... tell me more," the echoed voice commanded, now composed.
"According to my sources in the command center, squad one arrived with squad two as their backup... They were dispatched because the elite command center detected a sudden surge of energy at the far end of Shadowfell," the fat figure explained, bracing himself against the table, his breath still uneven.
But who could have defeated an Evolue?, I can't imagine a captain defeating a progenitor, so I can't disprove what he said, even so, what other being with power that rival an Evolue is lurking in the shadow of this kingdom? I should report to her Highness immediately.
The voice, now almost lost in thoughts, regains it composure once again.
"I have some words from her Highness for you," the speaker announced, their voice heavy with seriousness.
"I'm all ears, your Lordship," the fat figure replied obsequiously.
"Begin monitoring the princess. It appears she is sniffing around the Royal Court. If you sense she is becoming a threat to her Highness, hinder her," the speaker commanded.
"Understood," the figure responded.
"Tsk! Even if you fail to stop her, we, the loyal servants of her Highness, will eliminate her. That is the only course of action," the speaker said, irritation lacing their words.
"Tell her Highness to leave it to us," the figure pleaded earnestly.
"Consider yourself fortunate, for you have narrowly evaded her Highness' wrath today. Serve her Highness with unwavering loyalty, and you shall be rewarded, for the days of Mortals are numbered," the voice decreed.
A sudden gust parted the heavy curtains, allowing a sliver of moonlight to pierce the gloom and reveal a horned silhouette. "Live for now, huma..." the voice trailed off, melding with the night's whispering winds.
In the bustling streets of Drakonforge, the bustling city at the heart of Dragonicania, pulsates with vitality and activity. Its streets are alive with the hustle and bustle of traders, artisans, and adventurers. The city's architecture blends ancient stone fortifications with soaring spires and bustling marketplaces. At its center lies the Great Forge, where skilled craftsmen forge legendary weapons and armor, each piece infused gem artifacts, actifact activator imbuing the different type of gems with molecular energy to activate them.
Drakonforge is renowned for its vibrant culture, rich history, and its role as a hub of commerce and innovation in the ancient kingdom.
Three middle-aged men were seen walking and chatting together in the lively street of Drakonforge.
"Have you heard the news?" A lean one asked, splick! Splick!! while using a toothpick to stroke his teeth.
"Phew!! I'm full, about what?" Another with protruding stomach asked, buuuuuuurp!! Amid belching.
"About the legendary fight at the colosseum today? The one where anyone who beats Tharic, the unbeaten warrior, will be honored by the queen?" Said one with a saké bottle in his hand, slurp! slurp!! As he gulped down the saké.
"Yes, and they're giving away ten thousand gold coins as well!" The lean one exclaimed.
"Eeks! That's an enormous sum, but it comes with immense risk, facing Thalric is a bad idea, it's like a suicidal attempt." The one with a protruding stomach retorted.
"Absolutely, my friend. The Minister of Information and Cultural Development announced it yesterday." The lean one agreed.
"But why such a lavish reward? It seems unprecedented. That amount could fund a lifetime of luxury." the one with saké bottle mused.
"A lifetime? Hardly. Even the most extravagant spender would need at least two generations to exhaust that fortune." Emphasized, the one with protruding stomach.
"Still, facing Thalric is no small feat. That giant is a monster, I've heard his strength rivals, if not surpasses, that of an Elite Squad Captain—" the one with saké bottle concluded.
"—but he's too boorish." The lean one cut in.
"Regardless, I'm thinking of attending the fight at the colosseum. Care to join me?" The lean one asked.
"Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world." the one with saké bottle exclaimed gulping down the last drop of his saké.
At the front of the city's colosseum.
"Ahem!... Hey! why the hell should I get dragged here? this is against our pride as the kingdom elite... you heard me?" Kane, captain of squad one said whispering to Ellie who didn't seem to listen, her bright eyes glistering at the view in front.
The colosseum stood as a monumental testament to the grandeur of Dragonicania in the mortal realm, Its towering walls, forged from ancient stone and weathered by centuries, loomed over the bustling city like a sleeping giant.
The entrance gates, adorned with intricate carvings of legendary champions, those that have made name for themselves in the colloseum, beckoned spectators into its cavernous interior.
The three clad in some frayed and worn wool hooded cloak, looked like wraiths from an ancient legend.
"...I feel like I look weird in this cloak. This is a bad idea after all," he muttered, clutching the hood as if it might fall away and reveal his face. Lilinette remained silent beside him, a glimpse of her blushing face visible through the opening in her hood.
"Let's have fun, Captain Lilinette!" Ellie exclaimed, grabbing their hands and dragging them toward the colosseum. They nearly stumbled, caught off guard by her sudden enthusiasm.
They entered, inside, the arena's vast expanse seemed almost otherworldly. Rows upon rows of tiered seating stretched upward, capable of holding tens of thousands of eager onlookers. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of sweat and blood. Massive torches, strategically placed around the perimeter, cast flickering shadows that danced menacingly across the stone walls.
"Yay! Let's grab a seat!" She said giggling, dragging the two to the second row.
At the heart of the colosseum lay the arena floor, a sprawling expanse of sand and dirt. Hidden beneath this surface were intricate mechanisms—trapdoors, hidden compartments, and passages—that could summoned ferocious beast and gladiators.
Yahoo!! Yeah!! Yay!! Wahoo!! Yoo hoo!!
Cries of excitement filled the air as a man emerged from an inner passage leading to the arena. Clad in leather armor and a loincloth, he towered almost to the height of a giant. With each heavy step toward the center, he flexed his massive muscles, putting on a show that electrified the crowd.
"Cheers for Thalric!! The oldeeeeest champioooon... , A formidable warrioooor..."
The commentator's voice echoed from a high stand, reverberating through the rows of seats.
The roars of ferocious creatures, kept in dark cells beneath the stands, occasionally echoed through the corridors, sending shivers down the spines of even the most hardened warriors.
The atmosphere was electric, charged with the fervor of the crowd. Nobles and commoners alike gathered to witness the spectacle, their voices rising in a cacophony of cheers, gasps, and cries. It was a place where glory and death walked hand in hand, where heroes were born, and legends met their end.
The colosseum, an arena of dreams and nightmares, was a stage where the epic drama of life and death played out in its most visceral form.