The plaza of Dawnspire was crowded, avatars packed shoulder to shoulder, their names glowing in a rainbow of guild tags. Merchants abandoned their stalls, casual players climbed onto rooftops, and even low-level adventurers stopped mid-quest to join the growing circle.
At the center stood Grimblade.
His wooden sword hung loosely at his side, his stance relaxed, eyes calm. Across from him, his opponent twirled a gleaming halberd, its edge glowing faintly with an enchantment—a weapon leagues above starter gear.
The opponent's name burned in crimson letters: Kryos, Captain of Imperium's rookie division.
Lyra clutched her staff nervously from the crowd. "This… this is insane. Why would Imperium send him?"
Grimblade didn't reply. He simply rolled his shoulders, as if preparing for a morning stretch rather than a duel that had half the server watching.
Kryos smirked, the kind of arrogant smile reserved for kings looking down at beggars. "So it's true. The washed-up Emperor crawled back from his grave. I expected more than a wooden toy."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Is that really Grimblade?"
"No way. He's outgeared, outclassed. This'll be quick."
"But… what if it is him?"
The duel timer appeared above their heads.
[Duel Start: 10… 9… 8…]
Kryos slammed the butt of his halberd against the stone floor, sparks flying. His stance radiated confidence, the posture of someone used to victory.
Grimblade simply exhaled.
[3… 2… 1… Fight!]
Kryos lunged forward instantly, his halberd sweeping in a wide arc that glowed with skill activation. The crowd gasped. It was a textbook opener—fast, brutal, designed to overwhelm rookies before they could react.
But Grimblade was no rookie.
He sidestepped smoothly, the halberd whistling past by a hair's breadth. His wooden blade flicked once, striking Kryos's exposed wrist. A tiny red number floated up.
"1 damage?!" someone in the crowd shouted.
Kryos laughed. "Pathetic." He spun, bringing the halberd down in a crushing overhead strike.
Grimblade's knees bent, and he rolled forward, sliding beneath the weapon's arc. In the same motion, he rose and delivered three rapid slashes across Kryos's back.
The damage was minimal, but the effect was clear—Grimblade had control.
Gasps erupted.
"Did you see that dodge?!"
"His movement's too clean…"
"Impossible. That's just—instinct?"
Kryos growled, frustrated. "Fine. No more playing around."
He activated a chain skill—halberd spinning, air crackling with energy. The plaza lit up as shockwaves tore across the floor. Dozens of rookies stumbled back to avoid collateral damage.
Lyra's eyes widened. "That's… that's a mid-tier skill! How does a rookie captain already—"
But before she could finish, Grimblade vanished.
No, not vanished—moved. His footwork was too sharp, too precise, his timing flawless. Each shockwave missed him by pixels, his avatar flowing like water around Kryos's desperate storm of attacks.
Then came the counter.
One step. One slash.
The wooden blade struck the halberd's shaft at the perfect angle, deflecting Kryos's momentum. In the same heartbeat, Grimblade's follow-up slammed into Kryos's chest. Not for damage—
—for stagger.
Kryos stumbled, stunned for half a second.
To the crowd, it looked like magic. To Grimblade, it was simply experience. He had fought halberd users a thousand times. He knew every blind spot, every overextension, every flaw hidden beneath flashy animations.
Grimblade's onslaught began.
His blade blurred, striking in a relentless rhythm. Chest. Shoulder. Legs. Each blow chipped away, not at health, but at balance. Kryos flailed, trying to recover his footing, but Grimblade never let him breathe.
The wooden sword cracked against his jaw, and Kryos staggered back, his health bar dipping dangerously.
"No way…" someone whispered. "He's… winning?"
Kryos roared, activating his ultimate. The halberd erupted in a pillar of crimson light, energy spiraling around him. His health spiked, his damage doubled, his presence overwhelming.
The crowd erupted.
"That's it! Grimblade's done for!"
"Ult versus wooden sword? It's over!"
But Grimblade's eyes narrowed, unshaken. He waited. Watched. Calculated.
The first swing came—he dodged left.
The second—a backstep.
The third—he parried, his wooden blade sparking against the halberd's glow.
Every ultimate had a pattern. Every storm had an eye.
And then, at the perfect moment, Grimblade struck.
His blade pierced Kryos's side, triggering a hidden parry window. The halberd's glow shattered, its ultimate canceled mid-swing.
The plaza exploded with gasps and shouts.
"He… he canceled it?!"
"That's impossible!"
"No rookie can do that—no one but…"
Grimblade's voice was calm, cutting through the chaos.
"You're too predictable."
A final slash. Kryos's health bar emptied, his avatar collapsing onto the stone floor.
[Victory: Grimblade]
The plaza went silent. Then, like wildfire, world chat erupted.
[World]: "GRIMBLADE BEAT IMPERIUM'S CAPTAIN?!"
[World]: "With a WOODEN SWORD?!"
[World]: "The Emperor is back."
Lyra ran to his side, eyes sparkling with disbelief. "That was… that was insane! You—you didn't just beat him. You humiliated him."
Grimblade sheathed his blade calmly. "He was careless. That's all."
But as he turned away, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
The server had witnessed it. The name Grimblade was no longer a ghost of the past.
It was alive. Burning.
And every guild, every rival, every would-be Emperor now knew—
The throne was no longer empty.