"Hannah, we're going to be late! Hurry up!" Milo called out, his voice tingly with impatience.

Hannah hurried out of her room, rolling her eyes. "Don't rush me, the sign-ups aren't for another hour. We'll be fine," she replied, brushing past him.

Milo, however, was anxious. This was his first year old enough to join the Calamity Corps, and he didn't want to take any chances. "We still need to meet up with Damien, and you know how he is—always late."

Reluctantly, Hannah agreed and quickly finished getting ready. The two headed out toward the town square. Sure enough, as expected, Damien was nowhere to be found.

Milo checked the time, his anxiety growing. "We're cutting it close," he muttered. Twenty minutes later, Damien appeared, breathless and apologetic.

"Sorry I'm late, I—I was going to be on time, but—"

"Shut up, let's go," Milo interrupted, already turning to walk.

The three friends made their way through town, heading toward the barn where the sign-ups for the Clash of Calamity's were being held. The event was the highlight of their year, a chance to prove their strength and skill before the Calamity Corps. While Damien and Hannah had been old enough to join for the past two years, they've waited for Milo, wanting to compete together. Now, the moment had finally arrived.

As they stood in line, they couldn't help but discuss the incredible atmosphere of the tournament. This year, the tournament would be even more intense than usual, as all eight of the current generals were expected to be in attendance as spectators. The generals were the top leaders of the Calamity Corps, known for their immense power, and their presence at the tournament was a rare and exciting opportunity for the competitors to impress them.

They stood in line, their excitement palpable, their minds racing with visions of victory. The Clash of Calamity's was a prestigious competition where individuals with an affinity for Calamities could form teams and show their abilities. The top contestants would be scouted by the Corps, while others might find work as bodyguards or mercenaries.

The three of them had spent their entire lives preparing for this very day, dreaming of becoming legendary generals capable of toppling the Beasts of Calamity.

"We're going to be stars," Damien grinned, his eyes sparkling with ambition.

"Anyone who stands in our way will fall," Hannah murmured, her voice low but filled with determination.

"I'll be the one to dethrone the Molten General as the youngest general, for sure!" Milo declared, his voice full of fiery confidence.

When it was finally their turn, the teller handed them their slot. "Your team is assigned to Cell D, preliminaries held in two months at the New Edenborough Coliseum."

They snapped back to reality, grateful for the opportunity but still caught in their daydreams of winning. With a few quick words of thanks, they left the barn.

"Two months is more than enough time to train," Milo said with a grin. "We should start right away."

Hannah hesitated, her brow furrowing in concern. "Are you sure? Being a team of three could hurt our chances. We should've found two more teammates."

Damien gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Being a team of three will just show how much stronger we are. We'll crush the competition."

"True, but we'll need to leave two weeks before the tournament to get to New Edenborough," Damien added, his focus already on their next steps.

"But we have to be careful," Hannah interjected. "The generals don't just pick anyone. They're looking for more than just strength. They want leadership, strategy, the ability to inspire. We can't just rush in and hope for the best."

The next few days were filled with intense training. They worked from dawn until dusk, honing their skills, building their strength, and refining their tactics. With every passing day, their bond grew stronger. They trained not just as individuals, but as a team. They knew that in the Clash of Calamity's, teamwork would be as important as power. 

Two months passed in the blink of an eye, and before they knew it, Milo, Hannah, and Damien were on their way to New Edenborough. Growing up in a small village, none of them had ever seen a city quite like this. Towering buildings, bustling streets, and a sense of grandeur surrounded them. It was overwhelming, yet exhilarating. They had arrived two days ahead of the tournament, giving them time to explore the vast city before the stress of the Clash of Calamity's set in.

The night before the preliminaries, however, Milo found himself plagued with nerves. The weight of the upcoming challenge, the fear of failure, gnawed at him. He had trained his entire life for this moment, but now that it was finally here, doubt crept into his mind.

Damien and Hannah, sensing his tension, decided to drag him out for a night of relaxation. They led him to a nearby bar, hoping that a few drinks would take his mind off the pressure. The tavern was loud, filled with chatter and the clinking of glasses. Damien, never one to keep quiet for long, spotted a pair of twins sitting at a corner table, their long silver hair catching the dim light.

Damien leaned over, grinning mischievously. "You two look like you could use some company. Why don't you come sit with us?" he said, his voice dripping with charm.

Milo sighed, already regretting coming out, but Damien wasn't about to let him off the hook. "Come on, man. Let loose a little," Damien urged, practically dragging him toward the girls.

One of the twins, her piercing gray eyes narrowing, gave them a cold look. "So, another wannabe hoping to join the Corps, huh?"

Milo blinked in surprise. "How did you know we were competitors?" he asked, caught off guard by her remark.

The second twin, a mirror image of the first, looked at them with a faint smirk, her gray eyes just as cold and calculating. "Your blond friend back there has been glaring at us since you walked over. And that sword on her back," she continued, nodding toward Hannah, "it's enhanced with a storm crystal."

Damien chuckled, clearly amused. "So, does that mean you two will be our enemies in the tournament?"

The first twin scoffed, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "You honestly think you're strong enough to challenge us?" she sneered, her voice dripping with confidence. Her sister, however, cut in, placing a hand on her arm. "Calm down, sister. Don't let them rile you up."

Milo's competitive spirit flared. He straightened, his voice firm. "What are your names, then? When we meet in the tournament, I'll make sure to cut you down a peg."

The second twin gave him a calculating look, her lips curling into a slight smile. "Maybe, if we meet on the battlefield, you'll earn the privilege of knowing our names," she said, her voice laced with challenge. Without another word, the twins stood and walked away, leaving the trio at the table.

Damien sighed, slouching back in his chair. "Well, that was a bust. I'm ready for bed."

Hannah, who had been watching the exchange from the bar, walked over, shaking her head. "Well, look at that. Milo's already made rivals." She gave him a playful nudge. "Let's get back to the inn and get some rest. Can't show off in the tournament if we're all half asleep."

The three of them left the bar and made their way back to the inn. As they settled into their rooms, the weight of the next day began to settle in. The Clash of Calamity's was no longer just a dream or a distant goal—it was real.

As Milo lay in bed that night, his mind raced, but it wasn't with the same anxious thoughts as before. The encounter with the twins lingered in his mind, their mocking words and cold eyes sharpening his focus. What had started as frustration and doubt was now burning into something stronger—resolve. He clenched his fists beneath the covers, imagining the battlefield, the clash of weapons, and the roar of the crowd. He wasn't going to let those twins get the better of him. He would show them that he was more than just some competitor—he was a force to be reckoned with. The tournament was no longer a source of fear, but a chance to prove himself. He had trained his entire life for this, and now, he wasn't just fighting for his dreams; he was fighting for respect. Tomorrow, when he stepped onto that battlefield, he would be ready to take down anyone who stood in his way.