《The Diamonds of the Sun: The heir》


 Prologue

    The last powers of the old Norlaren began to fade slowly, just like all his hopes of achieving victory in the war that had blindly drawn him in many years ago. His moments were numbered, and his heavy breathing tortured him more and more. He would have given anything to be young again for just one day, to throw away his cursed crutch, to lift his sword from its hook and to set off on the Emperor''s trail, making him regret the harm he had caused to these peaceful lands. ?


    He collapsed into bed, exhausted from the steps he had to take just to reach a glass of water. Disease and old age slowly but surely defeated him. He opened the journal he had found fifty years ago and began to read aloud from it. In the last year, he had read the journal five times because it was the only reading that still interested him, once a fearless and unstoppable warrior. ?


    "The happiest day of my life was the day I held my son in my arms for the first time. I knew that he would be the one to bring change to this world. I knew he would be a great man, who would fight for the same noble causes that I fought for.


    What I did not know was that the peace of a wandering knight does not last long, and pride carried me to places and events that were not meant for me. I tasted the blood of my victims as I savored my victory. I felt their fear in their eyes, but I continued to do what I was ordered, both as a Bringer and as a simple knight. I saw my death in the true sense of the word. I saw my son raise his sword against me. I watched helplessly as the Emperor killed him, how he cast into oblivion every enemy who dared to challenge him..."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Memories of Death, 3504 a. X.N


    The wind began to blow fiercely against the window of the old man''s house, giving him the impression that an emissary of the Emperor could burst in at any moment, just to ensure that he had become what he was now, a shell of his former self. He closed the journal and lit his pipe, from which he began to draw eagerly. He had never imagined that old age could be so hard. Admittedly, he had never even thought about old age, because it never crossed his mind that he would reach it.


    From the journal fell a small map, which he unfolded, casting his blurred gaze over it. He knew those lands. From there everything had started: the war, the suffering, the thirst for power, the occult arts, and last but not least, there he had met him, the one who had been his friend, the one with whom he had fought side by side, and not least, the one for whom he would have given his life. If that hero had not perished at such a young age, the Emperor would not have gained such power at the present time.

 The House in Dornaran

    In the ancient and storied land of Tuzmad, where legends were as plentiful as the stars in the night sky, stood the Giant Mountains, formidable and majestic. These were the largest mountains in all the realm, stretching towards the heavens as if they were the earth''s attempt to touch the sky. Their snow-capped peaks glistened under the sun, resembling the crowns of ancient kings, wise and unyielding. Indeed, the Giant Mountains were not just natural wonders but were also symbols of strength and endurance, reflecting the character of the land they overshadowed.


    Beneath these towering sentinels of stone and ice, lay a vast plain, a stark contrast to the rugged grandeur above. This plain was a marvel in its own right, with fields that stretched as far as the eye could see, adorned with a myriad of flowers. It was a tapestry of colors, woven by nature''s own hand - purples, yellows, and reds swayed gently in the breeze, blending with the vibrant greens of the dense grass. Here, time seemed to pause, allowing one to savor the beauty and tranquility that was as refreshing to the spirit as a cool drink is to a parched throat.


    And ruling over this land was a king, as mighty and just as the mountains were tall and steadfast. He was a ruler worthy of his crown, his lineage as old as the mountains themselves. His rule was one of wisdom and fairness, his voice carrying the weight of the mountains and the gentleness of the plains. In his reign, the people of Tuzmad knew peace and prosperity, their hearts filled with the same love for their land as their king bore in his noble heart.


    The Giant Mountains, thus, were more than just a range of peaks; they were the guardians of a legacy, watching over a land where nature and humanity lived in a harmonious balance, their fates intertwined like the roots of the ancient trees that dotted the landscape. In the shadow of these mountains, stories and songs were born, echoing through the valleys and over the plains, carried on the wind as a testament to the enduring spirit of Tuzmad.


    At the base of the Giant Mountains, there was also a small house where a 54-year-old blacksmith lived with his 14-year-old nephew. The blacksmith''s name was Falo Ortogon, and his nephew was Edgar Argyle, the only help Falo had, who was very skilled in his craft. The boy''s parents had passed away about thirteen years ago. He was saved by a stranger and brought to his uncle, who had taken care of the young boy ever since.


    Edgar was a boy with black hair, big blue eyes, and of medium stature. His uncle, the blacksmith Falo, had short chestnut hair, was tall and thin, with eyes as black as the darkest night, and when you met his gaze, it sent shivers down your spine. Despite his appearance, Falo was not as he seemed, as his kind soul made him a truly wonderful person.


    Many said that the village where the boy and his family lived had been attacked by thieves, others that they were attacked by barbarians, and still others believed they were attacked by demons. Of course, those who believed the latter were either crazy or considered the barbarians to be as merciless as demons.


    The blacksmith Falo had built that wooden house with a roof made of hay and planks. He retreated here because he wanted his nephew to feel safe. Falo taught him how to forge swords, telling him that iron, if used correctly, could be the most precious metal. The swords they crafted were sent to King Ludrol, for the supply of his army.


    Under the watchful eye of the world''s turning sun, young Edgar, found himself an apprentice to the ancient and noble art of the sword. His uncle, Falo, a hunter of renown in the twilight of his youth, held the belief that the craft of forging a blade was but half the mastery. "For what worth is a sword," he would often say, "if one knows not the dance of its steel?"


    Thus, under the broad canopy of the sky, amidst the whispers of the wind and the age-old trees, Edgar learned to wield the sword. His lessons were not merely in the art of striking and parrying, but in understanding the blade as an extension of his very soul. Falo, with a wisdom born of many years and many battles, imparted his knowledge unto his nephew. He taught Edgar the language of steel, the rhythm of combat, and the honor of the warrior.


    As the sun would climb its daily arc, casting its golden light upon the land, the two figures could often be seen in a clearing, the ring of steel upon steel echoing through the air. Edgar, with each passing day, grew more adept, his movements becoming fluid as a mountain stream, his strikes as swift as the falcon''s descent.


    On the morning in question, the sun had already begun its journey across the dome of the sky, painting the world in hues of amber and gold. Yet within their humble abode, time seemed to stand still, the usual bustle of the day not yet begun. It was only when an hour and a half had passed that Edgar, as if roused by some unseen force, sprang from his bed. The abruptness of his awakening was as if he had been touched by the flame of an unseen fire. His eyes, alight with the vigor of youth, looked upon the new day with a readiness born of his training and the wisdom imparted by his uncle, Falo. For in Edgar, the spirit of the hunter and the heart of the warrior had found a harmonious union, ready to face whatever trials lay ahead.


    In the realm of the world, where time flows like a meandering river and stories unfold like the petals of an ancient bloom, there lay a day of great significance in the life of young Edgar. This day, marked by the changing of the sun from one horizon to the other, was the day he was destined to leave his solitary abode and journey to a new home. His destination was the village of Dornaran, a place of communal harmony, where houses clustered together like a flock of birds and the streets buzzed with the lively hum of its many inhabitants.


    For thirteen long years, Edgar had dwelt in a solitary house, nestled in the embrace of the wilderness. It was a place both comforting and isolating, a sanctuary from the world, yet a barrier to its wonders. His parents, whom he scarcely remembered, had departed from the mortal coil when he was but a babe, leaving him in the care of his uncle, a man of wisdom and fortitude. It was in this secluded haven that Edgar grew from a child into a youth, his company being the rustling leaves and the whispering winds.


    His uncle, a man as enigmatic as the forests that surrounded them, had been Edgar''s mentor and guide. Under his tutelage, Edgar had mastered the art of letters, his fingers dancing over parchments as his mind wove tales and chronicled the lore of old. With a sword, he had become as adept as any knight of legend, his blade singing through the air in a dance of steel. And in the forge, amidst the roar of fire and the clang of hammer on anvil, he had learned the alchemy of iron, shaping it as one would shape clay.


    These years in isolation had been a time of learning and introspection for Edgar. The wilderness had been both his cradle and his crucible, shaping his character as the rivers shape the stones. In the solitude of the wild, he had found a strength and resilience that few possessed. He had grown up with the tales of the world beyond, tales of bustling markets, grand castles, and distant lands filled with wonders and perils. And now, as he stood on the threshold of a new chapter in his life, his heart fluttered with anticipation and yearning.


    Yet, within him, there was no regret for the years spent in the embrace of nature. The skills and knowledge imparted by his uncle were treasures more valuable than gold, shaping Edgar into a person ready to face the world. As he prepared to leave his childhood home, he felt a pang of nostalgia, a tender farewell to the memories etched into every tree and stone.


    Today, Edgar was to step into a world vastly different from his secluded home. Dornaran awaited him, with its myriad of faces and stories. It was a place where new friendships would be forged and new adventures would begin. With a heart full of hope and a spirit tempered by the wilderness, Edgar stepped forth, ready to embrace his destiny. The world beyond his forest home was vast, and Edgar, with the wisdom of the wild in his soul, was ready to meet it head-on.


    Now, however, Edgar was eager to meet other people, perhaps to make friends. He knew from his uncle that friends are those people you can trust and whose presence makes you feel good.


    He had barely woken up when Edgar started shouting at his uncle, waking him from his well-deserved sleep.


    "Wake up, uncle! Don''t you know that sleep is for the lazy?" asked Edgar, who had run out of patience.


    "What''s the hurry, boy? The sun has just risen, we have all the time in the world to get to Dornaran."


    Because Edgar was very impatient, Uncle Falo couldn''t come to an understanding with him. They prepared some food, then proceeded to load their belongings into the cart and set off.


    Soon, all their things were packed and loaded, and Edgar and Uncle Falo left, leaving their old house behind. They were moving to the house where Edgar''s parents had lived thirteen years ago, before they were attacked.


    As the journey to Dornaran stretched before him like a path through time uncharted, young Edgar, turned to the solace of ancient lore. Within his hands, he cradled a tome of old, its pages worn by the touch of time, bearing the title "True Legends and Myths." It was a book that spoke of ages past, of heroes and deeds woven into the very fabric of the world.


    As their path wound through the realms of nature, they came upon a place dear to Edgar''s heart, a glade where the earth itself seemed to rejoice. Here, amidst a riot of flowers, each petal a different hue, the air was thick with fragrance, as if the very essence of the flowers sought to weave itself into his soul. It was here, in this haven of nature''s beauty, that Edgar would often come to practice the art of the sword, each stroke and parry an ode to the tales of old.


    In these moments of solitude amidst the flowers, Edgar''s heart was filled with dreams grand and bold. He aspired to the mantle of knighthood, to become a knight surpassing all others in valor and honor. Yet the path to such a destiny was narrow and steep, reserved for those of noble blood or for souls whose deeds resounded  through the kingdoms like the peals of a great bell. In his heart, Edgar knew the challenge that lay before him, yet he also knew the strength of his resolve, forged in the fires of his uncle''s teachings and honed in the quiet of the glade. With each day, his dream burned brighter, a beacon guiding him on the long road to Dornaran and beyond.


    They had been on the road for several hours, and the sun had fully risen in the sky, becoming increasingly scorching. Young Edgar, the apprentice of the blacksmith Falo, was eager to meet other people, especially other youths his age.


    Eventually, they reached their destination. This house was much more beautiful than the one they were used to. Built entirely of brick, with a roof of planks and tiles, it offered the young Edgar more security. Admittedly, the house looked very neglected, but considering that it had been uninhabited for thirteen years, it was understandable. Shortly after unloading their luggage, the two began to work, slowly restoring the house to its former glory.


    The new house looked better with each passing day. Uncle Falo hammered a nail or replaced a plank where needed. This house had four rooms, much more spacious than the old cottage where they had lived, which had only two.


    At his request, Edgar received his parents'' room, believing that this way, they would be closer to his thoughts. The kitchen was quickly renovated, Uncle Falo''s room rearranged, and another room converted into the blacksmith''s workshop.


    One morning, Edgar took courage and set out to explore the village he had just settled in. Dornaran seemed like a quiet village, with hardworking and honest people, but it wasn''t as big as it had seemed to the boy at first glance. All the houses were large, like his, and the people were good farmers, raising animals and working the land with pleasure.


    Edgar spotted some youths his age in the distance, so he headed towards them to introduce himself. As he got closer, he noticed that they were arguing and it wasn''t long until it would escalate into a fight.


    There were five against two youths. The two were brothers and seemed to have upset someone they shouldn''t have. Edgar approached them, hoping to stop the conflict.


    "Listen, cheaters! If you don''t give me the money you took from me, you''ll get a beating that you''ll remember for the rest of your life."


    "Damn it, Dalyl! You know very well that I didn''t cheat, I won this money fair and square."


    The five had swords with them, while the two brothers, Turalon and Tenzim, didn''t even have a stick to defend themselves. Extremely angry, the leader of the five, Dalyl, drew his sword and pointed it at Turalon, the elder of the two brothers accused of cheating in a card game.


    "Come on, coward, fight me!" Dalyl taunted Turalon mockingly.


    Having reached them, Edgar stepped in front of Dalyl''s sword. He showed great courage by doing this, or perhaps just foolishness, but it didn''t matter much anymore, given the situation he had entered.


    "As I see it, you are the coward," Edgar said, smiling indifferently at the consequences of his statement. "You must feel very strong, especially when threatening someone who is unarmed."


    "Who are you, you arrogant fool?" Dalyl asked. "Do you know these wretches you''re intervening for, or do you just want to get beaten up and don''t know how?"


    "Give me a sword, then we''ll see who beats whom," Edgar said with the same smile.


    The five began to laugh heartily at Edgar''s foolishness. A child challenging the best sword fighter in the village? No one had the courage to fight him. Dalyl, at eighteen, was the best when it came to a fight.


    No one had challenged Dalyl for some time, as no one wanted to be humiliated again. Edgar''s courage seemed like sheer foolishness in front of the five.


    "Give the fool a sword!" Dalyl said, smiling at the thought of humiliating someone.


    Around this scene, a few people had already gathered, as they were about to see Dalyl fight. They enjoyed watching the young man''s talent. Uncle Falo also appeared, wanting to see how his nephew managed to make new friends. Of course, he had no intention of intervening.


    "If I win, you and your friends will leave us alone!"


    "If you win..." Dalyl laughed maliciously.


    Edgar received his sword, and the fight began in an instant. The sound of the swords could be heard throughout Dornaran. The air was split asunder by the song of their swords, a melody of steel that echoed through the streets and alleys of Dornaran. Dalyl, a warrior of repute and skill, found himself matched against a force untamed. Young Edgar, with the swiftness of a striking falcon, assailed his opponent with a relentless barrage. His sword danced like silver lightning, each strike a thunderous ode to his burgeoning mastery.


    Driven by a force unseen, Edgar pressed his advantage, each thrust and parry a testament to his growing might. It was true that Dalyl was a good fighter, but young Edgar was dominating him. He attacked relentlessly, pressuring Dalyl with his attacks, forcing him to retreat little by little.


    In the climax of their duel, with a stroke mighty as the breaking of waves upon the shore, Edgar shattered Dalyl''s guard. The latter''s sword clattered to the ground, a vanquished serpent. With his blade at Dalyl''s throat, Edgar stood triumphant, the victor unforeseen. No one expected the newcomer to defeat the best fighter in the village of Dornaran so easily.


    Falo watched the fight from the crowd, knowing his nephew would win, as he had trained him since he was eight years old. Edgar trained for about three hours a day, and when he was taught to forge a sword with his own hands, his training time increased by another two hours.


    As he forged a new sword, Edgar practiced up to six hours a day. His dream was to become the best swordsman in these lands, and Dalyl was not a worthy opponent for him. The fight with Dalyl was just another routine training session for young Edgar.


    He dropped his sword to the ground, then headed home with his uncle. They had a lot of work to do, as the King of Tuzmad required at least thirty swords per week, so they couldn''t afford to waste time. Following Edgar were the two brothers, wanting to thank him for his help.


    "Thank you! I am Turalon, and this is my younger brother, Tenzim."


    Turalon was a sixteen-year-old boy with brunette hair and green eyes, slightly taller than Edgar. He was a slim boy and a good swordsman, but not too keen on fighting.


    His brother, Tenzim, was the same age as Edgar. Like his brother, he had short brunette hair, and his large brown eyes sized up Edgar from head to toe. His personality was completely different from his brother''s, being more talkative, loving trouble, but not keen on fighting against five people.


    "You fought amazingly, I think you''re as good as my brother," Tenzim said. "Despite what''s rumored, Turalon is the best swordsman around here, not that fool Dalyl. Although my brother is a goofball, he''s still the best, even if he doesn''t like to fight."


    "My brother always exaggerates. Congratulations! Now you''re the best fighter around here."


    "I was just lucky. By the way, I''m Edgar, nice to meet you, Turalon and Tenzim."


    "We''re also glad to meet you," said Tenzim. "By the way, there''s a party tonight at the Ogre''s Inn, would you like to come, please?"


    "I''d be happy to," Edgar responded.


    He said goodbye to his new friends, then went with his uncle to the forge to finish making the thirty swords for the King of Tuzmad.


    Edgar was eagerly awaiting the evening to meet his new friends, but the hours passed very slowly, and he had a lot of work to do. Forging a sword was not an easy task.


    The forging of the sword was a task of patience and precision, a labor that Edgar undertook under the watchful guidance of his Uncle Falo. The iron, molten and fiery, was to be transmuted into steel of great resilience, a process demanding both time and unwavering attention.


    Once the steel, glowing like the heart of a star, was poured into its mold, it took shape, cooling from its celestial heat into a form both raw and promising. Then came the hammering, rhythmic and unyielding, each strike a step closer to perfection, straightening and strengthening the nascent blade.


    But the art of the forge was fickle; a misjudgment in the heating could render the blade brittle, a mere shadow of its intended glory. The blade, thus shaped and formed, was to be quenched in water or oil, tempering its spirit and honing its edge.


    The sharpening was a meticulous affair, each side of the blade crafted with a keenness that could slice the very air it cleaved. And at last, the hilt was wrought and affixed, completing the sword in both form and function.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Edgar, taught by Falo''s seasoned wisdom, knew well the final test of the sword''s making lay in its use. Only through wielding it in the dance of battle could he discern its true quality and mettle, and if need be, return it to the forge''s embrace for further refinement


    While Edgar worked on a single sword, his uncle worked on three at the same time, and after finishing them, he handed them to Edgar to try them out and give his opinion on them.


    Finally, evening arrived, and the boy headed to the Ogre''s Inn, a tavern located in the middle of the village, where all the drunkards hung out, as well as the two brothers, who considered this inn a real gold mine. The two brothers stole money from those who were dead drunk, deceived them, or cheated at cards.


    The inn, a sprawling edifice of aged wood and creaking timbers, stood as a testament to countless tales and weary travelers. The entrance, marked by a door hanging precariously on its hinges, spared Edgar any effort of announcing his arrival. As he stepped inside, the interior unfurled before him like a scene from an ancient tale.


    Veiled in the thick, heady smoke that curled lazily from the patrons'' pipes, the inn''s atmosphere was one of obscured visibility and mysterious allure. The air was thick with the scent of burning tobacco, mingling with the lingering aroma of ale and roasted meat. The smoke hung so densely in the air that one could easily be led to believe that a fire smoldered somewhere unseen.


    Dimly lit by flickering candles and the occasional hearth fire, the inn''s interior was a labyrinth of shadowy corners and wooden beams. Raucous laughter and boisterous conversation echoed off the walls, adding to the inn''s lively, albeit murky ambiance. Here, travelers from distant lands and local regulars alike gathered, their stories and songs weaving together in the smoky air, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and timeless adventure. For Edgar, stepping into the inn was like entering a different realm, one where the outside world''s troubles melted away in the warmth of shared tales and hearty drinks.


    Eventually, the boy spotted the two brothers. They were playing cards with the individuals who almost killed them today, Dalyl and his friends. Edgar couldn''t believe how brazen the two brothers were.


    When Dalyl noticed Edgar, he slammed his fist on the table as hard as he could. He couldn''t believe Edgar had the courage to show his face after what he had done.


    "Take a seat, Edgar," Tenzim invited. "Do you want to play too?"


    "Sorry, but I don''t know how to play. Besides, I don''t have any money with me."


    "What happened? Didn''t you earn enough money shoeing horses, blacksmith?" Dalyl asked mockingly.


    "That''s right. That''s why I was thinking of opening a school, to offer sword-handling lessons to people like you," Edgar replied in the same tone.


    Edgar managed to terribly annoy Dalyl. Until this insolent newcomer appeared, no one had ever insulted him in public. Tenzim quickly intervened, not wanting another duel to occur.


    They began to explain the rules of the game to Edgar. Each player was dealt six cards, and the one with the highest cards won. If an ace came up, it was an undeniable win, regardless of the other cards. Tenzim told Edgar not to worry about money, as they would play with Turalon''s money.


    There were four players in the game: Turalon, Tenzim, Dalyl, and the newcomer, Edgar. Each drew six cards after Turalon shuffled the deck. Tenzim was the first to show his cards. He had a five, a ten, a seven, two kings, and a jack. He was very pleased with his cards, as he didn''t always have such good ones.


    Turalon also showed his cards. He had an eight, two tens, two threes, and an ace, and with this ace, he became the winner of this game, unless any of the remaining players also had an ace.


    Dalyl smiled, then laid his cards on the table. He had two kings, three jacks, and an ace. With these cards, he was convinced he was the winner. The last to go, Edgar, began to lay his cards on the table one by one. The first card he threw down was a two, then two fours, a seven, and the penultimate card he threw down was an ace.


    Edgar held the last card in his hand. With the cards he had shown so far, he was losing, but he kept everyone in suspense, because if he had another ace, he would be the winner. The boy smiled, then let the card fall to the table. No one saw what card it was, as it fell face down.


    Turalon was the one who turned over the card and was also the one nearly shocked, as the last card was indeed an ace. Edgar had the two aces, thus winning all the money on the table.


    "I don''t want your money," he said, giving the money back to them. "Thank you for teaching me how to play."


    "Take the money, Edgar!" Dalyl advised him. "After all, you won it fair and square, unlike others..."


    "What makes you think I won it fairly?" Edgar smiled, getting up from the table and leaving the money there.


    The boy stepped outside for a bit, as he was almost suffocating from the tobacco smoke. Turalon came out after him, greatly puzzled. How did Edgar get that ace?


    Turalon was the one who had dealt the cards, and when the others were not paying attention, he slipped the ace Edgar had into his pocket. He planned to swap it with one of his cards at another moment of inattention from his fellow players.


    And that''s exactly what he did. He replaced the card with the one from his pocket, but instead of the ace he had slipped in, there was an eight. How did Edgar see it? He was one of the quickest.


    "You cheater!" he said to him, smiling. "How did you manage to take my card without me seeing or feeling it?"


    "Quite easily! You weren''t paying attention at all. You were so focused on hiding the card quickly, then you got distracted by the game."


    Edgar spent almost until midnight in the company of the two brothers. Both were amusing and very nice. The only one he didn''t find amusing was Dalyl, because every time he looked at him, he gave him a disdainful glance. Edgar was lucky that a mere look couldn''t kill, because if it could, he would have been dead by now, or very seriously injured, at best.


    Finally, he and the two brothers set off for home. The brothers'' house was right next to Edgar''s, so there was no need to go in different directions.


    During their walk, the boys talked about all sorts of things. They discussed everything happening in the village and its bullies, Dalyl and his friends.


    "In two weeks, the tournament of the ten knights will be held," Tenzim remembered. "Will you come too, Edgar?"


    "What is the tournament of the ten knights?"


    Tenzim began to explain the tournament to him, saying that the best ten knights from these lands would come to Tuzmad Castle, where they would duel until only one winner remained.


    "I wonder who will be the knight representing Tuzmad this year," Tenzim pondered.


    "I don''t know, but rumors say that King Ludrol wants to find a knight who will bring him victory," Turalon said.


    "I heard that Prince Lockdar will also compete. I bet he will win, he is the best knight, having won the tournament three years in a row," added Tenzim.


    "Who is Prince Lockdar? Is he King Ludrol''s son?" Edgar asked.


    "What world do you live in? Lockdar is the son of King Menums, the king of the Duraedol lands, ruler over the Kingdom of the Sun, the most beautiful lands on earth."


    Finally, the young men arrived at their homes, and the two brothers said goodbye to Edgar. Entering the house, Edgar listened at his uncle''s door. He was certainly sleeping, judging by his snoring.


    Edgar changed out of his tobacco smoke-smelling clothes, replacing them with thin pajamas, then he turned off the lamp and tried to fall asleep. It had been a very interesting day. He had met new people, moved to a new house, learned to play cards, and even learned how to cheat.


    He was overjoyed, having lived for thirteen years in a small house in the midst of the wilderness, where no one ever passed by. He couldn''t explain why, but his parents'' house gave him a feeling of safety. He wondered what his parents looked like, how they would have treated him, or what kind of people they were.


    As the world around him succumbed to the embrace of night, Edgar''s consciousness drifted into the realm of dreams. These were not ordinary dreams, for Edgar''s nights were often filled with visions both vivid and disturbing. He dreamt of epic battles, of strife and despair, where humanity clashed with foes of unimaginable terror. That night, as he succumbed to slumber, the familiar yet haunting dream unfurled once more.


    In his dream, Edgar found himself on an expansive grassy plain, stretched under a brooding sky. Two armies, poised on the brink of conflict, faced each other with grim determination. Edgar stood solitary between them, an unseen specter in the looming chaos. As the battle erupted, he wandered through the melee untouched, unseen, like a ghost adrift amidst the storm of war.


    The dream''s clarity was unnerving. Edgar could discern each terrifying detail of the demonic adversaries: their grotesque forms, their fierce, malevolent eyes, and their weapons, wreathed in shadow and flame. Everywhere he looked, the ground was littered with the fallen, and the human army was crumbling under the relentless onslaught of the demonic horde.


    Amidst this vision of apocalypse, Edgar stood alone, surrounded by the echoes of death and defeat. The weight of such devastation pressed heavily upon his dream-self, filling him with a sense of impending doom. This was no mere battle; it was a pivotal moment in the fate of humanity, a struggle for survival against a darkness overwhelming.


    Then, in the midst of the desolation, a figure appeared beside him. An old man, his hair as white as snow and his beard cascading down to his waist, stood solemnly. His eyes, wise and deep, bore into Edgar''s soul. In a voice both gentle and commanding, the old man whispered to Edgar, breaking the silence of the dream. "It is time to wake up," he said, his words resonating with a gravity that transcended the boundary of dreams. With those words, the dream world began to dissolve, and Edgar was gently ushered back to the waking world, left to ponder the profound and mysterious message of his nocturnal vision.


    He jumped out of bed as if burned. He hated these dreams he had had since childhood, but he didn''t take them seriously. Since he learned to read, Edgar had read all sorts of stories about wars fought by people for the expansion of territories. Most likely, his mind invented all these dreams due to the stories he had read over time.


    As morning broke, he dressed quickly and went to see what his uncle was doing. Falo had just started forging new swords. Edgar sat down next to him, ready to lend a hand.


    "Good morning, uncle! How many swords do we still have to make for King Ludrol?"


    "Morning, Edgar! We have twenty more swords to forge by the end of the week. We''ll finish them. How did you sleep?"


    "Good, really well! I absolutely love our new house. Much bigger."


    "Did you have any more nightmares?" the blacksmith asked, knowing about his nephew''s nightmares.


    "I haven''t had a nightmare in a long time," Edgar lied, not wanting to worry his uncle anymore.


    The boy began to sharpen a sword that his uncle had just forged. Falo''s swords were so well-crafted that one might believe there was no blacksmith as skilled as him. Edgar, to his uncle''s surprise, was also making very good swords, light, well-balanced, and easy to maneuver.


    Since he was nine, Edgar had learned this craft from his uncle. He first made hunting knives, then, with his uncle''s help, began to make his first swords. It was an amazing feeling for the young man to craft something like this with his own hands.


    Even though Edgar was a very good sword maker, he still didn''t have his own sword. He planned that the first sword he made for himself would also be the last. He hoped to forge a sword so good that it would be unbeatable.


    After finishing sharpening the sword, he began to train with it. It was light and easy to maneuver. Soon after he got bored of swinging the sword in the air, he wanted to see how resilient it was. With a large stone nearby, he used it to test the sword''s durability. He struck the stone forcefully, which was meant to test the swords'' resilience. To his surprise, the sword broke in two. Edgar couldn''t believe it. How could this happen? His uncle''s swords were the best.


    "Incredible!"


    ?"I''m sorry, uncle! I didn''t mean to destroy the sword."


    ?"It''s nothing. Either my swords are not as good as they used to be, or you are starting to become a real man," Uncle Falo smiled.


    The two continued with the swords that were to be sent to King Ludrol. Uncle Falo left for a short time and left the young man alone. Edgar thought that his uncle might be a bit upset with him because of the broken sword.


    He was wrong. Falo returned cheerfully, carrying something covered with a blanket. It seemed to be quite heavy. Falo placed it on the table and then removed the blanket.


    It appeared to be some kind of metal. It wasn''t iron, but it closely resembled it. Edgar approached this unknown metal and touched it. He noticed it was very hard and then wondered what kind of sword could be made from such a metal.


    "What is this?"


    "Your father, Damyen, had a sword made of this kind of metal. It was a magnificent sword; even King Ludrol himself desired such a sword, but your father kept the last of the material he had hidden."


    "The king knew my father?"


    ?"There are some things I haven''t told you about your family, Edgar. Your father was King Ludrol''s favorite knight. Along with Knight Kondar and Prince Lockdar, they were the best friends, forming an unbeatable team."


    "My father was a knight? And he was friends with Prince Lockdar?" ?


    "Yes. Together they found this metal while exploring a cave in the Ice Mountains. He kept it hidden for years until he gave it to me. Now I think it''s time for you to have your own sword."


    Edgar abandoned all his other tasks and took the material his father had kept hidden for so many years, putting it in the furnace to melt. He planned to make a sword like his father''s, and his desire to become a knight was now even stronger.


    He couldn''t believe that Uncle Falo had kept these things hidden until now. However, he had no time to ask for more details. This metal melted very slowly, requiring up to three times longer than a regular sword.


    Uncle Falo returned, bringing something new: a different mold to pour the metal into. This one was not the usual shape they used for making swords.


    Under the cloak of night, Edgar toiled tirelessly over the forge. His uncle''s words echoed in his mind, imbuing his task with a sense of sacred purpose. "A sword of such caliber," his uncle had said, "must be born from the hands of its destined wielder." With a resolve steeled by these words, Edgar poured the molten metal, its fiery glow lighting up his determined features, into the carefully prepared mold. He watched, with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, as the liquid metal began to solidify, taking the first shape of his future blade.


    As the sword began to cool, Edgar carefully transferred the mold to a basin of water, the steam hissing up like the spirits of ancient blacksmiths approving of his work. Once cooled, he extracted the blade, now in its crude form, and began the meticulous process of hammering it into perfection. Each strike was a testament to his skill and dedication, each echo in the night a step closer to realizing his dream.


    The task of sharpening the blade was a formidable one. It required patience, precision, and a keen eye, all of which Edgar possessed in abundance. The hours slipped by unnoticed as he worked, the moon tracing its path across the sky. Gradually, the blade began to take on a keen edge, one worthy of the mightiest of knights.


    Finally, Edgar attached a handle to the blade, choosing a long, sleek, black piece that complemented the sword''s elegant lethality. It was a handle that whispered of battles yet to be fought, of destinies yet to be fulfilled. The sword was no longer just a piece of metal; it had become an extension of Edgar''s will, a physical manifestation of his aspirations and skills.


    Holding the completed sword in his hands, Edgar felt a surge of pride and accomplishment. It was light, yet strong, perfectly balanced for his grip, a true masterpiece of craftsmanship. He could hardly believe that he, a young blacksmith, had forged such a magnificent weapon. It was the first sword he had made for himself, a tangible symbol of his journey from a mere apprentice to a master of the forge.


    In a moment of reverence and tribute, Edgar closed his eyes and raised the sword. He could feel its power, its potential, coursing through him. With a swift, fluid motion, he struck a stone, the very spot where his uncle''s sword had once shattered. The sound of metal meeting stone rang out clear and true, a declaration to the world and to himself: Edgar, the blacksmith, the warrior, had arrived.


    A loud noise was heard, and Edgar dared not open his eyes. He feared that his work had been in vain, as he felt something shatter into pieces.


    He mustered the courage and opened his eyes. The large stone had shattered into dozens of pieces, while his sword was unscathed. Hearing the noise, Falo came and saw the wonder. His nephew had forged an extraordinary sword.


    Uncle Falo also held the sword in his hand. It was perfect. Light, despite its size, and incredibly resistant. Falo couldn''t take his eyes off this shining sword, as he had never seen such a sword in his life. It was clear that the material was priceless.


    "Edgar, you have forged the best sword I have ever seen. Your father even gave a name to his sword. I think you should do the same."


    Edgar thought for a moment, gripped the handle of the sword tightly, and told his uncle that this sword would be named Phoenix. He had read about these legendary birds that rise from their own ashes. His sword, being created from an ancient ore, melted in the strongest fire, was compared by Edgar to the majestic bird.


    "Phoenix? That''s a very good name," said Uncle Falo, amazed. "By the way, I have some news."


    "What news?" Edgar asked.


    ?"I''ve been called by King Ludrol to Tuzmad, to forge weapons and armor for the knights participating in the tournament of the ten, and I can''t manage it alone. I need you to accompany me. I know how dear this house is to you, but a good helper is hard to find."


    "Of course! I really want to visit Tuzmad. When do we leave?"


    ?"Tomorrow, early in the morning."


    ?Edgar was thrilled at the prospect of seeing real knights, having never seen one in his life, only read about them. However, a question came to his mind. He thought for a moment, then asked his uncle what was bothering him. How did it happen that the king sent word to his uncle? ?


    "Uncle, do you know King Ludrol?" ?


    "Of course! Everyone knows King Ludrol. He''s a very good king."


    ?"No, I mean do you know him personally?"


    ?What his uncle then told him left him astonished. King Ludrol and Uncle Falo were very good friends. They had grown up together since they were children.


    When the two were about seventeen years old, they set off towards the Giant Mountains with the intention of climbing to the highest peak. Being young, and their desire for adventure stronger than ever, misfortune led to Prince Ludrol losing his balance, putting him in danger of falling from a height of about three hundred meters. Ludrol was barely holding onto the branch of a fir tree, and when it broke, Falo managed to catch him at the last moment. Since then, the two kept in touch, and Falo remained his best friend.


    "You saved the king''s life? That man owes you more than just an invitation to a tournament," Edgar joked. ?


    "When you do a favor for a friend, you don¡¯t expect it to be returned, because then it can no longer be called friendship." ?


    Edgar told his uncle that he would also stop by to greet the two brothers before gathering some things and heading to the magnificent castle, Tuzmad. ?


    The boy left the house and headed towards the brothers'' home, knocking forcefully on their door. Tenzim came out annoyed, but his face brightened a bit when he saw Edgar. ?


    "What happened to you? You look like an entire cavalry has run over you."


    ?"My brother was enough. We had a little dispute. He always picks on me, even when I haven¡¯t done anything wrong." ?


    At that moment, Turalon came out as well. He had a look in his eyes ready to throw flames. ?


    Edgar didn''t notice Turalon''s presence and was startled when Turalon angrily lunged at his brother, unable to restrain himself any longer. ?


