The gates of the kingdom of Asteria loomed ahead, banners snapping in the wind, the faint sound of distant cheers reaching them. Solace practically bounced on her heels, her mustard-yellow sweatshirt shifting with each movement, wide sleeves brushing her wrists. Her short, dark curly hair framed her face in loose, natural coils, catching the sunlight as she leaned over the railing, eyes wide. "I can't believe we're actually here! An arena this big... I wonder what kind of fighters we'll see!"
Thiago grinned, spinning a dagger between his fingers. The white shirt rolled neatly at his elbows, leather harnesses crisscrossing his chest, each strap holding tools, pouches, or weapons. Despite the careful arrangement, he moved with ease, every gesture deliberate and practiced. "And the weapons," he added, letting the blade shrink to the size of a coin and grow back mid-toss, silver edge glinting. "I bet there's some rare stuff in there."
As they rounded the corner, a guard stepped into their path, reaching for Arlenna's twin swords. Her dark outfit, trimmed with red and gold, caught the light, and her tattoos, bold, angular patterns tracing her arms and shoulders, seemed to glow faintly. White tissue scars traced lines along her skin, a silent testament to battles fought and survived. Her hands shot out, slapping the guard's down, eyes narrowing.
"Don't you think a woman shouldn't need swords?" the guard sneered. "Especially not two." His gaze lingered on the scars along her cheek. "Surely you don't think anyone will take you seriously with a face like that?"
Her grip on her swords faltered for the briefest moment, and her eyes flashed with hurt. Solace opened her mouth to respond, ready to snap back at the insult, but Thiago's hand shot up, covering her lips.
"We're going to put the weapons away," he said smoothly, his tone firm enough that the guard didn't dare argue.
They turned the corner out of the guard's immediate view. Solace's fists clenched, her steps quick and sharp as she paced back and forth. "I can't believe he said that... about you, Arlenna! Two swords, scars... as if any of that mattered!" Her voice was a mix of outrage and disbelief.
Arlenna couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at her friend's intensity. "Heh... you really care, don't you?"
Thiago crouched slightly, producing his small pouch with a flick of his wrist. "Alright, let's not make a scene," he said smoothly. Arlenna handed him her twin swords without a word, trusting his skill.
In a blink, the blades shrank down to pocket-size, edges glinting harmlessly before disappearing into Thiago's pouch.
Solace paused mid-step, eyes narrowing, clearly still fuming but the laughter and calm between Arlenna and Thiago eased the tension slightly. She understood why Thiago had insisted on this, even if it frustrated her not to confront the guard.
Arlenna smirked at her, teasing. "See? Sometimes letting someone else handle idiots is the smarter move."
Solace exhaled, her chest rising and falling as she finally allowed herself a small, reluctant smile.
They passed the guard again on their way in. Solace slowed, her jaw tightening.
"Hey, you—" she started, voice sharp.
Before she could say another word, Thiago's hand was already over her mouth, his smile quick and disarming. "We put our weapons away," he said lightly, guiding her past before things could turn ugly.
Solace mumbled something against his palm, glaring up at him as he released her. Arlenna snorted, covering her mouth to hide her grin. "You're lucky he stopped you," she teased. "You'd have gotten us banned before we even saw a single fight."
"I just—" Solace sighed, still clearly upset. "He didn't have to say all that. It's not right."
Arlenna's expression softened. "I know," she said quietly. "But hearing you get worked up over it... it's kinda nice."
Thiago shot her a sidelong glance. "Careful. If you encourage her, she'll start picking fights with every guard we pass."
That earned a laugh from both women, the tension breaking at last. Together, they stepped through the massive gates and into the heart of the arena.
The sound hit them first, a wave of cheering so loud it vibrated through their chests. The stands were packed, banners of every color fluttering in the sun. Warriors clashed on the sand below, blades sparking, the air thick with dust and adrenaline.
Solace's eyes widened, the earlier frustration melting into awe. "This is incredible..." she breathed. "I've never seen anything like it."
Arlenna smiled faintly, but when the crowd's roar surged again, she lifted a hand toward Thiago without looking at him. He sighed, half amused, and reached into his pouch. A small shimmer of light flickered between his fingers as he unshrunk a pair of padded, ear-covering muffs.
Without a word, Arlenna slipped them over Solace's head just as the noise hit another peak. Solace blinked, startled, then laughed softly when she realized what they were for.
Thiago smirked. "You spoil her," he said under his breath.
"Someone has to," Arlenna replied, eyes still on the arena.
The trio lingered near the stands, weaving between vendors and spectators. The arena floor shimmered under the sun, its golden sand stained darker where blood had long dried. Fighters clashed below elemental sparks flaring, shields splintering and for a while, it was everything Solace had hoped for.
