Prologue, Strike on the Crown
The world is neither merciful nor even minimally benevolent; it is a cruel place where only the shrewdest can survive. Arthur knew this, having suffered so much in his life despite his young age.
There he stood, holding a broken steel sword and covered in blood. The young man had already lost almost everything that was important to him... Yet something kept him standing.
Many warriors marched towards him. Even though he was exhausted and had several arrows embedded in his body — enough to make any adult faint or even die — his hand did not waver for a second.
Arthur took a defensive stance, truly planning to fight until his last breath. The warriors were only a few meters away, and the renowned archers of the kingdom of Lestira, known for never missing their target, were ready to rain arrows on the young man once again.
A tall man, wearing red armor that stood out completely compared to the aluminum-colored armors of the others, slowly raised his right hand. Immediately, everyone stopped advancing and lowered their weapons. The strange knight began to speak:
— Young Arthur... I have no idea how you are still alive, but do you really plan to die for those traitors? — said the man, advancing slowly.
Arthur smiled disdainfully, raising the broken blade.
— Traitors..? Quite ironic for a usurper to say such words — replied Arthur, his voice laden with contempt.
— Usurper? They are no longer heirs of the flames; they can no longer control Draconic beings or summon and manipulate their own fire.
— And you can? — provoked Arthur, his tone sarcastic — I want to see if your words are worth as much as my blade, even broken.
Arthur knew that his younger sister could conjure flames, but what difference would it make to speak? Such information was restricted to a few people. Anyway, the man would publicly announce that such a fact was nothing but slander and continue hunting them until their heads were on stakes.
General Igneus did not respond with words but with actions. Instantly, his sword was imbued with flames so strong that they blinded the unprepared, so bright that they rivaled the sun.
Arthur advanced towards the general, using the little strength he had left. He did not close his eyes; blindness for someone who is going to die is nothing. In a swift movement, he advanced with fervor to at least kill the general.
Holding the broken sword with both hands, Arthur prepared to stab the blade into his target's neck, but when he looked at him, he was laughing...?
Unable to comprehend, his point of view changed drastically. Arthur remained confused, in great pain, and with an extreme burning sensation below where his chest would be. He finally realized... He had been cut in half.
And to make matters worse, the young man couldn't even say his last words, as after falling to the ground, his entire body was engulfed in flames, which quickly consumed his body to the point of being reduced to ashes.
On that day, Arthur, the eldest son of the King, actually a mere bastard, died defending his siblings who were legitimate heirs. The young man was a great prodigy, dying at fifteen.
— Very well, gentlemen, does anyone still doubt my right to the throne? I am the man of the prophecy, the one said to wield the sun itself! — shouted Igneus, and all the flames extinguished immediately.