    "From this moment, I forget that we are brothers, you traitor! How could you sell my dagger to Dalyl?"


    Edgar almost burst out laughing when he heard the reason for their quarrel. They were amusing even when they were upset. He wanted to suggest they become jesters, but he didn''t want to offend them further.


    "Ahem," Edgar intervened. "I just wanted to stop by and say hello, but if you¡¯re busy, I can come back later." ?


    When Turalon saw Edgar, he nearly hugged his brother, wanting to show Edgar how well they got along. They were surprised, not expecting to have a visitor, so the two invited him in, but Edgar said he couldn''t stay long. ?


    "I have to leave for Tuzmad tomorrow," Edgar said. "I thought I¡¯d stop by to say goodbye."


    ?"Hmm... and the day after tomorrow is Prince Sormain''s birthday," Turalon said, glancing at Tenzim and smiling.


    ?"Ha, ha, there will be a party. I love parties. There has to be a party!" Tenzim laughed enthusiastically. ?


    When the two brothers noticed Edgar''s confusion, they explained that Prince Sormain is King Ludrol''s son. He was turning sixteen, and the king, as every year, would organize a party in honor of the prince, to which everyone in Tuzmad was invited. ?


    "We''ll be there too," the two brothers said.


    ?Edgar said his goodbyes to them and headed back to his uncle, who had already started packing. They were set to leave for Tuzmad early the next morning, where they were going to meet King Ludrol.


    ?Together with Uncle Falo, Edgar packed the necessary items and then prepared for bed. He needed to go to sleep early to wake up early. He was eager to see the castle of Tuzmad, having never seen a real castle before.


    Early in the morning, Edgar was woken up by Uncle Falo to start their journey. They loaded their belongings into the cart and set off towards the castle. ?


    The journey to Tuzmad was a path less traveled, a winding route that followed the meandering Dul''zare River. Edgar, ever the seeker of knowledge, had prepared for the lengthy travel by bringing along a trove of books, his companions in solitude. These volumes, ranging from ancient myths to treatises on swordsmanship, were a source of endless fascination to him, their pages filled with tales and wisdom that transported him beyond the confines of the carriage.


    ?As they advanced, the landscape unfurled before them like a tapestry of nature''s making. The Dul''zare River, a silver ribbon winding through the land, guided their path, its waters whispering secrets of the places it had touched. Alongside the river, meadows burst into life, a riot of colors as wildflowers nodded their heads in the gentle breeze. Edgar found himself lost in the beauty of the scene, his anticipation for new encounters growing with each mile traversed. ?


    Their carriage rattled and creaked as it approached the Calipto Bridge. This rustic structure, an assemblage of aged planks and weathered logs, stood as a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of those who had built it generations ago. As they made their way across, the bridge groaned under their weight, each creak a reminder of its age and the countless stories it must hold. Edgar watched with bated breath, half expecting the timeworn bridge to give way. But it held firm, its sturdiness belying its fragile appearance.


    Upon reaching the other side, a sense of relief washed over Edgar. He marveled at the bridge''s endurance, just as he marveled at the journey''s ability to reveal the hidden beauty and strength of the world around him. The experience heightened his eagerness for what lay ahead in Tuzmad. New faces, new stories, and new adventures awaited him, and he could hardly wait to immerse himself in this uncharted chapter of his life.

 The Meeting in Tuzmad

    As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Edgar and his uncle approached the castle. It loomed in the distance, its silhouette etched against the twilight sky, a grand monument to architectural marvel and historical might. Edgar''s eyes widened in awe. ?


    The castle, majestic and imposing, stood proudly upon a rise, its towering walls and turrets reaching towards the heavens. Its vastness was like nothing Edgar had ever seen, with ramparts that stretched into the distance, encircling the stronghold in a protective embrace. The walls, massive and formidable, were adorned with intricate carvings and banners that fluttered in the evening breeze, each telling tales of victories and valor. ?


    As they drew nearer, the details of the castle''s grandeur became more apparent. The stonework was a masterful display of craftsmanship, with each block perfectly cut and placed, creating an imposing yet elegant facade. The main gate, guarded by soldiers in gleaming armor, was an artwork in itself, wrought with iron and embellished with symbols of the kingdom''s heraldry. ?


    Edgar, usually not one to be easily impressed, found himself utterly captivated. The sheer size of the castle was overwhelming, its spires stretching into the sky as if to touch the stars themselves. The setting sun cast a golden glow upon the stone, making it appear as if the castle itself was alight with an ethereal flame. ?


    Stepping through the gates, Edgar felt as though he was walking into a different world, one where history whispered from every stone and corridor. The air was thick with the scent of old battles and ancient secrets, and Edgar knew that this castle held stories and mysteries that he could spend a lifetime unraveling. The sense of stepping into a living piece of history was exhilarating, and Edgar knew that his time here would be nothing short of extraordinary. ?


    A spearman approached them and asked what business they had at the castle. Uncle Falo told him they were expected for the tournament of the ten knights. The two spearmen guarding the gate signaled for it to be opened, allowing them to enter.


    ?After the huge gate opened before them, Edgar and his uncle proceeded. There were many merchants around, each trying to prove that their goods were of better quality than what the others were selling. ?


    Edgar and Uncle Falo got out of the cart, and one of the king''s men took the horse to the stables. Edgar had no idea where they would sleep, and he quickly became fearful that he would receive a cold bed in a forgotten smithy.


    However, Edgar''s concern was soon addressed, as a servant of King Ludrol invited them to enter the castle. As he stepped inside, the boy was awestruck. It was so large that an entire army could fit inside. ?


    The king''s servant led the two through a huge hallway until they reached their destination, a vast room. Here, there was a large table filled with delicious foods, and at the head of the table sat the king, waiting for them. ?


    "Over here, my dears," the king invited them. "Falo, old friend! How long has it been? Twenty years? I can''t believe how time flies." ?


    "Neither can I, Your Majesty. I can''t believe you still remember me." ?


    "How could I forget the man who made my childhood more interesting? Drop these formalities, to you I''m just Ludrol, understand? That''s an order, my old friend," the king smiled.


    ?The two took their seats at the table next to the king. He seemed to be in a good mood, probably because he had just reunited with his old childhood friend. ?


    King Ludrol was short in stature, plump, with white hair long to his shoulders. He had a gentle look, and his large green eyes sized up Edgar from head to toe.


    ?"And who is this young man? Don''t tell me, a charming face with penetrating eyes, traits inherited from his mother. Strong and fearless, traits from his father. You must be Edgar Argyle. I''m very pleased to meet you, young man." ?


    "You know who I am because you knew my parents, didn''t you?" Edgar asked excitedly.


    "Of course. I knew your parents very well. Your parents were honored members of..."


    ?"Ahem," Falo coughed, interrupting the king. ?


    Edgar understood that something important was being avoided and couldn''t believe his uncle was hiding certain things from him. He looked down, not touching the food, deliberately showing his upset.


    ?Falo immediately noticed Edgar''s change in mood but didn''t want to discuss the sensitive topic, trying to avoid his nephew''s gaze. He brought up the topic of the tournament of the ten, wanting to know how many blacksmiths were still needed, how much time they had for armor repairs, and who the best knights coming to Tuzmad to demonstrate their skills were.


    ?"I''m very tired," said Edgar. "Where can I sleep?"


    ?"A servant will lead you to your room," King Ludrol replied.


    ?After wishing the king and his uncle a good evening, Edgar headed to his room, led by the servant. King Ludrol and Falo continued eating in the dining hall, without speaking another word. Finally, Falo broke the silence. ?


    "Edgar doesn''t know many things. He''s too young to understand." ?


    "There''s no need to tell him everything at once, just certain things, gradually. You''ve protected and secretly prepared him to become a skilled swordsman, away from prying eyes. However, the battle his parents fought must continue in one way or another, and he is one of the few descendants who can make a difference."


    King Ludrol stood up from the table, approached Falo, and looked at him intently, trying to tell him something. He took a deep breath and whispered softly:


    "The Triangle returns..." ?


    These words were enough to frighten blacksmith Falo, who turned as pale as chalk. "How is that possible?" he wondered to himself.


    ?In his room, Edgar had been asleep for some time. He had reconciled himself with the thought that he could not know everything that happens in this world, easily slipping into his terrifying dream. ?


    He was on a vast plain, with the two armies on either side. This time, the dream was slightly different, as a white pigeon landed in front of him. The pigeon was surrounded by grey smoke, then transformed into a man. It was a tall old man with white hair and a gentle gaze. ?


    Edgar woke up. He looked around, examining more closely the room he was in. It was so large that it could house his home in Dornaran. He knew he was in one of the finest rooms in the castle. The bed was large and very comfortable, and the paintings in the room caught his attention, chasing away his sleep. ?


    A painting depicted the land of Tuzmad, another the Giant Mountains, and in yet another was a large, sparkling diamond. Edgar thought that if he had such a diamond, he would never have to work again.


    ?"Beautiful diamond, isn''t it?" ?


    The boy turned to see who it was and saw his Uncle Falo. It seemed he had been standing there for a while, waiting for him to wake up. Falo thought about how to start the conversation and then said in a hoarse voice: ?


    "I''m sorry I couldn''t tell you this until now. You''re old enough to understand, but I don''t like talking to you about these things."


    ?"Uncle, if you don''t want to talk about it, I won''t be upset." ?


    "You need to know the truth. I told you that the village and the house where your parents lived were attacked and looted. The truth is that those who attacked your parents'' home were determined to kill them." ?


    Edgar couldn''t believe what he heard. What did his parents do wrong? He asked Uncle Falo what the reason might be. ?


    "There are several rumors. As you know, your father was a great knight, who fought valiantly for noble causes and for the good of the Tuzmad kingdom. Your mother was a healer in the truest sense of the word, as she carefully studied the preparation of remedies and potions. The concoctions she made could heal wounds and physical illnesses." ?


    Uncle Falo told Edgar that a few days before his parents were killed, the king was caught in an ambush. Damyen managed to save Ludrol, but the king was gravely injured. At that point, Luna, Edgar''s mother, intervened with one of her potions, successfully saving the king''s life, which otherwise would have been lost. ?


    "Are those who killed my parents the same people who tried to assassinate the king?" ?


    "It''s possible. There are also rumors that your parents were part of a secret order that fought against terrible people, and these enemies eventually took their revenge. Edgar, the real reason I trained you in swordsmanship is that these people have a malevolent belief system. When they seek revenge on someone, they ensure that no one in the victim''s family remains alive. They don¡¯t forget, and fourteen years is not a barrier to finishing what they started."


    ?King Ludrol entered the room confidently, bringing news. He apologized, saying he had overheard their conversation and that there was no need to panic. Those assassins had been captured and executed a long time ago, as they were tracked to the ends of the earth. The king assured that Edgar was safe and that no one would attempt to attack the boy. ?


    Relieved at this news, uncle Falo embraced Edgar tightly and then thanked King Ludrol. The king added that today was Prince Sormain''s birthday, and he would be hosting a party where all the residents of Tuzmad were welcome. The party would begin at dusk, and they were the guests of honor.


    ?Ludrol eventually left them alone. Falo had something wrapped in an old blanket. He unwrapped it to reveal the Phoenix sword, telling Edgar he almost forgot it. The Phoenix sword was the strongest and best sword Uncle Falo had ever seen. He never imagined that he would see the day when his nephew would forge such an exceptional sword. ?


    "Take care of it, boy! A sword like this can''t be found just anywhere, and one day it might save your life." ?


    "A sword forged by me cannot be defeated, and in my hands, it will become an unstoppable force," Edgar said with a smile.


    Blacksmith Falo began to laugh. It was clear that no matter how much he tried to make his nephew a skilled blacksmith, the boy shared his father''s interest: to prove that he had no equal in combat.


    ?"When you grow older and gain more experience as a blacksmith, I will teach you how to make the finest swords that exist. Few blacksmiths know how to forge them, and many have begged me to pass on the secret."


    ?"What do you mean, I''m not a skilled blacksmith? Look at the sword I''ve made, even you were amazed," Edgar smiled. ?


    "Your forged sword is so good and durable because of that metal. It''s an unknown, very old, and resilient material. However, there are other ores in the world from which swords so powerful can be made, that they offer life, instead of taking it." ?


    Edgar didn''t fully understand what his uncle meant, but he knew he would realize it in time. Falo then told him that starting tomorrow, they would begin forging a hundred swords for King Ludrol''s army. A hundred swords weren''t produced in the blink of an eye, so he and Edgar had a lot of work ahead. As today was Prince Sormain''s birthday, the young man was given the day off to attend the party in the prince''s honor, where he would meet his friends, Tenzim and Turalon.


    ?Falo left the room and headed towards the castle''s smithy. Edgar changed into his evening clothes and went outside. Once outside the castle, he began to look at it again with more attention and admiration. It was immense. The door he had exited from was guarded by two knights with sharp gazes. Around the castle were many large buildings and beautiful houses, likely owned by nobles.


    Looking at the knights, Edgar couldn''t shake off the idea of becoming a knight himself, like his father. It was a long road to becoming one. He needed to enlist in the king''s army, and to enlist, he had to be nineteen years old. Acts of bravery, obedience, and faith would make him the knight he wished to be. He was still young and had to wait, and the only thing he could do was dream about that day. ?


    The clock in the castle''s large tower struck twelve. It was still early, and there was quite some time until the party started. Suddenly, someone covered his eyes, and someone else jumped on his back. When he turned around, he saw the two brothers. They were so playful and happy that nothing could dampen their joy.


    ?"What''s got you so cheerful?"


    "Praise Xal''Nagus!" exclaimed Tenzim. "How can we not be cheerful? Tonight Prince Sormain turns sixteen, which means there''ll be lots of free food and drink, and as a bonus, many drunkards waiting to be pickpocketed." ?


    "Stop it! We''re here to have fun, not to rob those who are intoxicated," Turalon admonished. ?


    "Who is Xal''Nagus? Is he also coming to the party?" Edgar asked, puzzled. ?


    The two brothers looked at each other. From what world did he come? They almost questioned his intelligence but then remembered that Edgar had grown up in the mountains, far from people and their beliefs.


    ?"Has your uncle never told you about Him?" asked Turalon. "In traditional belief, Xal''Nagus is the god of light, the protector of people and the earth. When someone is sad or happy, they pray to this god for help to face life''s challenges or to thank him for the joys brought. In modern belief, he is a wizard who dedicated his life to doing good, eventually finding the path to supreme enlightenment and transforming into something much greater than human beings." ?


    "My uncle isn''t very religious. He considers gods to be fabrications of decaying minds, later used by influential people with the aim of keeping the population under control."


    ?"Your uncle will never walk the eternal fields of light if he doesn''t return to the right faith. You are still young, and if this belief has not been made known to you, it''s not your fault. Eternal life can be saved if you accept this god''s blessing by worshipping Him." ?


    "The fact that I wasn''t aware of this belief made me a person worthy of stepping onto those fields, right?" Edgar asked. ?


    "Yes, you are considered innocent since you didn''t know..." ?


    "Now, if I mess up in venerating your god, I won''t have this eternal life?" ?


    "Of course not!" said Tenzim.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ?"Then why the heck did you tell me?" ?


    "Because everyone should know about the goodness of Xal''Nagus. Let me tell you more about the right faith, the traditional one." ?


    Tenzim shared with Edgar an ancient tale, a legacy that had been passed down through generations. He spoke of the dawn of humanity, of a time when the first humans emerged from the very essence of the earth, their lives intertwined with the rhythms of nature. Among them, according to the legend, was born a man unlike any other, his very being a product of the sun''s brilliant rays. This man, imbued with powers that defied understanding, was known as Xal''Nagus, a name that echoed ''Divine Power'' in the forgotten tongue of their ancestors. ?


    Xal''Nagus, Tenzim recounted with a sense of awe, was a guardian of humanity, using his extraordinary gifts for the betterment of those around him. With a mere touch, he could mend the gravest of wounds, his hands weaving the very threads of life. His voice could quell the fiercest storms, bringing calm to the tumultuous seas. Most miraculously, he held the power to reverse the shroud of death, summoning souls back from the eternal void. People revered him, their adoration stemming from a mix of reverence and gratitude. Xal''Nagus was more than a man; he was a beacon of hope in a world rife with uncertainty.


    ?But as time marched on, an unsettling truth emerged. Xal''Nagus, the man kissed by the sun, remained untouched by the passage of time. His eternal youth, a stark contrast to the natural order of life and death, began to kindle fear in the hearts of those he had sworn to protect. Whispers of unease turned into roars of distrust, and the once-beloved savior became an outcast, viewed not as a protector but as an anomaly that disrupted the balance of nature. ?


    Despite the growing fear and eventual rejection, Xal''Nagus''s love for humanity never wavered. Realizing that his presence only brought fear to those he cherished, he made a heartrending decision. With one last sorrowful glance upon the world he so dearly loved, Xal''Nagus ascended towards the heavens, his figure becoming one with the celestial tapestry. Yet, even from his lofty abode, he continued to watch over humanity, his gaze filled with an undying hope that one day, they would understand and accept the gift of his eternal guardianship.


    "It''s a beautiful story. No wonder my uncle never told me about this god. He''s too kind to be real," Edgar smiled.


    ?"Let him finish, you unbeliever!" Turalon snapped.


    ?In the shadows of history, a century after the ascent of Xal''Nagus to the heavens, a new force emerged from the amalgam of night''s darkness and the corrupt hearts of men. This force took the form of Xal''Nagus''s brother, known in the ancient tongue as Xal''Adunoss, or ''Divine Darkness''. His power was unrivaled and fearsome; he could single-handedly combat a hundred warriors, his might far surpassing the limits of mortal strength. With a mere gesture of his hands, he conjured demons, fiends of unparalleled malevolence, each possessing strength tenfold that of any man.


    ?Under the reign of Xal''Adunoss, humanity was reduced to servitude. Those who dared to defy him were met with a cruel fate, executed in public displays of power to instill fear and submission. His rule was absolute, and his darkness spread like a plague across the land, leaving despair in its wake.


    ?It was during these dark times that Xal''Nagus, witnessing the terror wrought by his brother, descended once again to the earth. Time had only fortified his power, and he returned clad in armor so luminous it turned the darkest night into day. His sword was a force of nature, capable of cleaving the earth itself, and his shield was an impenetrable fortress. Rallying a small but determined army of humans, Xal''Nagus led the charge against the demonic hordes spawned by his brother. ?


    The ensuing battle was nothing short of epic. Xal''Nagus''s army, bolstered by his divine might, eradicated the demonic scourge in a single day of fierce combat. The climax of this celestial struggle saw the two brothers, Xal''Nagus and Xal''Adunoss, clash in a battle that spanned land, sky, fire, and water. Their powers were so evenly matched that neither could gain the upper hand, their conflict raging from dawn until dusk. ?


    Realizing the futility of their battle, Xal''Adunoss, in a moment of clarity, relinquished his grip on the world. Before vanishing into the annals of time, he uttered a chilling prophecy: "In a thousand years, my acolytes shall awaken ancient forces, bringing about my second coming to subjugate this world." With these ominous words, Xal''Adunoss disappeared, leaving behind a legacy that would inspire generations of followers, who worshipped him in secret, awaiting his prophesied return. ?


    Xal''Nagus, ever the guardian of humanity, countered his brother''s dark prophecy with one of hope: "In a thousand years, the roots of evil shall be severed forever." And with that, he too vanished, his words echoing through the ages, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of his brother''s curse. The world, scarred yet resilient, began its long journey towards healing, with the prophecies of the divine brothers etched into its very soul. ?


    "And so, about ten thousand years have passed, and we haven''t seen a bit of action," Turalon said. "Sometimes, I have doubts about the existence of the two, but I have never ceased to worship Xal''Nagus." ?


    "To me, the foundation of your faith sounds like a fairy tale. I could never worship a deity whose existence can only be proven through stories," Edgar said. ?


    "Story or not, imagine the chaos in this world if the two were to measure their powers against each other again," Turalon said.


    "Yes, it is said that the two have always fought for supremacy," a voice said behind them.


    ?It was an old man of about seventy years, a monk from the monastery near the castle. The monk wore a white cloak, had a long beard down to his waist, and a staff strapped to his back. ?


    He held a thick prayer book in his arm, making Tenzim look at it strangely. He wouldn''t waste his time reading such a dense book. One more reason for him not to become a monk. ?


    "Without a doubt, Xal''Nagus won, Mr. Monk."


    ?"What makes you think I am a monk?" the old man asked Tenzim. "I was one in my youth, but I took a few tests and became a magician in the service of Xal''Nagus." ?


    The three boys were momentarily stunned. They had never seen a magician before. Many considered magicians to be crackpots who wasted their time performing cheap tricks and losing themselves in libraries.


    ?"A magician? Like a kind of wizard, right?" Edgar asked. ?


    The old magician frowned upon hearing this word. He explained that there''s a world of difference between a magician and a wizard. To call someone a wizard meant referring to someone diabolical, who used natural forces for destructive purposes. ?


    "I apologize, I didn''t know that," Edgar said. "So, magicians have magical powers, right?" ?


    "It depends on what you understand by magical powers. Magic is about knowledge and using it to amplify positive thoughts. Magic is in everything that surrounds us, especially in beautiful things that uplift our spirits. I know you''re thinking of someone who shoots lightning from their fingers or breathes fire," the old man smiled. ?


    The three boys chuckled at the magician''s words. They didn''t know magicians also had the gift of being comical. The old magician was pleased to see the boys in good spirits. ?


    "Do all magicians have such powers?" Edgar asked, unable to contain his curiosity.


    ?The two brothers tried their best not to burst into laughter. They didn''t know Edgar had a sense of humor. Edgar tried to stay as serious as possible, as he didn''t like being taken for a jester.


    ?"Everyone has magical powers," said the old man. "Due to the fact that few believe in the power of magic and more doubt it, this profession is slowly fading." ?


    "What could I do to become a magician?" Turalon asked.


    ?Edgar and Tenzim looked at him strangely. Even his brother hadn''t suspected that Turalon might ever want to be something like that. However, the young man had long dreamed of becoming a magician because he wanted to know the secrets of magic and magical potions. Someone who knew the magical art of potion making could create love potions, potions of immortality, potions of fame, and other powerful concoctions. Moreover, with magical powers, he could turn his brother into a mouse and lock him in a cage, so he wouldn''t nag him all day.


    ?"To become a magician, you first have to be accepted as a monk in the monastery, and to become a monk, you must be at least sixteen years old," the old man said.


    "I am sixteen," Turalon said delightedly. "Will I be accepted?" ?


    "I would accept you right away, but you need to talk to the head of the monastery," said the old man." His name is Laryus, and he will only accept you if he receives a letter from your parents stating their agreement."


    ?Turalon couldn''t believe what was happening. His parents would never allow him to become a monk. They considered magicians and monks to be eccentrics. They would be mortified if one of their sons got involved with such oddities. ?


    "I will talk to my parents and get the letter," Turalon said. ?


    "Very well, you know where the monastery is. It''s in the castle courtyard, about a hundred meters from the library," the old man informed them, noticing the boys had no idea where the place of worship was located.


    ?Shortly after the old man walked away, Turalon fell deep in thought. ?


    "You''ll never get that letter in a million years," Tenzim laughed mockingly.


    ?"Shut up, you fool! I bet as soon as I get home, I''ll get that letter."


    ?"Keep dreaming, magician," Tenzim taunted. ?


    The three wandered around the vicinity, admiring the locations and goods the merchants had for sale. They didn''t dare to venture outside the castle, as bandits eagerly awaited new prey. Even though they didn''t have money on them, they didn''t want to risk their lives by venturing outside the kingdom.


    Crime in Tuzmad was punished with death, either by hanging or beheading. In the best case, a criminal was sentenced to life-long daily labor, but no one lasted more than a year. ?


    This did not intimidate thieves, however; many were fearless of the kingdom''s laws or even the punishment. They made their own law, demanding protection money from the defenseless, robbing merchants who didn''t share their goods, and occasionally, a daring bandit would stand in the way of a knight, challenging them to a fight. ?


    No thief ever emerged victorious from such a fight, as the knights were hardened by the fires of war, battling in the fiercest of battles, never admitting defeat. They were the embodiment of justice, protectors of the weak, and heroes of their realms. ?


    Thus, the boys spent the entire day discussing all sorts of things, ranging from knights to kings and their kingdoms.


    ?Evening fell over Tuzmad, and the party in honor of Prince Sormain finally began. Almost the entire town came, including four mysterious knights, and the king invited them to sit with him at the table. ?


    The three boys chose a more secluded table, as they didn''t want to be disturbed by those who overindulged in drink. In front of the castle, tables were laden with food and drink, and music and merriment echoed through the air. ?


    The guest of honor, Prince Sormain, also arrived and took his seat next to his father. Edgar''s gaze fixed on the king. He had an odd feeling about him but couldn''t explain why. The two brothers, Turalon and Tenzim, didn''t even notice Edgar anymore. They were too busy tearing into a pork roast.


    When Edgar decided to eat something, he saw King Ludrol entering the castle, followed by the four knights. "Is he leaving his son''s party?" Edgar wondered, confused. A sudden urge to know more took hold of him, and he couldn''t resist it.


    ?"Come with me," he said to the two brothers, getting up from the table.


    ?Turalon and Tenzim looked at each other, puzzled, then followed Edgar, who was heading determinedly towards the castle entrance. There, the three boys were stopped by two lancers who crossed their spears in front of them, telling them they weren''t allowed inside. ?


    "What do you mean I''m not allowed?" Edgar asked. "His Majesty, King Ludrol, provided me with a guest room where I can sleep." ?


    "Sorry," one of the lancers said. "The king has ordered us not to let anyone in at this moment."


    ?The boys turned back, having no other choice. The two brothers demanded an explanation from Edgar, who only said that something was happening that piqued his curiosity. Tenzim, always inclined to get into trouble, suddenly had an idea and his face lit up. He revealed that he knew about a secret passage in the stables, rumored to lead into the castle. ?


    "By all the demons! Where did you learn about this?" Turalon asked.


    ?"From some drunken soldiers at the Ogre''s Inn." ?


    The three headed towards the stables, but they encountered the same problem: the stables were guarded by two more lancers. Tenzim complained about their bad luck. Having already been seen by the lancers heading towards the stables, they couldn''t turn back. They needed a convincing excuse to enter, but they had no idea what to come up with. ?


    "The prince gave us permission to choose the horses for tomorrow''s hunt," Edgar said, his voice uncertain. ?


    "No one informed us of any hunt tomorrow," the lancers said. "We can''t let you in." ?


    They were at a loss. They risked being thrown into a cold, dark dungeon if they didn''t come up with something better, Turalon thought. This time they were all in trouble, and Tenzim regretted not staying at his table. ?


    "How dare you disregard the prince''s orders? When he hears about this, he''ll probably be furious. Do you know who we are?" Edgar asked. "We come from three different kingdoms and have never been treated like this in our lives. We are princes, can''t you see?" ?


    The lancers were at a loss for words, but then they noticed their clothes. The boys were dressed like peasants. They realized it wasn''t a very bright idea to lie to them. They were asked why they were dressed like common folk. ?


    "We''ve just been around Tuzmad town. Did you expect us to wear our fine clothes and become prey for thieves?" Edgar retorted. "Let''s go, boys. I can''t wait to see the prince''s and the king''s expression when they find out what kind of troops they have." ?


    To their surprise, they were believed, and the lancers apologized, opening the door to the stables. The building was large, housing over a hundred horses. Our nighttime heroes had no idea where to start looking for the secret passage. ?


    The horses were separated by wooden bars and were well-tied so as not to escape from the stable. They noticed nothing that looked like a secret passage, so they turned their gaze to the floor.


    ?"I can''t believe we got in," Turalon said. "Edgar, you''re much craftier than I thought."


    ?"Thank you, Turalon. I must admit I was about to lose my words in front of those two lancers. The passage, if it exists, should it be some kind of tunnel?"


    ?"Like looking for a trap door?" Tenzim asked.


    The three began to search through the hay but found nothing. They seriously doubted that such a passage existed in these stables. Finally, they decided to give up, having sifted through all the hay and examined each plank without result. ?


    Turalon, tired and bored, started admiring the horses. They were all purebred, fat, beautiful, and strong. These were the horses with which the king went hunting, accompanied by nobles and his men. He came across a black horse standing still and looking straight at him. The horse didn''t move or blink, as if it were a statue. On closer inspection, Turalon realized that it was indeed a statue, a wooden horse sculpture. It looked so real that it was hard to tell it was made of wood. ?


    "Come see this marvel," Turalon called out. ?


    Tenzim and Edgar also saw the sculpture. One question was in their minds: why was a carved horse kept in the stables? Tenzim touched it. It was very smooth and slippery. It seemed the sculptor had managed to create a real masterpiece from that wood.


    ?Edgar closely examined the horse''s eyes and noticed that the right eye was slightly stained. He pressed his index finger on the right eye. A noise sounded beneath them, as if something was opening. The wooden horse began to lower. The boys realized this was the passage they had been searching for, so they jumped behind the horse. They descended about ten meters and then stopped. ?


    Behind them was a wall, so they could only go forward. It was quite dark, but their eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light, and they moved on, hoping to eavesdrop on what the king would say. Reaching a set of stairs, which they hurriedly climbed, they found themselves in a huge corridor, unsure of which direction to take. Fortunately, a noise like someone pounding a table guided them, indicating they were near the mysterious meeting. ?


    The boys tried to step very lightly to avoid making any noise. Proceeding this way, they eventually reached the slightly open door of the throne room. Inside, the king and the four knights seemed to be having an important conversation, and the uninvited guests could hear everything from behind the door.


    ?"Lockdar, understand me! I need you. The Triangle of Death wasn''t destroyed back then, and now it has returned, gaining more power with each passing day."


    ?"What do you want us to do, Ludrol? Since Damyen and Luna are no longer with us, the Circle''s power has diminished."


    Edgar was astonished to hear his parents mentioned. What could the Triangle of Death mean? He only knew that such a name couldn''t signify anything good.


    ?"Prince Lockdar, do I need to remind you who the king here is? Watch your tone with me. Indeed, our order''s powers have significantly weakened since the two of them are gone." ?


    "We need a well-devised plan if we want to defeat them once and for all. Last time they managed to cause quite chaos among our kingdoms. I don¡¯t even want to imagine what those cursed ones are plotting this time," said Prince Lockdar. ?


    Prince Lockdar Menums was an enigmatic figure, renowned as much for his physical presence as for his indomitable spirit. With flowing blond hair cascading to his shoulders, he cut a striking figure amidst the aristocracy. Standing tall, his stature was imposing, hinting at the strength and agility honed through years of rigorous training. Though not more than thirty-five, his piercing black eyes held a depth of wisdom and resolve that belied his years, reflecting an unyielding spirit that had often brought him into quiet contention with King Ludrol. ?


    Lockdar''s attire was as distinctive as his personality. Clad in shining black armor, meticulously crafted and polished to an almost otherworldly gleam, he embodied the dual nature of his life - both prince and warrior. The black cloak he wore over his armor served more than aesthetic purposes; it rendered him nearly invisible in the shadows, a strategic advantage that he employed with a masterful precision. ?


    His presence in the room was often met with a mix of admiration and unease. The other nobles respected his prowess and his lineage, yet his quiet, often solitary demeanor and the rumors of his clandestine endeavors as part of the secret order added an aura of mystery around him. In the dead of night, under the cloak of darkness, Lockdar''s true skills would come to the fore, as he navigated the intricate web of political intrigue and hidden battles that shaped the destiny of the kingdom. His loyalty, though unwavering to the crown, was guided by a moral compass that did not always align with King Ludrol''s decrees, making him a complex and pivotal figure in the unfolding saga of the realm.


    ?"Did you know the two had a child?" the king asked. ?


    At that moment, a profound silence fell in the throne room. Edgar tensed up, becoming even more attentive to their gestures and words.


    ?"It''s impossible!" Lockdar responded. "Damyen and Luna were my best friends. They would surely have mentioned something so important."


    ?Just then, Turalon noticed something that could give them away. His younger brother was about to sneeze. He managed to cover his mouth in time, preventing them from being discovered. Tenzim signaled that the urge had passed, so Turalon removed his hand. But within two seconds, a loud sneeze echoed throughout the hall. Tenzim sneezed so forcefully that Turalon and Edgar froze.

 The Circle of the Sun

    Tenzim''s sneeze echoed into the throne room, resonating off its walls. The king, with his back to the knights, said "bless you," assuming one of them had sneezed. Two of the knights left the room, and upon their return, they brought with them the three eavesdroppers. ?


    The young boys didn''t know what to say. Tenzim felt like pointing at Edgar and saying he just followed him, but it wouldn''t have been of much use at the moment. They realized they had overheard matters not meant for just anyone''s ears. ?


    "What''s your name?" Lockdar asked, pressing a dagger to Tenzim''s throat, believing him and the others to be spies. ?


    "Tenzim Norlaren," the frightened boy said. "Please don''t cut my throat, Your Highness Lockdar." ?


    "Alright, Tenzim Norlaren, if you want your neck to stay in place, tell me what you heard." ?


    "I swear I heard nothing! I didn''t hear anything about the triangle of death or the dead," the boy said in fear.


    ?What Tenzim said was enough. It was clear the young boys had listened to a substantial part of their conversation. Edgar didn¡¯t even blink, knowing that nothing would happen to them since they were just children. ?


    Another knight, named Dragomyr, noticed that Edgar was wearing a weapon at his waist and moved to take it.


    ?"Keep your hands to yourself, sir!" Edgar said in a threatening tone, drawing everyone''s attention. ?


    "Or what will you do?" Dragomyr challenged, surprised by the young man''s courage. ?


    "It depends. The last knight who dared to provoke me is still crying about it," Edgar replied sarcastically. ?


    Amazed by the young man''s bravery, Dragomyr drew his sword and placed it at Edgar''s throat. He didn''t intend to harm him, just to scare him a bit. But he didn''t achieve his goal, as Edgar quickly moved away from the blade, and with a swift motion, drew his own sword. With a powerful blow from Edgar, knight Dragomyr dropped his sword, reversing their roles. All the other knights were speechless. How could Dragomyr be defeated by a child so quickly? ?


    King Ludrol almost burst into laughter. Lockdar noticed the king''s attitude but refrained from commenting.


    ?"My dear knights, let me introduce you to Edgar Argyle," said the king, signaling the boy to lower his sword. ?


    "Argyle?" asked Lockdar surprised. "The son of Damyen?" ?


    "Yes."


    ?Lockdar was utterly astonished. The young man in front of him resembled Damyen and Luna so much. Moreover, his passion for swordsmanship seemed to have been inherited from Damyen. He couldn''t fathom what kind of rigorous training Edgar had undergone, but it appeared to have greatly honed his reaction speed. ?


    The king smiled at the boys, then explained that the four knights were part of a secret order called the Circle of the Sun. Their fight against another order named the Triangle of Death had been going on for several decades. This order consisted of mad followers who worshiped Xal''Adunoss, and their boundless madness led them to live in the hope that he would once again step into the realm of the living, bringing destruction to the infidels who did not worship him. ?


    "Were my parents part of this order?" Edgar asked. ?


