The sun had barely risen when Anir stepped out of the inn, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. Despite the restless thoughts that had kept him awake through the night, he felt an unfamiliar sense of calm as the city stirred around him. The cobbled streets were busy with vendors setting up stalls, the scent of fresh bread and spices mixing in the air. People bustled about, exchanging cheerful greetings as they began their daily routines.
Anir moved through the crowd, his eyes scanning the familiar sights, though his mind was elsewhere. He was still consumed by the mysterious man at the Spire of Crimson and the unsettling words he had left behind. *Malakar... Lyci... Kingdom of Tamri...* The names echoed in his mind, but the questions they raised only grew more tangled.
As he wandered deeper into the heart of the city, he found himself at the entrance of a sprawling market square. The place was alive with energy. Stalls were overflowing with colorful fabrics, exotic fruits, trinkets, and the occasional shimmering artifact. The air was thick with the chatter of merchants haggling and customers discussing prices, the perfect place to get lost in thought—or perhaps, to find a distraction.
Just as he began to lose himself in the chaos, something caught his eye. A small crowd had gathered around one particular stall, where a young man, likely not much older than Anir, was performing some kind of trick. His hands moved in swift, practiced motions, and a small object—a glowing orb—flickered from one hand to the other, hovering mid-air for a brief moment before vanishing. The crowd gasped in awe, but Anir could see beyond the spectacle. The young man's movements were too fluid, too controlled to be simply an illusion. There was magic in his hands, raw and unrefined, much like Anir's own shadow manipulation.
Curiosity piqued, Anir slowly approached the stall, his attention fully on the performer. As he drew closer, their eyes met for a brief second, and the young man smiled knowingly, as if he had been expecting him all along.
With blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, the man had an aura that was both charismatic and somewhat mischievous. His gaze locked with Anir's, and without hesitation, the young man took a step toward him, his grin widening.
"You look like someone who knows a thing or two about control," the man said, his voice low and friendly, but there was something sharp in his gaze. "Care to try a little trick of your own?"
Anir smiled, uncertain whether to laugh or take him seriously. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side, both intrigued and cautious.
The man smiled awkwardly. "Oh, nothing. Forget it. You don't seem to be from this city. Where did you come from?"
Anir stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge the sincerity behind the question before answering. "Oh, uh, I—I came from an island, so I don't know anything about this world."
The man chuckled, a sound full of amusement. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a terrible liar?" he teased, giving Anir a playful look.
Anir shrugged, not quite sure how to respond. "Yeah, I guess."
The man scratched his head, looking a bit flustered. "Never mind," he said, extending a hand with a grin. "I'm Med, but you can call me Hokin. And you?"
Anir hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty in his chest before he smiled in return, shaking Hokin's hand. "I'm Anir. Nice to meet you."
Hokin's grin widened as he gestured toward a nearby bar. "Alright, Anir. How about a little drink? It's on me," he offered.
Anir raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer but not wanting to refuse. "Alright."
They walked over to the bar and found a quiet corner. After ordering drinks, Anir took a seat, eager to learn more about this world he found himself in. The questions in his mind were relentless, and the friendly young man beside him might just be the key to unlocking some of those answers.
While they waited, Anir leaned forward slightly. "Can you tell me about this world? I mean, the countries or whatever they're called here?"
Hokin's expression shifted into a thoughtful one. "Sure, I'm sure you know the name of this city—*Igryn*, which is the second-largest city in the Kingdom of Tamri," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "There are two other kingdoms you should know about. One is called *Asatida*, and it's the only kingdom that's not ruled by humans. Instead, it's governed by the Disabled."
Anir raised an eyebrow. "The Disabled? What do you mean by that?"
Hokin nodded, the light reflecting in his blue eyes. "Weird name, right? But that's because this group of people has all kinds of strange postures and acts you'd never expect. Some of them are, well, like the physically disabled, but many of them are simply... different in their own ways."
Anir frowned slightly, processing the information. "And the third kingdom?"
Hokin smiled knowingly, clearly eager to share. "The third kingdom is the strongest of them all. It's called *The Kingdom of Agdir*. The reason for its power is its king, the only wielder of a divine element in this world. I'm sure you know what that means."
Anir's expression darkened, his mind immediately leaping to the implication. He couldn't stop himself from asking, his voice edged with seriousness, "What's the name of that king?"
