For two days, Alex's group had experienced an unusually peaceful journey through Verdanthos.
They had crossed forests, rocky plains, and winding valleys without encountering anything particularly dangerous. Even the weather had remained calm.
Lucas occasionally glanced at the surroundings while walking beside Alex.
"It's strange."
Alex looked at him.
"What is?"
"We haven't encountered a single Ravager in two days."
Alex continued walking.
"That's not necessarily a good thing."
Lucas frowned.
"Why?"
"Because when Verdanthos becomes quiet..."
Alex looked toward the distant trees.
"...there's usually a reason."
They continued forward.
Eventually, the forest began to change. The trees grew taller and closer together, blocking much of the sunlight above them.
Lucas slowed down.
"Alex."
Alex stopped.
"What?"
Lucas pointed toward the ground.
Something pale was partially buried beneath the soil.
Lucas approached carefully and brushed away some of the dirt.
His expression changed.
"A bone."
Alex looked down.
Then he looked ahead.
There were more.
A lot more.
The group slowly entered a clearing.
Ravager bones covered the ground.
Hundreds of them.
Some were small.
Others were enormous.
Their remains were scattered throughout the clearing, partially covered by vegetation and dirt.
Lucas stared at the scene.
"This is a den."
Alex's expression became serious.
"A Ravager den?"
Lucas nodded.
"Probably. But..."
He looked around.
"Something doesn't make sense."
Alex glanced at him.
"What?"
Lucas crouched beside one of the remains.
"These weren't all killed at the same time."
He examined another set of bones.
"Some are much older than others."
Alex looked around the clearing.
"So this place has been used for a long time."
Lucas stood.
"Exactly."
A strange silence settled over the group.
Alex studied the surrounding forest.
There wasn't a single living Ravager anywhere.
That was what bothered him most.
Lucas looked deeper into the clearing.
"Where did they all go?"
Alex didn't answer.
Then Lucas noticed something.
A large set of tracks crossed through the bones.
They weren't Ravager tracks.
Lucas slowly followed them with his eyes.
They disappeared into the forest.
Alex noticed them too.
His expression hardened.
"Nobody follows those tracks."
Lucas nodded.
"Agreed."
A faint rustling came from the trees.
Both of them immediately turned toward the sound.
The forest became silent again.
Lucas lowered his voice.
"Something's here."
Alex raised his hand.
"Stay alert."
Another rustle came from deeper within the forest.
This time, it was closer.
Alex stared into the darkness.
Whatever had turned this place into a graveyard for Ravagers...
might still be nearby.
The forest had been dead long before nightfall.
Alex Lionheart led the way through the blackened trees, one hand resting near the hilt of his sword. Behind him walked **Lucas Mourne**, silent and watchful, his eyes fixed on the mist drifting between the roots.
The other two members of their group said nothing.
They wore dark hoodies with their hoods drawn low and smooth masks covering their faces—blank, pale, and impossible to read. Their boots crunched softly over old leaves and shattered bone.
"We should be close," Lucas said.
Alex glanced at the ground. "You said there were ravager remains here."
"There are." Lucas stopped beside a half-buried skull the size of a wagon wheel. Deep grooves cut across its brow, and one enormous fang lay broken in the mud beside it.
All around them were bones.
Rib cages split open. Clawed limbs. Jagged spines pushed up through the soil like grave markers. The remains of several ravagers lay scattered across the clearing, ancient and bleached beneath the moonlight.
One of the masked figures crouched by a massive rib bone and brushed away the dirt. Beneath it was a long trail gouged through the earth.
Fresh.
Alex's hand closed around his sword.
Lucas looked toward the trees. "These bones aren't as old as I thought."
A branch snapped.
Then another.
The clearing went still.
From the darkness came a low, wet growl.
The ravager stepped into the moonlight.
It was larger than the skeletons around them—its hide covered in rough black plates, its front claws dragging furrows through the ground. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of crooked teeth stained dark with blood.
One of the masked figures reached for a weapon.
