The roar of the crowd filled the grand arena as the announcer's voice boomed across the stone walls."Next match—Lior versus Hans, son of Lord Velric!"
But Lior was nowhere to be seen. Whispers rippled through the stands."Did he flee?""Maybe he was scared of Hans!"Hans smirked confidently, swinging his jeweled sword in mock practice.
Back in the shadowed streets of the city, Lior stood surrounded by the gang that had ambushed him earlier. Blades gleamed, and the leader—a scar-faced brute—grinned wickedly."Orders are simple, boy. You don't make it to that arena."
Lior adjusted his sword on his back and sighed softly."I told you... I'm in a hurry."
That single line made the gang leader frown. Then, before a word could be spoken, Lior vanished. The air split with a sharp crack! A heartbeat later, five men were on the ground, their weapons broken, the leader dangling mid-air with Lior's sword handle pressed against his throat.
"You wasted my time," Lior muttered, dropping him.
When he finally walked into the arena, silence followed. His uniform was unruffled, no dust, no scratches—only calm eyes that pierced through the crowd's disbelief.
Hans blinked in shock. "What—how are you—"Lior unsheathed his sword and simply said, "Let's finish this."
The signal was given. Hans charged, flames bursting from his blade in a golden arc. The crowd gasped—his family's secret fire technique was known to melt through steel. But Lior didn't even flinch. He raised his sword, channeling a soft, unseen energy through it. The golden flames split in two as if sliced by the wind itself.
Hans stumbled back. "Impossible!"
Lior's movements were faster than the eye could follow. A flicker—then the blunt end of his sword hit Hans squarely on the chest. Hans fell to the ground, unconscious, before he even realized what had happened.
"Winner: Lior!"
The audience erupted, shouting his name. Even the judges looked stunned. But Lior simply bowed, turned, and walked off the stage as if nothing had happened.
Behind the curtains, whispers spread quickly among the organizers."That boy… he's not just talented. He's dangerous."
As the day ended and the torches were lit, Lior sat under the stars outside the arena, cleaning his blade. He could still remember the man with the blue flames—the quiet warrior who fought earlier. That power wasn't normal, not like the others.
He whispered to himself, "Blue flames… who are you?"
Far across the field, that same man stood watching him from the shadows, his eyes glowing faintly blue.
"Lior… we'll meet soon."
And as the night deepened, the tournament that began as a test of skill was turning into something far greater—A war of destinies