    The king nodded affirmatively, stating that his parents were key members of the order. Currently, the Triangle of Death was rumored to be led by a madman, a practitioner of black magic, Who proclaimed himself the Lord of Demons. He managed to instill hatred in the hearts of his disciples, manipulating them at will, sometimes making them kill in his name. ?


    All who practiced this forbidden art were condemned to death by burning at the stake. It was said that only fire could liberate and cleanse their souls from the possession of forces lurking behind this dark art.


    "Why are you telling us these things?" Edgar wondered. "Aren''t you going to punish us for sneaking around and eavesdropping?" ?


    Tenzim thought it would have been better if Edgar had kept quiet about punishment, swallowing nervously. Ludrol''s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised, as an idea seemed to dawn on him.


    "You have a choice," the king said, deepening his voice. "You can be imprisoned for breaking and entering, disobeying orders, spying, and I can probably add a few more charges, being the king and all. The second option is to join the order, since Prince Lockdar was just complaining about the declining number of members and the order needing fresh forces." ?


    "Have you lost your mind? They are just teenagers," Lockdar retorted. ?


    "Lockdar, just because I am allied with your father does not mean I can''t throw you into a dungeon. I am the King of Tuzmad, when will you show me some respect? I''d prefer you take personal responsibility for training the new recruits."


    ?"I would like to offer my assistance as well," a voice echoed in the hall. ?


    The boys didn''t know who had spoken, but suddenly, the magician Laryus, the old man they had talked to in the castle courtyard, appeared as if by magic. He had not introduced himself when they first met, speaking of himself in the third person and saying he was the abbot of the monastery. King Ludrol and the four knights did not seem surprised by his sudden appearance, but the boys were utterly fascinated, as this seemed "magnificently awesome," Tenzim''s favorite expression.


    ?"I would like to train this young man," said Laryus, placing his hand on Turalon''s shoulder. "His determination to study the art of magic surprises me."


    ?"I''ll train him," stated Knight Dragomyr, choosing Tenzim and giving Edgar a disdainful look.


    "Have you all lost your minds? They''re just kids," Lockdar kept objecting. ?


    "At what age did you join this order, Lockdar?" asked Ludrol.


    ?Lockdar replied that he joined at the age of seventeen, but only at his father''s insistence as a punishment for his affection towards a servant girl in the castle. Ludrol again emphasized the order''s need for new forces, stating that the best punishment for the boys, since they had discovered its existence, was to join it.


    ?The prince still wanted to spare the boys, but the king was adamant, stressing that the youngsters were fortunate to step into this order and that their loyalty would be rewarded. ?


    Edgar had never imagined becoming a member of a secret order when he first entered Tuzmad. The revelation that his parents had been members of this order piqued his interest in what the Circle of the Sun represented. ?


    "I''m glad we''ve come to an understanding," said Ludrol, tossing a small leather pouch into Turalon''s hands. ?


    The pouch was tightly tied with a thin string. Turalon felt it and noticed something inside that made a sound Tenzim was particularly fond of. He untied it, letting its contents fall into his palms. It was twelve gold coins¡ªa small fortune for the young boys. ?


    Dazzled by the gleam of the gold, they were momentarily blinded. The king remarked that this was just the beginning and they should consider the pouch a modest welcome bonus.


    ?"Then, I can train Edgar. He''s already an excellent swordsman, but I can make him even better," declared Prince Lockdar.


    "Perfect! This meeting is now concluded. When the order needs you, we will gather at one of the secret locations," said the king.


    ?Shortly after the king left the room, the knights and Laryus wished the boys a warm welcome to the order and a pleasant evening. They slowly withdrew to the ongoing celebration outside, enjoying the beautiful music played by the musicians of Tuzmad. ?


    The boys couldn''t believe they had so much money, enough to live in luxury for at least a month. They could afford the finest clothes and the most delicious food. ?


    "It''s time to divide it," said Tenzim greedily. "I''ll keep half, which is three-quarters, and you can have the rest."


    ?"Always been good at math, in your favor... There are twelve coins here, and half of them belong to Edgar," said Turalon, smacking his brother on the head. ?


    "Wait a minute! Why should he get half?" retorted Tenzim. "Thanks to my sneeze, we have this money."


    ?"Because thanks to his curiosity, we received the gold." ?


    "But isn''t my sneeze worth at least ten coins?" ?


    While the boys argued over the gold, King Ludrol returned to the throne room. A black dust gathered in front of him, taking the form of a rather strange-looking man. He had long, pointed ears, not a single hair on his head, a cut nose, and eyes that seemed to bulge out. He wore black armor, and on his belt were knives with black handles, each inlaid with a snake''s head. His name was Casmyr, a demon summoned by someone knowledgeable in forbidden arts.


    Casmyr was brought to this world to serve the less noble purposes of King Ludrol, who had control over him. The demon remained invisible throughout the meeting, listening to everything discussed among the knights of the order. ?


    In turn, Casmyr also had demons under his command, successfully executing given missions. Despite all the good things said about Ludrol, he was not the king he claimed to be. ?


    ¡°Is this a joke? What''s the role of those kids?¡± ?


    ¡°While they''re busy with the boys'' initiation, they''ll be an easier target. You''ll kill every member, including Prince Lockdar. I''m starting to get tired of him.¡±


    ?¡°Given the way he speaks to you, I''m not surprised. What about the three boys, what do you want me to do with them?¡± asked Casmyr. ?


    ¡°They''re just kids, not a threat. What''s the matter, Casmyr, are you afraid of them?¡±


    ?¡°The fact that they sneaked past your guards so easily should be a concern. The capabilities of your men have proven to be quite lacking, given the ease with which they infiltrated the castle. As for that young Edgar, I don''t know what to say. Dragomyr didn''t even know what hit him.¡±


    ?¡°If they start causing problems, I''ll let you know. Now go and deal with the knights of the Sun Circle!¡± ?


    Casmyr disappeared, leaving the king alone. What were his plans? To have a secret army to protect his lands without involving human lives? Unfortunately, over time Ludrol forgot his noble goals, using his powers for dishonorable purposes. The Tuzmad army was meant to defend the kingdom and maintain order, but his secret army was much more powerful and willing to do anything.


    ?It was past midnight, and the three new members of the order were sound asleep. Each of them was richer by four gold coins, distributed by Edgar despite Tenzim''s insistence on receiving at least six coins, believing his sneeze to be a divine gift. ?


    The following day, Edgar and his Uncle Falo were to make shields and swords for the king''s men, but his uncle had an additional task. He received a new ore to forge a special sword for one of the participants in the tournament of the ten knights.


    ?Young Edgar didn''t have a peaceful sleep, as the dream that tormented his nights reappeared, disturbing his rest. The same dream, where he was in the middle of a battle. The night quickly passed for Edgar, who slept until late, waking up at ten, having not slept this much in a while. He went outside and headed to the forge where about six blacksmiths, including his uncle, were working. ?This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As Edgar stepped into the forge, the familiar sight of his Uncle Falo, laboring intently over a peculiar, gleaming ore, greeted him. The air was thick with the smell of burning coal and heated metal, the walls echoing with the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil. Falo, with his skilled and weathered hands, carefully extracted the ore from a nondescript bag, its appearance mystifying and unlike any common metal. ?


    "Start melting this," Falo instructed with a hint of urgency in his voice, signaling Edgar to stoke the forge''s flames to a roaring intensity. Patience was essential, Falo reminded him, as this ore was not like the common iron or steel they frequently worked with. It possessed a strange, almost ethereal shimmer, hinting at hidden properties yet to be revealed. ?


    The boy watched with keen eyes as the ore slowly surrendered to the forge''s fiery will, transforming into a molten, radiant mass. His uncle, with the precision of a master craftsman, carefully poured the glowing metal into a waiting mold. As the metal cooled and took shape, Edgar could sense the birth of something extraordinary. The resulting ingot, once freed from its wooden confines, was a raw piece of unrefined steel, its potential as a formidable blade palpable even in its nascent form. ?


    Suddenly, the tranquility of the forge was broken by the sound of a horse''s neigh and the crunch of gravel underfoot. Someone was approaching. From the doorway, Edgar caught a glimpse of a figure dismounting¡ªa knight, no less. The silhouette was imposing, yet distant and unrecognizable. Edgar''s curiosity peaked as the figure approached the forge''s entrance.


    ?With a fluid motion, the knight lifted his helmet, unveiling the face beneath the shining metal. It was Prince Lockdar, his visage etched with lines of worry and urgency. The sudden appearance of the prince within the humble walls of the forge was startling, yet it spoke of a need, a purpose that only the skilled hands of his uncle could fulfill. Edgar watched, anticipation and curiosity mingling in his heart, as the prince stepped into their world of fire and metal.


    ?"Blacksmith Falo! Is my sword ready yet?" asked Prince Lockdar. ?


    "It will take at least two more hours. Forging such a weapon takes time, Your Highness," replied Falo.


    "Alright! Edgar, would you come with me?" Lockdar asked. ?


    Edgar followed him out of the forge, to his Uncle Falo''s surprise that the two knew each other. Edgar had no idea what this could be about. ?


    To Edgar''s astonishment, Lockdar asked how he was doing and feeling. He then warned Edgar not to trust the king, describing him as untrustworthy and deceitful. This baffled Edgar, as the king hadn''t made a bad impression on him, quite the contrary.


    ?"I have reasons to believe that he''s behind the deaths of three knights from the Circle of the Sun," Lockdar revealed. ?


    "What do you mean?" asked Edgar. "Who was killed? I hope it''s not anyone I met last night." ?


    "Yes, it is. Now only Dragomyr and I are left alive. He even tried to kill me, but fortune was on my side, as my sword pierced his heart. He tried to take me down with a dagger. Fool! Never bring a knife to a sword fight," said Lockdar, pulling out a black-handled knife with a snake''s head engraved on it. ?


    The only ones aware of the last members of the order were the three young boys, five knights, and King Ludrol. Edgar grasped Lockdar''s implications. He suspected the king, believing he might have ordered the assassination of the knights. ?


    Edgar had his doubts, unable to fathom why the king would want the Circle of the Sun to vanish. ?


    "You and Dragomyr are still alive," Edgar remarked, casting a wary glance at Lockdar.


    Lockdar understood the insinuation. The young man suspected both him and Dragomyr. Lockdar smiled, appreciating that Edgar was just like his father, Damyen - not ruling out anyone, treating all as potential suspects in any wrongdoing.


    ?In Edgar, Lockdar saw Damyen and his wife, Luna. The young man had entirely inherited their features. Lockdar still deeply missed them; even after thirteen years since their death, he hadn''t reconciled with the fact that he would never see them again.


    ?They were his closest friends, the only ones who saw him as an ordinary person, as a friend. Others saw him as the son of King Menums and regarded him with fear. ?


    "You''re just like your father! If I could earn their trust, I don''t see why I can''t earn yours," Lockdar said. ?


    "But you don''t have the slightest proof that the king would do such a thing. I suspect you because you''re quick to lay everything at the king''s feet. Being a prince doesn''t mean I should automatically trust you," Edgar countered. ?


    "No one has spoken to me like that in a while. You remind me more and more of your parents..." ?


    The knight stated he hadn''t come to prove his innocence but merely advised Edgar to follow him. Someone wanted to speak with them. Lockdar didn''t reveal who, making Edgar suspect a trap. ?


    Lockdar noticed the boy''s reaction, almost reading his thoughts, then one of the prince''s attendants brought a beautiful white horse. Lockdar instructed Edgar to mount and follow him.


    Despite his distrust, Edgar decided to follow. He climbed into the saddle and set off. The prince rode a black horse named Arrow. ?


    Arrow, the prince''s steed, was more than just a horse; he was a swift ally in times of danger, a creature of remarkable speed and loyalty. In comparison, Edgar''s mount, Lightning, was but a young horse, yet possessed a swiftness that was rivaled only by Arrow himself.


    ?As they left the castle''s shadow, Edgar and Lockdar rode through the town, heading eastward, toward the unfamiliar trails beyond the city''s limits. The prince nudged Arrow with a gentle touch of his heels, signaling the beginning of their journey. Edgar, inexperienced but determined, urged Lightning to follow. ?


    The sensation of riding at such an incredible pace was new and exhilarating for Edgar. The landscape seemed to blur into streaks of color as they sped along the path. It felt almost like flying, the wind rushing past him, filling him with a mix of excitement and apprehension. ?


    Soon, they arrived at the fringe of a vast forest, where ancient trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches weaving a thick canopy above. Here, Lockdar dismounted with practiced ease, and Edgar clumsily followed, ensuring his horse was securely tethered to one of the sturdy trees. The knots he tied were meticulous, reflecting his desire to leave nothing to chance. ?


    As they ventured deeper into the woods, Edgar couldn''t shake off a growing sense of unease. The forest, with its dense foliage and quiet ambiance, seemed an ideal setting for an ambush. Despite this, Edgar resolved to face whatever challenges lay ahead, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword for reassurance.


    Lockdar moved through the forest with a purposeful silence, his steps sure and calculated. Edgar, trailing behind, speculated about the prince''s intentions. Perhaps this was where Lockdar planned to confront him. They continued until they reached an exceptionally large tree, its girth so substantial that it could easily conceal a small chamber within its wooden embrace. ?


    In this secluded part of the forest, under the watchful eyes of ancient trees, Edgar prepared himself for whatever might come next, his trust in the prince mingling with the instinct to defend himself if needed.


    ?Concealed within the ancient bark of the great tree was a door, so well hidden it seemed to be a part of the tree itself. Prince Lockdar pushed it open, revealing a narrow, wooden staircase winding upwards. Edgar, filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, followed closely behind. As they ascended, the staircase spiraled upwards, seemingly defying the laws of space and nature. Edgar''s head spun slightly with the dizzying height they seemed to be reaching, a puzzling feat considering the tree''s outward appearance. ?


    The climb was both lengthy and mysterious, prompting Edgar to question the very nature of this hidden structure. Eventually, they arrived at a wooden door at the top of the staircase. Lockdar opened it with ease, stepping through into a space that defied Edgar''s understanding. They found themselves in a cave, an impossibility that baffled Edgar. How could a tree house such a vast, hidden cavern? ?


    Lockdar, undeterred by Edgar''s evident confusion, lit a torch and led the way deeper into the cave. The flickering light of the torch cast eerie shadows on the walls as they walked. They soon arrived at a chamber housing three statues of knights, each one meticulously carved and standing in silent vigil.


    ?With a sense of purpose, Lockdar approached the statues. He tapped the middle statue thrice, then the last one twice, and finally the first statue once. A series of mechanical sounds echoed through the chamber, followed by a sudden shift in the ground beneath them. Without warning, the floor opened, and they plunged into the darkness below. ?


    As they fell, Edgar experienced an uncanny sensation of gentle floating, as if the laws of gravity had been momentarily suspended. Opening his eyes to the new reality, he found himself on a vast, endless plain, stretching as far as the eye could see. The transition was so sudden and surreal that Edgar momentarily doubted his own senses. Where were they? How had they arrived at this place from within the depths of a tree? The answers to these questions, he suspected, lay with Prince Lockdar. ?


    Lockdar lay relaxed on the grass, with the old Laryus, the magician from the Tuzmad Monastery, beside him. ?


    "How? Where?" Edgar managed to utter.


    ?He couldn''t fathom how they had arrived here, but Lockdar appeared nonchalant, accustomed to such occurrences. Laryus smiled at Edgar''s bewildered attempts to make sense of the situation. ?


    "You''ve passed through a magical portal," Lockdar explained as he got up.


    ?"Why have you brought me here?"


    "We don''t have time for lengthy explanations," Laryus interjected. "Listen to what we have to say, and you will understand." ?


    "Fifteen years ago, a madman emerged, powerful and with unforeseen abilities. Many believe he is Xal''Adunoss''s chosen, the god of evil. It''s said he''s trying to bring Xal''Adunoss into our world. I don''t believe in gods, but I do believe in the power of good and evil," Lockdar declared. ?


    Lockdar revealed to Edgar that this man called himself the Lord of Demons and possessed the power to summon demons. As if that wasn''t enough, he had acquired knowledge enabling him to resurrect the dead and enslave them. The individual was determined to amass an army capable of obliterating everything in its path. ?


    "So, we''re talking about a sorcerer who practices forbidden arts, right?" Edgar inquired. "No matter how powerful he might be, it will take a significant amount of time to gather an army that poses a real threat." ?


    "Our estimates suggest at least ten years. If we fail to stop him in that time, our world will plunge into chaos," Lockdar responded. ?


    "There was a man who could have easily tracked him down. A man who believed in Xal''Nagus and fought proudly in his name. Your father, Edgar. He was highly skilled and became the most agile fighter. When he was named a wandering knight, his prowess doubled," Laryus added. ?


    "Why do you need me?" Edgar asked.


    Lockdar explained that the Lord of Demons had feared Damyen, and their plan was to instill fear in him once again. They intended to transform Edgar into a true warrior. ?


    Edgar understood. The two men intended to use him to lure this dangerous individual. After some thought, he accepted, seeing an opportunity to avenge his parents. ?


    "Who are you, really?" Edgar asked Laryus. "You''re not just a mere magician, are you?"


    ?"I am also an oracle, capable of seeing glimpses of the future. I knew your father and warned him, but he chose not to listen to me."


    ?"Why wouldn''t he listen to you?" Edgar asked Laryus.


    ?Laryus replied that it was a long story, and if Edgar followed the same path, he would meet the same fate as his parents. It was evident that Laryus knew more than he was willing to reveal. He urged them to close their eyes for a few moments, and they heeded his advice. When they reopened their eyes, they found themselves at the edge of the forest, right where they had left their horses. Edgar was astonished. With such power, Laryus could have ruled the world. Yet, it seemed the Lord of Demons was even more formidable since Laryus feared him. ?


    Lockdar and Edgar mounted their horses and galloped towards the smithy with incredible speed. In less than half an hour, they arrived at the smithy, where Uncle Falo awaited them, holding a massive sword. The sword had a blade with teeth on both edges, and when sunlight reflected off it, the sword was blinding. Edgar had never seen such a weapon in his life.


    He wondered how such swords were forged, as only a truly skilled blacksmith could craft such wonders. Why hadn''t Uncle Falo taught him to create such marvels?


    ?What Edgar didn''t know was that the sword was magical, forged with incomprehensible powers. Lockdar took the sword and strapped it to his back. It was twice as long as the Phoenix. The prince thanked Falo and handed him a pouch containing about twenty gold coins. That was a considerable sum, as his uncle usually received no more than thirty silver coins for a sword. ?


    Lockdar couldn''t contain his impatience to try out the newly acquired sword. He swiftly unstrapped it from his back, eager to test its mettle. Challenging Edgar, the young man didn''t hesitate for a moment. ?


    Edgar wanted to see what the sword could do, but he stood no chance against its might. With a single strike, the Phoenix sword was knocked from the boy''s hand. ?


    Satisfied with the sword''s performance, Prince Lockdar strapped it back onto his back. With such a weapon, he could slay even a dragon, though sadly, dragons no longer roamed, the last one having been hunted and killed a decade ago. ?


    Lockdar once again expressed his gratitude to the blacksmith Falo. However, soon after, Falo collapsed, losing consciousness and falling to the ground. Edgar and the prince rushed to the blacksmith''s aid. Falo regained consciousness but appeared extremely weakened.


    ?"Uncle! Are you alright?" Edgar asked in concern.


    ?"Edgar, forgive me! I''ve been ill for a long time. I''m sorry I kept this from you," Falo said, his eyes meeting Lockdar''s.


    "You''ll get better, Uncle! You''ll see, we''ll forge the finest swords in all of Tuzmad together," Edgar reassured, with a mix of concern and determination in his voice. ?


    "My time has passed... But now, your time has come... Be careful whom you trust, Edgar."


    ?Uncle Falo''s breaths grew fainter, each one a dwindling echo of life. His final words, whispered with a tender, fading strength, lingered in the air as he exhaled for the last time, cradled in the arms of his nephew, Edgar. The boy''s grip tightened, a desperate plea for his uncle to defy the inescapable clutches of death. But as silence claimed the room, Edgar''s pleas gave way to a cascade of tears, each drop a testament to the unspoken bond they shared.


    ?The loss hollowed out a part of Edgar''s soul. Uncle Falo had been his mentor, guardian, and the solitary beacon in his life. Now, with his passing, Edgar faced a world rendered void and unfamiliar. The reality of his solitude weighed heavily upon his young heart.


    ?The townsfolk of Tuzmad, led by King Ludrol himself, gathered to bid farewell to Falo. Even the king, a figure of stoic strength, could not hide his sorrow, a solitary tear betraying his composed facade as it traced a path down his cheek, hastily wiped away as if to erase any evidence of his grief. ?


    As Falo''s coffin was lowered into the earth, a symbol of finality that Edgar could scarcely bear, he collapsed in despair upon the freshly turned soil. It was then that Prince Lockdar, understanding the depths of loss, stepped forward. He lifted Edgar with a compassionate embrace, his words a gentle allowance for grief. "Let the tears flow, young Edgar. They are the eyes'' lament when words fail to capture the heart''s torment." His voice, imbued with empathy, offered a small solace in the vast sea of Edgar''s grief. In this moment of shared sorrow, Edgar felt a faint glimmer of kinship in the midst of his consuming loneliness.

 The Passage of Time

    In the wake of Uncle Falo''s passing, Edgar found himself navigating the murky waters of sorrow and isolation. His world, once illuminated by the warmth of kinship, was now draped in the shadows of loss. However, as the relentless tides of time ebbed and flowed, they brought with them a semblance of healing and an unexpected turn of fate. Prince Lockdar, who had ascended to the throne following his father''s passing, emerged as a beacon of guidance and companionship in Edgar''s life.


    ?In the grand halls of the King''s castle, Edgar embarked on a journey of transformation under Lockdar''s tutelage. The castle, with its towering spires and sprawling corridors, became a sanctum of learning and growth for Edgar. Here, amidst the tapestries of history and the echoes of ancestral wisdom, he was inducted into the intricacies of noble life. Lockdar, a mentor in both title and spirit, introduced Edgar to the art of dignified comportment and the subtle dance of courtly etiquette. ?


    But Edgar''s education extended beyond the ornate walls of the castle. He delved into the labyrinthine realms of ancient languages, each script a gateway to forgotten eras and lost civilizations. In the castle''s extensive library, he pored over tomes and scrolls, his mind absorbing knowledge like parched earth soaks up rain. ?


    Moreover, Lockdar recognized Edgar''s innate affinity for the martial disciplines. He ensured that Edgar''s training was comprehensive and rigorous. In the castle''s expansive training grounds, Edgar honed his prowess with various weapons. The sword became an extension of his arm, the dagger a flash of deadly precision. With the bow, he could strike the eye of a bird in flight, and with the spear, he could pierce the hardest armor. ?


    Under Lockdar''s watchful eye, Edgar transformed from a solitary youth into a multifaceted young noble, equally at home in the opulent halls of the castle and the rigorous training grounds. In this crucible of noble upbringing and martial discipline, Edgar emerged as a figure of resilience and refined skill, a testament to the enduring spirit of his lineage. ?


    They resided in the Sun Lands, governed by King Lockdar Menums. These lands, part of the Damaria continent, were renowned for their beauty and considered the most splendid territories in the world. The Kingdom of the Sun, with its grandeur and might, stood proudly as a beacon of strength and prosperity, its influence casting long shadows across the world''s stage. ?


    King Lockdar, upon ascending the throne, wielded his authority with a balance of might and mercy, his reign characterized by the valor of the sword and the resilience of the shield. Under his wise and just rule, the kingdom flourished, casting off the shackles of past adversaries and old vendettas. Edgar, who had grown under the king''s tutelage, became an integral part of this new era, his name synonymous with bravery and prowess. ?


    In his service to the king, Edgar faced the tumult of war, his mettle tested in three pivotal battles under the Sun Lands'' banner. It was in the heat of these conflicts that he forged his legacy, each clash a chapter in his tale of valor. However, in his final battle, he encountered a peril that nearly cost him dearly ¨C a grievous wound that threatened to claim his right leg, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of war.


    ?Now, at the age of twenty-four, Edgar had matured into a warrior of repute and stature. Tall and formidable, he was the embodiment of martial excellence, celebrated as the finest fighter in the Kingdom of the Sun. His skill had grown to such a degree that he even bested King Lockdar himself in combat, a feat that spoke volumes of his extraordinary abilities. ?


    The boy who had arrived in the kingdom a decade ago was now a distant memory. In his place stood a man marked by the trials of life and battle. His long, black hair flowed like a raven''s wing, and a slender scar etched across his left cheek ¨C a memento from a clash with bandits ¨C lent him an air of daunting presence. His piercing eyes, sharp and discerning, were enough to unsettle even the most resolute of foes. ?


    King Lockdar, who had seen the potential in the young Edgar, had meticulously molded him into a warrior of unmatched skill and honor. Edgar''s loyalty to his king was unwavering, his sword a symbol of his commitment to the kingdom he served. ?


    It was midday when Edgar was summoned to the throne room by King Lockdar. Whenever he was called to this grand chamber, it usually meant capturing and bringing to justice the most feared bandits or assassins. But today''s summons hinted at something entirely different. ?


    Upon entering, Edgar found the throne room filled with at least fifty knights. King Lockdar had positioned his throne amidst them, grasping the sword forged by Edgar''s uncle ten years prior. ?


    As was customary, Edgar knelt before his king. Lockdar gestured for him to remain so. The king then placed the sword on Edgar''s left shoulder, a clear indication of what was to unfold. Edgar realized, in that moment, that a lifelong dream was about to be realized. ?


    "Edgar Argyle, I declare you a hero of The Kingdom of the Sun," proclaimed King Lockdar.


    ?Edgar was astounded. Being named a hero of a kingdom was the highest honor. He was now entitled to bear the kingdom''s coat of arms on his armor ¨C a red rose crossed with a sword.


    ?The last hero of The Kingdom of the Sun had been Lockdar himself, who was also the last hero of Tuzmad. Edgar noticed a chest at the king''s feet. Lockdar then removed a necklace from around his neck, to which a golden key was attached.


    ?King Lockdar handed the key to the young hero, advising him to open the chest. Edgar did as told and upon opening the chest, he discovered inside Lockdar''s knight armor and his cape, as black as a starless night.


    ?"Thank you, Your Majesty!" ?


    King Lockdar clapped his hands, signaling the start of the ceremony in honor of the kingdom''s new hero, a traditional celebration. As the knights enjoyed the feast and the music provided by castle musicians, the king pulled Edgar aside, adopting a grave tone. ?


    "Our time is nearly up. You know what I have prepared you for, don''t you?"


    ?"Yes, I remember. Where do we start? Where can we find this fanatic? Do you have any idea?" ?


    "I believe it''s time for you to return to Tuzmad, as a spy. You will be a shadow, as I have taught you. Draw no attention to yourself, and most importantly, do not make contact with Tenzim and Turalon." ?


    Tenzim and Turalon had been his best friends. Edgar hadn''t seen them in eight years, but he often thought of them; they had supported him immensely after his uncle''s death. ?


    Edgar was puzzled, then asked the king why he should avoid them. He genuinely wanted to reach out to the two brothers, but the earnest look in Lockdar''s eyes made it clear this was a serious matter. ?


    "Turalon and Tenzim are now leaders of the Circle; you remember the order, right? Turalon is also a powerful healer, and Tenzim has become the captain of Ludrol''s army," Lockdar explained. ?


    "Ludrol? He''s still alive?" Edgar asked in surprise. "And how did those two jesters end up with such high ranks?" ?


    "Those jesters are assassins. They''ve done the king''s dirty work, and it seems he has rewarded them well."


    ?Lockdar then instructed Edgar to don his new armor. Following the king''s advice, Edgar lifted the armor from the chest and, assisted by two knights, clad himself in the shimmering black armor. It fit the young hero perfectly¡ªlightweight yet incredibly durable. Edgar asked a knight to strike him in the chest with a sword. ?


    Uncertain, the knight hesitated, but the king encouraged him to proceed. Heeding the king and the new hero''s suggestion, the knight drew his sword and struck Edgar with full force. The sword shattered into three pieces, leaving the armor unscathed. All the knights were astounded, having never seen such resilient armor. ?


    "I know only two swords strong enough to pierce this armor," Lockdar declared. "Mine and Edgar''s."


    ?"Thank you once again for the armor, Your Majesty! I will leave now, and I will inform you as soon as I learn anything," Edgar said respectfully, especially in the presence of other knights. ?


    "Perfect, now hurry!"


    ?Edgar left King Lockdar''s castle and headed to the stables where his horse, Lightning, a gift from King Lockdar, awaited him. Lightning was a large, powerful white horse. When Edgar first received Lightning, the horse was two years old, but now, at twelve, he was the fastest steed Edgar had ever ridden.


    ?He saddled up Lightning and set off for Tuzmad. The journey would take three days and three nights, requiring him to cross the vast and dangerous Lymdor Desert, one of the largest and most perilous deserts known. Rumors abounded that the sands of this desert came alive to claim the lives of travelers, but Edgar wondered how much of that was truth and how much was merely folklore to scare children. ?


    As Lightning galloped like the wind, Edgar planned to spend a month in Tuzmad to investigate certain rumors, then return to The Kingdom of the Sun. He was skeptical of Laryus''s words, yet in his years, Edgar had heard whispers about this so-called Lord of Demons. ?


    Together with Lockdar, he had battled one of the demon''s minions, barely managing to defeat it. The only way to kill a demon without magic was to pierce its heart or behead it. They were fiercely aggressive in battle, aged three times slower than humans, and possessed ten times their strength. ?


    The sun had fully ascended in the sky, and Edgar, exhausted from the heat, stopped for a break to eat some of his packed food and drink water. As he rested, he heard a strange sound in the air, like the flapping of bat wings but much louder. He saw a huge shadow sweep across the sand beside him, but when he looked up to the clear sky, he saw nothing. Something had passed by, and he was certain it wasn''t a hallucination or a mirage caused by the blazing sun. He couldn''t explain what it was that he saw. After finishing his break, he resumed his journey, aware that he hadn''t even covered half the distance yet. Finally, the sun set, and the coolness of the night began to set in. The desert was a place of extremes: scorching by day and freezing at night. ?


    In the oppressive heat of the Lymdor Desert, Edgar''s steed, Lightning, trudged wearily, its flanks heaving with exhaustion. The relentless sun had drained every ounce of energy from the noble horse, which had not tasted water nor grazed in what seemed an eternity. By any ordinary measure, a lesser horse would have already succumbed to the harsh demands of such a merciless journey. ?


    Beside Lightning, Edgar himself was a picture of weariness. Collapsing in the sand, his body was pushed to its limits. The vast expanse of Lymdor, a desert more formidable and treacherous than any he had ever known, stretched out endlessly before him. In his previous travels to the Kingdom of the Sun with Lockdar, they had wisely circumvented this arid wasteland. However, in his quest for expedience, Edgar had chosen to brave the desert''s heart, unwittingly gambling not just time, but life itself. ?


    As exhaustion tugged him toward the brink of unconsciousness, a sudden, unnerving sensation jolted Edgar awake. Instinctively, his hand flew to the hilt of his Phoenix Sword, gripping it tightly as he leapt to his feet. The sword shimmered ominously in the sparse moonlight, casting ghostly shadows on the sand. Edgar''s eyes darted around, searching the darkness for the source of the disturbance, but found only the endless desert. ?


    Whispers of the desert''s madness echoed in his mind, tales of weary travelers losing not just their lives but their sanity in these barren wastes. Could he be succumbing to such a fate? Edgar banished the thought; he was not a man easily undone by superstition. Yet, the rustling returned, more pronounced this time. Whirling around, his sword poised for battle, Edgar faced the origin of the noise and beheld a sight most bizarre. ?


    Before him stood a creature like none he had ever encountered - a grotesque, legless being that seemed to rise directly from the sand itself. The creature had no discernible features, no eyes to see, no mouth to speak, nor ears to hear, its form appearing to be crafted entirely of the desert sands. Edgar''s breath caught in his throat; he had crossed swords with barbarians, clashed with demons, stood toe-to-toe with a cyclops, even encountered the raw might of an ogre, but this entity was an enigma beyond his wildest encounters.


    In the stillness of the desert night, Edgar faced this surreal apparition, his Phoenix Sword in hand, his heart pounding in his chest. The desert had thrown its most cryptic challenge yet, and Edgar knew that the tale of this night would be one to echo through the ages.


    ?"Who are you, and why do you wander my lands?" the creature asked in a deep and terrifying voice. "What are your intentions? Are you a thief, a murderer, or just a passerby? It''s very important that you don''t lie to me, as everyone who has lied to me has lost their life. I have the gift of knowing when a man lies to me." ?You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "My name is Edgar Argyle. I bear no ill will, I only wish to reach Tuzmad, and this is the shortest route. I''ve told you who I am, now it would be polite for you to tell me who or what you are..." ?


    "You''re quite brave to speak to me like that. You seem sincere, but not enough. I am the spirit of this desert, Mestafol. If you wish to leave here alive, you must tell me your purpose." ?


    "I''ve been sent by King Lockdar, the ruler of The Kingdom of the Sun, to Tuzmad. I am just a soldier wishing to fulfill his command." ?


    "And what is his command?" Mestafol inquired. ?


    Edgar fell silent. He was uncertain what to do or who this Mestafol really was. It could very well be a demon sent by the Lord of Demons. It was said that he had all sorts of spies, some masquerading as humans, spirits, or animals. Edgar didn''t trust this creature, or spirit, or whatever it truly was.


    ?"I can''t tell you, my mission is secret. You could easily be one of those I''m trying to avoid. You ask me to reveal everything, but I''d rather fight you to the death. You might be on the enemy''s side."


    "Ha, ha, ha. Well done! You''re the only person who has come here and hasn''t been intimidated by me. Once, I was a king, the ruler of the land of Lymdor. This place wasn''t always a desert. I was a good and powerful king... too good. I was betrayed by my people, then cursed to become what I am now, an immortal spirit. If you had revealed your mission, you would have betrayed your king, and I would have realized and killed you, because of the curse I bear. Very well, Edgar Argyle. Farewell, but we will undoubtedly meet again." ?


    As the first light of dawn painted the sky, Edgar stirred from a deep slumber. To his amazement, he found himself lying on a soft bed of lush grass, a stark contrast to the relentless sands of the Lymdor Desert. Beside him lay a serene lake, its waters crystal clear and invitingly ice-cold. Nearby, Lightning, his loyal steed, was feasting contentedly on the verdant grass, a sight that brought a smile to Edgar''s weary face.


    ?In this unexpected haven, Edgar realized the hand of Mestafol, the guardian spirit of travelers, at work. It was as if a fragment of paradise had been conjured amidst the arid wasteland, a miraculous oasis granting them respite. Gratefully, he approached the lake and drank deeply, quenching a thirst that had haunted him for too long. His dwindling water supply, now a concern of the past, was generously replenished by nature''s own offering. ?


    Eager to rid himself of the desert''s grime, Edgar shed his armor, cloak, and garments, diving into the lake''s embrace. The shock of the cold water was an elixir to his senses, washing away the fatigue that had clung to his body and spirit. It was a rejuvenation that seemed almost magical, as if the waters themselves were infused with the power to restore and invigorate.


