From the early hours of the morning, the kingdom's streets were alive with activity, as if preparing for a grand festival rather than an exam. Guests from distant lands poured into Alderon, their carriages forming long, winding lines outside the city gates. The air buzzed with excitement, and the main streets transformed into a spectacle of color, sound, and magic.
Stalls lined every corner, each offering a treasure trove of goods. Candy clouds floated on magical platforms, drifting down for children to snatch and taste. The sky above was a living canvas, alive with magical fireworks. Explosions of light turned into falling snowflakes, each one glowing in vibrant hues of blue, green, and gold. As they landed, they vanished in a soft shimmer, leaving behind nothing but awed smiles and gasps of wonder.
The merchants of Alderon and beyond had spared no effort in bringing their finest wares to the kingdom. Clothing stalls dazzled the crowds with their displays of exotic dresses imported from every corner of the continent. Silks from the southern deserts shimmered in hues of gold and crimson. Flowing robes from the far eastern kingdoms, dyed in vibrant blues and greens, seemed to ripple like water in the sunlight. Meanwhile, the northern traders showcased thick cloaks of white fur, trimmed with silver thread, their elegance matched only by their warmth.
Jewelry stalls glittered under magical lighting, drawing both nobles and commoners alike. Necklaces of pearls from the eastern seas hung beside emerald-encrusted circlets, while bracelets of carved dragon bones from the western mountains gleamed with faint enchantments. A jeweler demonstrated a golden ring that could shift its design at the wearer's will, mesmerizing onlookers as the intricate patterns swirled like liquid.
For adults, the market had an entirely different allure. Stalls displayed an array of gleaming weapons, from intricately crafted swords to enchanted bows and shields. Smiths demonstrated the power of their creations, setting magical runes alight with a touch. Elsewhere, merchants displayed their finest alcohol—barrels of ale and bottles of wine aged for over five centuries.
Soldiers in polished armor patrolled the streets, their presence both reassuring and stern. They ensured peace amidst the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning for troublemakers.
The kingdom was a paradise for children, with magicians performing tricks and conjuring animals from thin air, their laughter echoing in every corner. For the weary travelers and scholars, there were elixirs to rejuvenate the mind and body, their glowing vials creating a mesmerizing display in the marketplace.
Above it all, the grand arena loomed in the distance, its towering walls a reminder of the exams that awaited. Yet, for now, the city basked in joy, the anticipation of the upcoming battles adding to the festive atmosphere.
__________________________
Far from the bustling streets and festive air of the kingdom, Kane found himself in the dimly lit chambers of his father, King Aldric. The room was austere, with walls of dark stone and an air of authority that seemed to crush all warmth from the space. Seated on a high-backed chair, the king regarded Kane with a mixture of disdain and forced civility.
To his right stood Duke Ferion, a tall man with sharp features and an air of quiet arrogance. He carried himself like someone who knew he had the king's favor, his every word calculated to serve his own ambitions.
King Aldric gestured to a small crystal vial on the table before them. The liquid inside shimmered with a golden hue, faintly glowing with enchantment. "This," the king began, his voice cold and measured, "This is the special elixir imported from Rhyedor. It is said to temporarily enhance a warrior's strength and reflexes, allowing them to surpass their limits."
The king leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Do you know what it feels like for me to see my own bloodline rely on such cheap methods? Disgraceful."
The words hit harder than any blow, but Kane held his tongue, his pride already battered by countless such encounters with his father.
The king turned to Duke Rathmere. "Does your son need such assistance? Should I have arranged an elixir for him as well?"
The duke smiled, his voice smooth and confident. "Your Majesty, I appreciate the offer, but Paul does not require external help to succeed. He has trained diligently and will fight fairly to claim the top position in the exam."
"How noble of him," the king replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though his gaze betrayed approval.
The conversation shifted back to Kane as the king dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "Go to the royal arsenal and choose your weapon. I would rather not see you disgrace us any further."
**—————————-**
The royal arsenal was a sight to behold. The vast hall was lined with racks and displays of weapons, each one a masterpiece. Swords of every shape and size gleamed under the soft glow of magical lights, their blades etched with runes that pulsed faintly. Spears, bows, and shields adorned the walls.
As Kane wandered through the royal arsenal, his gaze fell upon the swords of his ancestors displayed with reverence and care. Each weapon told a story, its craftsmanship a testament to the warrior who once wielded it.
He stopped before a massive broadsword mounted on the wall. The plaque beneath it bore the name of his grandfather, King Eryth. The blade was imposing, its edge etched with runes that still faintly glowed after all these years. Kane stared at it, a mixture of awe and melancholy in his eyes.
