The Grand Hall of Castle Ignis shimmered under the blinding glare of summoned lightning, its light catching the sparkle of crystal chandeliers and the jewels worn by the elegantly dressed guests. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, fine wine, and expensive perfume. Men in crisp tailcoats and suits conversed in hushed tones, while women flowed across the marble floor in luxurious, long gowns. It was a gathering of the noble elite—a luxurious, dignified affair.
A sudden, respectful hush fell over the room as a man of imposing stature entered. His hair, a striking shade of fiery red, complemented his dazzling azure-blue greatcoat. On his chest, a polished gold brooch in the figure of an eagle gleamed. He held a crystal glass of wine, his gaze sweeping over the bowing assembly.
He strode purposefully to the centre podium, the designated place for the evening's address. Raising his glass, his voice boomed, clear and resonant: "To the honoured guests of this night, a warm welcome! We have gathered here for the traditional celebration of New Year's Eve!"
A wave of applause erupted, loud and joyous.
Then, the celebration shattered.
A harsh, metallic clash of swords echoed from the castle's back corridors. In the next terrifying moment, a man—half-armoured, his tunic shredded, and covered in his own blood—stumbled into the hall. Screams tore through the air as the refined guests scattered, the noble party instantly devolving into chaos and panic.
Close behind, the injured man was pursued by a squad of more than ten heavily armoured soldiers. They were clearly an enemy battalion.
"Brother!" a sharp voice cried out from the rear of the hall.
A fine young man, bearing the same unmistakable red hair as the one on the podium, burst into view, two long swords held ready. He hurled one blade across the distance. His older brother, the man in blue, caught it mid-air without a pause.
The younger man, known as Leaxer, moved with blinding speed, his free sword swiftly cutting down two soldiers. He channelled his aura magic, throwing a focused water pulse to blast open a clear path on the far side of the hall, urging the fleeing guests toward safety.
The older brother, Archie, whose eagle crest marked him as the head of his house, didn't hesitate. He ignited a massive fireball in his free hand and hurled it at the encroaching enemy line. Boom! The explosion ripped through the air, felling half the remaining soldiers.
"Brother, all the guests are safe now!" Leaxer shouted over the din, sheathing his remaining sword. "We need to get to the Head Room and inform the capital that intruders have successfully entered the country!"
Archie nodded curtly. Their discussion was cut short as a large number of enemy reinforcements rounded the corner.
Without a word, both brothers gripped their swords and charged into the fray, cutting down the soldiers smoothly. They focused their strikes on the vital spots—the chest, the abdomen, and the head—to conserve time, pushing forward toward the castle's control center.
As they neared their goal, a sudden, deafening blast tore through the wall. The Head Room, containing the crucial communication detector and all the signalling apparatus, was utterly destroyed in the blink of an eye.
With grim, set faces, the brothers turned to find an alternate path to the exit. Archie stopped abruptly.
"Brother," he said, his voice hard, "how did they know about the Head Room communicator?"
"What do you mean, Brother? I don't understand," Leaxer replied, his face contorted in confusion and surprise.
Their troubled discussion was violently interrupted by a sudden fireball arcing directly toward them.
A new figure emerged from the shadowy periphery, stepping into the bright, flickering light.
"Oh, dear Brother Archie," the figure drawled, a wicked smile spreading across his face, "and my little Brother Leaxer."