Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
The sound of horse hooves pounded against the stone-paved roads like thunder rolling across the land. A group of mounted messengers rode hard through the main streets of the city and out toward the small villages that dotted the countryside. Each rider carried the same urgent message - one that would change the lives of the lucky and skilled forever.
For some, this news would lift them high above their ordinary lives, like a shooting star blazing across the night sky. Others would remain where they were, watching from below as dreams slipped through their fingers like sand.
The lead messenger pulled his horse to a stop at the wooden gates of Millbrook Village. Dust swirled around the animal's hooves as it snorted and stamped, tired from the long ride. A few farmers working in the nearby fields looked up from their work, curiosity written across their sun-weathered faces.
"Everyone! There is an important announcement! Gather here now!" the messenger called out, his voice carrying across the quiet village.
"What's all this about?" asked a younger farmer, his face streaked with dirt from the morning's labor.
An older man beside him, his eyes cloudy with age but sharp with wisdom, pointed at the rider's chest. "Look at that badge - he's one of Lord Vale's messengers. This must be serious business."
The two men wiped the sweat from their brows and walked closer to the gate. Word spread quickly through the small village, and soon doors were opening and people were stepping out of their homes. Children peeked out from behind their mothers' skirts, and elderly villagers hobbled forward with walking sticks.
"Old Lu, what's happening?" called out a woman carrying a basket of freshly picked vegetables.
"Don't know yet, but the messenger says he has news for all of us. Come on, let's hear what he has to say," Old Lu replied, his voice filled with concern.
Within minutes, nearly the entire village had gathered at the entrance. They formed a rough semicircle around the mounted messenger, their faces upturned with worry and hope mixed together.
An elderly man with deep wrinkles carved into his weathered face stepped forward. His old straw hat cast shadows over his eyes as he bowed respectfully. "My Lord's messenger, we are ready to hear what you have to tell us."
The messenger's face remained cold and without expression. He didn't bother to climb down from his horse but looked down at the crowd of villagers below him. His eyes swept over them like a hawk studying mice in a field.
"Is everyone here?" he asked, his voice sharp as a blade.
The old village leader looked behind him, counting faces and nodding to himself. "Yes, my Lord, everyone who can walk is here. Only those who are too sick or old to move are still in their homes."
The old man smiled in a way that seemed too eager, bending his back even lower. He knew that even a noble's servant held more power than any of them could challenge.
Who knew if this messenger might one day be put in charge of collecting their grain taxes or other village duties? It was better to stay on his good side.
"Good...Now I..."
This same scene was playing out in dozens of villages and neighborhoods across the region. In some places, the crowds were larger. In others, just a handful of people gathered to listen. But everywhere, the message would be the same.
Inside one of the grandest houses in the city center, a different kind of conversation was taking place. The rooms were spacious and clean, with polished floors that reflected the light from expensive oil lamps.
"Son," called a voice from across the main hall.
A wealthy merchant, his round belly stretching the fine silk of his robes, stood waiting in his private study. The room was filled with ledgers, coin pouches, and samples of rare goods from distant lands. His most gifted son stood before him - a young man built like a warrior, with muscles that bulged beneath his clothes.
"Son, did you hear the news?" the merchant asked, his small eyes glittering with ambition.
"Yes, Father," the young man replied. His face was fierce, with sharp features and hair cut short like a soldier's. His eyes burned with the intensity of a wild tiger ready to pounce.
"Good." The merchant nodded with satisfaction. "How confident are you about tomorrow?"
The burly young man's lips pulled back in a grin that showed all his teeth. The smile had no warmth in it - only hunger and determination.
"I will earn a spot no matter what it takes!" he declared, his hands clenching into fists.
Deep within Lord Vale's massive estate, in a windowless chamber carved from stone, an extraordinary scene was unfolding. A huge block of ice stood in the center of the room, half of its bulk buried in the ground like an iceberg.
Cold air drifted through the space, carrying tiny droplets of water that froze before they could hit the floor. The temperature was so low that a normal person would die within hours - their muscles would freeze solid and their body would shut down from the killing cold.
But someone was in this deadly room.