She leaned over the railing, her muffled laughter mixing with the roar of the crowd. "I can't believe we got seats this close," she said, voice slightly dulled by the ear muffs. "This is amazing!"
Thiago grinned, leaning one elbow on the rail beside her. "Told you I'd find us a good spot. The view's great, the air smells like grilled meat and bad decisions perfect."
Arlenna snorted, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"I prefer resourceful," Thiago replied, flicking his wrist so his dagger swelled into a short sword, then shrank again. "Besides, I like seeing how different kingdoms fight. You can tell everything about a culture by how it swings a blade."
Arlenna hummed, half-listening. Her gaze swept across the fighters below noticing footwork, the angles of strikes, the discipline in their movements. "They're good," she admitted. "Some of them, anyway."
For a while, they just watched. The energy was infectious even Arlenna found herself cheering once or twice when a fight reached its peak.
Thiago tilted his head, scanning the fighters. "Mmm. Not bad form. A little sloppy on defense, though." He casually flipped a dagger in his hand, making it grow and shrink in rhythm with the crowd's cheers. "Bet I could take a few of them."
Arlenna grinned, nudging him with her elbow. "You say that about everyone."
He shrugged, smirking. "Doesn't make it any less true."
Solace leaned over the railing, eyes shining. "Still... look at them go. The strength, the coordination, it's like the whole place moves with them."
The crowd roared as one fighter was slammed into the sand. Trumpets blared, and the announcer's voice carried across the arena, praising the victor's "honor and strength."
Arlenna crossed her arms, watching closely. "Honor, huh?" she muttered. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Her tone was low, not bitter, but heavy. For just a second, her eyes lost their sharp edge, fixed somewhere far beyond the arena.
Thiago glanced over, raising a brow. "You sound like you've seen this before."
"I have," she said quietly. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade behind her words. "People love cheering for strength... until they see what it really costs."
Solace looked at her, the light in her expression softening. She wanted to say something to ask what Arlenna meant but she didn't. She could tell by the way Arlenna's jaw tightened that this wasn't the time.
So instead, she smiled faintly, forcing a bit of her earlier cheer back. "Well," she said, "maybe today it'll be different."
Arlenna blinked once, pulling herself back to the moment. "Maybe," she said, but her voice carried no real hope.
Thiago leaned against the railing, spinning his dagger idly. "When is it ever?"
The next round ended quickly with a flash of steel, a roar from the crowd, another name shouted as champion. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and dust, charged with the thrill of victory.
Then, suddenly, the trumpets blared again.
But this time, the sound wasn't triumphant. It was sharp. Cold.
A voice boomed from the announcer's platform.
"In honor of our champion's strength," he declared, his tone dripping with pride, "let the unworthy provide the next round of entertainment!"
The gates creaked open again. Another line of fighters was driven into the arena, their ankles and wrists bound in heavy chains that clinked with every step. Some limped, others stumbled forward, faces pale and eyes wide with fear. The crowd erupted in cheers.
Arlenna's eyes darkened. She didn't flinch or look away, just stared down at the scene unfolding below. "This is what I meant," she said softly. Her voice shook with restrained anger. "Honor only lasts until someone decides strength is worth more than humanity."
Thiago glanced at her, the teasing gone from his face. "You're not wrong," he murmured, folding his arms. "But saying that out loud around here could get you killed."
"What... what is this?" Solace asked quietly.
Thiago faltered. "Entertainment," he muttered. "At least, that's what they call it."
Solace didn't hear him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. She watched one of the slaves, a boy, maybe twelve, shoved to the center of the arena with a dull blade in his shaking hands. The crowd laughed when he tripped.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, then balled into fists. "This isn't strength," she muttered. "It's a slaughter."
Solace turned to Arlenna, eyes sharp. "We can't just watch this."
Thiago exhaled through his nose. "Solace—"
"No, seriously," she snapped, voice rising. "They're starving, bleeding and everyone's laughing?"
Thiago straightened. "You don't pick fights with a kingdom, Solace. Not here. Not like this."
Arlenna hesitated, torn. "He's right. If we start something, we'll have the entire arena on us."
"I don't care," Solace said. Her voice shook, but not from fear. "This isn't strength. It's cruel."
For a moment, none of them spoke. The crowd roared again as a slave was shoved forward, collapsing into the sand. The soldiers laughed, drawing blades.
Thiago rubbed his forehead. "We're supposed to be laying low. Our goal isn't to start a war—"
But Solace was already moving.
She stepped onto the ledge, her boots thudding softly against the railing. The sunlight hit her face, turning the anger in her eyes almost blinding.
"Solace," Arlenna called sharply, reaching out. "Don't—"
Too late. Solace jumped.
She dropped into the arena, landing hard enough to send up a burst of sand. The crowd gasped then erupted into noise again, thinking it was part of the entertainment. Solace ignored them all. She knelt beside the fallen boy barely conscious, ribs showing through torn skin and gently lifted his head.