    Lightning too seemed transformed, the horse''s spirit rekindled, its vigor restored. No longer the exhausted creature of the desert, but a steed ready to embark on the journey ahead. The following two days unfolded with a sense of serenity and ease. Whenever Edgar chose to rest, Mestafol''s grace seemed to flourish around them, turning barren sand into an oasis of life. ?


    More astonishingly, when their food supplies dwindled to nothing, Mestafol''s benevolence manifested in the most delightful of ways. Trees, laden with succulent fruits, sprouted forth from the arid desert sands, as if by magic. These fruits, bursting with flavor and nourishment, sustained Edgar and Lightning, a manifestation of the guardian spirit''s vigilant protection.


    ?Thus, guided and guarded by Mestafol''s unseen hand, Edgar''s journey through the Lymdor Desert transformed from a perilous trek into a passage blessed with miraculous interludes, each oasis a symbol of hope and each fruit a symbol of the persistent might of unseen protectors.


    ?After a lengthy journey, Edgar finally reached Tuzmad, his trusty steed Lightning in tow. He handed Lightning over to a stablemaster, ensuring the horse would be well-cared for. Seeking respite, Edgar made his way to a local inn, seeking shelter for the duration of his stay. He secured a modest room, one that offered a bed of questionable sturdiness and a lantern that challenged his patience to ignite.


    ?Once settled, Edgar summoned the innkeeper, requesting a meal be sent to his room. He also expressed a keen interest in the latest happenings of Tuzmad, offering a few golden coins as an incentive for any valuable information. The innkeeper nodded understandingly, disappearing only to return with a humble tray. The meal, albeit simple, was a welcome sight: two grilled fish, an array of smoked bacon, and a trio of sausages. Alongside was a mug of wine, which Edgar sipped with a sense of relief, feeling the warmth of the liquid course through him. ?


    As night enveloped the town, Edgar sensed it was the perfect moment to explore and gather intelligence. The streets of Tuzmad buzzed with activity and murmurs of recent events, and he was eager to immerse himself in this new environment, hoping to uncover clues and insights that might aid his quest. ?


    He asked the innkeeper where he could find Captain Tenzim, but the man said nothing. Edgar then tossed five gold coins on the table, which the innkeeper promptly grabbed and revealed that Tenzim was usually at the garrison''s tavern. ?


    Edgar made his way towards the castle, only to be halted by an unexpected obstacle. The two lancers stationed at the gate barred his entry, steadfast in their duty that no one was to pass through the castle gates at this late hour. Unperturbed, Edgar quickly devised a plan. He deftly produced a small, black sheepskin pouch from his cloak, heavy with the clink of ten gold coins. The guards, their resolve faltering under the weight of gold, exchanged a knowing look before discreetly dividing the bribe and permitting Edgar entry.


    ?With the gates behind him, Edgar navigated his way towards the army''s garrison. His destination was the Three-Edged Sword, a modest tavern known to be a haven for the king''s soldiers. As he entered, he was struck by the tavern''s deceptive size. It was bustling with activity, filled to the brim with soldiers. Many were inebriated to the point of unconsciousness, sprawled across tables and floors. A rowdy group was engaged in a spirited competition, seeing who could down the most wine, their raucous laughter and cheers echoing through the tavern. ?


    Amidst the sea of soldiers, Edgar''s gaze landed on a familiar face ¨C Captain Tenzim, an old friend. Time had altered Tenzim, who now sported slightly longer hair and a rugged beard. His presence commanded respect; each soldier passing him paused to salute, which Tenzim acknowledged with a solemn nod. Remarkably, he was the sole figure not swayed by the abundance of drink on the table.


    ?Suddenly, one of Tenzim''s men, unfamiliar with Edgar, approached him with suspicion. To this soldier, Edgar was an outsider, an unwelcome presence in their midst. With a stern expression, he moved to confront and expel Edgar from the tavern, not realizing who stood before him.


    ?"Hey, you! This is a tavern for real men, and you''re not one, so get out before I kick you out," said the man. ?


    Seeing that he was being ignored, he slammed his fist on the table with force. ?


    "You''re dead drunk! How about you turn back around? I don''t think you''d want me to embarrass you in front of your friends," Edgar said arrogantly, provoking the man in hopes of drawing some attention to himself.


    ?The soldier, bristling with irritation, unsheathed his sword with a swift motion, pressing the cold steel against Edgar''s neck. Tenzim, sitting amongst his men, instantly noted the commotion. His brow furrowed in disapproval at the sight of one of his own stepping out of line without command. But before Tenzim could intervene, the scene unfolded with unexpected rapidity.


    Edgar, with an almost supernatural swiftness, seized control of the situation. In a fluid, practiced motion, he twisted the soldier''s sword from his grip and sent it clattering to the floor. Following up with a deftly delivered punch, Edgar sent the soldier sprawling backward, landing with a resonant thud against the wooden floorboards of the tavern.


    ?Tenzim watched, momentarily stunned by the stranger''s agility and skill. Never before had he witnessed such speed and precision in combat, especially from someone outside his ranks. Yet, as a leader and trainer of his men, Tenzim''s sense of duty and honor forbade him from tolerating such a blatant affront to his soldiers'' dignity. His eyes narrowed into a hard glare, locked onto Edgar. ?


    As Tenzim rose to address the situation, his gaze fell upon the sword Edgar had wielded so effectively. It was no ordinary weapon. The craftsmanship was exquisite, a blade forged with such artistry that it commanded immediate admiration and envy. Tenzim recognized its superiority and couldn''t help but desire such a magnificent sword for himself.


    ?In a swift, decisive motion, Tenzim drew his own blade, the metal singing as it left the scabbard, his mind set on confronting the presumptuous stranger who had dared to disrupt the order within his ranks. His eyes, however, couldn''t help but take in the details of the man before him. Cloaked in a long, black garment of evidently high quality, the young knight exuded an air of mystery and affluence. Beneath the cloak, his armor gleamed with a refined craftsmanship that spoke of considerable expense, reminiscent of the kind donned by Prince Sormain himself. Such attire was not common fare; it belonged to those of significant means and standing.


    As Edgar unsheathed his weapon in response, the blade came into full view, and Tenzim''s attention was immediately captured by the word ''Phoenix'' elegantly inscribed along its length. His heart began to race with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization. Could it truly be him? The memories of his old friend, long thought lost to the tides of time, resurfaced in a flood of emotion.


    ?With a sudden change of heart, Tenzim sheathed his sword, the tension in his posture easing. He motioned for Edgar to follow him outside the tavern, away from the prying eyes and drunken stupor within. As they stepped into the cool night air, Tenzim''s mind raced with questions and anticipation. The chance reunion with an old friend, one whom he had considered a brother in arms, stirred a whirlwind of emotions and memories within him.


    ?"You know what I should do?" Tenzim asked. "I should throw you in the dungeon, traitor! You''ve sided with Lockdar, fully aware that he''s no longer allied with King Ludrol."


    ?"Lockdar took care of me; he was a good friend to my parents. That suggests I can trust him too. By the way, do you know why King Lockdar broke his alliance with King Ludrol?" Edgar inquired. ?


    "Of course, I know! Your king tried to conquer the Land of the Dwarves. What kind of king does that? The Dwarves are defenseless little people; only a coward would do something like that," Tenzim replied. ?


    "You''ve been fed a load of nonsense by Ludrol. Sorry to disappoint you, but it was your king who wanted to conquer the Land of the Dwarves, though he probably forgot to mention that. And as if that wasn''t enough, he sought Lockdar''s support."


    Tenzim couldn''t believe his ears. He would have given his life for his king, but he struggled to accept what Edgar was saying. ?


    "Why have you returned, Edgar? What are you looking for? You may not want to draw attention to yourself, but you''re not doing a great job. I was informed of your arrival as soon as you got here. Someone in expensive armor offered ten gold coins to the guards for entry. Rest assured, such rumors reach my ears immediately."


    ?"I''m here to find out where the madman calling himself the Lord of Demons is hiding. Lockdar believes Ludrol wants to ally with him, and to make matters worse, Lockdar''s spies have reason to believe that Ludrol is supplying him with weapons." ?


    Tenzim, his mind awhirl with the enigma unfolding before him, reflected on the unusual occurrences at the castle. He recalled the stream of mysterious visitors that had been granted audience with King Ludrol. Each visit was followed by peculiar orders from the king, commanding blacksmiths to craft a plethora of swords and armors. This pattern, though intriguing, raised more questions than answers. ?


    Despite his growing curiosity, Tenzim resolved to keep these observations to himself, especially from Edgar. He needed to delve deeper into this matter, to unravel the truth that lay beneath these cryptic activities. As Edgar took his leave, Tenzim offered a word of caution, urging him to tread carefully and maintain their dialogue in strict confidence. ?


    Edgar, acknowledging Tenzim''s advice, made his way back to his modest room in the inn, located just beyond the castle''s imposing walls. He slipped into more comfortable attire and collapsed onto the hard, unyielding bed. Fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids as he sought the escape of sleep, blissfully unaware of the peril that now shadowed his every step. The walls of Tuzmad, it seemed, had ears, and Edgar''s return had not gone unnoticed. In the shadows of the kingdom, others, too, had learned of the young hero''s presence, setting into motion a chain of events that threatened to engulf Edgar in a maelstrom of intrigue and danger. ?


    Within the grand walls of Tuzmad castle, King Ludrol presided over the grand assembly from his ornate throne. By his side stood his son, a beacon of youthful vigor, as they prepared to inaugurate the esteemed Tournament of the Ten. The air was thick with anticipation, for this event was not merely a local festivity, but a prestigious gathering that attracted the realm''s most valorous knights, along with distinguished warriors from distant lands. ?


    As the clamor of the nobles and knights filled the majestic throne room, each eager to witness the martial prowess that the tournament promised, Tenzim made his entrance. His stride was purposeful, his demeanor a blend of humility and quiet confidence. Approaching the throne, he knelt before King Ludrol, his head bowed in a gesture of respect. The room fell into a hushed silence as he declared his intent to partake in the tournament, his voice resonating with unwavering conviction. ?


    King Ludrol, his eyes reflecting a glint of intrigue, beckoned Tenzim to rise. He gestured towards a secluded alcove, away from the prying eyes and ears of the gathered crowd. Together, they retreated to this private corner, where the king''s aura of regality seemed to intensify. ?


    "Have I wronged you in any way, Tenzim?" King Ludrol challenged, his tone heavy with accusation. "I made you the captain of my army, and now you betray me? Coming here, asking permission to join the tournament. Don''t give me that look; I know what you''ve discussed with Edgar." ?


    Tenzim remained silent, then unexpectedly broke into a smile. The king was taken aback by this display of audacity, a sardonic grin he had never seen on Tenzim''s face before. ?


    "Yes, that''s true. I was about to tell you. That wretch is trying to convince me that Lockdar''s lies are truths. What would you have me do? Pretend to be on his side, uncovering the identities of all of Lockdar''s spies in Tuzmad, or should I eliminate him?"


    ?King Ludrol''s lips curled into a smile, satisfied with his choice of captain. He hadn''t believed Tenzim capable of such a scheme. Yet, the captain''s face betrayed a willingness to follow any command, pleasing the king immensely - if only all his men were as compliant, he could rule the world.


    ?"Kill him, and send his head to King Lockdar," Ludrol commanded. "Let it be a clear message that his spies are unwelcome in my kingdom."


    ?The king settled back into his throne, leaving Tenzim to his thoughts. Tenzim knew he had to find Edgar immediately, to warn him of Ludrol''s lethal intent. Hearing the order had shocked him; Ludrol had demanded killings before, but only of bandits, traitors, and assassins, never of a friend. ?


    The night passed quickly, and Edgar awoke early, dressing hastily with a firm resolve to begin his investigation into the king''s activities. Descending to the inn''s common room, he found Tenzim waiting for him, eagerly sipping from a mug of mulled wine.


    Tenzim hurriedly took Edgar outside, divulging everything the king had said. Yet, to Tenzim''s dismay, Edgar appeared untroubled. Tenzim was deeply frustrated by his apparent indifference, especially since he was terrified that the king might already know he had warned Edgar. ?


    "We need to leave, Edgar! Our only chance is to reach... I won''t say where, someone might hear us, just follow me!" Tenzim implored. ?


    Mounting their horses, Tenzim on his steed and Edgar on Lightning, they hastily departed Tuzmad. About two hours later, they arrived at the edge of the Slumbering Forest, the largest woodland in all of Tuzmad.

 The King Ludrols Gold

    Edgar and Tenzim, having left their faithful steeds at the edge of the Slumbering Forest, embarked on a journey into its heart. The forest, true to its name, slumbered in a dense, almost impenetrable silence, its thick canopy of leaves filtering the sun''s rays into a muted twilight. The ground was a labyrinth of roots and fallen branches, each step a test of their resolve and agility. ?


    This forest was not unfamiliar to Edgar. It was here, a decade ago, under the shadowed boughs and whispering leaves, that the wise magician Laryus had first spoken to him of the Lord of Demons. Memories of that foreboding encounter lingered in his mind as he followed Tenzim deeper into the woods. Questions swirled in his mind, chiefly among them, why Tenzim had chosen this enigmatic and ancient forest as their refuge.


    ?Silence reigned between the two men, save for the soft rustling of their passage and the distant call of a lone bird. Tenzim, enigmatic as the forest itself, offered no explanation, his gaze fixed resolutely northward. Despite the growing weariness that gnawed at their limbs, neither suggested rest. For three arduous hours they navigated the tangled undergrowth, until finally, they arrived at a clearing that seemed to be their intended destination. Here, in this secluded heart of the Slumbering Forest, perhaps the answers Edgar sought would reveal themselves. ?


    In the secluded heart of the Slumbering Forest, where the dense trees gave way to a clearing, Edgar and Tenzim discovered a hidden settlement. The space was skillfully carved out of the forest, a small community of wooden huts, a lively gathering place for meals, and a self-sufficient farm dotted with poultry and sheep. The forge, with its ceaseless clanging, hinted at the industrious nature of this secret haven, while a nearby barracks buzzed with the activity of people honing their skills in combat. ?


    This enclave housed about a hundred souls ¨C men, women, and children, all of whom bore the unmistakable mark of mercenaries. As Edgar observed, it became evident that these were not ordinary outlaws. They were fighters and their families, driven to seek sanctuary from the oppressive reach of King Ludrol, transforming this forest heart into a fortress of sorts. ?


    Having secured their horses near the barracks, Edgar and Tenzim ventured deeper into the heart of the encampment. It was a bustling hub of activity, with plans being formulated and strategies discussed. Edgar was taken aback by the warm reception Tenzim received. It was clear that Tenzim was no stranger here; his arrival was met with respectful nods and inquiries into his welfare, indicating his high standing among these people. ?


    They entered a room that seemed to be the strategic center of the camp. Here, three mercenaries, deep in discussion, stood around a table laden with maps and charts. The central figure, who commanded the room with an air of authority, was clearly the leader. He was intricately laying out a plan, his finger tracing routes and points on the maps, while the others listened intently. Edgar, standing on the threshold of this clandestine meeting, realized the depth and complexity of the world he had just stepped into ¨C a world of exiles and rebels, united by their plight and their resolve to withstand the tyranny they had fled. ?


    Edgar''s attention was instantly drawn to a man who exuded authority and command, clearly the leader of the mercenaries. This man, with his long, unkempt black hair and piercing green eyes, carried an air of vigilance and determination. Standing slightly taller than Edgar, his presence was formidable and imposing. ?


    Clad in a practical attire suited for both combat and survival in the wild, he wore his sword with an effortless ease at his waist, a reflection of his prowess and mastery in the art of warfare. On his back, a quiver brimming with wooden arrows, each tipped with gleaming steel, spoke of his proficiency as an archer. The bow he held, treated with reverence and pride, seemed to be more than just a weapon in his hands; it was a symbol of his commitment to justice and protection.


    ?This man was not just a mere warrior; he had a history rich with ambition and skill. Once dreaming of becoming a great magician, his path had veered towards a deep understanding of herbalism, making him a resourceful healer. His talents had not gone unnoticed, and upon joining King Ludrol''s army, he quickly ascended through the ranks, earning a reputation as a skilled leader and one of the king''s most trusted advisors.


    However, the turn of events had led him to this hidden refuge, where he now led a band of like-minded individuals. His journey from aspiring magician to a renowned leader in King Ludrol''s army, and now to the head of a group of mercenaries, painted a portrait of a man of many talents, adaptable, and fiercely dedicated to the causes he believed in. His life wove a rich and intricate narrative of ambition, versatility, and unwavering determination, shaping him into the leader he was now - respected and followed by those who had found a safe haven in this secluded part of the Slumbering Forest. ?


    Turalon, a figure of rare dexterity and sagacity, combined the seemingly contradictory roles of a masterful warrior and a skilled healer. His very being radiated an exceptional fusion of might and mercy, a singular amalgamation that marked his character. As Tenzim''s elder brother, Turalon had always been a pillar of guidance and support. However, upon seeing his younger sibling unexpectedly, his brow furrowed with concern and confusion. Tenzim was meant to be in Tuzmad, fortifying the king''s forces, not wandering in the dense woods of their concealed refuge. The sight of an unfamiliar face alongside his brother only added to his bewilderment. Their secluded haven, nestled away from prying eyes, was never intended to welcome strangers. This breach of secrecy unsettled Turalon, sparking a storm of questions in his mind about the intentions behind this unforeseen visit. ?


    Tenzim shared everything with his brother. He revealed that King Ludrol wanted Edgar dead, explained Edgar''s reason for returning, and how the king had eyes and ears all over Tuzmad, aware of everything happening. Turalon was astonished to realize that the man before him was Edgar, whom he hadn''t heard from in a long time.


    All those sought by the king were hiding here. Turalon too was among the wanted, as it was discovered he had joined the army to learn the king¡¯s plans and relay them to Laryus. ?


    There had been no word of the old magician Laryus for a while. Turalon last saw him two years ago. Laryus had advised Turalon that the Slumbering Forest was a good hiding place, reasoning that King Ludrol would never think to search his own lands for those he wanted dead. It seemed insane to hide from the king in his own territory, yet it proved to be a good idea. Turalon had managed to gather a small army of mercenaries, planning to conquer Tuzmad. Everyone shared this desire; they all wanted Ludrol dethroned. Tenzim played the part of the perfect captain, feigning loyalty to Ludrol, which led the king to trust him and see him as different from his brother. ?


    "I can''t believe how much you''ve changed," Turalon said to Edgar. "It seems like just yesterday you were a fourteen-year-old kid, and now you''re a full-grown man." ?


    "Spare me, Turalon! What are you trying to do here? Do you really think you can take over Tuzmad Castle with just a hundred men? If you want to commit suicide, that''s fine, but don''t drag these people down with you."


    ?"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" Turalon retorted to Edgar. "Here, you have no power whatsoever. Maybe in The Kingdom of the Sun, you had Lockdar''s men and resources at your disposal, but it''s different here. Don''t act like a leader in front of me, because you''re not!" ?


    "You''re naive, Turalon! I don''t know what you hope to achieve, but you won''t succeed," Edgar responded.


    "Both of you need to calm down!" Tenzim interjected, seeing the tension between the two was close to erupting into a fight.


    ?Tenzim agreed with Edgar. It was pure suicide to attempt such a feat without a full army. Turalon realized they both had the same thought, but he remained silent. His plan couldn''t fail. Besides, who said he intended to attack Tuzmad with just a hundred men? ?


    He had a well-devised plan but needed Tenzim¡¯s and even Edgar¡¯s help. It was a good plan, and if successful, nothing could stand in his way, not even the castle walls or the king¡¯s entire cavalry. ?


    Turalon''s voice was tinged with a mix of resolve and sorrow as he addressed the room. "You accuse me of harboring suicidal thoughts," he began, his gaze unwavering. "Yet, know this, each soul here, weary and resolute, would willingly lay down their life if it meant the end of King Ludrol''s despotic reign." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing, "Recall, if you will, the grim spectacle a year past. A desperate, impoverished man, driven by the pangs of paternal duty, dared to steal an apple for his starving child. And what was Ludrol''s decree? A merciless execution, carried out in full view of the man''s terrified son. To add to this heartless act, the king, devoid of empathy, callously seized the apple, sinking his teeth into it, his face devoid of any trace of remorse or humanity. Such tyranny, such cruelty¡ªit is against this that we all stand united, prepared to sacrifice everything." His words echoed in the silent room, reflecting the resolve and pain of a people oppressed.


    ?Hearing this, Edgar was taken aback. He couldn''t believe King Ludrol was capable of such an act. His uncle had once spoken of Ludrol as a wonderful man. What could have happened to turn him so? His uncle had once said that King Ludrol was the best king Tuzmad could ever have. ?


    Edgar was willing to hear Turalon''s plan because he figured Turalon must have one. He had his own strategy in mind, but wanted to listen to Turalon¡¯s first. ?


    "Listen and learn, smart guy!" Turalon said to Edgar. "In the Giant Mountains lies the main gold mine from which King Ludrol fills his coffers. Imagine, without this income source, Tuzmad would be defenseless." ?


    "Exactly! The king won''t be able to finance his army without money for weapons and provisions. They¡¯ll fall like leaves in autumn," Tenzim added. "But there''s a slight problem. Every three days, the king''s cavalry arrives to collect the gold chests."


    ?"I get your point," Turalon continued. "Tomorrow, we''ll attack the mine in the Giant Mountains, and in the evening, when the cavalry comes for the gold, they''ll find nothing but dust and debris... We will destroy the mine!"


    ?Turalon''s plan seemed very sound. If Ludrol were to lose his main gold mine, his power would be halved. Yet, they still wouldn''t stand a chance of dethroning him without a full army on their side. ?


    Upon being offered a modest chamber for rest, Edgar gracefully declined, his heart drawn instead to the forge''s warm, familiar glow. The blacksmith''s anvil called to him, a reminiscence of days spent under his uncle''s tutelage, shaping steel into fine swords. Eager to lend his skills, he assisted the local smiths, his hammer strikes resonating with memories of his past.


    As darkness enveloped the sky, Edgar found solace in a makeshift bed of hay within the forge, the day''s heat lingering in the embers. The plan laid out for the morrow weighed heavily on his mind: a daring assault on King Ludrol''s mine at dawn. The audacity of the scheme was not lost on him. Such an act, brimming with peril, risked igniting hostilities between kingdoms, a dire consequence he could not ignore. For the first time, Edgar found himself embroiled in a plot beyond his king, Lockdar''s, counsel, treading a path fraught with uncertainty and potential dishonor. ?


    The first light of dawn had yet to break the horizon when Edgar was roused from his makeshift bed by Tenzim and Turalon. Their mission was set, and time was of the essence. Alongside Edgar were Tenzim, Turalon, and two warriors renowned for their exceptional skills. The quintet moved with urgency, their steps echoing through the hushed corridors of the encampment as they made their way to the stables. ?


    Under the cover of pre-dawn shadows, they mounted their steeds. The horses, sensing the urgency, pawed at the ground, ready to gallop into the unknown. With a swift, silent command, the group departed the Slumbering Forest, their figures melding with the dark tapestry of the night.


    ?As they journeyed, the city of Tuzmad loomed in the distance, its sleeping silhouette a stark reminder of the delicate balance they tread. They skirted the city''s outskirts, careful to maintain a safe berth to elude any unwanted eyes or ears. The prospect of drawing the attention of King Ludrol''s cavalry was a risk too grave to entertain.


    Upon reaching the Dul''Zare bridge, a momentary pause punctuated their journey. The bridge, an old sentinel of wood and stone, stood guard over the river Dul''Zare, its waters whispering secrets of ages past. Once across, they spurred their mounts onwards, the looming silhouette of the Giant Mountains beckoning them forward, a silent witness to the unfolding tale of courage and resolve. ?


    Riding across the verdant plains, Edgar was swept into a sea of memories. These were the fields where he had roamed freely in his youth, under the watchful eyes of his beloved uncle. The landscape remained untouched by time, a sprawling canvas of flowers painting the earth in vibrant hues, their fragrance a bittersweet reminder of a simpler past. ?


    A solitary tear traced its way down Edgar''s cheek, born of longing and nostalgia. He yearned for those halcyon days of his youth, for the comforting presence of his uncle, for the modest house nestled at the mountain''s base, for the innocent laughter that once echoed through the air.


    ?Since his arrival in Tuzmad, Edgar''s life had taken a turn towards the somber and complex. Here, he had faced the harsh reality of his uncle''s death, a poignant lesson that not all hearts harbored kindness. Tuzmad had shown him the stark truth ¨C that life was a relentless barter, where even friendships came at a price, and joy was often overshadowed by the weight of responsibility and the inevitability of loss. ?


    As dawn broke over the horizon, the sun emerged halfway, casting its ethereal glow across the sky. It was a sunrise unlike any other, a celestial spectacle that captivated the senses. Nowhere in the world was there a view more beautiful than here. Initially, the sun''s rays took on shades of purple, violet, yellow, and orange, which then blended together, offering an unparalleled sense of calm. Once the sun fully rose, the colors dispersed into the air, leaving one hypnotized by the natural display. ?


    An hour later, the five warriors stood before the Giant Mountains, their peaks proudly touching the clouds. Tenzim, Turalon, and the other two mercenaries had never seen such majestic mountains before. Now, they could do nothing but wait for Ludrol''s envoys to return for the gold. ?


    They were clueless about the mine''s location, so they planned to follow the king''s messengers to the spot. Turalon explained his well-crafted plan to everyone, ensuring they couldn''t fail. ?


    "Alright! Let''s recap," Turalon said. "There will be about eight individuals. Edgar and I will follow them to the mine, while you three will hide behind those rocks until the king''s envoys return." Turalon pointed out the rocks he was talking about. Tenzim and the two mercenaries didn''t quite grasp their role, so they asked Turalon for clarification. ?


    "Your role is to wait for the eight of them. They''ll have chests full of gold. You''ll attack them from the front, and we from the back. It''s not strictly necessary to leave them alive," Turalon said.


    ?"Have you lost your mind? There are at least eight of them, and we''re only five. They''ll kill us," Tenzim protested. ?


    "That''s right," Edgar intervened. "Sometimes, you have to be cunning, not just strong. I doubt they all know you''ve betrayed the king, so when they return, you''ll confront them, claiming Ludrol sent you to help transport the gold," Edgar suggested with a smile.


    "Exactly!" Turalon exclaimed. "You''re still the captain of the army; they will trust you. By the time they return, I''ll use the explosive powder I bought from a magician to seal the mine." ?


    "Perfect! Let''s hide then, I see something ahead," Edgar said. ?


    They weren''t eight as they expected, but about twenty of Ludrol''s men. "Even if there were a hundred," they thought to themselves, "they would still listen to Tenzim." ?


    The twenty riders passed by them like the wind. After a little distance, Turalon and Edgar followed them. Tenzim and the two mercenaries remained hidden among the rocks, waiting for their return. ?


    Edgar and Tenzim followed the twenty riders for half an hour, and they eventually stopped between two giant rocks. Near the right rock was a dark, vast cave, and ten of the king''s riders lit torches and entered the dark cave, leaving the others outside to keep watch. ?


    With no choice but to wait for the riders to leave the mine before destroying it, Edgar hoped Turalon knew how to use the explosive magic powder. Such an act was bound to infuriate King Ludrol. Edgar still couldn''t believe that a handful of men were about to wage war against one of the mightiest kings. ?


    Turalon and Edgar, hidden in a crevice near the mine, grew incredibly bored waiting for the riders to depart. They couldn''t fathom what was taking them so long inside. Loading the already-filled chests should have taken but moments. ?


    On the other side, Tenzim lost patience and rode furiously towards the mine, the horse tracks growing fresher as he approached. Turalon convinced Edgar that they needed to enter the mine, quickly forming a plan to distract the guards outside, allowing Edgar to slip into the mine unnoticed. ?


    As Edgar and Turalon decided to emerge from their hiding spot, they unexpectedly bumped into Tenzim and the two mercenaries. All five were startled, but Captain Tenzim tried to appear unscared, expecting to find the pair there. ?


    "I can''t believe you get scared so easily," Tenzim mocked. "How will you react when you face Ludrol''s men?" ?


    "We are five, they are ten. What do you think our chances are?" Edgar asked. ?


    "Watch and learn, novice," Tenzim said, stepping out of hiding towards the ten riders.


    ?They exchanged a glance, then drew their swords and pointed them at their former captain, Tenzim. King Ludrol had ordered posters with Tenzim''s face all over Tuzmad, offering a reward of a hundred gold coins for his head.


    ?"Swords back in sheaths, soldiers!" Tenzim commanded. "It''s me, your captain. Don''t you recognize me?" ?


    "Yes, we do recognize you. There are posters with your face all over the kingdom," one rider replied. "Not to mention the hundred gold coins for your head, dead or alive."


    ?In the blink of an eye, Edgar, Turalon, and the two mercenaries leapt to Tenzim''s aid. The king''s ten knights were now even happier, their bounty increased to four hundred gold coins¡ªa small fortune. ?


    Suddenly, Turalon began chanting in an ancient language, known only to him and Edgar. The others watched, trying to figure out what he intended. Clearly, he was attempting a spell, but to Turalon''s surprise, nothing happened.


    "Darn it! They should have all fallen unconscious," Turalon exclaimed, frustrated by his failed spell. "Where did I go wrong?"


    ?"Xal''las aldun en'' somniculosus!" Edgar declared loudly in an ancient tongue. To Turalon''s astonishment, the ten knights collapsed onto the cold ground, rendered unconscious by Edgar''s correct incantation. ?


    "How? Where did you learn the ancient language?" Turalon asked in disbelief. ?


    "Lockdar insisted I learn it, telling me it would come in handy one day. Let''s head into the mine. Be cautious, I have a strange feeling about this gold mine," Edgar warned. ?


    The quintet cautiously made their way into the mine nestled at the mountain''s foot, with only a single torch, salvaged from the entrance, to light their path. The overwhelming darkness of the mine''s interior quickly swallowed the meager light of their torch, turning their journey into a treacherous descent into shadow. Down they went, tracing the ancient stone steps carved into the earth''s heart, their senses alert for any hint of danger or discovery.


    ?Oddly enough, the deeper they ventured, the more evident it became that this mine bore no trace of gold extraction. It was eerily quiet, devoid of the expected signs of labor or the echo of tools against rock. As they progressed, their sole torch waned, its flame flickering feebly against the encompassing dark.


    ?After what seemed an age, they stumbled upon a vast chamber, startlingly alight with dozens of torches. The sudden illumination revealed an unexpected sight ¨C a clandestine lair, far removed from the guise of a simple gold mine. This hidden sanctuary, evidently belonging to King Ludrol, was steeped in secrecy. The chamber, despite its size, had no other apparent entrances or exits, save for the path they had taken. The fate of other knights rumored to have ventured into these depths was shrouded in mystery, adding to the chamber''s enigmatic aura. The five intruders stood at the threshold of this underground enigma, pondering the purpose of such a place and the secrets it might conceal. ?


    A sense of fear enveloped the group, feeling like mice trapped in a snare. Suddenly, a secret passage opened before them, and a tall figure in a black robe emerged. His face was concealed by a hood, only revealing his ominous red eyes. ?Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "I was expecting you," the figure spoke in a deep, menacing voice, echoing through the chamber. "I am the Black Sorcerer, one of the three Bringers of Death."


    ?"The Bringers of Death? I''ve heard of you," Edgar responded. "Servants of the occult with forbidden powers, dabbling in black magic and strange rituals." ?


    "Scary enough without your description," Tenzim interjected.


    ?Edgar had been preparing for this moment. Lockdar suspected these Bringers of Death were behind his family''s murder. His thirst for vengeance led him to study white magic and forbidden arts, including black magic and secret magic. Though Edgar focused more on his fighting skills, as his magical inclination was minimal. He studied black magic to know what he was up against. Sometimes, to fight fire, one must use fire. Secret magic, the most potent, was practiced only by those who mastered both white and black magic. Edgar knew that the more one used it, the more they craved its power.


    In a moment of brash courage, two of the mercenaries sprang forward, intent on tackling the Black Sorcerer. Their movements were swift and determined, but tragically misguided. They had failed to grasp the full extent of the dark magic at the Sorcerer''s command, a perilous oversight that soon became apparent. ?


    With a casual, almost dismissive flick of his finger, the Black Sorcerer unleashed a torrent of searing flames upon the duo. In an instant, they were engulfed in a fiery inferno, their cries of agony echoing through the air. The flames danced violently around their forms, reducing them to mere silhouettes against the blazing light.


    ?The remaining three mercenaries could only stand in horrified paralysis, witnessing the gruesome fate of their comrades. The reality of the Sorcerer''s power had struck them with a chilling clarity. There was no possibility of intervention, no hope of rescue. The flames devoured everything, leaving only the charred remnants of the brave but foolhardy souls who had dared to challenge the Black Sorcerer. ?


    "I, along with my two comrades, killed your family years ago," the Sorcerer revealed to Edgar. "You would have shared their fate if it weren''t for Laryus and Marcus. Those two cursed souls will suffer when I encounter them again."


    ?"Marcus and Laryus saved me? Why did you kill my parents?" Edgar shouted, struggling to contain his rage and avoid any reckless actions that might endanger the brothers.


    ?"My master commanded it. He now signals that it''s time for your death as well."


    ?"Who is your master?" Edgar demanded. "I want to know the name of the one who will die in agony, obviously after you."


    "Brave words for a young man with little time left," the Black Sorcerer sneered. "I shall kill you and your friends." ?


    "Leave this place," Edgar urged the brothers. ?


    "Are you kidding? We can''t leave you alone with this monster," Tenzim protested.


    ?"This battle is between him and me. Please, honor this wish! I''ve been prepared for this moment all my life, by both my uncle and Lockdar."


    ?Turalon, perceiving the unwavering determination in Edgar''s eyes, knew he could not sway his resolve. Edgar was driven by a deep-seated desire for vengeance, a yearning to confront the Sorcerer who had wrought such devastation upon his family. The thirst for retribution burned fiercely within him, fueling his bold intent to face the Sorcerer in solitary combat. ?


    With heavy hearts, Turalon and his brother retreated from the accursed cavern, each step weighed down by a sense of foreboding. Yet, as they distanced themselves, a gnawing realization took hold ¨C perhaps they should not abandon Edgar to his perilous fate. ?


    But before they could act on this impulse, the mountain itself seemed to roar in protest. A violent trembling shook the very foundations of the earth, as if the mountain itself was enraged or in agony. Massive boulders dislodged from above, thundering down with unstoppable force, sealing the entrance to the chamber with a finality that was both literal and symbolic. ?


    Trapped inside was Edgar, alone in his confrontation with the Sorcerer, and outside, Turalon and his brother faced the grim reality that they could no longer reach him. The sealed entrance stood as a barrier not just of stone, but of fate, leaving them to grapple with their decision and its irrevocable consequences. ?


    As the mountain''s very core trembled under the might of the Black Sorcerer''s unleashed power, Edgar stood in awe and dread. He could scarcely believe the sheer magnitude of the force that the Sorcerer commanded, capable of making the mountain convulse as if it were a mere plaything. The chamber, once a secret enclave, now became a collapsing tomb. ?


    Around them, the very fabric of the cavern began to disintegrate. Cracks snaked across the ancient walls like lightning, while the pillars that had stood for ages groaned and crumbled, succumbing to the relentless assault. Huge chunks of rock fell from the ceiling, each impact a thunderous proclamation of the Sorcerer''s fearsome power. ?


