The morning sun cast long shadows over the training grounds of Wynthorne Castle, its golden light glinting off the steel practice dummies and the polished weapons mounted on racks nearby. The scent of freshly turned earth mixed with the tang of sweat from earlier sparring sessions, and faint echoes of distant bird calls added a serene contrast to the tension in the air. Cedric stood on the coarse sand, gripping the newly acquired enchanted dagger. His heart hammered in his chest, the weight of the trial pressing down on him. Across the field, Alistair Wynthorne entered the arena, his gait confident and steady. Alistair's longsword gleamed in the sunlight, its blade etched with faint runes. The spectators—guards and castle staff—watched silently, their gazes flicking between the two cousins. Among the onlookers stood Cedric's father, his cold, unreadable expression fixed firmly on the scene. His presence added an extra layer of pressure, the weight of his expectations palpable even without words.
Cedric took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the crisp morning air as he steeled himself. Alistair was taller, more muscular, and undoubtedly more experienced—a stark contrast to Cedric's leaner, less imposing frame. Thoughts swirled in Cedric's mind: How could he overcome such a daunting opponent? He tightened his grip on the enchanted dagger, its faint amber glow a small beacon of reassurance in his trembling hand. His confident smirk made Cedric's blood boil. "Ready to lose, cousin?" Alistair taunted, pointing his sword at Cedric.
"We'll see about that," Cedric replied, his grip tightening on his dagger. Despite the bravado, he felt the weight of Alistair's skill pressing against him like an invisible force.
The castle steward stepped forward, raising his hand. "This is the final trial between Cedric Wynthorne and Alistair Wynthorne. The victor will earn recognition as a worthy heir. Begin!"
The signal barely finished echoing when Alistair lunged forward, his sword carving a wide arc through the air. Cedric barely dodged, activating Quick Step to sidestep the attack. The rush of agility saved him from being sliced in half, but Alistair's follow-up came faster than Cedric anticipated. A heavy downward slash aimed for his shoulder forced him to roll backward, sand clinging to his tunic.
"You're quick," Alistair said, resting his sword on his shoulder, "but speed won't save you."
Cedric scrambled to his feet and took a defensive stance. He circled Alistair, looking for an opening. His smaller weapon meant he had to get in close, but Alistair's reach and strength made that a daunting prospect.
"Quick Step!" Cedric dashed forward, aiming for Alistair's side. The dagger grazed his cousin's armor, but before Cedric could press the attack, Alistair spun and slammed the flat of his sword against Cedric's arm. The impact sent him stumbling back, his arm throbbing from the blow.
"Sloppy," Alistair said, shaking his head. "You'll have to do better than that."
Gritting his teeth, Cedric repositioned himself. He activated Quick Step again, feinting left before darting right. This time, he aimed for Alistair's leg. The enchanted dagger's sharp edge bit through the fabric, drawing a thin line of blood. Alistair hissed and stepped back, his smirk replaced by a scowl.
"Not bad," Alistair admitted. "But I'm done playing around."
The air around Alistair seemed to thrum with energy as he raised his sword. The runes along the blade glowed faintly, casting an eerie, shifting light onto the ground below. The faint hum resonated through the arena, as if the weapon itself carried a heartbeat. Cedric's eyes widened, realizing this was no ordinary blade—its magic pulsed with raw, untapped potential, a testament to its craftsmanship and Alistair's growing control over it.
"Heavy Slash!" Alistair roared, bringing the blade down with immense force. The sand beneath the impact scattered in all directions as Cedric barely rolled to the side. The strike left a shallow crater in the ground, showcasing the sheer power behind it.
Cedric's heart raced. If that had connected, he would've been out instantly. Alistair was using beginner-level skills, but his execution was near-flawless. Cedric had to think quickly. He couldn't match Alistair's strength or skill head-on, but he could exploit his cousin's overconfidence.
"Is that all you've got?" Cedric taunted, forcing a smirk despite the sweat dripping down his face. "Big swings, but no follow-through?"
Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth." He advanced, his movements methodical and precise. Cedric dodged and parried as best he could, using Quick Step to avoid the brunt of Alistair's attacks. However, each activation drained his stamina, and he could feel his movements growing slower.
Cedric's mind raced as he dodged another swing, his legs growing heavier with each maneuver. His lungs burned, and his grip on the enchanted dagger was slick with sweat. Alistair's Heavy Slash was powerful but left him open after each use—a weakness Cedric could exploit, but only if his timing was perfect. If Cedric could bait him into using it again, he might have a chance.
"Is that all your fancy sword can do?" Cedric goaded, circling his cousin. "No wonder you're stuck in beginner skills."
Alistair's face twisted in anger. "You little—" He raised his sword again, the runes glowing brighter. "I'll show you what beginner skills can do!"
As Alistair prepared another Heavy Slash, Cedric watched his movements carefully. The moment Alistair committed to the swing, Cedric activated Quick Step and dashed forward. He ducked under the arc of the blade, feeling the rush of wind as it missed him by inches. Using the momentum of his dash, Cedric drove his dagger into Alistair's side, aiming for a weak spot in his armor.
The blade sank in, and Alistair let out a grunt of pain. Cedric pulled back quickly, putting distance between them as his cousin staggered.
"You…" Alistair growled, clutching his side. Blood seeped through his tunic, but his grip on the sword remained firm. "You got lucky."
"Call it whatever you want," Cedric said, trying to steady his breathing. His stamina was nearly depleted, and his body ached from the constant dodging and countering. "You're the one bleeding."
Alistair's smirk returned, though it was tinged with irritation. "You think that's enough to stop me?"
He charged, swinging his sword with wild abandon. Cedric ducked and weaved, each movement becoming more sluggish. Alistair's strikes were relentless, forcing Cedric to retreat until his back was nearly against the arena's edge.
"What's wrong, Cedric?" Alistair sneered. "Out of tricks?"
Cedric's mind raced. He needed to turn the tide, and fast. As Alistair prepared another strike, Cedric feigned a stumble, making it look like he was losing his footing. Alistair took the bait, raising his sword for a finishing blow.
"Got you," Cedric muttered under his breath. As Alistair brought his sword down, Cedric activated Quick-Step one final time, darting to the side. The momentum of Alistair's swing left him wide open, and Cedric capitalized on the moment. He surged forward, slamming the hilt of his dagger into Alistair's wrist.
The sword clattered to the ground, and before Alistair could recover, Cedric pressed the blade of his dagger against his cousin's neck.
The crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and cheers, the arena alive with the sound of their reactions. Some shouted Cedric's name in astonished admiration, while others murmured in disbelief at the dramatic conclusion. Alistair froze, his chest heaving as he glared at Cedric, his pride visibly wounded.
"Yield," Cedric said, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. "It's over."
For a moment, it seemed like Alistair might refuse, but the pain in his side and the dagger at his throat left him no choice.
"Fine," Alistair spat. "I yield."
Cedric lowered his weapon and stepped back, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. The steward's voice rang out, declaring the match over.
The trial was over. Cedric had proven himself, emerging victorious against his stronger cousin. As the crowd began to disperse, Cedric glanced toward his father. The cold, unreadable expression remained, but there was the faintest hint of acknowledgment in his eyes. Cedric took a deep breath, the weight of the trial finally lifting from his shoulders. Now, it was time to face his father. With renewed determination, he made his way toward the castle.