The great hall of the Graythorn estate buzzed with anticipation as the candidates for the quarterfinals were announced. All eyes were drawn to the arena below, where Leonel Graythorn stood, calm and composed, preparing to face Zellan Darius Ironwood. The towering figure of Zellan was an imposing sight, his heavy sword resting like an extension of his arm, its sharp edge gleaming ominously under the sunlight.
Zellan, a mid-ranked Sword Initiator, was renowned for his endurance and power-based techniques, qualities that earned him widespread respect. Leonel, on the other hand, remained a mystery to many—a quiet fighter who rarely displayed the full extent of his abilities.
As the two opponents stepped forward, the murmurs among the audience grew louder.
The Elders' Podium
Above the arena, seated in an elevated position, the elders of the Graythorn family watched with solemn expressions. The 3rd Division Captain, Darian Graythorn, stood with arms crossed, his gaze sharp and focused. Beside him sat Lady Seraphina Graythorn, matriarch of the family and leader of the Stormreaver Raiders. She exuded an aura of authority and grace, her eyes betraying no emotion as she observed the young combatants.
Further back in the shadows, the First Elder—a figure long shrouded in mystery—sat silently. His name was Valtor Graythorn, though few dared to speak it aloud. Valtor was a man of immense wisdom and unfathomable strength, having once been among the most powerful sword wielders the Graythorn family had ever seen. His presence alone carried a weight that made even the captains tread carefully in his company.
The Fourth Elder, a seasoned swordsman with graying hair, broke the silence.
"The talent this year is impressive. The prodigies of House Graythorn will rise to great heights if they are guided properly."
Lady Seraphina nodded faintly, her voice soft yet firm. "Thaddeus Graythorn," she said, referring to her nephew. "His performance earlier was exceptional. Already on the path to becoming a Sword Master. His father, Eamon, has trained him well."
From the corner, Lord Edric Windlance, leader of the Thunderlord Battalion and the family's only spear user, let out a low chuckle. "Thaddeus is promising, but I have my eye on Liora Moonshadow. Her speed and precision are unmatched among her peers. She is reading her opponents like an open book."
The Fourth Elder agreed. "The branch family has truly produced a gem."
"Then there's Garic Stormblade," one of the younger elders muttered, rolling his eyes. "Aggressive and talented, but far too arrogant."
Darian Graythorn's voice cut through the conversation like a blade. "Arrogance can be corrected. But skill like his is rare. He may not be the strongest, but he'll give anyone a fight they won't forget."
Just then, a deep voice echoed from the shadows, silencing the entire podium.
"Leonel Graythorn," the First Elder Valtor Graythorn murmured, his tone low yet clear enough for all to hear. "That boy... He is hiding something."
All eyes turned toward the elder, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Even Lady Seraphina arched an eyebrow, an expression of rare surprise gracing her features.
"What do you mean, First Elder?" The Fourth Elder asked cautiously.
Valtor leaned forward, his ancient eyes fixed on Leonel, who now stood calmly in the arena, Zellan towering over him. "His movements, his demeanor... they are too controlled. He has power he does not wish to reveal yet. Whether it is wisdom or fear that keeps him restrained, I do not know. But mark my words, when he chooses to unleash it, he will be unlike any of them."
Darian's eyes narrowed. "You think Leonel could surpass even the likes of Thaddeus and Liora?"
Valtor's lips curled faintly into what could barely be called a smile. "That depends. But he will surprise us all before this tournament ends."
A murmur rippled through the elders. Leonel, hiding strength? The idea was unsettling—and exciting.
As the tension settled, Lady Seraphina spoke, redirecting the conversation. "Enough speculation. Let us remind ourselves of the stakes."
"Indeed," said the Fourth Elder, nodding. "These young warriors fight not only for honor but for rewards unlike any seen in decades."
Lord Edric raised an eyebrow. "The Sword Momentum alone is a reward of immeasurable value. To bathe in the intent of our ancestors is to touch the very essence of their mastery."
"Yes," Lady Seraphina said, her voice soft yet commanding, "but that is not all. The first prize... is the World Archaen of House Graythorn."
The hall fell silent. Even the younger elders who had been whispering amongst themselves froze, their expressions a mixture of awe and shock.
"The World Archaen?" Darian repeated, his tone betraying disbelief.
The Fourth Elder cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly. "The World Archaen holds treasures and tomes from the first generation of House Graythorne. It has been sealed and safeguarded for the head of the family alone. This time, however, the patriarch has decreed it be opened—for one time only—to the victor of this tournament."
"Unbelievable," Lord Edric muttered, his hand tightening around the shaft of his spear. "I thought access to the World Archaen was forbidden, even for the current head."
Valtor, the First Elder, chuckled softly, though his voice was devoid of humor. "The patriarch has deemed this generation worthy to glimpse its depths. But whether they can comprehend what lies within... that remains to be seen."
"What exactly lies in the World Archaen?" one of the younger elders dared to ask.
"A thousand years of treasures," the Fourth Elder said. "Books, techniques, artifacts from the time of our founders. And among them, the Sword Momentum of the first generation head. The victor will bathe in his sword intent for six hours, a gift that could shape the path of even the most talented swordmaster."
"The second prize," Lady Seraphina continued, "will grant four hours of Sword Momentum. And the third prize, two hours."
Silence gripped the hall once more. Even the thought of touching the Sword Momentum was enough to elevate any swordsman's path. But the World Archaen? That was something altogether different—a mysterious, untapped vault of knowledge and power that no living Graythorne had set foot in.
"It seems," Darian said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Leonel in the arena, "this tournament will be more than just a test of skill. It will be a test of destiny."
Valtor's gaze remained fixed on Leonel. "And destiny," he murmured, "always favors the one who walks the hardest path."
As the elders absorbed the gravity of the First Elder's words, the crowd erupted in cheers. The match between Leonel Graythorne and Zellan Darius Ironwood was about to begin.
But among those who watched, whispers of the World Archaen and its secrets filled the air.