    In this chaos, Edgar found himself dodging debris, the air thick with dust and the sound of destruction. The chamber, which had once harbored dark secrets and silent whispers, was now an arena of a cataclysmic battle between the unyielding will of a young warrior and the ancient, malevolent force of the Black Sorcerer. As the world around him seemed to end, Edgar''s resolve only hardened, his every step a defiance against the overwhelming power that sought to crush him. ?


    "It seems this will be your tomb, Edgar Argyle! My mission will be complete with the death of the last heir." ?


    "I don''t know what nonsense you''re spouting, but you''ll be the one dying," Edgar retorted.


    ?"No, Edgar, it is you who will die!"


    With a final, sinister utterance, the Black Sorcerer dissolved into the shadows, leaving nothing but a swirling vortex of black smoke in his wake. Edgar, recognizing the signs of this ancient and elusive technique, stood transfixed. This was the art of apparition, a form of teleportation mastered only by the most adept of magicians, those who had unlocked the secrets of the celestial bodies and harnessed the power of enigmatic magical stones. ?


    This was no mere trick; it was a profound mastery over the arcane, a skill Edgar himself had delved into under the tutelage of his mentor, Marcus. Such knowledge was seldom shared, kept hidden within the folds of forbidden lore. At the behest of King Lockdar, Edgar had studied these obscure arts, including this particular form of disappearance ¨C astral teleportation. It required not only the utterance of words in the ancient tongue but also the use of a specific magical stone, etched with the sigil of a star, as a conduit for the spell. ?


    Edgar understood the complexity and the immense power behind such a feat. The Sorcerer''s vanishing act was a stark reminder of the vast and dark depths of magic, a realm where power and knowledge danced in a perilous balance. ?


    "You escaped this time, Black Sorcerer, but next time you won''t be so lucky," Edgar muttered through clenched teeth. "Adul Ka''dun!" ?


    After uttering these words, Edgar was enveloped in a shining aura and then vanished just as a piece of rock was about to crash down on him. ?


    He tried to teleport to the Slumbering Forest, but as he had been taught, one could never teleport exactly to the desired location, always somewhere close. So, he found himself near the city of Tuzmad. He needed to reach the hideout in the forest, but how? He didn''t even have a single coin to buy a horse to travel to his destination. ?


    As Edgar entered the bustling city, the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation for the imminent Tournament of the Ten Knights. This prestigious event drew renowned knights from across the world, all eager to showcase their martial skill in a grand spectacle of combat. The streets were alive with the fervor of preparations, as banners were hoisted and stands erected for the eager spectators. ?


    Winding his way through the throngs, Edgar found himself in the heart of the city''s market, a place where merchants, savvy and shrewd, amassed fortunes. He observed these traders with a discerning eye, noting how they adeptly turned modest acquisitions into sizable profits. They were, in his view, the craftiest of opportunists, playing the market''s ebb and flow to their advantage. ?


    Settling before one such merchant, Edgar observed the man''s diverse array of goods. The vendor, a middle-aged man dressed in finery that spoke of his success, offered an assortment of items. His stall was a treasure trove of sorts, displaying an array of weapons and armors, alongside more mundane items like exotic drinks, succulent lamb meat, and freshly baked bread. Edgar watched as a steady stream of customers flowed to and from the stall, each leaving a little poorer but seemingly satisfied with their purchases.


    ?"Tell me what you want to buy, young knight! I have a sword here said to be magical, and whoever wields it shall never be defeated." ?


    "I''m not interested in buying anything, rather I''d like to sell something," Edgar said, pulling out something from a leather pouch he kept close to his chest.


    It appeared to be a very important and valuable item, a blue stone about the size of a child''s fist. It seemed like an ordinary stone, possibly painted, with a specific symbol drawn on it. ?


    The merchant quickly realized what it was - a magical stone. If one knew how to use it, it allowed the user to move from one place to another in just a few moments. Almost every magician had one, but one didn''t have to be a magician to use such a stone, just know the ancient language words that activated the stone''s power. ?


    "I can''t use it without the magic words," the merchant said. ?


    "Adul Ka''dun," Edgar stated. "Now, how much will you offer for it?"


    ?"Ten gold coins," the merchant replied, extending a pouch containing the coins. ?


    "Are you joking? That¡¯s not even enough to buy a pony, let alone a horse?" ?


    "Bad luck, boy, because if you don''t accept my offer, I will alert the king''s guards that Edgar Argyle is in town." ?


    Before Edgar could even ask how the merchant recognized him, the man showed him his portrait on a wanted poster, stating he was sought, dead or alive, with a reward of three hundred gold coins. ?


    "Incredible, how much I''m worth!" Edgar remarked proudly.


    With no other choice, he had to accept the merchant''s offer and handed over the magical stone. What puzzled the young man was why the merchant hadn''t already alerted the king''s men. Were there still honest merchants out there? Who knew?


    Head down to avoid further recognition, he walked away from the merchant, only to hear him shout moments later: "Guards! It¡¯s Edgar Argyle!" ?


    No sooner had Edgar paused to contemplate his surroundings than a sudden commotion broke his reverie. From the shadows emerged around fifteen castle guards, their approach swift and coordinated. In the blink of an eye, they encircled Edgar, their swords unsheathed and gleaming menacingly in the dim light, each blade a silent promise of peril. ?


    With deft movements born of training and discipline, the guards disarmed Edgar, his own sword clattering to the cobblestones with a resonant echo that seemed to mark the gravity of the moment. Before he could react, his wrists and ankles were swiftly shackled, the cold metal biting into his skin, a stark reminder of his sudden shift from observer to captive.


    ?The guards, grim-faced and unyielding, then escorted Edgar through the meandering streets towards the formidable structure of the castle. The path to the dungeons was a descent into darkness, each step taking Edgar further from the world he knew and deeper into the bowels of the fortress. The air grew colder and damper as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the only sound the clanking of the chains that bound him and the measured steps of his captors. This abrupt turn of events left Edgar grappling with a myriad of questions, the most pressing of which was what fate awaited him in the depths of the castle''s dungeons.


    Destiny had reserved a grim twist for Edgar. Unlike the common fate of criminals consigned to languish in the dungeons before their trial, his path was markedly different. Edgar was to be immediately brought before the court, a move that was as unusual as it was foreboding.


    ?In the castle''s grand courtroom, a place where justice was often swift and merciless, Edgar was to stand trial. The usual delay afforded to others, a brief respite in the gloom of the dungeons to contemplate their fate, was conspicuously absent in his case. The very immediacy of this trial suggested a verdict already looming in the shadows - a sentence that could range from the finality of death to the endless drudgery of hard labor. ?


    The courtroom, a vast hall with towering ceilings and walls that whispered of judgments past, stood as a stark symbol of the ruling power''s formidable strength and unyielding command. Here, Edgar was to face his accusers, his fate hanging precariously in the balance. As he was ushered into this imposing chamber, the gravity of his situation weighed heavily upon him, the eyes of the court cold and calculating, ready to seal his fate. ?


    Edgar was ushered into a seat, his chains clinking ominously with each movement. The courtroom, steeped in a heavy silence, waited in anticipation. Moments later, the stern-faced judge made his entrance, his robe trailing behind him like a dark cloud. Close on his heels was King Ludrol, his presence commanding immediate attention. Edgar''s heart pounded against his ribcage; he was all too aware of the gravity of his situation. The wanted poster''s accusations echoed in his mind, painting a grim picture of his potential fate. He cast a resigned glance towards the judge, knowing well that the verdict would be a mere echo of King Ludrol''s wishes. Hope, it seemed, was a luxury Edgar could ill afford in the shadow of the throne''s influence. ?


    The courtroom erupted into chaos before the judge could even utter a word. Shouts demanding Edgar''s execution reverberated off the ancient stone walls, creating a tumultuous cacophony. Perplexed by this sudden outburst of hostility, Edgar scanned the crowd. Their eyes, filled with feigned rage, betrayed the truth he quickly surmised: these were not voices of justice but of manipulation. It dawned on him that these people, likely coerced or compensated by King Ludrol, were there to create an illusion of public outrage. This orchestrated clamor was not a call for justice but a puppet show, with the strings being pulled by the king himself. Edgar¡¯s heart sank as he realized the extent of the king''s influence and his own dwindling chances for a fair trial.


    ?"Edgar Argyle, you are accused of espionage, treason, witchcraft, and murder of the people of Tuzmad. You were seen by ten knights in the Giant Mountains using a deadly spell." ?


    "Deadly? Ha, if sleep is considered deadly, then yes, I plead guilty!"


    ?"You are found guilty of all these charges," declared the judge. "You are sentenced to death by hanging. The execution will take place tomorrow, early in the morning." ?


    Edgar found himself unceremoniously ejected from the courtroom, words of protest dying in his throat, and was summarily cast into the depths of a grim dungeon. He landed hard on the unyielding, frigid stone floor, the impact reverberating through his bones. The cell, devoid of even the most meager comforts such as a straw bed, was shrouded in an oppressive darkness that seemed to swallow the feeble light filtering in from a tiny, barred window. ?


    In this lightless void, Edgar could sense rather than see the scuttling of rats, their claws scraping against stone, an unnerving soundtrack to his imprisonment. The air was damp and fetid, clinging to him like a second skin. As he lay there, a sense of helplessness washed over him. The bars of his cell, thick and unyielding, laughed in the face of any thought of escape.


    ?His mind churned, piecing together the events that led to this rapid judgment and incarceration. King Ludrol¡¯s actions were precipitous, indicating a fear or urgency Edgar couldn''t immediately comprehend. Was there more to Ludrol''s vendetta than simply a suspicion of espionage? Edgar pondered, his thoughts turning like the gears of a clock. The king''s determination to silence him hinted at deeper, darker machinations ¨C secrets that Edgar might unknowingly hold, secrets that were a threat to Ludrol''s reign. In the stillness of the dungeon, Edgar''s resolve hardened; he would not let this be his end. There were truths to uncover, and he vowed to unearth them, whatever it might take. ?


    In the oppressive confines of his cell, Edgar''s mind raced, grappling with his predicament. His only sliver of hope lay with King Lockdar, his mentor and ally. If Lockdar were to learn of his dire circumstances, Edgar was certain the king would not rest until he had devised a plan for his rescue. However, the swiftness of his impending execution posed a formidable obstacle. The prospect of Lockdar discovering his plight in time seemed increasingly remote, a grim reality that weighed heavily on Edgar''s heart.


    The notion of meeting his end in such a demeaning manner was anathema to him. Throughout his life, he had envisioned a warrior''s death ¨C valiant and honorable, on the battlefield, not a shameful demise in the shadowy depths of a dungeon, branded a criminal. His thoughts then turned to Turalon and Tenzim. If only they were aware of his predicament, if only they knew he had survived the sorcerer''s catastrophic spell that caused the cave to crumble. But as far as they were concerned, Edgar perished beneath the mountain, a victim of the wizard''s wrathful quake. ?


    Lying in the dank darkness, Edgar felt a profound sense of isolation. The walls of his cell seemed to close in on him, a tangible reminder of his helplessness. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination remained. Edgar refused to accept this ignoble end. He clung to the hope that somehow, against all odds, word of his fate would reach Lockdar or his comrades. In that hope lay his resilience, a defiance that no dungeon could extinguish.


    ?Stripped of his treasured possessions by the king''s soldiers, Edgar sat in the bleak solitude of his cell. His once mighty Phoenix sword, the resplendent armor bestowed upon him by King Lockdar, and the enchanted stone ¨C all confiscated, leaving him powerless. These were not just tools of war but symbols of his identity, each with its own story, now fallen into the hands of his captors. Bereft of these artifacts, Edgar felt as though a part of himself had been taken. In mere moments, he could have wielded their power to secure his freedom, but now, he was as helpless as a common prisoner. ?


    As the hours in confinement wore on, a torrent of memories surged through his mind. His life, with its triumphs and tribulations, replayed in vivid detail. Amidst this reflection, Edgar experienced an unfamiliar sensation ¨C a gnawing fear of death. The imminence of his end brought a stark realization of all that he had yet to accomplish, the promises unfulfilled, and the dreams unrealized. ?


    As dusk enveloped the world outside, a guard''s heavy footsteps echoed through the dungeon. A flicker of light emerged as he lit a torch, casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls. He approached Edgar''s cell and slid a tray with a meager offering of food ¨C a bowl of soup and a piece of bread ¨C through the bars. Edgar''s stomach rumbled at the sight, but his first sip of the soup was a harsh jolt to his senses. It was vile, an assault on his taste buds. With disgust, he spat it out, turning his attention to the bread. It was no better ¨C stale, hard, and speckled with mold. Hunger gnawed at him, yet even the thought of consuming such fare was revolting. The dungeon rats, scurrying in the shadows, suddenly seemed a more appealing option than the king''s ''hospitality''. ?


    In the oppressive gloom of the dungeon, Edgar''s thoughts spiraled into despair. The absence of his Phoenix sword, usually a source of strength and protection, now left him feeling vulnerable and powerless. The ignominious fate that awaited him seemed unbearable. He found himself contemplating a swift end to evade the dishonor of a public execution. Yet, even in his darkest hour, Edgar sought a glimmer of hope. The prospect of a quick death, though grim, offered a small solace ¨C it meant escaping the wretched confines and the incessant scurrying of rats that plagued his cell. ?


    Lying down on the cold, hard floor, Edgar yearned for the escape of sleep, a brief respite from the torment of his situation. But the dungeon, with its stifling silence, was suddenly pierced by an unexpected sound ¨C a sneeze. Startled, Edgar realized he wasn''t alone; someone else was imprisoned nearby. Curiosity piqued, he called out into the darkness, seeking to identify his unseen fellow captive. "Who''s there?" he asked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. In this place of despair, the possibility of human contact, even with a stranger, brought a faint flicker of hope to Edgar''s heavy heart. ?


    "And you, who are you? A criminal or a thief?" a soft female voice responded. ?


    "Neither. I''m just someone the king doesn''t hold dear," Edgar replied.


    ?"Sure! If you''re going to die, at least tell the truth. I won''t tell anyone, as I''ll be decapitated at dawn." ?


    Edgar carefully lifted the flickering torch from its sconce, its light casting dancing shadows on the damp walls as he moved towards the source of the sneeze. Nearing the adjacent cell, he glimpsed a figure in the dim light. There, in the confines of the cramped space, sat a young woman. She appeared to be about his age, yet it was not her age that captivated Edgar but her striking appearance. ?


    Her hair, a cascade of blonde waves, flowed down her shoulders, glimmering like spun gold in the torchlight. It was unusually long, almost ethereal in its beauty, contrasting starkly with the grimness of her surroundings. Her eyes, large and expressive, sparkled with an intensity that seemed to defy the hopelessness of the dungeon. They were a vivid blue, reminiscent of the clearest sky or the deepest part of the ocean, full of depth and mystery. ?


    Edgar was momentarily taken aback by her presence. In a place as desolate as the dungeon, her semblance appeared almost out of place, like a rare flower blooming in barren soil. Her beauty was not just in her appearance but in the resilience and strength that shone through her eyes, a stark reminder of the human spirit''s indomitable will, even in the darkest of times. ?


    "Why would Ludrol want you dead? You don''t seem too dangerous," Edgar inquired.


    ?"I and my brother Darr have caused many troubles for Ludrol and his allies. I''ve taken down more of the king''s men than you''ve probably killed insects. So don¡¯t say I don¡¯t seem dangerous. I can kill in over fifty different ways."


    ?"Aha! You must be Valleria. I''ve heard of you, the daughter of Queen Anastasia. After your father''s death, your mother remarried the king of the barbarians, Iliann. This union formed an even more powerful realm." ?


    Before him was a princess. From the rumors Edgar had heard, the siblings did not hold King Iliann in high regard, so they fled their lands, gathering a small army to fight against bandits and barbarians. But what business did they have with Ludrol? ?


    "You''re right," she confirmed. "But you¡¯re mistaken about the powerful kingdom. A year ago, our realm was invaded by the army of the one who calls himself the Lord of Demons. Iliann and my mother were killed by this Lord." ?


    "Damn it! He''s already started attacking kingdoms? Soon his power will grow, and his army will be ready in less than a year if Laryus is right..."


    ?"What do you mean? This is just the beginning? Who are you? How do you know so much?" the puzzled young princess asked.


    ?"My name is Edgar Argyle."


    "Edgar Argyle? The hero of The Kingdom of the Sun? The right hand of King Lockdar Menums? Now I understand why King Ludrol wants to get rid of you." ?


    Valleria hinted that she knew the real reason behind his imminent execution. But how could someone unknown be aware of something even he had no clue about? Suddenly, Edgar recalled the words of the Black Wizard: "My mission will be fulfilled with the death of the last heir." What did that mean? Surely Ludrol had another motive, but the wizard implied that his goal was to kill Edgar. ?


    "For someone about to be beheaded, you don¡¯t seem scared at all." ?


    "Unlike you, I will not die. My brother won''t allow it," the princess said, her voice trembling, not sounding very confident.


    ?Throughout the long, restless night, Edgar lay awake, his mind churning with thoughts and fears. No slumber came to his eyes as he grappled with the grim reality of his impending fate. As the first light of dawn began to seep through the small, barred window of his cell, it brought no solace, only the harrowing reminder of what the day held.


    ?Suddenly, the heavy sound of boots echoed in the corridor, growing louder until two guards burst into his cell. Without a word, they roughly grabbed Edgar, hauling him up from the cold, stone floor. As they dragged him through the corridors of the dungeon, the dim torchlight flickered on the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance mockingly. ?


    They emerged into the crisp morning air of Tuzmad, where the ancient Tree of the Condemned stood. This gnarled, old tree had borne witness to countless executions, its formidable presence a somber somber symbol of finality. A noose, swaying slightly in the gentle breeze, hung from one of its sturdy branches. ?


    A crowd had already gathered, a sea of faces, some curious, some solemn, all there to witness the grim spectacle. Among them, King Ludrol arrived, flanked by the judge and a retinue of heavily armed guards, his regal presence adding a solemn gravity to the event.


    ?Edgar was led to a high stool placed under the tree. His heart raced as a guard slipped the noose around his neck, the coarse rope chafing against his skin. As he stood there, the reality of his situation hitting him with full force, Edgar looked out over the crowd. He saw faces filled with a mix of emotions - anticipation, fear, and even a few that showed a hint of sympathy. ?


    In that moment, Edgar''s mind raced with thoughts of his life, of choices made and paths taken. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on him, and yet, a part of him refused to believe that this was truly the end. He couldn¡¯t help but hope for a miracle, for some twist of fate that would save him from the noose''s final embrace. ?


    In a cruel twist of fate, the judge raised his hand, signaling the executioner. With a swift, heartless yank, the stool was pulled from beneath Edgar''s feet, leaving him dangling helplessly from the ancient Tree of the Condemned. The rope, rough and unyielding, cinched tightly around his neck, throttling the very breath from his lungs. The world began to blur at the edges, a tunnel of darkness narrowing his vision. ?


    As he hung there, suspended between life and death, Edgar''s eyes met King Ludrol''s. In them, he saw a chilling satisfaction that sent a final shiver of horror through his fading consciousness. The crowd''s gasps and murmurs faded into a distant echo, the faces blurring into indistinct shapes.


    ?In those fleeting moments, Edgar''s thoughts spiraled, a tumultuous cascade of memories and unfulfilled dreams. He made no attempt to struggle against the inevitable, his body growing limp as the life was mercilessly squeezed from him. The world grew dimmer, sounds muffled, and time seemed to stretch and warp. ?


    With his eyes slowly closing, Edgar braced for the end. The cold embrace of death loomed near, a dark void ready to claim him.

 Marcuss Call

    The air around the Tree of the Condemned was suddenly pierced by a sharp, whistling sound. It cut through the tension like a blade, capturing the crowd''s attention in a heartbeat. An axe, thrown with remarkable precision and speed, cleaved the rope that held Edgar aloft, sending him crashing down to the earth, his consciousness slipping away into darkness. ?


    In that moment of chaos and confusion, a carriage burst forth from the throng of onlookers. Drawn by two powerful steeds, it cut a path through the crowd, its wheels churning up dust and debris. Inside the carriage, there were three unexpected saviors: Valleria, the girl with strikingly bright eyes, who had managed a daring escape from the castle''s dungeon; her brother Darr, whose robust frame and keen gaze spoke of his resilience and sharp wit; and Turalon, a figure of undeniable strength and determination. ?


    Valleria''s eyes were filled with urgency and concern as she peered out of the carriage, watching the scene unfold. Darr, with expert hands, guided the horses, maneuvering the carriage with remarkable skill to reach Edgar. Turalon, ever the strategist, was already calculating their next move, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of pursuit or danger.


    As the carriage halted near Edgar''s limp form, Turalon and Darr leaped out, their movements swift and coordinated. Turalon and Darr worked in unison to swiftly lift Edgar''s unconscious form from the ground. With a sense of urgency driving them, they made their way towards the city''s exit, the carriage wheels thundering against the cobblestone. Behind them, the chaos erupted into a frantic pursuit as about a hundred of King Ludrol''s soldiers gave chase, their spears and arrows slicing through the air with deadly intent. ?


    Darr, with the agility and reflexes of a seasoned warrior, parried the incoming arrows with his sword, creating a metallic symphony of clinks and clangs. Despite his skill, as they breached the city''s boundary, an arrow found its mark, embedding itself deep into his chest. With a grimace of pain and determination, Darr deftly sliced the arrowhead off with his dagger, yanking the shaft through his wound. Ignoring the searing pain, he continued to drive the carriage, his grip on the reins unwavering, as if his body knew no harm. ?


    Their escape was far from secured, as the king''s guards relentlessly pursued them. The sound of horse hooves and shouts filled the air, creating a tempest of noise that seemed to chase the carriage itself. King Ludrol, standing amidst the tumult, was momentarily paralyzed by a cocktail of fury and disbelief. His face, usually a mask of composed authority, now twisted into an expression of incredulous rage. He couldn''t fathom how his perfectly laid plans had unraveled so spectacularly. ?


    The carriage thundered on, cutting through the open lands surrounding the city, the persistent clamor of their pursuers a constant reminder of the peril they were in. Darr, despite his wound, showed no signs of slowing down, his resilience shining through as he maneuvered the carriage with expert precision. The fate of Edgar, and indeed their own, hung in the balance as they raced against time and the relentless pursuit of King Ludrol''s forces. ?


    In the midst of their frenetic escape, Turalon reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small, luminous blue magic stone. This stone, a gift from the venerable magician Laryus, bore the engraving of a crescent moon, signifying its mystical origins and powerful capabilities. With a focused gaze and a voice resonating with arcane energy, Turalon invoked the ancient incantation, "Alan en dun." The air around them shimmered, and they were suddenly enveloped in a blinding cascade of light, a brilliant azure hue that seemed to dance and swirl with magical intensity. ?


    In the blink of an eye, just as the king''s guards were about to close in, the light reached its zenith, and in a flash, they disappeared, leaving behind a fleeting afterglow and stunned onlookers. The guards arrived at the spot only to find empty space, their prey having vanished into thin air. ?


    The group materialized in the heart of the Slumbering Forest, amidst the hidden encampment that served as their sanctuary. The transition from the chaotic streets of Tuzmad to the tranquil forest was as abrupt as it was disorienting. Darr, still bleeding from his wound, was quickly ushered into the care of the camp''s healers. They immediately set to work, their skilled hands applying pressure to the wound, cleaning it meticulously before dressing it with medicinal herbs known for their potent healing properties. ?


    Meanwhile, Edgar, unconscious and unaware of the miraculous escape, lay on a makeshift bed. His neck, marked by the cruel embrace of the noose, was tenderly treated with an array of healing herbs. These herbs, gathered from the depths of the Slumbering Forest, were known for their restorative powers. The healers worked silently but efficiently, their hands moving with practiced ease as they applied poultices and healing salves to his bruised skin. ?


    In the peaceful embrace of the Slumbering Forest, under the watchful eyes of Turalon and the skilled healers, Edgar and Darr found themselves in a haven, a sharp contrast to the perilous ordeal they had just endured. The camp, usually a hive of activity, was now a place of healing and recovery, a manifestation of the enduring solidarity and fortitude of those who had found sanctuary amidst its concealed depths. ?


    Turalon and Darr''s friendship had blossomed from a chance meeting in a bustling tavern on the outskirts of Tuzmad. Over mugs of ale and shared tales of adventure, a bond had formed between the two, stronger than any they had known. When Darr sought Turalon''s assistance in rescuing his sister, Valleria, from the clutches of the king''s dungeon, Turalon pledged his support without a moment''s hesitation. Little did he know that this daring rescue would also lead to the unexpected discovery of Edgar, bound for the gallows.


    ?


    As the light of the afternoon waned, Edgar''s eyes flickered open, his senses gradually returning. Lying on a bed of moss and leaves, he found himself under the watchful gaze of Valleria. Her presence, a soothing balm to his jolted spirit, helped him gather his bearings. As he surveyed his surroundings, the familiar shadows and whispers of the Slumbering Forest enveloped him, a stark contrast to the dungeon''s despair he had left behind. The relief of recognizing this hidden refuge was palpable, yet Edgar''s mind teemed with questions about the miraculous escape and the uncertain path that lay ahead.


    "So it¡¯s true... The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Edgar spoke softly.


    ?"Something like that. We need every willing person for the final assault," Valleria added.


    ?"The final assault?" Edgar asked, puzzled.


    ?"Rest first. You need to regain your strength," Valleria advised Edgar, leaving him alone to recuperate. Edgar drifted back to sleep and didn''t wake up until the following morning, feeling ravenous. Tenzim seemed to have anticipated his hunger, entering with a substantial meal ¨C a large piece of wild boar meat, freshly hunted by Tenzim himself, accompanied by fresh bread and a mug of wine. Edgar, forgetting all manners, grabbed the meat with his hands and devoured it hungrily. ?


    Tenzim, slightly amused by Edgar''s voracious appetite, understood that he hadn''t eaten in nearly four days. He brought Edgar new clothes and a serpentine-bladed sword with a golden hilt, which surprised Edgar. He knew only one person who fancied such swords. Attached to the hilt was a note:


    ?Edgar, ?Come to the Dwarf Lands, find me in Tazul. You¡¯ll know how to find me once there. I need your help! - Marcus.


    ?"Who is Marcus?" Tenzim asked, apologizing for reading the note. ?


    "Marcus is my master. I was his apprentice for eight years," Edgar explained. "He taught me the ancient language, revealed some magic secrets, and the mysteries of this world. He needs my help; I must go!"


    "I''ve prepared Lightning, your horse. I knew you would leave, and I intend to accompany you." ?


    "Tenzim, I can''t ask you to do more than you already have," Edgar said. ?


    "You need my help, even if you are the hero of The Kingdom of the Sun," Tenzim replied with a hint of irony. ?


    With a sense of urgency dictating their every move, Edgar and his companions swiftly prepared for the journey ahead. Provisions and water were gathered, and they mounted their steeds, each heartbeat underscoring the gravity of Marcus''s summons. Edgar¡¯s mind was clouded with frustration, lamenting the loss of the magic stone that would have granted them immediate passage to Tazul. He resolved that once in Tazul, with the rich resources of the magicians'' library at his disposal, he would forge a new stone. Marcus¡¯s expertise would be indispensable in this endeavor. ?


    Their ride was swift, a blur against the landscape as they left their pursuers dwindling in the distance. Yet, for all the speed their loyal horses could muster, Edgar felt the weight of every passing moment. His thoughts turned bitterly towards the deceitful merchant who had swindled him, vowing internally to steer clear of such treacherous dealings in the future. Despite Turalon''s stone, its power was limited, unable to transport them directly to Tazul. Edgar felt a nagging impatience; every mile traversed on horseback was a stark reminder of the time they could have saved, time that was precious in the face of the unknown challenges awaiting them in Tazul. ?


    Their journey, a relentless race against the clock, had led them across the vast expanse of the Dion Plains. As the sun reached its zenith, the two weary travelers finally allowed themselves a moment of respite. They dismounted near a serene patch of land, where the grass seemed to dance under the gentle breeze. Their horses, grateful for the break, began to graze eagerly on the lush greenery.


    Here, in the heart of the plains, the world seemed untouched by the turmoil that loomed over their quest. ?


    As they sat down to eat, their meal was modest but nourishing. They shared bread and cheese, their conversation light but filled with the unspoken understanding of the journey that lay ahead. They still had about a day''s travel before they would reach the Dul''Zare River, a natural landmark that marked a significant milestone on their path. ?


    Their break was short-lived. With a sense of purpose renewed, they resumed their journey. The landscape around them slowly transformed as they approached the Dul''Zare. The verdant plains gave way to a more rugged terrain, and soon they were at the river''s edge, facing the daunting bridge that lay ahead. The bridge, old and neglected, was a precarious crossing, its planks rotting and groaning under their weight. They crossed with deliberate caution, each step a calculated risk. ?


    As dusk enveloped the world in its cool embrace, they decided to set up camp. The night sky, a tapestry of stars and soft moonlight, provided a tranquil backdrop to their campfire. Despite the weariness that clung to their bones, they found comfort in light-hearted banter. They spoke of many things ¨C the adventures that awaited them, the challenges they had faced, and inevitably, the conversation drifted to the beauty of Princess Valleria. Her image seemed to bring a touch of warmth to the cold night, her grace and strength a topic that inspired admiration and affection.


    "Believe me, the princess likes you," Tenzim teased. "She watched over you the whole time you were unconscious." ?


    "It''s just a kind gesture, Tenzim. Don''t let your imagination run wild." ?


    "Edgar, what does love mean to you?" ?


    "Love is what some of us search for all our lives. It''s what gave birth to our being and pushes us to the brink, making us do insanely passionate things for the one who has enchanted us... Love envelops us in a dizzying wave of harmony, transporting us to a realm where the fantastic and reality merge. Now, let''s get some sleep!" ?


    As dawn broke, the morning light painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Edgar and his companion, having spent the night under the stars, set off once more. Their destination was the Land of Dwarves, a realm of mystery and ancient craftsmanship nestled in the heart of the mountains. Tazul, its capital, was a city renowned for its remarkable architecture and skilled inhabitants.


    ?Their journey took them through rugged terrain, winding paths flanked by towering peaks, and valleys where the sun''s rays seldom reached. As they traveled, Edgar reflected on the tales he had heard of the dwarves ¨C a proud and hardy people, known for their prowess in mining and metallurgy. ?


    Upon their arrival, they were greeted by a city that seemed almost magical in its construction. The buildings, crafted with exquisite detail, were indeed small, as if part of a miniature world. Each house, half the size of what they were used to, displayed intricate carvings and stonework, showcasing the dwarves'' unparalleled skill.


    However, the atmosphere in Tazul was different from what Edgar remembered. Gone was the open-hearted warmth that once characterized the dwarf community. The streets, usually bustling with activity, were eerily quiet. As they made their way through the city, they noticed dwarves hurriedly ushering their children indoors, locking doors behind them. Curious eyes peeked through narrowly opened windows, watching the two tall strangers with a mix of fear and intrigue.


    ?Edgar felt a pang of sadness. In times past, the dwarves celebrated the arrival of outsiders, especially the "tall ones." Their city was a place of trade and camaraderie, where stories and goods were exchanged with joyful enthusiasm. But now, the air was thick with apprehension, the dwarves'' actions speaking of a deep-seated fear. ?


    What could have caused such a drastic change? Edgar wondered. Had some unseen threat cast a shadow over this once vibrant city? The answers eluded him, but one thing was clear ¨C the Land of Dwarves was no longer the welcoming haven it once was. ?


    As Edgar and his companion stood in the heart of Tazul, a solitary white pigeon circled above. Its presence was like a beacon of hope in the quiet, subdued atmosphere of the dwarf city. Edgar''s eyes followed the bird''s graceful flight until it descended towards them, revealing itself to be Loke, the renowned messenger pigeon of the wizard Marcus.


    ?The pigeon landed on Edgar''s outstretched arm, a small scroll attached securely to its leg. Edgar carefully unrolled the note and read aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet streets: "Edgar, I am in the mansion on the hill!" The message was brief, but its implications were clear. Marcus, his old mentor, was close by.


    They looked up to see a grand house perched atop a nearby hill. It towered over the surrounding dwellings, its architecture a blend of dwarven craftsmanship and an elegance that spoke of a different origin. Unlike the modest homes of Tazul, this mansion had a grandeur about it, with a door large enough to welcome even the tallest of visitors without the need to stoop. ?


    They made their way up the hill. The mansion stood solitary, its presence almost imposing against the backdrop of the dwarf city. As they entered the seemingly deserted mansion, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the vast hallways. The interior was as impressive as the exterior, with high ceilings and walls adorned with tapestries depicting mystical creatures and enchanted forests. ?


    Their initial impression of abandonment was soon dispelled when a little man, no taller than a child but with the features of someone far older, descended the stairs. His steps were measured, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and caution.


    ?


    The figure standing before Edgar was a middle-aged dwarf, well into his hundred and fifteenth year. His presence epitomized the remarkable longevity characteristic of his race, embodying the enduring vitality that dwarves were known for. ?


    His appearance was marked by a lengthy beard that cascaded down to his waist, a symbol of wisdom and age among his kind. He was clad in a long, flowing robe that seemed to absorb the dim light of the room, adorned with intricate patterns and symbols that spoke of a deep connection to the mystical arts. In his right hand, he held a scepter, not just a symbol of authority but also a tool of magical significance. His small but piercing blue eyes scanned Edgar and his companion with an intensity that belied his small stature. This was Marcus, revered in Tazul as the most distinguished magician, a figure of immense knowledge and power. ?


    Marcus''s expression bore the weight of deep concern and unspoken troubles, yet his demeanor softened noticeably at the sight of Edgar. Here was his favorite pupil, the one in whom he had invested much time and wisdom. It was a reunion that brought a rare, albeit brief, respite from the burdens that clearly weighed heavily upon him. In Marcus''s eyes, one could see a flicker of hope and relief, as if Edgar''s presence alone had reignited a flame that had been dimming amidst the shadows of his troubled thoughts.


    ?"Master Marcus! Forgive my late arrival, but I lost the stone you gave me."


    ?"Forget the stone! To the west, a terrible army is gathering, ready to destroy the Land of Dwarves. The one calling himself the Lord of Demons has already destroyed five cities, and we are defenseless, soon to be mowed down like wheat."


    ?"Our only chance is to immediately evacuate the city and head straight for the Kingdom of the Sun, where Lockdar will help us," Edgar suggested. ?


    "It''s too late, Edgar, we don''t have time to get there. Over a hundred demonic knights are heading towards Tazul. Half the country is already devastated, it won''t be long before we''re invaded. Do you have the sword I sent you?" ?


    Edgar, with a swift movement, drew the unique serpentine sword from its sheath on his back, presenting it proudly to his master. The blade, with its distinctive, sinuous design, shimmered under the dim light of the room. Marcus''s eyes, initially lighting up at the sight of the well-preserved sword, gradually clouded with a tinge of somber reflection. He had harbored hopes that the sword, in Edgar''s possession, would reveal or activate some latent power or significance, a rare miscalculation on his part. For Marcus, a sage seasoned in the ways of magic and foresight, such misjudgments were uncommon, and this one particularly stung, casting a shadow of disappointment over his usually keen intuition.