King Eryth, his grandfather, had been a formidable king, but his life had been tragically cut short. Kane had heard the stories countless times—how Eryth's untimely death had thrust his father, Aldric, into the role of king at a young age. Kane's father had borne the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders ever since, shaping him into the cold, unyielding ruler he was today.
Kane moved on, his steps slower now, until he stopped in front of a grand showcase at the center of the room. Inside was a sword unlike any other.
The blade was slender but strong, its surface flawless and shimmering faintly under the magical lights. The hilt was adorned with gold and precious stones, but its true value lay in its history. This was the sword of Alderon's first king—the weapon wielded by the man for whom the kingdom was named.
Alderon, the First King, had led humanity in a desperate battle against the forces of darkness over a thousand years ago. The sword, imbued with his unyielding will and the blessings of ancient gods, had become a symbol of the kingdom's strength and legacy.
Kane's eyes lingered on the sword, its brilliance almost hypnotizing. But he didn't reach for it. He knew it was a relic of a bygone age, a weapon meant for a legend—not for him.
As he turned away, his gaze fell on a sword that seemed almost out of place among the grandeur around him.
It was simple—no jewels, no runes, no glow of enchantment. The blade was sleek and unadorned, its hilt wrapped in plain leather. Yet something about it drew Kane in. The balance of the weapon was perfect, and when he wrapped his fingers around the hilt, it felt as though the sword belonged in his hand.
He gave it a few experimental swings, feeling the weight and precision of the blade. It wasn't ostentatious or legendary, but it was reliable—solid.
Kane tightened his grip on the sword and turned back toward the showcase one last time.
he turned and exited the arsenal.
** —————————**
Paul sat on the cold marble floor, his body trembling as waves of magic coursed through him. Around him stood three robed mages, their hands glowing faintly as they pressed their palms against his back. Paul's teeth were clenched, sweat dripping down his face as he endured the searing pain.
His father, King Evaron, stood nearby, arms crossed and face stern. "Bear it, my son," he said, his voice calm but unyielding. "Endure the pain. You must show the strength of our kingdom, of our bloodline. Anything less is unacceptable."
Paul nodded weakly, but his thoughts were consumed by rage. He didn't care about showcasing his kingdom's power. His mind was fixed on one goal: defeating Kane.
** —————————**
The noise of thousands of spectators filled the massive arena as the time for the entrance exam approached. The air was electric with excitement spreading through the crowd.
But inside the participants' waiting area, the mood was tense.Their hearts pounded in sync with the deep, rhythmic strokes of a large ceremonial drum outside. With each beat, the anticipation in the air seemed to grow heavier, gripping the participants.
Every hopeful candidate prepared themselves in their own way—tightening the straps on their armor, polishing their weapons, or muttering spells under their breath.
Kane stood apart from the others, his hand resting on the hilt of his newly chosen sword.
As the final drumbeat echoed across the arena, the crowd quieted, their attention drawn to the massive stage at the center of the grounds.
From the main gate, a procession of men in gleaming white armor marched forward, their movements precise and disciplined. These were the 20 Imperial High Ranking Warriors, each a symbol of the empire's unmatched power. Their polished armor caught the sunlight, creating an almost blinding spectacle.
Kane's gaze followed them, and a sudden memory from his past life flashed before him. These warriors had been a part of the force that destroyed Alderon. He clenched his fists, his breathing quickening, but he forced himself to stay calm. Not now. Stay in control.
Behind the warriors came a group of figures cloaked in black, their hoods obscuring their faces. They moved in silence, their presence commanding attention.
At the forefront of the group was a man in a green cloak. His aura was calm yet authoritative.
As the procession reached the stage, the man in the green cloak raised his hand. Instantly, glowing magic circles appeared all around the arena, their intricate designs hovering in midair.
The crowd fell silent, captivated by the sight.
The man spoke, his voice amplified by the magic circles so that it reached every corner of the arena:
"This is the 947th Entrance Exam of the Imperial School of Magic and Sword, combined three kingdoms exam held this year in Alderon."
His voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable weight, each word etched into the minds of everyone present.
"We are here as examiners," he continued, his gaze sweeping across the participants. "I hope every one of you has prepared well. Do your best. Your mythical egg awaits you at the Imperial School."
As his words echoed through the arena, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. The tension in the air was replaced with a wave of excitement, and the participants felt the pressure mounting.
As the cheers subsided, the man in the green cloak lowered his hand, and the magic circles vanished. The stage was set, and the exam was about to begin.