Alex raised a hand without looking back.
"Don't."
Lucas turned sharply. "Alex, there are four of us."
"And it's looking at me." Alex drew his sword, the blade catching the moonlight. "So it's my fight."
The ravager roared, shaking dust from the surrounding bones.
Lucas stepped forward, shadow curling around his fingers. "You don't need to prove anything."
Alex gave a small smile. "I'm not proving it. I'm handling it."
He moved ahead, leaving Lucas and the two hooded figures at the edge of the bone field.
The ravager charged.
Alex waited.
Its claws came down hard enough to crush stone. He slipped aside at the final moment, its strike smashing through a ravager skull where he had stood. Alex cut across its foreleg—steel screeching against armour—but the beast barely slowed.
Its tail whipped around and struck Alex in the ribs, throwing him across the clearing. He rolled through a pile of old bones and came up on one knee.
Lucas tensed. "Alex—"
"Stay back!" Alex called.
The ravager lunged again.
Alex ran toward it.
He ducked beneath its jaws, drove his shoulder into its chest, and cut upward at the softer seam beneath its plated throat. The ravager shrieked and threw him aside, but this time Alex kept hold of his sword.
It turned, furious, blood spilling from its neck.
Alex rose slowly. His breathing was heavier now, and blood marked the corner of his mouth.
Then he saw it: a cracked plate behind the creature's left jaw—the one weak point in its armour.
The ravager charged for a final time.
Alex did not move until it was nearly on him.
He stepped onto a rib bone jutting from the ground, used it as a springboard, and launched himself above the beast's snapping jaws. For one brief second, he was over its head.
Then he drove his sword through the crack in its armour.
The blade sank deep.
The ravager staggered, roaring wildly. Alex pulled the sword free as he landed behind it. The beast took two heavy steps, then crashed down among the bones of its dead kind.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Lucas walked over first, looking from the fallen monster to Alex. "You realize we could have helped."
Alex wiped his blade clean on the grass and sheathed it.
"I know."
He looked at the ravager bones surrounding them.
"But then it wouldn't have been a fair fight."
The two masked figures remained quiet, standing beneath the trees as if the battle had confirmed something they already knew.
And somewhere deeper in the forest, another growl answered.
Rain began as a faint hiss against the leaves.
Alex Lionheart looked up from the fallen ravager just as the first cold drop struck his cheek. Within seconds, the sky opened. Water poured through the skeletal trees, washing dark blood from the creature's armour and turning the bone field into pale, muddy shapes.
"We're not moving far in this," Lucas Mourne said.
Alex scanned the clearing. Beyond the remains of the ravagers stood the broken shell of an old stone watchtower, its roof half-collapsed but its walls still strong.
"There," Alex said. "We camp until morning."
The group crossed through the rain.
Lucas lit a small fire inside the tower with a curl of shadow and a spark from his palm. It burned low but steady, its orange light flickering across the damp stone. Alex dragged a fallen beam across the doorway as a barricade, then set his sword within reach beside his bedroll.
The two masked figures stayed close to the wall. Their hoodies dripped onto the floor. Neither removed their masks.
Alex glanced at them. "You two ever speak?"
One masked figure slowly turned toward him.
Then, in a quiet voice, they said, "Only when it matters."
Lucas watched the fire. "And when does it matter?"
The figure pointed toward the rain-dark clearing.
Outside, something enormous moved between the ravager bones.
Not the one Alex had killed.
This creature was larger.
Its footsteps sank into the mud with slow, heavy thuds. A low growl rolled through the ruins, deep enough to make the loose stones tremble.
Alex's hand went to his sword.
Lucas stood beside him, shadows rising around his fingers.
But Alex did not draw the blade yet.
"We rest," he said quietly. "It knows we're here. If it wants us, it can come through that door."
For the rest of the night, rain battered the tower.
And beyond the small circle of firelight, something waited among the bones.
Rain hammered against the ruined watchtower in the **tournament arena** below.