    ?"Edgar, haven''t you noticed anything unusual? Hasn''t even a single sign appeared to you since you''ve been carrying this sword?" Marcus asked. "Everyone who has possessed this sword knew exactly what to do with it, including your father, the last bearer." ?


    "What kind of sign should have appeared?" ?


    Marcus himself didn''t know the answer; he only knew that the sword was meant for people like Edgar and his father, but he couldn''t understand why it remained dormant in the boy''s hands. ?


    Urgency gripped the air as Edgar and Marcus realized the pressing need to vacate the city with immediate haste. Their course was set for the enigmatic caves nestled within the formidable expanse of the Ice Mountains. Such a destination was chosen out of sheer necessity; the perilous journey to the Kingdom of the Sun, fraught with the risk of being intercepted by their relentless pursuers, rendered it an impractical choice. Marcus, with a tone laden with gravity, imparted that they had less than an hour before the arrival of the demonic knights in Tazul. This imminent threat hastened their preparations, instilling a sense of dire importance to their escape. The Ice Mountains, with their labyrinthine caves and treacherous terrain, offered a sanctuary, albeit a temporary one, from the encroaching menace that now threatened to engulf Tazul in its dark embrace. ?


    "How do you know they will arrive in an hour?" Tenzim inquired. ?


    As Marcus, with an air of solemnity and a wisdom born of years, raised his ancient scepter, he struck it against the ground, resonating a sound that seemed to echo through time. The scepter¡¯s tip glowed, revealing a sphere of luminous crystal. Within this glowing orb, a startling vision unfolded ¨C an imposing army of knights clad in sinister black armor, mounted on large, intimidating steeds of the same dark hue, was advancing towards Tazul with foreboding determination. ?


    The scene within the globe painted a grim picture of the approaching peril. The knights'' armor was a ghastly ebony, absorbing light as if made from the essence of the night itself, and their horses moved with a ferocity and speed that seemed unnatural, their eyes glowing with a malevolent fire. ?


    Realizing the direness of their situation, Marcus turned to Tenzim and Edgar. Their faces, etched with concern, mirrored his own urgency. They knew they must act swiftly. The decision was made to convince the dwarven population of Tazul to seek refuge in the cavernous embrace of the Ice Mountains. ?


    The mass evacuation was a spectacle of desperation and fear. About a thousand dwarves, their faces etched with anxiety, scurried hurriedly, gathering their most precious belongings. The urgency was palpable, as they had never before faced such a dire threat that forced them to abandon their ancestral homes. The dwarves moved in a hurried stream, a river of little people flowing towards the safety of the mountains. ?


    Amongst them, the fear was almost tangible, each dwarf acutely aware of the strength and ruthlessness of their enemy. Rumors and tales of the black-armored knights'' merciless conquests and the ruin they had brought upon several kingdoms circulated among the throngs, heightening the sense of impending doom. ?


    As the procession of dwarves wound its way towards the mountains, a heavy sense of loss hung in the air. Their homes, their crafts, and their way of life, built and honed over generations, were being left behind, possibly never to be reclaimed. But the instinct of survival prevailed, and the dwarves pressed on, their faces set with grim determination, led by the trio of Marcus, Tenzim, and Edgar, who felt the weight of their responsibility to protect these innocent lives from the encroaching darkness.


    ?The dwarves of Tazul, upon the urgent prompting of Marcus, Tenzim, and Edgar, plunged into a state of frenetic preparation. Their homes, once bustling with the everyday joys and sorrows of a peaceful life, now echoed with the sounds of hasty departure. They gathered their most precious possessions - a few handcrafted trinkets, heirlooms passed down through generations, and essential supplies - each item carrying a piece of their history and heart.


    ?Parents clutched their children tightly, a silent promise to shield them from the impending chaos. The air was thick with a mix of fear and resolution, as families who owned ponies hastily saddled them, helping the elderly and the young onto the sturdy little mounts. Others prepared to travel on foot, their steps quick but heavy with the weight of leaving their homes behind. ?


    As the procession of dwarves made its way towards the safety of the Ice Mountains, a dark plume of smoke rose ominously from the direction of Tazul. The knights in their black armor had descended upon the town. The speed of their arrival was alarming, and the devastation they brought was swift and merciless. The knights, finding their quarry vanished, unleashed their fury upon the deserted town. ?


    Homes that had stood for centuries, bearing witness to countless stories of love, life, and laughter, were now being consumed by ravenous flames. The fire crackled and roared, devouring the wooden structures and artisanal workshops, leaving nothing but ash and sorrow in its wake. The streets, once filled with the cheerful bustle of dwarven life, were now ablaze, an inferno of vengeance wrought by the knights'' hands.


    ?From a safe distance, the dwarves could see the destruction of their beloved town. The sight of their homes, their memories, their very heritage being reduced to embers and smoke was heart-wrenching. Tears streamed down weathered faces, and children buried their heads in their parents'' sides, unable to comprehend the loss. ?


    Amidst the chaos, a solemn vow rose in the hearts of the dwarves ¨C they would return one day, rebuild their homes, and reclaim their land from the ashes. But for now, survival was their only goal, and the distant caves of the Ice Mountains beckoned them with the promise of refuge. The journey was fraught with uncertainty, but united in their shared plight, the dwarves pressed on, led by the unwavering spirit of their protectors, determined to survive the darkness that had befallen their world. ?


    Marcus produced a magical stone from his robe and handed it to Edgar. He explained that it had the power to astrally teleport him to only one place, the Kingdom of the Sun. He also mentioned they couldn''t hide in the caves forever; their only hope was to seek assistance from Lockdar''s army. Edgar and Tenzim used the stone to teleport and found themselves in front of King Lockdar Menums'' castle. Tenzim was awed by the craftsmanship of Lockdar¡¯s castle, significantly larger and more ornate than King Ludrol''s, with numerous windows allowing sunlight to illuminate even the darkest corridor. ?


    In the grand throne room of King Lockdar''s castle, the air was thick with tension. The vast hall, usually echoing with the clatter of armor and the murmur of courtly discussions, was now absorbed in an atmosphere of solemn deliberation. At the center of it all, King Lockdar presided over the assembly with a regal yet troubled demeanor. ?


    He was surrounded by the council of ten elders, each a paragon of wisdom and experience, their faces etched with the weight of years and the burdens of governance. Beside them stood the kingdom''s ambassador, a man of diplomatic poise and keen insight, representing the myriad ties that bound the Kingdom of the Sun to its allies and neighbors. ?


    Into this august gathering stepped Edgar and Tenzim. They approached the throne with respectful bows, aware of the gravity of the moment. Edgar, in particular, felt the king''s gaze upon him - a mix of relief and mild irritation. King Lockdar had not received word from Edgar in three months, a lapse that was uncharacteristic of the young warrior, known for his diligence and loyalty. ?


    King Lockdar''s expression, usually a mask of stoic leadership, betrayed a flicker of concern. "Edgar," he began, his voice resonating through the hall, "your absence has been noted. The realm has felt the void of your sword and counsel." His words, though measured, carried an undercurrent of fatherly concern masked as a ruler''s rebuke. ?


    Tenzim, standing beside Edgar, shared a glance with his friend, understanding the complex dynamics at play. This was more than a mere update on their whereabouts; it was a subtle reweaving of trust and duty between a king and his valued knights.


    ?


    The council members leaned forward, their attention fixed on Edgar, anticipating his response. The ambassador, too, regarded him with keen interest, aware that the actions of this renowned warrior could have implications far beyond the kingdom''s borders. ?


    In that moment, under the scrutiny of the kingdom''s most powerful figures, Edgar knew that his words would need to convey not just his loyalty to the throne, but also the vital importance of the tasks that had kept him away. The fate of the kingdom, and perhaps much more, hung in the balance, waiting for his report. ?


    "What happened? I haven''t heard from you," Lockdar inquired.


    "Demonic knights of that lord have destroyed Tazul''s capital, and Marcus and the others are hiding in the Ice Mountains'' caves. They need help," Edgar reported.


    ?"I want five hundred knights to head to Tazul immediately and bring the dwarves here for protection," Lockdar commanded. Then, noticing Tenzim, he asked, "And who are you?" ?This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    "My name is Tenzim. Former captain of Tuzmad¡¯s army, now one of the four leaders of the Resistance."


    ?"I''ve heard of you, a small army of mercenaries, barbarians, and bandits. If I''m not mistaken, the other leaders are your brother Turalon, Princess Valleria, and her brother Darr. If you ally with me, you won''t need to hide in the Sleeping Forest like fugitives." ?


    "How do you know all this?" Tenzim asked. ?


    "Because Prince Darr and Princess Valleria have already accepted my offer, and now I await you and your brother to do the same." ?


    "You need well-trained men... Why?" Edgar queried. ?


    "Because fifteen thousand demonic knights are marching towards my kingdom, intending to reduce it to ruins," Lockdar revealed. ?


    Tenzim, having struck a critical deal with King Lockdar, moved swiftly to execute his part of the agreement. His steps were purposeful as he made his way to the stables, where his loyal steed awaited, a silent witness to many of his clandestine journeys. Mounting with practiced ease, he set off towards the Slumbering Forest. His mission was clear - to relay the king''s message to those hidden in the forest''s depths, assuring them that the time for concealment was over, and they were now under the protection of the crown.


    Meanwhile, Edgar stood in the resplendent throne room, amidst the king''s most trusted advisors and warriors. The air was thick with strategies and plans, as they huddled around tables strewn with maps and scrolls. King Lockdar, a leader both revered and feared, presided over the discussion, his sharp mind dissecting every proposed tactic. ?


    The defensive strategy revolved around the kingdom''s army, numbering ten thousand brave souls. Yet, the gravity of their situation was palpable - a single demon possessed the strength of ten men, skewing the odds dangerously against them. The room buzzed with a mix of determination and underlying apprehension. Each man knew the threat they faced was unlike any other - a demonic force that required not just physical strength, but cunning, courage, and an unwavering will to protect their homeland.


    ?Edgar, with his extensive experience and proven bravery, was a key figure in this council. His insights were crucial, his opinions sought after. As they continued to deliberate into the hours, plans began to take shape - strategies that would require every ounce of their collective skill and bravery to fend off the impending demonic onslaught. ?


    Lockdar noticed Edgar''s new sword and asked to examine it closely, remarking that he had seen it before. "Strange! I was certain your father destroyed this sword. The last time I saw him with it, he was in this kingdom''s library, asking where to find a blacksmith to destroy the sword without damaging the hilt." ?


    Edgar''s face brightened with a possible clue. Apologizing for his weariness, he left the throne room and ascended the stairs to the second floor, leading to the kingdom''s largest library.


    Inside the vast room filled with hundreds of shelves and thousands of books, Edgar searched hastily among the history books, poetry, stories, magician''s books, and more. Unsure of what he was looking for, he nearly gave up until he spotted on an old shelf near the exit a scratch resembling his sword. A large, thick-leather-bound book with a serpentine gold line akin to his sword''s design caught his eye. ?


    Edgar''s fingers traced the stubborn spine of the book, his frustration mounting as it refused to budge from its place. In a fit of irritation, he struck it sharply. To his amazement, the book yielded, pushing back into the shelf with a soft click. A moment later, the shelf swung open, revealing a hidden room that seemed untouched by time. ?


    Stepping into the concealed chamber, Edgar was immediately drawn to a table at its center. There, amidst a layer of undisturbed dust, lay a tome with a title that sent shivers down his spine: "The Stone of Xal''Nagus." Below the table, almost as an afterthought, sat a chest adorned with a golden lock, its secrets yet to be unveiled. ?


    With bated breath, Edgar opened the ancient book to a marker that seemed purposefully placed, and began to read aloud: ?


    "What you read now must remain a secret, as it has for thousands of years. Everything you know is but a lie. Mankind has been deceived throughout time. Reader, forget all that you know about the two gods, Nagus and Adunoss. They were never gods, just two highly skilled wizards. Nagus, the great wizard, introduced us to white magic. Envious, Adunoss created black magic, using it to grow much more powerful. ?


    With his magic, Adunoss opened a portal to another dimension, bringing forth a demonic legion. He found a way to subdue them, giving him tremendous confidence in his powers, eventually leading him to war with the kings of the great kingdoms." ?


    Upon learning this, Nagus created an artifact so powerful it gave him the strength to defeat Adunoss and the entire demonic legion. As Nagus neared the end of his time in our world, he transformed the artifact into a stone and then split it into two pieces. Exposed to sunlight, these pieces transformed into diamonds.


    ?Edgar couldn''t read further as the next page was torn. History seemed to be repeating itself. The Lord of Demons had found a way to open a portal to the demon world. ?


    He needed to find those stones, but where? He had never heard of them; they could well be a myth. His gaze fell on the chest next to the table. Locked. He struck the lock with his sword in vain. Frustrated, he kicked the chest and dropped the sword. Picking it up, he noticed a key-like engraving on its golden hilt. ?


    Could the sword be the key? He tried his luck. The tip fit perfectly into the lock, and as he turned the sword, the chest opened. ?


    Inside was a grey magical stone with a sword plunged into the ground symbol. Beside it was a letter, which Edgar opened and read: ?


    "Edgar... If you''re reading this, your mother and I are no longer here. I''m sure you''ve read the page where I left a mark. Forgive me for hiding the missing page; it mustn''t fall into the wrong hands. ?


    This magic stone will take you to my crypt. There, you''ll find the next clue. I''m sorry I couldn''t be there for you. You have an important task now, for you are like me..."


    It appeared his father had been leaving clues for years. But how to reach his father''s grave? He didn''t know its location, and the stone was useless without the magic words. Edgar left the library, certain he would find no more clues there. He returned to his room to rest, then ate in the castle kitchen, regaining strength for his journey.


    ?With a sense of urgency, Edgar mounted Lightning and set his sights on Tuzmad. His journey was marked by urgency and caution, as he chose to bypass the treacherous Lymdor Desert with its chilling winds and merciless sands. As the days passed, each sunrise and sunset brought him closer to his destination, yet his provisions dwindled alarmingly. ?


    Midway through his journey, the small village of Hallgrin emerged as a welcome respite. Edgar found solace at a humble inn, nestled at the village''s heart. Here, he took the opportunity to replenish his dwindling supplies. While Lightning contentedly munched on fresh hay and quenched his thirst with cool water, Edgar savored a modest meal, the first decent food he had in days. The inn''s warmth and the villagers'' obliviousness to his identity provided a brief but much-needed respite. ?


    Four days from his departure, Edgar''s silhouette finally loomed on the outskirts of Tuzmad. The familiar landscape brought both nostalgia and a sense of foreboding. He noticed the kingdom had changed; there was an air of tension and suspicion. Wanted posters featuring his likeness were plastered across the city, each declaring a substantial bounty of two hundred gold coins for his capture. Navigating through the kingdom now required stealth and guile. Inspired during his stay in Hallgrin, Edgar disguised himself in farmer''s clothes and a wide straw hat, disguising his features as best as he could, and delved into the heart of Tuzmad with a cautious yet determined stride. His business here was unfinished, and despite the risks, he was resolute to see it through. ?


    He concealed his sword in a sack on Lightning''s saddle. With his head bowed, he carefully navigated through Tuzmad''s residents, avoiding recognition and capture. He left Lightning with a stablehand and headed towards the market, where all traders gathered.


    ?Reaching his destination, he found the person he was looking for ¡ª recognizable by his bushy mustache and greasy hair. The merchant, not recognizing Edgar, asked what he wished to purchase. ?


    "I''d like to buy a... magical stone!" Edgar demanded, pressing a dagger to the merchant''s heart. Fear engulfed the merchant, his voice trembling as he pleaded for mercy.


    ?"I''ve... sold it. I''m terribly sorry! Please, don''t kill me!" ?


    "Who did you sell it to?" Edgar asked, seething with anger. ?


    "I don''t know him, a stranger bought it. Please, have mercy, don''t kill me. Here, take this," the merchant stammered, pulling a small black book from his pocket. "It''s as valuable as your stone, teaching you to create your own magical stone."


    ?"Fine, you might be spared. But if you even think of calling the guards like last time, my friends nearby will behead you," Edgar warned.


    ?The merchant kneeled, hands raised skyward, thanking Xal''Nagus for his life, no longer daring to alert the guards. ?


    Determined to recover his prized possessions, Edgar set his sights on the garrison''s depot, the heart of the kingdom''s military armory. The depot was a treasure trove of weapons and armors, a guarded fortress where the tools of war lay in waiting. His plan was to infiltrate this stronghold and reclaim his armor and the Phoenix sword, symbols of his prowess and identity. ?


    Fate offered Edgar a fortuitous opportunity when he spotted a guard, heavily intoxicated, staggering out of a nearby inn. With a swift, calculated move, Edgar rendered the guard unconscious, a silent apology in his heart for the unsuspecting man. He dragged the guard to a secluded spot behind the building, quickly exchanging his clothes with the guard''s uniform and armor, effectively donning a disguise that would grant him access to the garrison. ?


    As he approached the garrison, the two lancemen guarding the entrance gave him no more than a cursory glance, allowing him to pass unquestioned. Inside, the garrison buzzed with activity, soldiers going about their duties, unaware of the intruder in their midst. A casual conversation with one of the soldiers revealed that the weapons of enemies were stored separately in the depot. ?


    Edgar found the depot heavily secured, but his skills were more than a match for the lock that guarded the arsenal. Inside, he was greeted by a vast array of weaponry ¨C hundreds of swords, armors, spears, shields, and axes.


    ?His eyes scanned the room, finally resting on his armor. A wave of relief washed over him as he claimed it, but his heart sank when he realized his Phoenix sword was not among the myriad of weapons. The absence of his sword was a blow to his spirit, for it was more than a weapon; it was a companion in his journey, a part of his very soul. ?


    Edgar, having retrieved his armor, concealed it along with his serpentine sword and old clothes in a sack. He left the room quietly, trying not to draw attention. Overhearing the garrison''s blacksmith discussing the need to destroy several swords and shields, Edgar followed the blacksmith and his apprentice to their forge. ?


    "Hey, you shouldn''t be here!" the blacksmith protested. ?


    "The captain sent me. My sword was stolen, and he said I could pick a new one from the forge," Edgar replied. ?


    "Alright, take one from this table," the blacksmith gestured towards a selection of swords. ?


    "What about that one?" Edgar pointed to his own sword, set aside. ?


    "No, that one''s reserved for the commander. He''s looking for a good sword." ?


    "I insist," Edgar said, drawing a sword from the table and pointing it at the blacksmith''s throat.


    ?As Edgar stood disguised in the blacksmith''s forge, the keen eyes of the blacksmith and his young apprentice quickly saw through the ruse. They discerned that the man before them, clad in the garb of a guard, was none other than an imposter. Edgar, sensing the jig was up, lifted the helmet from his head, revealing his true identity. The revelation struck the men with a mix of awe and fear, for they stood before the man labeled as the city''s most notorious outlaw, a figure both vilified and mythic.


    ?Unperturbed by their recognition, Edgar brandished his sword with a confident smirk, challenging the apprentice with his gaze. "Go on, summon the king''s soldiers," he dared, his voice echoing with a mix of defiance and resignation. The apprentice, visibly shaken yet compelled by a mix of duty and fear, scurried out of the forge. ?


    In no time, the apprentice returned, not alone, but with a contingent of about twenty soldiers, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of capturing Tuzmad''s most wanted and claiming the substantial bounty that hung over Edgar''s head. The forge, once a place of fire and metal, now became a stage for a showdown between a lone, formidable warrior and a band of soldiers, each driven by the allure of gold and the thrill of the hunt. Edgar, outnumbered but not outmatched, stood ready, his sword a glinting promise of a fierce resistance.


    ?"Nedul''kin," Edgar uttered, holding out Marcus''s magical stone. He teleported to the castle courtyard, retrieved his armor and sword from Lightning, and used the stone again to appear outside Lockdar''s castle. If only this stone was as powerful as his lost one, capable of transporting him only within The Kingdom of the Sun or short distances. ?


    Here, Turalon, Tenzim, Darr, and Valleria had arrived with their forces, preparing for the impending attack.


    ?Inside the castle, Edgar donned Lockdar''s gifted armor, attaching his cape and sword. Descending to the throne room, he found the four rebel leaders already consulting with King Lockdar. The king erupted upon seeing Edgar. ?


    "I can''t believe you risked your life returning to Tuzmad for a sword and armor. The Lord of Demons will attack in a few days, and you are to prepare the defense." ?


    "Me? I''m sorry, Your Majesty, but I have other plans. You could appoint Tenzim; he was a captain..."


    "I know who Tenzim was. What concerns me now is what matters to you more than the safety of this kingdom. What are your plans?" ?


    "There are rumors of an artifact so powerful it can destroy all the demons in this world," Edgar said. "I could set out to find it." ?


    "Yes, I''ve heard of it too," Lockdar replied. "There''s a small problem... It''s just a myth. If you want to chase fairy tales, be my guest. From this moment on, I revoke your title as the hero of the kingdom. Your recent foolish actions do not befit a hero."


    ?"I''m sorry, Your Majesty, but my father left clues behind him, clues about this artifact..." ?


    Lockdar didn''t listen to anything else Edgar said, and even Turalon and Tenzim didn''t believe it. Seeing he was being ignored, Edgar left the throne room and exited the castle. ?


    Edgar held the enigmatic letter in his hands, its contents still a mystery, its origin shrouded in secrecy. He hesitated to speak of the clandestine chamber he had discovered hidden within the depths of the library, a room unknown even to King Lockdar. The letter, a relic he had unearthed in that very chamber, lay before him, its words whispering secrets of a forgotten past. ?


    As he contemplated destroying the letter to keep its secrets safe from prying eyes, Edgar''s attention was drawn to certain words that seemed to leap off the page, emboldened as if demanding notice. Intrigued by this subtle anomaly, Edgar approached a nearby merchant to borrow a pen and inkwell. With a steady hand, he traced the contours of the bolded words, underlining them meticulously.


    The act of highlighting these words transformed the letter from a mere piece of parchment into a puzzle, its message hidden in plain sight. Edgar''s mind raced as he pondered the potential significance of this discovery. Could these bolded words hold a key to unlocking the mysteries shrouded within the letter? The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon him, for he knew that the information contained within this letter could alter the course of events, potentially influencing the fate of kingdoms. ?


    "Edgar... If you are reading this letter, it means your mother and I are no longer here. I am sure you have already read the page where I left a mark. Forgive me for hiding the missing page, but it must not fall into the wrong hands. ?


    The magic stone will take you to my crypt. There you will find the next clue. I''m sorry I couldn''t be with you. But now you have an important task, for you are like me..."


    ?It was clear that these words, arranged correctly, formed a message. He couldn''t believe he was about to tear up the letter. He even managed to arrange those words, giving them meaning:


    ?"I hid the missing page in my crypt. Read this letter alongside the magic stone." ?


    Edgar took out the magic stone he had taken from the chest in the library. As he brought the magic stone close to the letter, under his father''s message, the following words appeared in golden letters: "Ua'' dum en tan!" ?


    It was clear these were the magic words to activate the stone and teleport him. Without hesitation, he spoke the words. A grey dust surrounded Edgar, making him disappear.


    Moments later, he found himself in a round, dark chamber. He found a torch and lit it, beginning to explore the room. It seemed to be built entirely of stone and without any exit. In the center, on a stone table, lay a marble coffin. ?


    He wanted to put the magic stone in his pocket but noticed that in his hand was now only ash. The stone was created to be used only once, it seemed. Fortunately, he had with him the stone given by Marcus, which teleported him to The Kingdom of the Sun. ?


    With trepidation, he opened his father''s coffin, and to his surprise, it contained only a rusty sword and a piece of paper. He took the paper and read it aloud:


    ?Although the two diamonds are no longer one, they remain just as powerful. One of the diamonds is hidden in the Land of the Dwarves, protected by them for hundreds of years. The second diamond is in the Kingdom of the Sun, known only to the reigning monarch, information passed from father to son. ?


    Whoever succeeds in uniting the diamonds will enjoy the power of one alone. A power so great, it had to be hidden from us mortals. ?


    Edgar understood. The Land of the Dwarves was attacked for one reason, the same reason the Kingdom of the Sun would be attacked. The Lord of Demons knew about these diamonds and wanted to seize them. Clearly, he feared someone using them against him, thus halting his ascent. ?


    But why had Lockdar denied such a thing? He made Edgar look like a fool who believed in children''s tales. He humiliated him in front of his friends, stripping him of his title as hero of the kingdom. The title didn''t matter much to him, but he eagerly wanted to know the king''s reason for lying about something so important. ?


    As Edgar gazed upon the ancient sword resting in the coffin, a sense of wonderment filled him. Despite its rusted condition, it bore an uncanny resemblance to his own blade, both named Phoenix. The similarity was not just in name; the ore from which it was crafted appeared identical to that of his sword. Such a striking coincidence left Edgar pondering the deeper connection he might have had with his father, a connection he had been unaware of until now. ?


    Compelled by curiosity and a sense of inheritance, Edgar carefully lifted the sword from the coffin. As he held it, he felt a strange connection, as if the sword was an extension of his own history and destiny. The rust on its surface spoke of age and neglect, but the craftsmanship and material hinted at a legacy that was intimately tied to his own. ?


    Without lingering on the baffling questions of how he could have unknowingly replicated his father''s sword, Edgar used his magic stone to teleport back to the Kingdom of the Sun. The weight of the sword in his hands was a tangible link to a past he was only beginning to uncover. Upon his return, he sought out the blacksmith, handing over the ancient Phoenix sword with a request to restore its former glory. He asked the blacksmith to carefully remove the layers of rust and to sharpen the blade, hoping to revive the sword''s lost splendor. ?


    Edgar strode into the grand throne room, where King Lockdar, deep in consultation with Tenzim, his newly appointed army strategist, paused their discussion as Edgar approached. Ignoring the customary protocol of kneeling, Edgar assertively laid a crumpled paper on the polished surface of the council table. It was the mysterious document he had discovered in the secret chamber. ?


    The king''s keen eyes quickly scanned the contents of the paper, his expression a mix of curiosity and concealed knowledge. Sensing Lockdar''s silent inquiry about the paper''s origin, Edgar chose to remain silent. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken understanding; it was clear to Edgar that Lockdar had long known the whereabouts of a crucial diamond, a secret now shared by Edgar as well. ?


    Edgar''s mind traced back to a long-past memory. Years ago, when Lockdar was merely a prince, he had commissioned an old blacksmith to forge a magical sword. Only now did Edgar piece together the puzzle ¨C the enigmatic power of Lockdar''s sword wasn''t just due to its indestructible nature. It was more profound; whoever wielded the sword was bestowed with extraordinary powers, far beyond the capacity of an ordinary man. ?


    The revelation cast a new light on Lockdar''s ascent to power and the unusual victories he had achieved. The sword was no mere weapon; it was a conduit of immense magical strength, possibly linked to the very diamond Edgar now knew about. This understanding brought a mix of awe and wariness to Edgar. He realized the depth of the game being played within the kingdom''s walls and the power dynamics that extended beyond mere politics or strategy. This was a game of ancient magic, legacy, and hidden truths ¨C a game that Edgar now found himself an unwitting yet pivotal player in. ?


    His uncle had somehow embedded the diamond into that sword, and King Lockdar always enjoyed its power. He could now explain the king''s superhuman ability to fight five or six enemies at once.


    "The diamond is hidden where no one but I knows. I had to poison the only other person who knew," Lockdar said in a fit of rage, unaware that Edgar had realized where the diamond was hidden.


    ?In an instant, Edgar''s world seemed to crumble beneath him, his footing unsteady as a torrent of fury and hatred engulfed him, all aimed at King Lockdar. The man he had trusted and looked up to for over a decade now stood before him, draped in the shadows of betrayal and deception. The revelation that Lockdar, his mentor and confidant, was responsible for the death of his beloved Uncle Falo, shattered something fundamental within Edgar. ?


    The memory of Falo''s last days came flooding back. To shield Edgar from the harsh reality and potential dangers that lurked in the kingdom, Falo had masked his suffering, claiming it to be a prolonged illness. Now, understanding the dark truth, Edgar''s eyes blazed with an intense hatred, a silent scream of betrayal that didn''t escape Lockdar''s notice. ?


    Lockdar, sensing the seismic shift in Edgar''s demeanor, read the unspoken accusations in his once-loyal prot¨¦g¨¦''s eyes. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his regal face, as he pieced together Edgar''s newfound knowledge. He had always feared this day might come - the day when Edgar would uncover the grim reality behind his uncle''s demise. Yet, he was unprepared for the raw intensity of Edgar''s wrath, a testament to the deep bond Edgar had shared with Falo. ?


    In that charged moment, the throne room became a silent battleground of unspoken truths and broken trusts, with Edgar standing on one side, his soul ablaze with the fires of vengeance and betrayal, and Lockdar on the other, cloaked in the shadows of his own making.


    "You murdered my uncle, you criminal!" Edgar exclaimed, drawing his sword.


    ?"I did what I had to at that time. Now, put down your sword, you''re aware you don''t stand a chance against me. What are you planning to do? The Lord of Demons wants you dead, so does Ludrol, do you want me to wish the same?"


    ?"No! I''ll make you wish you never hurt someone dear to me," Edgar shouted.


    ?In a fleeting moment charged with raw emotion, Edgar sprang towards King Lockdar with a ferocity born of betrayal. His blade sliced through the air, aiming for the king, but Lockdar, with reflexes honed by years of combat, evaded just in time. Edgar''s sword crashed down with such force that it shattered the royal throne, splinters of wood flying in all directions.


    ?Lockdar, now standing, unsheathed his own sword in a swift, fluid motion, meeting Edgar''s wrath with a defensive stance. The throne room was filled with the resounding clash of steel as Edgar, fueled by a tempest of anger and grief, engaged Lockdar in a relentless battle. Each strike and parry was a dance of rage and desperation, their swords weaving a deadly ballet in the grand chamber. ?


    The cacophony of their duel drew the attention of Turalon, Valleria, and Darr, who burst into the room, their expressions turning to shock and disbelief. They stood frozen at the doorway, witnessing the king and Edgar locked in mortal combat. The air was thick with tension, and the sound of clashing steel reverberated off the walls, underscoring the gravity of the betrayal that had led to this moment.


    This was no mere duel; it was a clash of ideals and broken bonds, a fight that went beyond the physical realm into the very hearts of those involved. Edgar''s strikes were more than just physical blows; they were the manifestation of his shattered trust and the pain of deception, while Lockdar''s defense was not only against Edgar''s sword but also against the collapsing facade of the relationship he had built with his once-trusted prot¨¦g¨¦. ?


    As the fierce duel intensified, King Lockdar, his eyes ablaze with determination, commanded his guards to stand down. "This traitor will fall by my hand alone!" he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the throne room. The king and Edgar continued their violent dance, swords clashing with a ferocity that spoke of deep-seated enmity and shattered loyalties.


    ?In a pivotal moment, the king''s sword, imbued with the unparalleled strength of the diamond, unleashed a devastating blow. Edgar''s once formidable sword, known for its resilience and might, met its demise, cleaved cleanly in two by the unstoppable force of Lockdar''s blade. The disparity in power was evident, the diamond in the king''s sword rendering Edgar''s weapon utterly powerless, a mere plaything in the face of such overwhelming might. ?


    The king, seizing the advantage, struck again. His blade, sharp and unyielding, tore through Edgar''s armor with ease, inflicting a grievous wound. Edgar felt a sharp pain, a warmth spreading across his chest as blood soaked his hand. He stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him. The world spun as he fell, his vision blurring. A coldness crept over him, a stark contrast to the warmth of his blood. Life seemed to ebb away from his grasp, his consciousness fading into darkness. Never in his life had he experienced such a profound injury, a wound not just of the body but of the soul, as he succumbed to the overwhelming might of King Lockdar. ?


    As consciousness returned to Edgar, he found himself amidst an ethereal battlefield, a dreamlike vista unfolding before him. He stood in a vibrant field adorned with flowers of every hue, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. Arrayed in front of him was a formidable army of demonic knights, their armor black as night, eyes glowing with malevolence. Behind Edgar, an unlikely battalion of common folk stood ready, gripping simple weapons like pitchforks, axes, and wooden spears with determination in their eyes. This scene, so vivid and surreal, was not new to him; it was a recurring dream from his childhood, a vision that had haunted and inspired him in equal measure. ?


    The following morning, Edgar''s eyes fluttered open to the familiarity of his room. He was no longer on that dreamy battlefield but instead surrounded by the comforting faces of Turalon, Tenzim, Valleria, and Darr. They watched over him with evident concern and relief. His chest, where the king''s blade had struck, bore the marks of expert healing, attended to by the kingdom''s most skilled healers. Their skilled care, a clear demonstration of their adeptness in the healing arts, was evident in the meticulous treatment Edgar received. Edgar, still gathering his thoughts, realized the depth of his friends'' loyalty, standing by him through his darkest hour and aiding in his recovery. ?


    "Edgar, you need to leave here as soon as possible," Princess Valleria said. "The king thinks you''re dying, so he''ll leave you here to live out your final hours."


    "Still, we don''t understand how you recovered so quickly. The wound closed on its own. Such a wound should have killed you," Turalon remarked.


    ?


    "I''ve never seen anything like it; it''s impossible for a wound like this to heal itself so quickly," Darr added. ?


    Under the cloak of twilight, Edgar, aided by Turalon, Valleria, Tenzim, and Darr, made his way out of the castle. His movements were labored, the recent wound still tender, compelling him to rely heavily on Turalon''s steady arm for support. The group was acutely aware of the danger their clandestine departure posed, yet their resolve to assist Edgar remained unshaken. They navigated the castle''s dimly lit corridors with cautious steps, reaching the stables where Lightning, Edgar''s faithful steed, awaited.


    ?The quiet atmosphere of the stables was suddenly punctuated by the arrival of the blacksmith, bearing in his hands the Phoenix sword that Edgar had left for restoration. The sword, once dulled and rusted, now shone with a renewed brilliance, its edges honed to perfection, reflecting the first rays of dawn in a dazzling display. The blacksmith''s skilled craftsmanship had breathed new life into the ancient blade, restoring its legendary magnificence. Edgar, mustering a nod of gratitude, gingerly took the sword, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as he gripped its familiar hilt. ?


    "You won''t believe it, Sir Argyle, but as soon as I brought it near the fire, it began to shine like a star," the blacksmith exclaimed. "There was no need to clean off the rust or sharpen it. I''ve never seen such a marvel in my life."


    The blacksmith, with a knowing glance, extended the gleaming Phoenix sword towards Edgar. As Edgar''s fingers wrapped around the hilt, a surge of inexplicable energy rippled through him, emanating from the sword and permeating his entire being. The sharp pain that had been a constant reminder of his recent wound now dissipated, leaving him bewildered and invigorated. For a moment, Edgar stood there, marveling at the sword, feeling an unearthly power that defied all logic. Could it be that this sword, reforged and reborn, possessed magical properties? The very idea seemed far-fetched, yet the evidence lay in his grasp. Such enchantment, he mused, could only be attributed to the legendary art of diamond forging, a craft shrouded in mystery and lore.


    ?


