### Chapter 3: The Legacy Awakened
I stand at the edge of the stage, staring at the crowd gathered below. Soldiers, mages, and common folk all look up at me, their faces a mix of curiosity and confusion. The Ravien Sword rests heavily in my hand, its weight a reminder of the legacy I carry. I do nothing for several long minutes, allowing the tension to build. The murmurs in the crowd grow louder until they fall into an uneasy silence, all eyes locked on me.
Slowly, deliberately, I raise the sword high above my head. The crowd gasps, and a ripple of anticipation sweeps through them. I let the silence stretch out even further, feeling the power of the moment.
"I am the descendant of Kzarka Il Themera," I begin, my voice amplified by the Primordial Force that flows through me. "The one who surpassed the limits of mortality."
I take a deep breath and recite the first poem:
*In the realm where shadows meet,
A hero rose, his fate to greet.
Beyond the bounds of mortal kin,
He broke the chains, and did begin.*
The crowd remains silent, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. I continue, my voice growing stronger with each title.
"I am the descendant of the Unkilled."
*Through battles fierce, his life unending,
No foe could see his spirit bending.
With every clash, he stood unbroken,
A warrior true, his name unspoken.*
"I am the descendant of the Champion of the Arena."
*In the pit of blood and sand,
He fought with might, he fought with hand.
With every victory, his fame did grow,
A legend born, a mighty show.*
The titles pour out of me, each one a testament to Kzarka's unmatched prowess and unwavering resolve. But despite the power in my voice and the ancient energy of the poems, nothing happens. The crowd begins to shift uneasily, whispers spreading like wildfire. Doubt flickers in their eyes.
Then I move on to Kzarka's promise, a promise known by gods, dragons, demons, humans, and all races. The true myth that forged our destiny. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words about to leave my lips.
"This is the promise of Kzarka Il Themera," I say, my voice steady and resolute. "A vow to make Themera a haven for heroes and legends, a fortress to hold back the tides of darkness."
As I begin to recite the promise, the sky above starts to darken. Clouds swirl and gather, as if drawn by the power of the words. The air grows heavy, charged with a palpable energy.
*Upon this land, I stake my claim,
A kingdom forged in hero's name.
Where light and valor shall unite,
Against the dark, we'll stand and fight.*
The ground beneath my feet begins to tremble, a low rumble that spreads outwards, shaking the very foundations of the castle. The crowd gasps, some falling to their knees in fear and reverence.
*No demon's claw shall breach these walls,
No shadow's touch, no night that falls.
For here we stand, as one, as kin,
A beacon bright, the fight within.*
The sky splits open, a jagged line of light cutting through the darkness like a blade. It's as if the heavens themselves are peeling back to reveal the gaze of some divine being, curious and watchful.
*And to the gods, my vow I swear,
To hold this ground with utmost care.
Through blood and fire, through storm and strife,
For Themera, I'll give my life.*
The sword in my hand begins to glow with a fierce, golden-red light, the Primordial Force surging through it. The energy pulses, growing stronger, brighter, until it bursts forth in a blinding column of light that pierces the sky. The earth trembles violently, the world itself seeming to acknowledge the ancient promise.
The crowd is stunned into silence, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. They watch as the energy from the sword and from me shoots into the heavens, a beacon of primal power and ancient resolve. The very ground we stand on feels alive, as if the planet itself remembers the myth, the promise that Kzarka made so long ago.
The sword and I are bathed in this red-golden light, the Primordial Force radiating outwards, filling the square with its raw, untamed power. The pressure is immense, like the weight of countless generations bearing down on us. Yet, it feels right, as if this moment was destined to happen.
The light finally begins to fade, and I lower the sword. The crowd remains silent, their faces reflecting a newfound respect and belief. They have witnessed something beyond comprehension, something that ties them back to the very roots of our kingdom.
"I am the descendant of Kzarka Il Themera," I repeat, my voice echoing across the silent square. "And together, we will fulfill his promise."
Without another word, I turn and walk off the stage, the weight of the Ravien Sword still heavy in my hand but lighter in my heart. The crowd slowly begins to stir, whispers turning to murmurs, then to excited chatter. They have seen the power of our legacy, and it has reignited their hope.
As I make my way through the castle, I call out to the soldiers, the mages, and everyone who can fight. "Gather in the square," I command. "We have a kingdom to restore."
Word spreads quickly, and soon the square is filled with the buzz of anticipation. As the soldiers, mages, and key figures assemble, I take my place at the front, the Ravien Sword gleaming in the fading light.
"This is the beginning of our resurgence," I say, my voice carrying the weight of centuries of determination. "We will reclaim our lost glory, honor the promises of our forebears, and stand as the shield of Roden."
With that, I turn to my high-level nobles and generals. "You, come with me to the council chambers," I command. "We have plans to make and battles to prepare for."
The key figures follow me, their expressions a mixture of respect and trepidation. They have seen the power I wield and the legacy I carry. Now, it is time to put that power to use.
As we enter the council chambers, I feel the weight of history pressing down on me, but also a newfound strength. This is the beginning of a new era for Themera, and I am ready to lead it. The path ahead is clear, and with the power of our legacy, we are ready to face whatever challenges come our way.