A young man with white hair that seemed to glow in the dim light stood before the massive ice block. His eyes, pale as winter frost, stared intently at the frozen surface. He could see something others could not - tiny particles of magical energy flowing from the ice like invisible streams of power.
This was no ordinary ice. His mother had spent a fortune to acquire this magical resource at a secret auction. The ice would make learning and practicing ice magic much faster and easier than normal methods.
"My magic... will break through to the next level now," the young man whispered, his voice as cold as the air around him.
The icy mist in the room grew thicker, swirling around him like a living thing. Soon it was so dense that his figure disappeared completely into the white fog.
Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, soft footsteps echoed through the hallways. The sound of expensive shoes clicked against floors decorated with beautiful patterns that seemed to shift and change in the lamplight.
Zhang Wei walked with purpose, his steps firm and steady. He had just returned from an outing and had taken time to bathe and change into fresh clothes. His hair was still slightly damp from washing.
As he turned a corner and disappeared from view, a servant who had been quietly cleaning the hallway looked up. The man had an ordinary face that most people would forget immediately after seeing it. He watched Zhang Wei leave, then quickly put down his cleaning supplies and hurried toward a different room.
In a richly decorated chamber, two noble women sat across from each other at a small table. Steam rose from delicate tea cups as they spoke in low voices. The first woman was Viscount Vale's primary wife - a lady of high rank and sharp intelligence. The second woman wore a green dress that marked her as the sixth wife in the household.
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a gentle knocking at the door.
They stopped talking immediately. The first wife carefully set down her tea cup and called out, "Come in."
The door opened silently and closed just as quietly. The servant who had been watching Zhang Wei entered and dropped to one knee, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Madam, it seems that young master Ethan has returned. He was away for at least four hours and came back with damp hair and wet spots on his clothing," the servant reported, noting every small detail he had observed.
"I see," the first wife said thoughtfully, her mind already working through what this information might mean.
"What else did you notice?" she asked.
"Also, young master Karl and young lady Eraye left the house with their closest servants. When they returned, their magical aura seemed much stronger than before."
"Those two..." the first wife murmured, her eyes narrowing. She was thinking about her own son, Jasper, and how these developments might affect his chances tomorrow.
"It's fortunate that I gave Jasper that piece of mysterious ice I won at the auction house," she said to herself, feeling relieved about her decision. With her son's natural talent and the magical resources she had provided, she believed he would surely win whatever contest was coming.
Still, doubt crept into her mind like a cold wind.
"What about the investigation into other talented young people from the surrounding areas who might participate?" she asked.
"Madam, we have gathered information about nearly every young man and woman in the nearby villages who might be eligible," the servant replied carefully. "We believe that most of them would not be able to defeat young master Jasper in direct combat, but we are not certain about other types of challenges they might face."
The woman in the green dress frowned and spoke up. "Sister, what are you planning to do?" Her voice carried a tone of fake concern, though her eyes showed she already knew the answer.
"Nothing too complicated," the first wife replied, a cold smile spreading across her painted lips. "Just reducing the number of people competing against my son."
Her voice dropped to a whisper that seemed to make the room's temperature fall several degrees.
"Don't touch anyone who comes from an important family or has powerful connections. But if they're just common people with no one to protect them..." She paused, letting the silence stretch out like a blade being drawn from its sheath. "Make sure they have reasons they cannot attend tomorrow. And if you cannot find good reasons... then kill them."
The words hung in the air like poison. In this elegant room, surrounded by beautiful things, a decision had been made that would determine who lived and who died.
"I understand completely, Madam," the servant replied, his voice steady despite the terrible order he had just received. "We will follow your commands without question. Those people will not participate in tomorrow's event, no matter what it takes."
Outside the mansion, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of red and orange. In villages throughout the region, families were finishing their evening meals, unaware that their children's lives hung in the balance of nobles' schemes.
Tomorrow would bring a great opportunity - one that could lift a person from poverty to power in a single day. But tonight, in the shadows cast by wealth and ambition, deadly plans were being made.
The messenger's announcement would indeed change many lives. Some would rise like rockets shooting toward the heavens. Others would never see another dawn.
The wheel of fate was turning, and no one could predict where it would stop.