    With a nod of gratitude to the blacksmith and a solemn farewell to his loyal companions, Edgar mounted Lightning. His mind was fraught with uncertainty, pondering his next steps in a world now fraught with formidable adversaries: the nefarious Lord of Demons, the once-trusted and now treacherous King Lockdar, and the ruthless King Ludrol. Each posed a grave threat, not just to Edgar but to the realms he had vowed to protect. As he rode off, the dawn''s early light casting long shadows on the path ahead, Edgar''s resolve hardened. He knew that the road before him was fraught with peril and uncertainty, but armed with his mystical sword, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.


    "It''s impossible to heal from such a wound," Tenzim commented as Edgar rode away. ?


    "You''re right. That wound should have killed him instantly. I''ve seen men die from far less severe injuries," Turalon added. ?


    Prince Darr and Princess Valleria remained silent, knowing something Turalon and Tenzim did not.


    For two arduous days and nights, Edgar journeyed through the untamed wilderness, his heart heavy with thoughts of betrayal and disillusionment. As he emerged from the dense forests, the quaint village of Hallgrin came into view, its rustic charm offering a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. Hallgrin, a humble settlement nestled in the embrace of nature, seemed an ideal refuge for a weary soul seeking respite from the relentless tides of war and the broken oaths sworn to kings unworthy of loyalty.


    ?Despite the allure of starting anew in this peaceful haven, Edgar knew that his journey was far from over. There remained a score to settle with King Lockdar, a confrontation that loomed over him like a dark cloud. His thoughts were conflicted; part of him yearned for the tranquility that Hallgrin promised, while another part was driven by a sense of unfinished duty. The weight of the Phoenix sword at his side served as a constant reminder of the path he had yet to tread. ?


    As he rode through the village''s narrow streets, Edgar''s gaze fell upon the simple life of its inhabitants, unmarred by the intrigues of thrones and crowns. Here, farmers toiled under the sun, children played in the fields, and the elders shared stories under the shade of old trees. It was a life Edgar longed for, yet he knew it was not yet within his grasp. His battle with Lockdar was inevitable, a final chapter in his saga that needed closure before he could consider a life of peace. ?


    With a sigh, Edgar decided to spend the night in Hallgrin, gathering his strength and resolve for the confrontation that awaited him. As the sun set over the village, casting a warm glow on the thatched roofs, Edgar contemplated his next move, torn between the desire for vengeance and the longing for peace.


    "Wait until he finds out I wasn''t dying. He''ll lose his mind. No one who ever pointed a sword at him lived to see another day. I hope the four find a good enough explanation for my escape." ?


    Hallgrin, nestled between the simplicity of Dornaran and the bustle of Tuzmad, was a village where life unfolded in harmonious rhythms. Here, the villagers diligently worked their lands, their hands shaping the earth and tending to animals, while artisans crafted goods imbued with the essence of their labors. The air was filled with the earthy scent of fields and the soft clinking of tools against wood and metal. ?


    As the sun stretched its early morning rays across the village, children spilled into the streets and fields, their laughter and shouts filling the air. They played tirelessly, brandishing wooden sticks as swords, each one lost in fantasies of knighthood and grand adventures. As evening hues painted the sky, they would return home, bellies rumbling with hunger, only to dash back outside after a hasty meal, resuming their playful battles under the watchful eyes of stars.


    ?Edgar, now a stranger in this idyllic village, felt the pang of hunger gnawing at him. His journey had left him penniless, and the last of his provisions had been consumed on the road. Wandering through the village, his gaze landed on an elderly man sitting serenely at his doorstep, his face etched with the wisdom of years. Approaching with a mix of hope and humility, Edgar greeted the old man and inquired if there was any work to be found in Hallgrin. His voice betrayed his need, yet he stood tall, the dignity of a knight undiminished even in his time of need.


    "Good day! I''m new around here and looking for work. Do you know anyone who might need an extra hand?" ?


    "Good day to you too, young man! You should speak with blacksmith Liam. I know he urgently needs an apprentice. You''ll find his forge at the end of the village."


    ?Edgar thanked the old man and headed towards Liam''s forge with Lightning. He hoped to be accepted as an apprentice, given his familiarity with the trade ¨C his uncle had been a blacksmith and taught him a few things. He finally reached Liam¡¯s forge, where Liam seemed to be busy making horseshoes. Liam''s cold tone upon seeing Edgar was disheartening. Edgar explained he was looking for a job and mentioned his skills in sword forging, learned from his uncle. ?


    Liam sized up the young man. A tall, sturdy man of about forty-six with black, graying hair and a thick black beard, he looked more like a monk than a blacksmith. Liam was hesitant to take on the young stranger as an apprentice. ?


    "I''m sorry, boy. I can''t employ someone who''s not from around here. You could be a thief, a criminal..."


    ?"But I''m not. Well, if you don''t want to give me a job, I''ll try elsewhere." ?


    "I''m sorry! No one here will give you work. Our village rule is to employ only locals. To become a resident of Hallgrin, you first need a place to stay and then the approval of the village''s key figures." ?


    "Who are these key figures? Where can I find them?"


    "There are three. One is Garlin, the owner of the Cunning Fox Inn. The second is Arlam, right-hand man to farmer Anadin. You can find Arlam in the market, he''s always got something new for sale."


    ?"And the third?"


    ?"I am the third. You''ll need to prove to us that you''re not a thief. To convince us, you''ll have to work for us for a while, unpaid."


    ?Edgar chuckled to himself, thinking of how shrewd these folks were. He was happy to spend his time here, hoping to become a resident of the village for a while. Liam agreed to provide him with shelter and food for the duration of his unpaid work, which greatly pleased Edgar. ?


    The first thing Edgar needed to prove was that he wasn''t a criminal. So, he didn''t reveal his real name, instead telling the blacksmith that he was called Damyen. Given the bounty on his head, he couldn''t risk exposing his true identity. ?


    Liam showed him to the room where he would sleep, advising him to rest up for the next day''s work. Edgar entered the room with small steps and ate some soup prepared by the blacksmith. Before extinguishing the lantern and going to sleep, he unwrapped the bandages from his chest. To his astonishment, the wound had completely healed, leaving behind only a barely discernible scar. He couldn''t believe how quickly he had recovered. He had been injured before, but he had never experienced such a miraculous recovery.

 The Dark Forest

    Edgar was woken up early in the morning by Liam, who told him it was time to prove his determination to become a citizen of Hallgrin village. Liam immediately gave him work, instructing him to sell ten bottles of wine to the merchant Arlam.


    ?"Alright, Damyen," Liam said, handing him a sack with ten bottles of high-quality wine. "You''ll find Arlam in the market. Tell him I sent you. He will give you one hundred silver coins for these bottles. Be careful not to be tricked by him, and don¡¯t accept anything else he offers you." ?


    Burdened with a heavy sack of wine bottles, Edgar hastened through the bustling streets of Hallgrin towards the market. The weight on his back was a reminder of the task at hand, yet a critical detail gnawed at his mind ¨C he had no idea how to identify Arlam, the merchant he was supposed to meet. The market was a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, with vendors vying for attention, but amidst this vibrant chaos, Edgar''s concern dissolved as he soon caught the distinctive voice of a merchant. ?


    Rising above the din, the voice boomed with an almost theatrical flair, "Step right up to Arlam''s stall, where bargains bloom like spring flowers! Buy low, sell high, only with Arlam, the beacon of honest trade!" The voice led Edgar to a bustling corner of the market where a robust man, adorned with a wide-brimmed hat and a flamboyant vest, animatedly gestured to the crowd gathered around his stall. His charismatic presence seemed to magnetize customers, who were drawn in by his exuberant claims and promises of unmatched deals. ?


    Edgar approached, the sack on his back momentarily forgotten, as he took in the sight of Arlam, this merchant of renowned repute. The vibrant stall was adorned with an array of goods, from exotic spices to intricate jewelry, each item seemingly with a story of its own. It was clear to Edgar that Arlam was not just a trader, but a master of his craft, weaving tales and commerce with equal skill. With a deep breath, Edgar stepped forward, ready to engage with the most illustrious merchant of Hallgrin. ?


    Edgar approached Arlam and told him he was sent by Liam. Arlam was delighted to see the wine bottles, knowing he could sell them for double the price.


    ?"Excellent! Liam¡¯s wine is the best. Here are the coins for him," Arlam said, handing over eighty silver coins. ?


    "Trying to cheat me?" Edgar questioned. "Liam told me how much you should give."


    ?"Forgive me, my memory plays tricks on me sometimes," Arlam replied, counting out one hundred and thirty silver coins. "Tell the blacksmith I thank him for the wine." ?


    "It''s one hundred coins," Edgar corrected.


    Edgar took the correct amount and returned to Liam, who was pleased not to have been deceived and to receive all the money. Liam heard from a boy sent by Arlam that his new worker seemed honest. He knew he had been offered one hundred and thirty coins, yet he refused. A thief would have taken the extra money for himself. Edgar realized right from the start that he was being tested by the two men, and he was not going to fall into their traps for anything in the world.


    ?Liam quickly found another task for him. He was to go to the Sly Fox Inn and buy five loaves of bread for one hundred silver coins, and with the rest, buy lamb meat. ?


    Without delay, Edgar set off towards the inn, a popular spot for local alcohol enthusiasts. At the entrance stood a massive man, tall and very fat, who often harassed the weaker patrons after having a drink too many. He charged ten coins to anyone wishing to enter the inn. ?


    "I''ve never seen you around here," the burly man addressed Edgar. "Since it''s your first time, you''ll need to pay ten silver coins. You know, for protection against bad things..." ?


    "Sorry, I don''t have that much money," Edgar replied dryly. ?


    The man, towering and broad-shouldered, scrutinized Edgar with a skeptical eye. In his mind, Edgar was merely another transient soul passing through the village, negligible in the vast weave of existence. However, his gaze lingered on the sword Edgar bore ¨C an exquisite piece that whispered tales of craftsmanship and value. A cunning glint sparked in the man''s eyes as he proposed a trade ¨C the sword for a month of unrestricted access to the village''s amenities. ?


    Edgar was taken aback, his disbelief mingling with a simmering anger. The gall of the man to suggest such an exchange! It was as if the honesty and integrity he had hoped to find in Hallgrin were nothing but wisps of smoke, vanishing before his very eyes. His refusal was firm, his tone icy as he demanded the man step aside, for he had matters of greater import to address. ?


    The man, unaccustomed to such brazen dismissal, felt his anger surge like a storm. In a swift motion, fueled by wounded pride and rising ire, he lashed out with a clenched fist, striking Edgar with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The impact echoed through the market square, a clear indication of the man''s formidable power and the now tangible strain that enveloped the atmosphere.               ?


    Fuming with rage, Edgar sprung to his feet, unleashing two swift punches at the towering figure. Yet, to his dismay, the giant of a man seemed hardly affected by the strikes. Determination set in Edgar''s jaw as he tightly clenched his fists, preparing for the next move. As the hulking man lunged forward once more, Edgar channeled his frustration into a single, forceful blow that caught his adversary off-guard. The impact sent the giant reeling backward, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud. In an instant, Edgar was upon him, the gleaming blade of his sword poised menacingly at the brute''s exposed throat, his eyes ablaze with the fire of a seasoned warrior. ?


    After teaching the man a lesson, Edgar entered the inn and spotted Garlin sitting at a secluded table. He was the best dressed there, with customer satisfaction being his primary concern.


    ?"I''d like five loaves of bread and..." ?


    "You''re the young man trying to become a citizen of this village, right? Liam sent you, didn¡¯t he?" Garlin said. "I need your help too. Aran owes me a hundred silver coins. Could you please go and collect it for me? He lives across from my inn."


    ?Eager to become a citizen of Hallgrin, Edgar agreed. It didn''t seem too hard to act as a messenger. He found Aran, a thin man with two small, poor children. Aran was a widower, as his wife had died from an incurable disease some time ago. When Edgar told him the reason for his visit, Aran burst into tears, saying he didn''t have the money and had two children to feed. ?


    Edgar couldn¡¯t believe that what seemed like an easy task turned out to be so difficult. Feeling pity for Aran, he thought for a moment and said:


    ?"Don''t worry, I''ll pay your debt."


    ?"Thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Aran exclaimed. "I knew you weren''t a scoundrel like Garlin. He gave me fifty silvers, calling it a gift, and now he''s demanding double. I should never have trusted a man who puts his thug at the inn''s entrance to extort money for ''protection'' from strangers and the feeble-minded." ?


    Edgar set out for Garlin''s inn, now doubting the wisdom of his decision. He had promised to pay Aran''s debt, but all he had were Liam''s coins. Ultimately, he resolved to use Liam''s money to settle Aran''s dues.


    ?Garlin was astonished. He realized Edgar had paid off Aran''s debt, knowing Aran didn''t have a penny to his name. Garlin had hoped to seize Aran''s land to expand his inn, and his tactic to burden Aran with debt had seemed like a brilliant plan. ?


    "What are you doing, paying off his debts? Well, money is money. Now, what can I get for you?" Garlin asked, cunningly.


    "I''ll take five loaves of bread and enough lamb to make up a hundred silvers," Edgar responded in kind. ?


    "Do you have the money to pay?" Garlin asked, his triumphant smile broadening. ?


    "You¡¯ll give me these goods as a gift, to keep me quiet and not tell everyone that your thug at the entrance is there on your orders, extorting money," Edgar retorted.


    ?Without another word or question, Garlin acquiesced. ?


    Pleased with his success, Edgar returned to Liam with the requested items. Just before Edgar''s arrival, Liam had heard about the incidents at the inn. He learned how Edgar had beaten Garlin''s thug, helped Aran, and acquired the goods for free. ?


    Liam was satisfied. Surely a thief or criminal wouldn¡¯t behave in such a manner. Typically, a person trying to become a citizen would be under Liam¡¯s scrutiny for a longer period, but Edgar had quickly proven his noble character. ?


    Liam informed Edgar that he couldn¡¯t offer him work yet until he convinced Arlam and Garlin of his worthiness to become a Hallgrin citizen. Thus, Edgar went to Garlin, who, like Liam, would test him. Seeing Edgar again in his inn, Garlin nearly lost his mind. But when he learned Edgar''s purpose, he smirked triumphantly, planning to teach the young blackmailer a lesson. Garlin offered Edgar a room for the night, as it was nearly sunset, and promised work the next morning. Garlin had bet with Liam that he would prove the young man was not the saint he seemed, and he was determined to do so.


    Edgar dined with Garlin. The innkeeper was a short, balding man with a keen gaze, aged about fifty, living alone without children or a spouse, having worked his life solely for the wealth he accumulated. ?


    "If you become a resident of this village, you''ll need a house. Have you thought about that?" ?


    "Not yet. I was hoping to buy two horses and a cart, then haul wood from the forest to build my own house."


    ?"You plan to take wood from the Dark Forest?" Garlin asked, his voice quivering. ?


    "Yes. Is there a problem?" ?


    "As long as you don''t enter there at night, there''s no problem. But all who have ventured into the forest after dark never returned," Garlin warned Edgar. ?


    "Why? What''s in there?" Edgar asked with curiosity. ?


    "It''s rumored that the forest is the lair of one of the Death Bringers'' leaders, possibly the one known as the Breath of Death," Garlin explained. Seeing Edgar''s puzzled look, he continued, "This individual was once a mighty king, a thousand years ago. Legend says that after his death, he made a pact with the Fire Demon, who granted him a return to the world of the living. His powers are said to come from this demon, and killing the demon would turn the Breath of Death back into a mere corpse." ?


    Garlin further revealed that there were three main leaders among the Death Bringers, each gifted with powers by a different demon. "The first is the Black Sorcerer, a practitioner of black magic, believed to have discovered the elixir of immortality. He supposedly died 1,500 years ago, but the Fire Demon brought him back to life."


    ?"The last of these leaders is the Soul Devourer, protected by the Demon of Death. Once a noble knight drawn to the dark side, he was resurrected by the Demon of Death to become a champion in the underworld and a leader of the Death Bringers." ?


    As he absorbed the tale, Edgar''s mind wandered back to the cave in the Giant Mountains where the Black Sorcerer had boastfully claimed responsibility for the demise of his family, along with the involvement of his alleged comrades ¨C these very leaders spoken of by Garlin. Despite the Sorcerer''s words, a seed of doubt took root in Edgar''s heart; he was not entirely convinced that these figures were the true architects of his family''s tragic end. This uncertainty, however, did not soften his stance. Edgar''s resolve remained unshaken ¨C he would not allow the possibility of their innocence to deter him from seeking justice or retribution. With each passing moment, the path ahead seemed clearer ¨C a path that led inexorably into the heart of the Dark Forest, where answers and, perhaps, vengeance awaited him. ?


    Edgar, driven by a fervent desire for retribution against his family''s perpetrators and the notorious Death Bringers, meticulously devised his plan of vengeance. He was acutely aware of the need for discretion, cautious not to let Garlin suspect his inner turmoil and intentions. The young knight had resolved to infiltrate the enigmatic and perilous Dark Forest the following evening. His objective was clear: to confront and eliminate any Death Bringer lurking within its shadows. Edgar, embroiled in a web of adversaries ¨C the Death Bringers, the formidable Lord of the Demons, and the treacherous King Lockdar ¨C understood the gravity of his quest, with each of these foes yearning for his demise. ?


    After savoring his last bite of the evening meal, Edgar excused himself, retreating to the solace of his room. The knight, eager for rest, donned attire more suited for relaxation ¨C a long, pristine white shirt, coupled with black trousers and sturdy boots. His faithful companion, the Phoenix sword, was securely fastened to his back, a silent sentinel ever ready for action. Emerging into the crisp night air, Edgar found Garlin seated outside the inn, enveloped in a cloud of smoke emanating from his cherished, aged pipe ¨C a poignant memento from his father. ?


    Garlin, ensnared in a mesh of contemplation, seemed distant, his thoughts seemingly drifting with each puff of smoke. Edgar approached, his inquiries hanging silently in the air, hesitant to disrupt the old man''s introspection. Moments ticked by, the only sound the soft rustle of the pipe. Finally, Garlin''s eyes met Edgar''s, and with a heavy heart, he began to unravel a story steeped in melancholy, a tale that seemed to weigh down his soul with every word spoken.


    ?"I wasn''t always just a money-grubbing scoundrel," Garlin began. "Years ago, I was deeply in love with a beautiful woman named Dariana. We were so happy together; I thought no couple could be more perfect."


    ?As he spoke, Garlin''s sadness deepened, revealing a burden he had carried for some time. Edgar listened quietly as Garlin opened up, his story filled with growing hate and anger. ?


    Garlin recalled a beautiful spring day when they had decided to picnic in the Dark Forest. While he picked flowers for Dariana, he suddenly heard her scream. Rushing to her, he found her lifeless, with no apparent wounds. The cause of her death was deemed natural by the healers. From that day, anyone who ventured into the Dark Forest never returned alive.


    ?Garlin described seeing a figure in a long, black cloak with a gleaming crown and fiery red eyes protruding from their sockets. He couldn''t recall how he escaped, only waking up at the forest''s edge. ?


    "You''re not the only one who''s suffered because of them," Edgar responded. "When I was one, they killed my parents. I was saved by two mages, Laryus and Marcus, and raised by my uncle in the Giant Mountains, whom Lockdar killed. The Death Bringers, King Lockdar, Ludrol, and the Lord of Demons are all after me, and surely none of them wish to check on my wellbeing."


    ?"Who are you really, Damyen?" Garlin asked, initially thinking Edgar a mere bandit but now seeing a noble soul. ?


    "Damyen was my father''s name. I am Edgar Argyle. I''m sorry I lied, but I didn''t know who to trust anymore. I need your help because you seem to know much about these Death Bringers. Do you know how they can be killed?" ?


    Garlin fell silent, recognizing Edgar''s thirst for vengeance, but how could he explain that death can''t be conquered? What Edgar sought to do seemed impossible, as no one had yet found a way to stop a Death Bringer.


    ?"Edgar, I admire your courage. Often, courage is three-quarters madness and a quarter folly. You can''t kill someone who''s already dead," Garlin said somberly.


    "Come on, Garlin! There must be something you know that could help me," Edgar implored.


    ?"If you''re a skilled enough fighter, you could challenge them to a fair fight. None of them would refuse. A fair fight means combat without the use of magical powers. If you win, they owe you answers to two questions," Garlin explained.


    ?"What could I possibly ask them?" Edgar pondered. "Of course, I could ask how they can be killed. You''re a genius, Garlin. But something else troubles me..."


    ?"What is it?" Garlin inquired. ?


    "You mentioned Dariana was attacked during the day, but when we talked about this, you said they attack only at night."


    ?"I can''t explain it. Back then, when I took her for a picnic, I had no idea of the evil that lurked in the forest. All I remember is that the day before, Dariana started speaking strangely. She said she wasn''t like ordinary people, that she was an heir..." ?


    "The Black Wizard told me the same thing when he tried to kill me. He said I was an heir. What could it mean?"


    ?"I have no idea," Garlin replied thoughtfully. "Whatever it means, it makes them want to harm you." ?


    Resolved, Edgar decided to venture into the forest, hoping to provoke the Death Bringer and gain the answers he needed. Garlin was shocked by the young man''s decision, displaying an obstinacy he had never seen before. ?


    Garlin tried in vain to dissuade him, warning that only death awaited in that place. But Edgar was resolute, already saddling his horse, strapping his sword on his back, and mounting Lightning. He assured Garlin he would return soon. ?


    Regretting his part in the young knight''s fate, Garlin was convinced he wouldn''t see Edgar again. He felt partly guilty for the knight''s destiny, though nothing had happened yet. Perhaps he should never have mentioned the Death Bringers. ?


    As Edgar rode away from Hallgrin, his horse, Lightning, carried him swiftly towards the ominous Dark Forest. The journey was a bittersweet one, as he passed through a meadow that seemed to capture the very essence of beauty and tranquility. This field was a botanist''s dream, abundant with rare and medicinal plants like the regal king''s mantle, the stately queen''s scepter, the healing green remedy, and the exotic crown with three rubies. Edgar¡¯s knowledge of plants, gleaned from his travels and studies, told him that these flora were not just pleasing to the eye but also potent ingredients for various healing concoctions. ?


    Upon reaching the forest''s fringe, Edgar secured Lightning to a sturdy tree, fashioning a knot that the horse could break free from, should he fail to return. With a deep breath, he stepped into the dense undergrowth of the Dark Forest, where every crunch of fallen leaves and snap of twigs underfoot reverberated through the still air. He moved with deliberate caution, weaving through the dense thickets and navigating around the tightly clustered, towering trees that seemed to grasp at the sky.


    ?But something felt amiss in this forest. Almost immediately, Edgar sensed an uncanny presence, as if he were not alone. His instincts on high alert, he scanned the surrounding thicket, but his eyes met only the dense foliage and the shadows that played tricks in the dim light. Each step he took seemed to be mirrored by a phantom echo, a sound just out of sight that sent an unsettling chill down his spine. This sense of being watched intensified with each passing moment, turning the forest¡¯s eerie silence into a cacophony of unspoken threats. Edgar, sword at the ready, continued deeper into the forest, every sense attuned to the hidden dangers that lurked within its dark embrace. ?If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Show yourself!" Edgar shouted boldly.


    ?Emerging from the dense shadows of the Dark Forest, a figure materialized before Edgar with such abruptness that it seemed to defy the natural order of the world. This being, standing stark and formidable in Edgar''s path, was the epitome of terror made flesh. His visage was a nightmarish tableau, skin charred to an abyssal blackness as though he had been kissed by flame, and from this darkness, two piercing red eyes bore into Edgar with an intensity that felt almost tangible. ?


    The figure was clad in a black cloak that seemed to absorb the scant light filtering through the forest canopy, casting him in an aura of ominous power. Upon his head sat a golden crown, incongruously regal and sinister, marking him as a ruler of a realm far removed from any Edgar knew. The crown''s gleam contrasted starkly against the darkness of his cloak, creating an image that was both majestic and malevolent. ?


    This was the entity Garlin had described, yet no mere description could have prepared Edgar for the reality of his presence. The air around them felt charged, heavy with the weight of an impending confrontation. Edgar, gripping his sword tightly, faced this crowned specter of the forest, his mind racing to formulate a strategy against a foe who was as much a mystery as he was a manifest threat. The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills before the clash of steel would inevitably speak. ?


    "Edgar Argyle, I knew it was you. You have no idea how honored I am to kill the last heir of the two. I''ve killed dozens of heirs, but none who inherited from both. You are a rarity, almost a pity that I must kill you," the Death''s Breath spoke with a chilling voice that echoed through the forest. ?


    "Before you kill me, do me the favor and tell me what an heir means." ?


    "What? You don''t know who you are? An heir is a descendant of one of the two great wizards, Nagus or Adunoss. You are among the last, moreover, a descendant of both - your mother a descendant of Nagus, and your father of Adunoss."


    ?"Very well," Edgar said. "You''ve just answered an extra question for me. Now, I challenge you to a fair fight." ?


    "Ha, you''re clever! But do you really think you stand a chance to cross swords with me?" Death''s Breath smirked.


    ?In the shadowy heart of the Dark Forest, where ancient trees bore silent witness, Edgar and Death''s Breath clashed with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very earth. Their swords met with a resounding clang, echoing like a herald of battle throughout the dense woodland. Edgar, with agility and finesse honed by years of relentless training and battles, matched the relentless onslaught of his foe blow for blow. His movements were a blur, a dance of steel and survival against an adversary whose skill was legendary.


    Death''s Breath, a figure shrouded in the darkness of countless tales and feared across realms, found himself taken aback. Never before had he encountered an heir of such extraordinary prowess. Each of Edgar''s strikes was precise and powerful, pushing the shadowy figure to the brink of his own formidable limits. The air around them crackled with the intensity of their duel, a maelstrom of clashing blades and shifting shadows. ?


    The battle raged on, a test of endurance and will. In a pivotal moment, Edgar''s sword was knocked from his grasp. Time seemed to slow as it spun away, glinting in the dim light. But with reflexes as swift as lightning, Edgar rolled, evading a fatal blow and reclaiming his weapon. In one fluid, seamless motion, he lunged, driving the Phoenix sword deep into the heart of Death''s Breath.


    ?The forest fell silent, save for the heavy breaths of the combatants. Edgar stood victorious, yet his victory was heavy with the realization of the immense power and danger he had just overcome. Death''s Breath, the once invincible adversary, lay defeated, a demonstration of Edgar''s might and the unyielding spirit of an heir destined for greatness.


    ?"How... is this possible? I feel... pain. I haven''t felt this since I was a mere human. What... what kind of sword is that?"


    ?Death''s Breath dropped his sword, falling to his knees. He gazed at Edgar''s sword and recognized it. It was the same sword by which he had been killed long ago. How was it possible that this sword still existed?


    ?"I''ve defeated you! Now answer my question. How can I stop the Lord of Demons?"


    "The Lord of Demons... He is the one who commands the three demons who, in turn, command us, the Bringers of Death. Only by killing the demons will you stand a chance against him, as without them, his powers will drastically diminish." ?


    After revealing this, Death''s Breath died before Edgar. Edgar had just killed someone presumed to be immortal, giving him great hope of winning this battle. Clearly, there was something special about his father''s sword, but he had no idea what it was. ?


    Unfortunately, he had no time to ponder, as Death''s Breath came back to life the moment Edgar turned his back. It seemed his protective demon was not ready to let him rest in peace. Edgar''s expression was indescribable when he saw him rise from the ground. ?


    "You must be jesting..." ?


    Edgar, gripping his sword with a firm resolve, faced an adversary unlike any before. Death''s Breath, in his terrifying visage, let out a deep, menacing laugh that echoed through the forest, causing the very earth beneath Edgar''s feet to shudder. The trees around them, as if summoned by this dark laughter, twisted and turned, their branches snaking towards Edgar with ferocious speed. But Edgar, with agility honed through countless battles, danced between the assaulting limbs, each dodge a narrow escape from their crushing grasp. His sword slashed through the air, cutting down branches that dared to encroach upon him. The scene was a maelstrom of nature''s fury and a warrior''s defiance, a battle not just against a singular foe, but against the very elements themselves. ?


    "Enough!" commanded Death''s Breath, and the trees immediately fell to the ground. "I have new orders. It seems I am not allowed to kill you here. We will meet at the Tournament of the Ten Knights. My comrades and I will be there. There, the fate of these lands, doomed to destruction, will be decided." ?


    "Why is the tournament so important to you?"


    ?"There will be a lot of people there, including ten kings from different kingdoms. They will witness our power. Besides, your head will be the most valuable trophy for our leader," said Death''s Breath before disappearing into a mist. ?


    Edgar had little time to prepare, as the tournament was starting in about a week. Entry to the tournament cost a hundred gold coins. He needed armor, and even decent armor would cost at least fifty gold coins. He didn''t even consider a shield, as it was also quite expensive. ?


    He left the forest and found Lightning greedily eating grass at the forest''s edge. Although the horse had freed himself, he had not left his master. Edgar mounted Lightning and rode swiftly back to Hallgrin, where he found Garlin just as he had left him. Garlin couldn''t believe his eyes when he saw Edgar unharmed, without a scratch. Overjoyed that the young man was alive, he asked Edgar to recount everything that had happened.


    ?Garlin showed no surprise when Edgar recounted how Death''s Breath had revived right before his eyes. He also mentioned their plans to show themselves to the people at the Tournament of the Ten Knights.


    Edgar wondered what chance he stood against the Bringers of Death. Barely managing to face one alone, facing all three seemed impossible. Learning the truth about being a descendant of both Nagus and Adunoss only added to his anxiety, as the last thing he needed was to be caught in the war between the followers of the two wizards.


    He needed to find a way to participate in the tournament to prevent the Bringers from killing innocents just to showcase their powers. With time until the tournament, he needed a place to stay and blend into the crowd, away from the spies of Lockdar or Ludrol. Returning to their matters, he asked Garlin what more he needed to do for him. Garlin said Edgar had proven his intentions, showing himself to be sincere and honorable, so he didn''t need convincing anymore. Garlin then threw Edgar a small bag containing about twenty gold coins. ?


    "Thank you! But what have I done to deserve this?" Edgar asked. ?


    "You don''t even know how much you''ve done. You''ve convinced both me and Liam that you''re an honest, brave young man worthy of becoming a citizen of this village. However, you still need to convince Arlam, the merchant."


    ?Edgar bid Garlin farewell and headed to the market. He found Arlam selling his goods, always stationed away from the other merchants. Arlam was a 39-year-old man with chestnut hair, brown eyes, and thick eyebrows. ?


    Recognizing Edgar, Arlam didn''t forget someone he couldn''t easily deceive. He thought Edgar came to buy something, not seeking help to become a citizen of Hallgrin. Unfortunately, Arlam said he couldn''t offer work, being too busy selling farmer Anadin''s goods.


    ?"If I sell what you have here, will you offer me work?" Edgar asked. ?


    "Yes. Do you really think you can convince someone to offer twenty-seven gold coins for all this merchandise?"


    "I''ll give you twenty gold coins," Edgar offered. ?


    "Are you joking or trying to fool me? After all, I should be the one doing that. Given that I know you, I''m willing to sell all this sheep cheese for twenty-five gold coins. Is that okay?"


    ?"Twenty gold coins, or stay here in the sun all day. It''s not even noon, and the sun is scorching. Can you imagine if the cheese spoils and you can''t even get a gold coin for it?"


    ?"Darn! You''re a crook, you know that? Here, take these jars of cheese. By the way, what will you do with them?"


    ?"Let''s see, here''s the money. Can I work for you now? I need to prove that I deserve to become a citizen of Hallgrin," Edgar said. ?


    "Ah, yes! Hallgrin and its petty politics. Honestly, I don''t care. If you''ve convinced Garlin and Liam, you''ve convinced me too. Here''s a tip for you: if you want to earn some money, go to Anadin''s farm. Trust me, he pays well." ?


    Done deal. Edgar took the jars of sheep cheese, and just a few meters away, he managed to sell them to another merchant, recovering ten gold coins. "What a deal!" he thought to himself, slightly amused after losing ten gold coins for no reason. At least now he had Arlam''s approval to become a citizen of Hallgrin. ?


    He returned to Garlin, where he took Lightning and headed to Anadin''s farm. Garlin warned Edgar that the farmer tended to work his laborers hard. Rumors about Anadin were quite harsh, with some saying he had even killed his own son for trying to deceive him. Those working for him were not allowed to stop without his permission, under threat of punishment. Edgar didn''t plan to heed these rumors circulating around the village. He mounted Lightning and sped toward Anadin''s farm. As he passed the Dark Forest, he eagerly anticipated meeting the daunting farmer, hoping to find work and earn some money.


    ?As the last hues of twilight faded, Edgar reached the outskirts of Anadin''s farm. Before him, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, stood a grand farmhouse, its architecture a testament to skilled craftsmanship. The farmhouse, robust and elegantly constructed, was encircled by a cluster of modest cottages, each appearing cozy and inviting, with warm light spilling from their windows. The cottages, though small, were meticulously maintained, reflecting a sense of pride and care. ?


    Edgar''s gaze wandered over the farmhands, who were winding up their day''s work. Their expressions, illuminated by the flickering light of lanterns, were not marred by the weariness one might expect after a day of toil. Instead, their faces radiated a sense of fulfillment and contentment, a rare sight among laborers. ?


    With a sense of curiosity, Edgar dismounted from his steed, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. He made his way towards the impressive farmhouse, his eyes still taking in the tranquil scene around him. However, his progress was abruptly halted as a young man, seemingly of Edgar''s own age, emerged from the shadows of a nearby tree. The stranger''s stance was neither threatening nor welcoming, but cautious, as if measuring Edgar''s intent. His eyes, sharp and observant, locked onto Edgar, waiting for him to make the next move. ?


    "Stop there, bandit! Take one more step, and I swear I''ll drive my dagger through your skull," the boy shouted.


    "Calm down," Edgar replied soothingly. "I''m not a bandit, just someone looking for work. Please kindly tell the owner of this farm someone is looking for him. ?


    "I am the owner," the young man said. "Moreover, there''s no work left for anyone."


    ?"You''re the owner? I have my doubts. How about calling Anadin for me?" ?


    Hearing his son talking to a stranger, Anadin came out to see what was going on. The blond-haired young man who had stopped Edgar was indeed Anadin''s son, the same one rumored to have been killed.


    "What do you want, stranger? Are you Ellan''s messenger? I told him I''d pay him tomorrow."


    ?"No, you''ve misunderstood. Arlam told me you need workers." ?


    "Arlam? Yes, I told him I need some people. What can I say? You can start working tomorrow if you wish. You''ll sleep in one of the rooms in my house, and one of my men will show you to your room."


    ?Four hours after sunset, Edgar was delighted to have found work at Anadin''s farm. In the farmer''s large house, dinner was served in a vast hall. Here, all his workers, including him, his wife, and son, gathered. ?


    Anadin was a forty-seven-year-old man, yet no one would guess him a day over forty. He had the same fierce look as his son, Dorian, who kept glancing at the newcomer. Edgar remained silent throughout the meal, attentively listening to the others. They talked about their day''s work, each sharing their accomplishments, keen to show Anadin their diligence. ?


    One worker mentioned the upcoming Tournament of the Ten Knights at Tuzmad Castle. Even Dorian was eager to see it, having heard this year''s tournament would be extraordinary. Little did they know it would be exceptional for a dreadful reason - the participation of the Death Bringers and their leader, the Lord of Demons. ?