Inside, Lucas Mourne handed out rations: dried meat, hard bread, and the last of their water. Alex Lionheart accepted his share without taking his eyes from the broken entrance. The two hooded, masked figures sat near the small fire in silence.
But Layla was not down there.
She stood in a separate **spectator dimension or another pocket created by Aris **, behind a broad wall of shimmering glass that looked out over the arena. Beside her stood **Arthur's mother**, hands clenched tightly together, and **Kierran**, who watched the scene with a grim, unreadable expression.
The viewing barrier showed every detail: the rain running over the ravager bones, the tower's weak firelight, and the giant shape moving beyond the camp.
Layla's gaze stayed on Alex.
Earlier, she had watched him face a ravager alone. Lucas had been ready to intervene; the masked fighters had not moved. Yet Alex had fought the beast himself—and won.
Now, as Lucas divided the food, Layla let out a quiet breath.
"Arthur's group is still out there," she said.
Arthur's mother looked away from the viewing barrier for only a moment. "And no one can enter the arena until the round allows it."
"I know," Layla answered. "But if Alex reaches them… he can protect Arthur."
Kierran folded his arms. "That depends on whether Alex survives the night."
As if answering him, a thunderous growl shook the image before them.
Outside the tower, the larger ravager moved through the bone field. Lightning lit the arena in a harsh white flash, revealing the creature standing beside disturbed earth.
Layla's hand tightened around the edge of the spectator barrier.
She could not call out to Alex.
She could not warn Arthur.
All she could do was watch the contestants below—and hope the fighter who had slain one ravager alone would eventually cross paths with Arthur's group.
The storm had not reached this part of the tournament arena.
Here, the sky was bright and mercilessly clear. Sunlight baked the cracked ground around Arthur's camp, while his group rested beneath the thin shade of a broken stone structure. Arthur slept nearby, exhausted from the day's fighting.
But Sunny was somewhere else.
Not awake.
Not exactly asleep, either.
He stood in an endless white space, with no sky above him and no ground beneath his feet. Across from him waited an old man in a long, dark cloak—his crown cracked, his face hidden behind a veil of pale light.
The **First King**.
"You promised me a test," Sunny said cautiously.
"I did," the king replied. His voice sounded far away, as though it came from every direction at once. "But the path ahead comes in three parts."
Sunny's expression tightened. "What is the first part?"
The king raised one hand. The white emptiness shifted, revealing the faint image of a girl Sunny did not recognize. Dark hair. A guarded expression. Eyes that felt strangely familiar.
"Find her," the king said. "Her name is **Yuri**."
Sunny stared at the image. "Who is she?"
"You once knew," the First King answered. "Your mind simply does not permit you to remember."
The vision of Yuri vanished. In its place appeared another figure: a woman standing with her back turned, distant and blurred, as if buried beneath years of forgotten time.
"And find your mother."
Sunny went still.
"My mother?" His voice came out quieter than he intended. "I haven't seen her in years. I don't even know where she is."
"That is why you must search," said the king.
Sunny took a step forward. "What does any of this have to do with the tournament?"
"Everything." The First King's presence seemed to grow heavier. "You cannot move forward while your past remains locked away. Yuri and your mother are the first doors. Find them, and the memories you lost may begin to return."
"And the other two parts?" Sunny asked.
The king was silent for a moment.
"You are not ready to hear them."
The white world began to crack apart.
"Wait," Sunny called. "How am I supposed to find Yuri? Where do I start?"
The First King's final words followed him as the vision collapsed:
"Look for the ones who remember you when you do not remember yourself."
Sunny woke sharply beneath the ruined stone shelter.
The sun was still high above the arena. Arthur and the others slept on, unaware of what had just happened.
Sunny sat up slowly, his heart pounding.
He had entered the tournament expecting monsters, rivals, and survival.
Now he had a name he had never heard before—**Yuri**—and a mother he had not seen in a very long time.
Somewhere beyond the arena, both of them might hold the pieces of a life he could no longer remember.