"You don't have to fight," she whispered, pressing a piece of bread into his hand. "Not anymore."
Above her, Thiago groaned, running a hand through his hair. "She really did it."
Arlenna's lips curved, half in exasperation, half in pride. "Of course she did."
"Guess we're doing this, then," Thiago muttered, hopping onto the railing.
Arlenna smirked and followed, hand already reaching toward the pouch at his side. "You know the drill."
Thiago sighed and unshrunk her blades.
Before Solace could even stand, a massive blade swung toward her back. Time seemed to slow.
Thiago, still on the railings, flicked his wrist. His bo staff shimmered and expanded impossibly long, stretching outward with precise, unyielding force. He swung it down with deadly precision, striking the soldier's sword from above. Sparks flew as the clash rang through the arena. The soldier's blade wobbled violently, then sank into the sand, stuck fast.
Thiago didn't pause. The bo staff shrank rapidly in his hands, then enlarged again this time angled upward. With a twisting motion, he sent himself tumbling through the air, aiming to land beside Solace.
Arrows whistled through the chaos, one after another, streaking toward both him and Solace.
Thiago acted instinctively. With a sharp flick, his bo staff shrank down to pocket size, disappearing almost instantly into his grip. His other hand dove into his pouch, producing a sword that shimmered harmlessly at first. In mid-fall, he enlarged it to full size, silver edge gleaming, and slashed through the projectiles in a flash, sending sparks scattering across the sand.
Solace still hadn't turned, her eyes focused on the boy at her feet. That's when Arlenna acted. She launched herself from the railing, twisting in midair, blades flashing to intercept the remaining arrows. Each projectile exploded in sparks against her steel, her landing graceful but ready, just feet from Solace.
Across the arena, the King's soldiers froze for a split second, and even the crowd seemed to quiet in stunned awe. The injustice of the arena, the chains, the suffering, the mockery had been made visible, undeniable.
Thiago landed beside Arlenna, and they exchanged a sharp glance, their eyes locking on the King's imposing figure. Solace rose, shoulders squared, every ounce of her weight and power radiating outward as she turned to face him fully. Together, the three of them stood in the arena a single, unbreakable force, a storm ready to challenge the kingdom itself.
The crowd roared, but the sound was distant, drowned beneath the clash of metal and the rush of energy tearing through the arena.
Solace's boots struck stone.
She landed before the King's dais, the impact cracking the marble beneath her feet. King Astrell rose, robes flaring, fury cutting through his royal composure.
"You dare raise your hand against royalty?" he barked, drawing a slender ceremonial blade, its edges shimmering with light.
"I dare," Solace said, and vanished.
The King barely had time to turn before she appeared again flipping over his guard, striking with a flurry of blows that sent the air whipping around them. He blocked with surprising precision for his age, each parry echoing with power.
"Strength without discipline," he hissed. "That's what happens when peasants think they're warriors."
"Discipline without heart," Solace snapped back, twisting midair and planting a boot across his jaw. "That's what happens when kings forget what strength is!"
The King stumbled, shock flashing across his face. She pressed forward the fight raw and furious while below them, the arena was pure chaos.
Thiago fought like a storm in red.
Every time a guard closed in, his weapons shifted in size, not shape blades that once fit in his palm now towered over him, staffs that were long enough to sweep a crowd shrank instantly for a quick parry. He used range like rhythm, expanding and shrinking steel in the blink of an eye.
The sand danced with flying weapons, each swing calculated a single soldier trying to read a weapon that refused to stay the same size.
"Come on!" he yelled, grinning through the chaos. "You wanted a show, didn't you?"
A soldier lunged from behind. Thiago's wrist flicked almost lazily, and the sword shrank to a fraction of its size, slipping effortlessly past the man's guard. In an instant, it expanded again with explosive force, striking the soldier's armor and sending him tumbling across the sand.
A dozen more came. He ducked, twisted, spun the red of his outfit streaking through the air like flame. His necklace flashed, the word Pinnacle glinting in the light.
For every soldier that fell, two more took their place. But Thiago didn't falter. His grin only widened.
Arlenna and Prince Astrell circled each other in the sand.
The prince's blade gleamed with royal polish, each strike a display of training and pride. Arlenna's movements were sharper, heavier every swing carrying history, grit, and pain.
"You fight well," the Prince said between blows. "For someone born beneath us."
Arlenna met his blade, sparks flying as she shoved him back. "And you talk a lot for someone hiding behind a title."
He roared and charged. She parried, spun, and kicked his leg out from under him. He caught himself, slashing upward. Arlenna pivoted to the side, letting the blade rise harmlessly past her, then crossed her swords in an upward strike that knocked his weapon into the air.
Her tattoos glowed faintly in the sunlight, the Pinnacle mark on her arm catching his attention. His expression hardened. "You fight for that... A Sovereign crew?"