Hokin studied Anir's face for a moment, noticing the intensity in his gaze. He paused, as if weighing his words. "His name is... Ayoub. Ayoub Sghir."
The name hit Anir like a punch to the gut. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous expression crossing his face. *Ayoub Sghir...* The man who had taken everything from him. The king responsible for his father's death.
The waiter arrived with their drinks, and they paused the conversation for a moment. They continued talking until the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. When the time came to part ways, Anir stood up, giving Hokin a nod.
"Thanks for the drink," Anir said, his mind already clouded with thoughts of revenge.
"Anytime, Anir," Hokin replied, his tone light and carefree.
Anir made his way back to the inn, his footsteps slow and deliberate. His mind was consumed by thoughts of the king, Ayoub Sghir. *I'll definitely kill you and avenge my father...* The words echoed in his mind, a promise he made to himself in the silence of his heart.
When he returned to the inn, he found Ebdo sitting in a chair, his eyes closed and legs crossed, as small bolts of lightning danced over his hands. The sight was familiar—Ebdo had been practicing his control over the lightning for days now.
"What are you doing?" Anir asked, concern lacing his voice. "Aren't you going to get hurt?"
The lightning crackled around Ebdo's hands, but it quickly faded as he opened his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. "Don't worry. I've gotten better at controlling it. I might master it in around three to five years."
Anir nodded, relieved to hear the progress. "That's good."
Ebdo, however, was studying him closely. "Did something happen? Why do you look so angry?"
Anir hesitated before responding, the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Oh, it's just... I made a friend—"
"Oh, really?" Ebdo interrupted, sounding genuinely surprised. "That's good. What's his name? Wait—why are you angry, though? Isn't that a good thing? I mean, you said you didn't want to make friends since that would get in the way of your revenge, but—"
Anir raised a hand to stop him. "It's not about that. I asked him to tell me about the world and its countries. He mentioned the three kingdoms, and... one of them is ruled by... my father's killer. He even mentioned his name."
Ebdo's expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. "I see... Well, don't let it get to you. Thinking too much about it might cloud your judgment."
Anir nodded, though the storm inside him still raged. They both retired to bed, each lost in their thoughts.
The next day
The morning came far too quickly. Anir met Hokin again at the same bar, as promised. The two greeted each other with a friendly nod.
"Hey, Anir," Hokin said with a grin. "How about a spar? I want to see how strong you really are."
Anir hesitated, glancing at the ground. "Alright. But where?"
Hokin grinned wider, clearly excited. "Let's go to the battle arenas. It's on the other side of the city. We can take a carriage."
Anir nodded, eager for the distraction. Carriages were the main mode of transport in this world, and they made the journey through the bustling streets smooth and quick.
In around ten minutes, they arrived at their destination
They arrived at the battle arenas in around ten minutes, the carriage rattling through the cobbled streets, bumping occasionally as it passed over the uneven stones. Anir's mind was still partially consumed by the conversation with Hokin and the haunting image of his father's killer, Ayoub Sghir. But for now, he tried to focus on the present, on what was happening here and now.
The battle arenas were massive, larger than anything Anir had imagined. As they stepped out of the carriage, Hokin paid the driver, who nodded and drove off, leaving them standing at the entrance.
Anir turned to Hokin. "Is it really okay for you to pay for everything? I can pay too, you know."
Hokin grinned, clapping Anir on the shoulder. "Well, you're not from here, so you wouldn't have much money, right? Don't worry about it. Consider it my treat for the spar."
Anir nodded reluctantly, feeling a pang of guilt, but said nothing more about it. They moved past the large stone pillars marking the entrance, stepping into the arena grounds.
Before them stood a massive complex, surrounded by high stone walls, with ten separate fields. The fields were marked by towering stone bleachers, where crowds of spectators gathered to watch the combatants. The place looked like a colossal stadium, but instead of a sport, this was the arena where people tested their strength, skill, and magic in intense battles.
Anir was taken aback for a moment. The scale of the arena was beyond anything he had imagined. The air was thick with the sounds of cheering from a distant match. It felt a little overwhelming, but he steeled himself. This was where he needed to be. This was where he could continue testing himself and honing his skills.