"I fight for my crew," she said coldly. "Not for cages."
Their swords clashed again, the rhythm relentless a perfect mirror to the chaos unfolding around them.
Above it all, Solace and the King battled like light and shadow.
The King's strikes grew desperate, his breath heavy, his arrogance cracking. Solace's movements were wild but precise, her jumps almost weightless each landing echoing through the stone like thunder.
The Kingo's sword slammed into the ground where Solace had been standing a heartbeat ago. Sand exploded upward but she was already gone, blurring through the dust, her next jump carrying her above him.
Each leap left a crater where she'd launched from. Her movement wasn't elegant, it was raw, fast, and wild. The crowd gasped every time she vanished and reappeared, the air cracking beneath her weight.
King Astrell snarled, blocking another kick that came from above. "You" he spat, swinging again, his composure fracturing. "You jump around like a damned frog! A crazy frog!"
Solace landed behind him, grinning despite the fury in her chest. "Then I guess this frog's about to crush a king."
Solace lunged, her momentum carrying her straight at the King. With a precise, explosive punch to his chest, she dodged his wild swing. The impact rippled through the stone beneath them, and Astrell went flying backward, slamming against the arena walls with a deafening crash.
The King struggled to rise, coughing and glaring, his robes fluttering wildly. "You... you crazy frog!" he spat, pointing at her with a mix of fury and disbelief. The name slipped out, raw and half mocking but the crowd immediately erupted, murmuring it among themselves.
Meanwhile, Arlenna met Prince Astrell head-on. Steel clashed as they exchanged blows, each strike testing the other's skill. Then, with a sudden, lightning-quick twist of her blade, she carved a deep gash across the side of his face. Blood spattered, and the prince staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide with disbelief. He had never been wounded like this before the pain, the shock, the humiliation was too much. His knees wobbled, and with a trembling voice, he yelled, "I... I surrender!"
All around, the King's soldiers froze mid-step, their attacks halted as if the arena itself had paused. The three of them Solace, Arlenna, and Thiago stood in perfect sync, every motion radiating authority, and skill. The fight was being broadcast across the kingdom and beyond, every leap, strike, and defiant move reaching eyes far and wide. When the King spat the words "You crazy frog!" In frustration, the nickname echoed through the airwaves, bouncing from village to city, inspiring whispers and cheers alike. Women everywhere watched, hearts pounding, daring to imagine breaking free of their own chains. In that instant, Solace's jumps weren't just feats of agility; they were symbols of courage, rebellion, and a world ready to change.
East Continent — Frozen Fortress:
A young warrior with twin war hammers crouched in the frostbitten training yard, watching Solace leap through the arena. The blows she struck, precise yet explosive, echoed in her mind. With a roar, she swung both hammers into the training dummies, cracking wood and stone alike. "If she can face a king..." she whispered, lifting a battered shield, "then I can face my father." Determination replaced hesitation — she packed her gear, and for the first time, she didn't flinch at the thought of confronting her family's expectations.
Northern Continent — Mountain Palace:
"You need to act like a princess!" her mother's voice echoed down the hall, sharp and demanding.
The princess stopped, clenched her fists, and spat back, "Anything I do... is like a princess because I am one!" That was the last straw. Without another word, she stormed down the halls, ignoring guards and servants alike, yanking her cloak tight and strapping on her sword belt. For years, she had been forced to play the perfect role, to obey every command and hide her true strength. Now, she was running toward the gates, ready to take control of her own life, no more waiting, no more rules.
Western Continent — Hidden Alley & Underground Fights:
A dagger-wielding woman with her eyes covered whispered to herself, "I deserve people who accept me." She twirled her blade between her fingers, testing its balance and weight, each rotation a silent promise to herself. For years she had hidden, stayed in the shadows, avoided notice but Solace's fearless leaps, her defiance against the king, ignited something inside her. Taking a slow, deliberate step forward, she raised the dagger not to strike anyone, but to claim her own space in a world that had always ignored her. Even in darkness, courage could spark.
Southern Continent — Palace of the Oppressed Queen:
The queen slammed a golden goblet onto the marble floor. Years of compromise had changed nothing. Solace's fearless strikes against the king flashed in her mind. Strapping on her sword, she rallied loyal guards. "If she can defy authority... so can I," she muttered, storming into the streets to challenge her husband and claim the throne, turning the kingdom into a Queendom.
Back in Asteria, Solace's punches sent the King crashing into the walls. Arlenna's blades left the Prince surrendering, and Thiago's weapons cut down soldiers effortlessly. Their teamwork, courage, and defiance were not just for the arena they became a spark across kingdoms, The nickname "Crazy Frog" left the King's lips, meant as an insult, now took on new meaning inspiring whispers, cheers, and the impossible hope that chains could be broken.