Hokin led him to an empty field, and Anir could hear his footsteps echoing on the hard ground as they walked. The atmosphere around the arena was tense, the sound of clashing weapons and roaring crowds reverberating in the air. The floor of the arena was flat and packed hard, with not a single stone out of place. The space was perfect for combat.
"Alright, this should do," Hokin said, a spark of excitement in his eyes. He turned to Anir. "Let's get started."
Hokin reached into a nearby cabinet, pulling out two small axe-like weapons, each one crafted with a sleek, angular design. The blades were surprisingly small, but sharp, and the handles were crafted to allow for rapid throwing. He turned to Anir, his expression gleaming with confidence.
"These are launching axes," Hokin explained as he spun one in his hand. "As the name says, they're meant for launching. They're light, quick, and deadly. I thought you might enjoy facing something different."
Anir tilted his head slightly, unsure. "Is that your main weapon? I've never seen anything like it before."
Hokin smirked, clearly enjoying the confusion on Anir's face. "They're pretty rare," he admitted, then added with a laugh, "But you'll have to see how they work in action."
Anir nodded thoughtfully. It was a weapon he'd never seen before, and it intrigued him. With a sense of determination, he picked up two swords from the rack in front of them. They were simple longswords, one for each hand, but they felt good in his grip. There was a familiarity to the weight and balance, and for a moment, he felt a surge of confidence.
"Ooh, double swords?" Hokin said with a grin. "This is going to be fun. But wait... you're not wearing any armor, are you? Aren't you worried about getting hurt?"
Anir glanced down at his outfit, a simple black tunic with light armor pieces tucked underneath. "It's not that," he said with a confident smirk. "But I'm already wearing armor."
Hokin squinted at him, as if trying to assess the truth of Anir's words. He studied the black set Anir was wearing, then shrugged. "Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to it."
The two moved to opposite sides of the arena. The tension in the air was palpable, and Anir's heart began to beat just a little faster. This wasn't just a friendly spar—it was a test. A test of his strength, his resolve, and his skill. His thoughts briefly flashed to the coming battle against the king—against Ayoub Sghir. But he pushed that thought aside for now. He needed to focus on this fight, this moment.
Hokin raised his hand and called out, "Are you ready?"
Anir nodded, his eyes narrowing, his body tense as he prepared. He could feel the weight of the swords in his hands, the rush of adrenaline starting to build within him.
"Alright," Hokin said, a grin spreading across his face, "We start in three... two... one..."
The countdown seemed to hang in the air for a moment. Then, as the word "one" left Hokin's lips, everything happened at once.
Hokin was fast. He threw one of the axes in a quick, fluid motion, sending it spinning toward Anir with lightning speed. Anir barely had time to react, instinctively raising his sword to deflect the axe. The weapon clanged against the steel, sending a jolt up Anir's arm. He winced at the impact but quickly recovered, his eyes focused on his opponent.
Hokin didn't waste a moment. He drew his second axe and hurled it with the same speed and precision, aiming for Anir's midsection. Anir sidestepped, the axe narrowly missing him as it buried itself in the ground with a satisfying thud.
Anir's response was quick. He lunged forward, swinging both swords in an arc aimed at Hokin's shoulders. But Hokin was quick, parrying with one of his axes while simultaneously dodging to the side to avoid the second blade.
The two moved in a blur of motion, each trying to land a hit, each testing the other's defenses. Anir was surprised at Hokin's skill with the throwing axes, and Hokin seemed impressed with Anir's ability to dodge and counterattack.
The sound of clashing steel and grunts of effort filled the air as the fight raged on. Hokin launched another flurry of axes, but Anir was already anticipating the next move. He ducked low, spinning on his heel, and slashed with one of his swords, catching Hokin off guard. The blade scraped across his arm, but Hokin smiled, clearly enjoying the challenge.
"Not bad!" he called, a mix of admiration and excitement in his voice. "You've got some real skill."
Anir narrowed his eyes, the fight pushing him further. He wasn't just fighting for fun; each movement, each strike was a small reminder of the greater battle ahead. With a sudden burst of energy, he launched himself at Hokin, spinning both swords in a rapid, sweeping motion aimed to overwhelm his opponent.
Hokin barely managed to dodge, his foot slipping on the slick ground as he tried to backpedal. But Anir wasn't done yet. He pressed forward, determined to push himself to the limit.