    "Damyen, why do you want to work for me? What brings you here?"


    ?"I need money to participate in the Tournament of the Ten Knights," Edgar responded.


    ?"You''re a knight?" Anadin asked, surprised, holding great respect for them. "I can''t believe a knight would work for me. Shouldn''t you be serving a king?" ?


    "I no longer serve anyone. I''m a wandering knight." ?


    "And where is your armor, knight?" Dorian asked mockingly. ?


    Edgar quickly concocted a tale of being attacked and robbed by bandits. The room erupted with anger at the bandits'' audacity to assault a knight. ?


    After dinner, Anadin led Edgar to his room - a small, simple space dimly lit by a lantern, with a beautiful painting of a knight in white armor on one wall.


    ?Anadin wished the young knight a restful sleep, leaving him to rest. The next day promised to be exhausting for his new worker.


    As Edgar''s eyes closed, he was swiftly drawn into the depths of slumber, his mind spiraling into the realm of dreams. In this otherworldly space, Edgar felt an eerie sensation of weightlessness as if he were adrift above an endless sea of clouds. The serenity of this dreamscape was abruptly shattered when a fearsome demon emerged from the mist, engulfed in an aura of scorching flames. ?


    The demon, a nightmarish figure, towered over Edgar, its formidable presence dominating the dream. Its skin was a sinister shade of red, like coals smoldering in a dying fire. Long, vicious claws extended from its gnarled hands, and atop its head, two menacing horns curved skyward. But it was the creature''s eyes that struck the deepest chord of terror in Edgar''s heart; they were an unnatural, glowing white, devoid of soul or mercy. ?


    This leviathan of a demon was not only terrifying in appearance but also formidable in its armament. Slung across its broad, muscular back was a massive axe, its blades double-edged and gleaming with a sinister light, as if thirsting for battle. Edgar, dwarfed by the demon''s overwhelming size, felt a surge of primal fear yet also a strange sense of challenge. In the bizarre logic of dreams, Edgar knew this entity was more than a mere figment of his imagination.


    ?"Edgar Argyle! I advise you to stay away from the Death Bringers. You are not their match," the demon said with a piercing voice that scattered the clouds.


    ?"Who are you?"


    ?"For now, I am your ally, as we share a common goal: the destruction of the Lord. I am known as the Fire Demon."


    "The Fire Demon? But don''t you serve the Lord?" Edgar asked, puzzled.


    ?"He believes that I do. My power makes his dissipate into thin air. I am forced to play my part, pretending to be his pawn." ?


    "This isn''t a regular dream, is it?" ?


    "No, this is an astral projection. I have drawn your consciousness to the same plane as mine, so we can talk undisturbed." ?


    Edgar thought of the immense power this demon must possess to be able to astrally project his consciousness. He couldn''t understand, however, why the Fire Demon wanted the Lord of Demons dead. The Fire Demon explained that the Lord wore a medallion created by Adunoss himself, intended to control the three most powerful demons. How the Lord came into possession of this medallion was unknown, but it was clear the demons were not pleased by this.


    ?"So, you want me to destroy this medallion. Why should I do that?" ?


    "Let''s say, if you do this, you will receive powers others can only dream of, powers that will help you defeat Lockdar."


    ?"Power? I never wanted power, demon. All I wanted was a peaceful life. Instead, I find myself trapped in a millennia-old war, merely because I am a descendant of two great wizards. Moreover, being an heir, I already have more power than I could ever want," Edgar said mockingly. ?


    "Fool! You disgust me," the demon spat. "Your heir powers won''t keep you safe forever."


    After saying his piece, the demon disappeared, leaving Edgar alone above the clouds. A new enemy was added to the young knight''s list. He couldn''t believe how good he was at making enemies. ?


    Early the next morning, Edgar rose from bed before everyone else and went outside to wait for the others. The first to wake was Anadin, who was surprised to find that he was not the earliest riser. ?


    Anadin immediately gave Edgar his first task: to take the sheep to graze. He explained that about five kilometers to the west lay a meadow where the sheep usually grazed. At noon, one of the farmhands would replace Edgar, so he wouldn''t have to stay there all day. ?


    Edgar set off with about fifty sheep towards the meadow. It took him nearly two hours to get there, so he lay back in the green grass, resting. ?


    Watching the sheep for three hours, Edgar grew hungry and opened the packet he had received from Anadin. He had barely finished eating when his replacement arrived, informing him that Anadin had another task for him.


    ?Edgar returned to the farm more quickly this time, not having to herd sheep or be cautious of their well-being. Approaching Anadin''s house, he noticed two men threatening the farmer with swords. ?


    "Come on! We agreed on fifty, that was the deal," Anadin argued, frustrated. ?


    "Yeah, but we changed our minds. Now we want double," the men demanded. ?


    "Is there a problem?" Edgar intervened, his tone threatening.


    "There will be if you don''t mind your own business," they responded more menacingly. ?


    "Don''t get involved, Damyen! This isn''t your concern," Anadin said. "I''ll give you your money, even though this wasn''t our agreement..." ?


    Just as Anadin was about to pay, Edgar stopped him. He recognized the two bandits. He had encountered them about four years ago when they were raiding a small village near the Royal Mountains. ?


    The bandits didn''t recognize him, but they remembered the beating they got from Edgar and Captain of Lockdar''s guards. Irritated that Anadin was prevented from paying them, they turned their swords toward Edgar. ?


    Not tolerating defiance or challenge, their faces turned pale when Edgar drew his sword with the Phoenix inscription.


    ?"Edgar Argyle? You wretch, I''ve longed for a face-to-face rematch!" ?


    "Unfortunately for you, you''ve found me again," Edgar smirked. ?


    The fight erupted instantly. The bandits attacked Edgar relentlessly, but he skillfully defended himself. With a powerful sword strike, he broke one bandit''s sword in two. Another strike threw the other bandit to the ground, slightly wounding him. The injured man began to scream in fear of dying young. ?


    With a remarkable blow, Edgar severed the leg of the remaining bandit and knocked him out with the hilt of his sword.


    These bandits had been extorting Anadin every two months, threatening to burn down his farm if they didn''t receive fifty gold coins. This time, their greed led them to demand double.


    ?"Thank you, Damyen... or Edgar. Whatever your name is, I am forever indebted to you. You have no idea how long I''ve been paying these bandits to leave me and my people alone." ?


    "Edgar Argyle is my name. I had to use a false name because I have many enemies, and due to them, I must hide. As for those two, I don''t think they will bother you ever again, and you owe me nothing," Edgar said to Anadin.


    ?"Here, take this," Anadin said, tossing a black leather bag to Edgar. "There are a hundred gold coins in there. That''s what you need to enter the tournament, right?" ?


    "Anadin... I can''t accept this."


    ?"But you can! If it weren''t for you, those coins would now be theirs." ?


    "Thank you, Anadin!"


    ?Edgar bid farewell to Anadin, mounted Lightning, and sped away, leaving the farm and the village of Hallgrin behind. Unsure of his destination, he knew that revealing his location would endanger everyone. Finally, he decided to hide in the Slumbering Forest until the tournament began. ?


    Three hours later, he arrived at Turalon''s old campsite in the forest, now deserted since Turalon and his men were in the Kingdom of the Sun. Unable to find food, Edgar found two fishing rods and headed to the lake at the forest''s edge. After two hours of fishing, he caught several fish, which he eagerly grilled and ate.


    ?Nightfall gently descended over the Slumbering Forest. Edgar had just finished eating and was preparing for sleep. Exhaustion quickly overtook him, and fortunately, no demons invaded his dreams that night. ?


    The next day, Edgar woke up late. The cheerful singing of birds in the tree branches finally roused him. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see Turalon, Tenzim, Alleria, and Darr around him. He couldn''t believe they had found him. They were overjoyed to see Edgar safe and in much better condition than when they last saw him. ?


    The four began to tell him about Lockdar''s reaction to the news of Edgar''s escape and how they tricked the king into believing Edgar had escaped without anyone''s help. Furious, Lockdar had put a bounty of five hundred gold coins on Edgar''s head.


    ?"Guess what?" Tenzim asked. "We''re going to enter the Ten Knights Tournament in the Kingdom of Tuzmad." ?


    "We represent the Kingdom of the Sun, and Ludrol can''t do anything since we''re under King Lockdar''s protection," added Darr. ?


    "I have two pieces of bad news for you," Edgar said. "You won''t be Lockdar''s prot¨¦g¨¦s for long, as I plan to kill him. Moreover, what do you think your chances are against the Death Bringers? Yes, they will also participate in the tournament." ?


    Edgar recounted his encounter with the Breath of Death and the dream featuring the Fire Demon. Hearing about the Death Bringers, they shuddered, and their desire to participate in the tournament vanished instantly, except for Darr. He still insisted he wasn''t easily frightened and if Edgar could survive them, he surely could too. ?


    "Don''t be stubborn, Darr!" Edgar exclaimed, annoyed. "My survival against them is different; it''s not just about combat experience... I can say that I''m different, perhaps a bit luckier, I might add." ?


    "I am just like you, Edgar," Darr retorted. "Stop evading the topic! I too am an heir." ?


    "What?" Edgar asked, surprised by Darr''s knowledge. ?


    "How do you think we found you? We heirs possess a kind of sixth sense that helps us locate others like us. A sense you''re unaware of, because you haven''t yet tapped into your true powers." ?


    "Do as you wish," Edgar conceded. "All that''s left is for me to find a way to participate as well." ?


    Valleria, Turalon, and Tenzim remained resolute in their decision. They had no intention of dealing with the Death Bringers, not by a long shot. They tried in vain to dissuade Darr and Edgar from participating in the tournament against these formidable foes. ?


    What Darr didn''t know was that Edgar was a descendant of both Xal''Nagus and Xal''Adunoss. This meant that Edgar potentially possessed far greater strength than anyone, including himself, could have anticipated.

 The Tournament of the Ten Knights

    As the day dawned on the eve of the highly anticipated Tournament of the Ten Knights, the city of Tuzmad hummed with a frenetic energy. The streets were abuzz with activity, artisans and traders busy with their final touches, and flags of various kingdoms fluttered in the breeze. The city awaited the arrival of nine kings from distant lands, each coming to witness their bravest knights compete in a grand display of valor and skill. ?


    The knight chosen to represent Tuzmad in this illustrious event was Enorian, a figure of renown in the realm of swordsmanship. At the age of 29, he had already carved a name for himself as the finest swordsman in all the land. His reputation was such that his very presence in the tournament elevated the excitement and anticipation among the onlookers. ?


    Amidst the elite gathering of knights was Darr, the valiant knight representing the Kingdom of the Sun. His anticipation was palpable, a fiery determination burning in his eyes. Darr was not merely content to participate; he was driven by an unwavering resolve to emerge victorious, to claim the title of the greatest among the ten. This prestigious event was more than a competition; it was a stage where legends were forged, and Darr was ready to etch his name into the annals of history. ?


    The approaching Tournament of the Ten Knights, a spectacle of valor and skill, had captured the imagination not only of Darr but also of countless visitors who had journeyed from far and wide to Tuzmad. This event, steeped in legend and prestige, had grown to hold a place of reverence in the hearts of those who cherished the noble art of knighthood. ?


    The arena, the heart of this grand tournament, was a marvel of construction, designed to test the mettle and honor of the knights who entered it. Surrounded by towering steel fences, with only a singular passage for entrance and exit, it was a battleground that promised no retreat, no respite, until the clash of swords reached its inevitable conclusion. Here, the knights transformed into gladiators, each driven by an unquenchable thirst for victory, where defeat was not an option. ?


    A solemn rule governed the combat within these walls: the life of an opponent was to be spared at all costs. This edict was the tournament''s soul, ensuring that valor and honor remained paramount. Any knight who, even inadvertently, transgressed this sacred rule faced immediate disqualification and the ignominious stripping of their title. It was a rule that elevated the tournament beyond mere combat, embodying the ideals of chivalry and respect that were the essence of true knighthood. ?


    The victor of the tournament would receive a golden armor, crafted by the kingdom''s finest armorsmiths, or a chest of gold coins weighing as much as the armor. The prize varied each year, but its value was insignificant compared to the glory of being the best. ?


    With only two hours until sunset, an eerie silence descended over Tuzmad. The final preparations were complete. ?


    Enorian, the crowd''s favorite, was about to be seen in action by all of Tuzmad''s citizens. A festive dinner was held in the throne room, where the ten kings praised their champions. ?


    Darr remembered Edgar''s warnings and scrutinized each knight. They all seemed human, not walking corpses. Yet he trusted Edgar''s word that the Bringers of Death would find a way to join the tournament. ?


    The true intentions of Darr, unknown to the others, were not about the Bringers of Death. His eyes were set on the promised chest of gold and the chance to be hailed as the hero of the Sun Kingdom by killing Edgar. But his motivation wasn''t just the bounty on Edgar''s head; as a fellow heir, he had been hunting others like him, relishing as their lives slipped away, yearning to be the sole, most powerful heir.


    ?Darr felt an odd sensation of power nearby, and then a commotion at the entrance drew everyone''s attention. Two guards, their lances angrily aimed, were trying to stop a figure rapidly approaching the gathering. The individual was dressed entirely in black, with his face concealed beneath the hood of his long cloak.


    ?"Forgive us, sire! We couldn''t stop him, he wishes to speak to you," the guards addressed King Ludrol. ?


    "In one of the most important evenings, you incompetents can''t keep a peasant out for just one night? May the gods spare us if a whole cavalry attacked, Tuzmad would turn to ashes," Ludrol bellowed. "You! You must be either too brave or too foolish. Show your face when I speak to you!" ?


    King Ludrol was irate that a mere peasant had embarrassed him in front of nine kings, not to mention his rival, Lockdar. How could he not lose face? Was it perceived that he had no control over his people? Or that his army was made up of incompetents? ?


    As everyone at the table thought Ludrol couldn''t possibly get angrier, they were bitterly mistaken. When the peasant revealed his face to be Edgar Argyle, Ludrol was even more enraged. What did it say about his kingdom if criminals freely roamed it? ?


    Trying to maintain his composure, Ludrol attempted a calm tone. The last thing he needed was for the other kings, except Lockdar, to know the man before him was Tuzmad''s most wanted outlaw. ?


    "What do you want, young man?" Ludrol growled through clenched teeth. ?


    "I wish to participate in the Tournament of the Ten Knights. To represent the kingdom of Tuzmad, Your Majesty."


    ?This was the last thing Ludrol expected. He even admired, to some extent, the courage or madness of Edgar for walking into the castle and demanding such. ?


    In the Tournament of the Ten Knights, a knight who wished to represent their kingdom but wasn''t chosen had the right to challenge the king''s chosen champion. The victor of this duel would participate in the tournament. Edgar knew this rule well, having read everything about the Tournament of the Ten Knights from a young age.


    "We already have a knight willing to represent Tuzmad. Enorian is the best, no one is as fast as him, no one wields the sword better than him," Ludrol boasted. "Besides, you need a hundred gold coins just to challenge the champion." ?


    "I am a wandering knight, once a hero of the Kingdom of the Sun, I believe I have every right to challenge your champion for the right to participate in the tournament," Edgar said, throwing a black leather pouch onto the table, containing the required hundred coins.


    ?"As you wish, but if you lose, you will be thrown into a dungeon, then judged for assaulting the guards and any other misdeeds I find you''ve committed," King Ludrol added. ?


    The atmosphere in the hall bristled with tension as Enorian stood, his confidence radiating like a beacon. To him, Edgar was nothing more than a notorious criminal, a bandit whose reputation as a formidable fighter had been shaped by tales of daring escapes from King Ludrol''s forces. Driven by a blend of arrogance and curiosity, Ludrol''s chosen champion unsheathed his sword, signaling his readiness for an impromptu duel in the very hall they stood. ?


    Edgar, recognizing the seriousness of the challenge, mirrored Enorian''s actions. He gripped his Phoenix sword firmly, adopting a battle-ready stance that had been honed through countless encounters. His stance was solid, feet slightly apart, body poised and balanced, ready for the confrontation that was about to unfold.


    ?Enorian, impatient and eager to assert his dominance, initiated the attack. His skill as a swordsman was evident, each strike executed with a precision and ferocity that left Edgar little room to do anything but defend. The relentless onslaught pushed Edgar back, step by step, his every move a reaction to Enorian''s aggressive advances.


    ?In a decisive moment, Enorian''s sword found its mark, sending Edgar tumbling to the ground. He raised his sword for a potentially fatal blow, seemingly indifferent to the idea that he might end Edgar''s life right there. But Edgar, summoning every ounce of his training and instinct, parried the strike with his Phoenix sword and sprang back to his feet. ?


    This encounter had taken Edgar by surprise. Enorian''s prowess with the sword was more than he had anticipated, challenging Edgar''s years of disciplined training. A mix of admiration and frustration coursed through him. Was he about to be defeated now, on the very brink of participating in the prestigious tournament, by a swordsman whose skill rivaled his own?


    ?As Edgar faced Enorian, his determination hardened into an iron resolve. With a fierce grip on his sword, he launched into a counterattack, fueled by an unwillingness to yield to defeat. Each swing and thrust bore the weight of his desperation, a desire to triumph that momentarily eclipsed his usual caution in battle.


    ?In the heat of the moment, Edgar''s focus on offense left him vulnerable, and Enorian, seizing the opportunity, landed a deep gash across Edgar''s chest. The sharp sting of the blade drew a gasp from the spectators as they witnessed blood glistening on Enorian''s sword. Edgar''s hand flew to his chest, and he crumpled to his knees under the intense pain, the room blurring around him. ?


    The agony engulfing Edgar''s chest was like a blaze threatening to consume him from within. In that moment, he believed he was feeling the true sting of death. However, as if by some miraculous intervention, the pain abruptly subsided. With a newfound energy, Edgar rose to his feet, his recovery leaving the onlookers in a state of stunned silence. ?


    Gripping his sword with renewed vigor, Edgar''s next moves were a blur of precision and power. He forced Enorian into a defensive posture, each strike more forceful than the last. With a final, masterful blow, Edgar disarmed Enorian, sending his sword clattering to the ground. ?


    The room erupted into a mix of awe and disbelief as Edgar stood victorious. King Ludrol, witnessing this unexpected turn of events, realized he had no alternative but to acknowledge Edgar as the new champion. Despite the initial reluctance, the king conceded, allowing Edgar to represent Tuzmad in the prestigious tournament. The knight''s resilience and skill had not just won him the duel, but also a chance to showcase his prowess on a grander stage.


    ?"He can''t participate! He''s wounded," said Sormain, having seen the injury. ?


    "I am not wounded," Edgar replied, taking off his jacket. ?


    Indeed, there was not even a cut, just an old small scar where the wound should have been. Everyone looked amazed; Edgar''s chest was unscratched. ?


    Sormain picked up Enorian''s sword and inspected it closely. No blood was visible on it. He looked at the spot where Edgar had fallen, but saw nothing there. ?


    "What kind of sorcery is this?" asked Sormain.


    "It''s not sorcery," Edgar replied, quickly trying to find an explanation for something he couldn''t explain himself. "Look at the wine cups you''ve emptied. No offense, but with all you''ve drunk, I wouldn''t be surprised if you started seeing winged horses." ?


    Darr couldn''t believe how powerful Edgar''s abilities had become in such a short time. The ability to heal instantly from such a wound was something not every heir could possess. He wasn''t too worried about Edgar. He was much stronger, having been aware of his bloodline for a long time, allowing him to meditate on his inheritor powers.


    "He is right," added Darr. "We''ve all overindulged in the wine. I don''t know what you all saw, but I only saw Edgar slipping to his knees. A bit clumsy for a knight, if you ask me, but a pretty good fighter. It will be an honor to fight against him."


    "As the knight Darr says, the wine is to blame," King Ludrol added. "Would you care to join us, Edgar Argyle?"


    ¡°It would be an honor for me to sit at a table with so many people who want my head¡±, Edgar thought.


    "It would be an honor for me to sit at the table with you, but I feel the need to rest for tomorrow. I''ve traveled far."


    "Then one of the attendants will escort you to your room, knight."


    Led to his room, Edgar threw off his coat, wanting to examine his wound site closely. He couldn''t believe he had the power to heal so quickly. With such a power, he would have a chance against the Bringers of Death. Unfortunately, this idea quickly vanished from his mind when he remembered how the Breath of Death had revived in front of him.


    Ravenous hunger overtook him, so stepping into the corridor, he asked the woman who had led him to his room to bring him some food. She quickly returned with a large tray full of dishes.


    Initially, Edgar wondered if the food might be poisoned, but hunger won over these thoughts, so he sat down to eat, telling himself, "I''m not so foolish as to die poisoned." After satisfying his hunger, he drank eagerly from the wine cup and prepared for bed.


    As the candle flames flickered their last, Edgar sank into the sumptuous embrace of the silk-covered bed. With the weight of the day''s events pressing down on him, he succumbed quickly to a deep, much-needed sleep. The room, steeped in shadows, held an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of the night breeze.


    In these quiet hours, just before the dawn''s first light, the door to his room creaked open with an almost imperceptible sound. A shadowy figure slipped through the gap, moving with a predator''s stealth towards the bed where Edgar lay defenseless in his slumber.


    The intruder, shrouded in the darkness, produced a long, slender dagger, its blade gleaming ominously in the scant moonlight filtering through the window. With a motion both swift and deliberate, the assailant poised above Edgar, then drove the dagger down with a ferocious intensity, the blade piercing the sheets.


    The pristine silk was suddenly marred by a spreading stain of crimson, a stark contrast to its previous purity. The attacker, perhaps satisfied with the deed, retreated as silently as they had arrived, closing the door with a soft click, leaving behind a scene of deceptive tranquility veiled by the dark of night.


    After a few moments, Edgar emerged from under the bed, thinking, "Good thing I didn''t drink all the wine..." Where the assassin thought Edgar was, were just some blankets arranged to look like a person''s body.


    "What kind of amateur did the king send to kill me?" Edgar wondered aloud. "He didn''t even have the courage to look under the sheet..."


    "Do you think only the king would have reasons to kill you?" a voice sounded from the darkness.


    At that moment, Edgar felt his heart might never beat normally again. No matter how brave he thought he was, when taken by surprise, he was immediately frightened. He quickly picked up the sword beside the bed and asked in a trembling voice who was in the room. Suddenly, all the candles lit up, illuminating the room and allowing him to see the face of the one who had insulted his courage. Sitting in a corner chair was an old man with white hair and a long beard. It was the magician Laryus, whom Edgar had met ten years ago.


    "Laryus? I thought you were dead! Or are you a ghost? You haven''t come to haunt me, have you?"


    "Too many questions... Tomorrow you will fight the Bringers of Death, and if you''re not careful, you won''t stand much of a chance."


    "Laryus... they''re invincible!"


    "They can be killed. Because they are cursed."


    "They''re cursed... Yes, surely that information will be useful when they are about to take my neck," Edgar said sarcastically. "They are not among the ten knights, I''m starting to doubt they will even participate in the tournament."


    "They will find a way to participate, be sure of that! Remember Edgar, they are cursed," Laryus added, disappearing along with the lights going out.


    Great! The only help I have is a crazy old man... Or it all happened in my mind and I''m the crazy one. By all the gods! These remain immortal, no matter how cursed they are. He remembered Laryus'' words from ten years ago, about how humanity would suffer. The war between men and demons was approaching, considering that the Lord of Demons controlled an increasingly large army.


    The sun had been up for a while, and in less than three hours, the Tournament of the Ten Knights would begin. Edgar left the room, and in the corridor, he met King Ludrol, who asked how he had slept. The young knight was invited to the throne room, where other kings, knights, Prince Sormain, and three lords were gathered.


    Edgar sat at the table and looked around. There were only seven knights, not ten. He asked Ludrol where the other three were.


    "You won''t believe it! Last night, after you defeated Enorian and retired to your room, three more knights appeared, in black armors. Hmm, it seems black is fashionable these days. Each challenged a champion, dueled, and won. You should have been there, those guys really knew how to fight. I sent a servant after them, but they refused to come down, preferring to have breakfast in their rooms."


    "The Bringers of Death. I expected something more creative from them. Like me, lacking imagination," Edgar thought.


    Edgar received his armor and shield from King Ludrol. He was representing the Tuzmad emblem, a red rose inside a crown. Assisted by the king''s servants, Edgar donned his armor. A silver armor, whose brilliance was eye-catching.


    Before heading out to the arena, the king stopped him, holding a beautiful cloak in his hand, which he placed on Edgar''s shoulders.


    "This cloak was once worn by your father, Damyen Argyle, the most esteemed knight Tuzmad ever had."


    "Thank you," Edgar said softly.


    He almost shed tears when he saw the warmth with which the king spoke to him, but he knew all too well how cunning the king was and how much he wanted him dead.


    "One more thing, Edgar. Fight for what you believe in, even if most of the time you fight alone. Remember, nothing is as it seems and beware of enemies."


    "Right, nothing is as it seems, including your mask, Ludrol. Enemies? Which enemies? I have never feared enemies who attack me, only the so-called friends who embrace me," Edgar responded in his thoughts. He exited the castle and headed slowly towards the arena to confront the most powerful enemies he had ever faced.


    As Edgar neared the seating area reserved for the ten knights of the tournament, a sudden, icy shiver coursed through him, striking with the swiftness of lightning. His gaze, almost against his will, was drawn to a trio of knights garbed in ominous black armor. Their faces were obscured by helmets, yet Edgar didn''t need to see their features to recognize who they were.


    A palpable aura of hatred, greed, and overwhelming power emanated from these shadowy figures, enveloping Edgar in an intensity he had never experienced before. It was as if their very presence tainted the air around them, sending waves of malevolence that he could almost physically feel.


    In that moment, Edgar sensed something new awaken within him - a heightened awareness, akin to a sixth sense. It stirred deep inside, resonating with the very energy that these dark knights exuded. Could this be the same inherent ability that Darr, the heir of another lineage, possessed? Edgar pondered, wondering if this newfound sense was a dormant legacy of his lineage, now surfacing in the presence of such formidable adversaries.


    He was thrilled with his new sense. First the healing ability, now this. What else was he going to discover? Despite not possessing the power of the Bringers, he felt that they were afraid. But what could possibly make a Bringer afraid?


    He sat down, eager for the tournament to begin, looking forward to seeing who his first opponent would be. All his years of training were now going to pay off.


    The names of the ten knights were written on slips of paper and placed in a golden cup. Two names would be drawn. The two chosen knights would fight each other. King Ludrol rose from his throne and approached the table where the golden cup was placed.


    "The first to fight will be Hector, against Darr," announced King Ludrol after drawing the names from the cup. "Hector represents the Kingdom of Trian, and Darr, the Kingdom of the Sun."


    As Hector and Darr strode into the arena, the imposing iron gates clanged shut behind them, sealing their fates within the battle ring. The two knights exchanged a handshake of mutual respect, a gesture of sportsmanship that belied the fierce competition about to unfold. With a regal nod from the king, swords clashed, sparking the onset of a duel amidst a thunderous wave of applause from the eager crowd.


    In the heart of the arena, each knight displayed exceptional prowess. They moved with a grace and ferocity that kept the audience on the edge of their seats, each eager to secure a place in the next round of the tournament. Darr, having studied the rules of the tournament meticulously, was well aware of the fine print. Technically, the rules didn''t prohibit the killing of an opponent. This unspoken rule was a mere precaution, a means to preserve the lives of the knights. But Darr''s intentions lay elsewhere. His true target was not the honorable Hector.


    The battle unfolded with Darr exhibiting a mastery of swordsmanship that overwhelmed Hector. With a series of swift and precise maneuvers, Darr disarmed his opponent, first his sword, then his shield clattered to the ground. Hector, now defenseless, found himself at the mercy of Darr''s blade, its tip poised menacingly at his throat. The crowd fell silent, the outcome of the duel now unmistakably clear.


    Darr''s victory was swift and decisive, earning him not only the win but also a newfound respect from the audience. Darr had proven himself a formidable knight, his prowess undoubted, his honor intact. The first fight had ended, setting a high bar for the subsequent duels in the grand tournament.


    King Ludrol prepared to draw the next two names. The first name he drew was Knight Malot, representing the Kingdom of Ice. Then, he drew the second name, which was Edgar''s.


    Relieved he didn''t have to face one of the Bringers of Death in the first round, Edgar knew that the inevitable couldn''t be postponed forever, and his reason for being there was to stop them.


    Edgar and Malot entered the arena, where they would fight for the right to advance and face Darr. The two shook hands, and as the king''s signal pierced the air, the clash of their swords echoed, marking the start of a battle that promised to be both fierce and honorable.


    Malot, a knight whose reputation was built on his unyielding offensive, launched into a series of aggressive attacks. Edgar, however, stood his ground, expertly parrying and dodging each strike. He utilized his newfound sixth sense, a gift that granted him an almost preternatural awareness of his opponent''s intentions. With every move Malot made, Edgar seemed to anticipate and counter effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise, a dance of defense that left the crowd in awe.


    Malot, a knight for whom honor was the cornerstone of his existence, found himself increasingly vexed. No opponent had ever evaded his well-honed strikes with such grace and ease. It was as if Edgar was shadowing his thoughts, predicting each attack with an uncanny accuracy that bordered on the supernatural.


    As Malot''s frustration grew, so did Edgar''s confidence. He moved around the arena with a lithe grace, his sword a blur of steel that parried each of Malot''s strikes. The audience watched, spellbound by the display of martial excellence, wondering if Edgar''s extraordinary abilities would be enough to secure him a place against Darr in the next round of the tournament.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "Stop spinning like a top. Fight!" Malot exclaimed.


    "Sorry, I''m a bit nervous. It''s my first fight in the Tournament of the Ten Knights," Edgar teased.


    Edgar began attacking Malot, but the knight defended well against the younger man''s strikes. Malot''s thirty-seven years of age showed his experience in combat, making him a tougher opponent than Edgar. A strong blow from Malot caused Edgar to drop his sword. Luckily, Edgar didn''t lose his shield as well, or else he would have had no defense against the intended blows.


    Edgar rolled near Malot''s sword, finally managing to pick up his own sword from the ground. But as he regained his sword, he lost his shield to another hit, leaving the sword as his only defense. Malot was a formidable adversary, making Edgar wonder how he would fare against the Bringers of Death.


    Infuriated, Edgar gripped his sword tightly and launched an attack. Under the pressure of Edgar''s forceful attacks, Malot dropped his sword, distracted by Edgar''s punch that knocked him down mercilessly. Lying on the ground with Edgar''s sword at his neck, Malot conceded defeat.


    Edgar emerged as the winner of the second fight in the Tournament of the Ten Knights. He picked up his shield from the ground, adjusted his cloak, and left the arena amid a sea of applause.


    King Ludrol announced the next knights to fight following Edgar''s victory:


    "The first to enter the arena is Deloran, and the second is the Nameless Knight," announced King Ludrol. Unfortunately, there was no rule about the names chosen by the knights in this tournament. Deloran represented the Kingdom of Sinan, and the Nameless Knight, the Kingdom of Dri''Kan.


    The Nameless Knight was clearly one of the Bringers of Death, but which one? After a fierce battle between the two knights, Deloran was forced to admit defeat due to the injuries inflicted by the Nameless Knight.


    Deloran walked a few steps towards the arena exit and eventually lost consciousness. King Ludrol''s men carried him off to the castle, where his wounds were to be treated with the most skilled remedies. Tragically, Deloran died as soon as he was laid on the bed. He would have survived the wounds, had the sword that wounded him not been dipped in poison. At the moment, no one knew this, except for the three Bringers of Death.


    The next fight, the penultimate one of the day, was between Knight Rydan and the Faceless Knight. Rydan represented the Kingdom of Uadiran, and the Faceless Knight, the Kingdom of the Rocky Mountains, said to be so well-hidden in the mountains that only its inhabitants could find it.


    Knight Rydan fought bravely against the Faceless Knight, but unfortunately, the fight didn''t last long as Rydan was killed in front of hundreds of people. Seeing this, King Ludrol stood up, hands on his head in horror.


    He was powerless to intervene; unfortunately, there was no rule forbidding the killing of an opponent. The rules had been written a hundred years ago, and Ludrol had no authority to change them at will.


    Edgar couldn''t believe what was happening. All those who fought against the Bringers of Death lost their lives. The next knight to fight was Torquil, representing the Peaceful Eastern Kingdom, known for centuries of peace. His opponent was the third Bringer of Death, calling himself the Unknown Knight.


    They were the last yet to fight, and Edgar already knew the outcome but could do nothing. Torquil, as young as Edgar, had a sharp look, and his long, black hair gave him a rebellious air.


    Edgar tried using his new ability to sense anything about this knight, Torquil, but felt nothing. It was as if Torquil was empty inside.


    Torquil and the Unknown Knight entered the arena, from which only one would leave. At King Ludrol''s signal, the two knights shook hands, raised their swords, and commenced the fight. They seemed evenly matched, but Edgar refrained from jumping to conclusions, recalling Rydan''s initial good performance.


    As Edgar watched intently, the arena turned into a battlefield echoing with the metallic symphony of clashing swords. Each strike between Torquil and the Nameless Knight sent a shower of sparks into the air, the raw power of their blows leaving the crowd in a mix of awe and terror. Torquil, with a warrior''s instinct, suddenly flung his shield like a discus, catching the Nameless Knight off-guard and striking him squarely on the head with a resonating clang.


    In the split second of ensuing disorientation, Torquil capitalized on his advantage, delivering a swift and merciless strike that severed the sword arm of his opponent. The crowd gasped, expecting a gruesome sight, but to their utter disbelief and Edgar''s profound astonishment, no blood flowed from the wound. It was as if the Knight was impervious to the pain and loss that would cripple any ordinary man.


    The Nameless Knight, undaunted by the loss of his limb, retaliated with a ferocity that bordered on the supernatural. With a swift hurl, he sent his shield flying towards Torquil, who dodged with inches to spare from a potentially fatal blow. The arena fell into a stunned silence as they witnessed the impossible: the severed arm of the Nameless Knight began to regenerate, flesh and sinew knitting together in a miraculous display, reforming a new hand as if by some dark magic.


    The spectators, who had come expecting a typical tournament, found themselves witnessing a battle that defied the laws of nature and the bounds of their understanding. The Nameless Knight, now restored, stood ready to continue the fight, his resilience and otherworldly powers laying bare the gravity of the threat he posed. It was a revelation that shook Edgar to his core, realizing the depth of the dark forces they were up against.


    In the midst of the chaotic battle, the Nameless Knight, with his newly regenerated hand, grasped his sword with a renewed ferocity. He lunged towards Torquil, his blade slicing through the air with deadly intent. Torquil, however, exhibited a warrior''s grace and agility, evading the lethal strike with a deft sidestep. In a breathtaking counter, he thrust his own sword deep into the back of the Bringer of Death.


    The arena held its breath, expecting the Bringer to collapse under the fatal blow, but he stood unflinchingly, the sword protruding grotesquely through his chest. The crowd was horrified to see no flicker of pain in the Bringer''s eyes, no sign of his impending doom. It was as if the sword embedded in his body was a mere inconvenience rather than a mortal wound.


    Realizing that conventional methods were futile against such an adversary, Torquil made a daring decision. He let go of his sword, letting it clatter to the ground, and started to chant an archaic spell, his hands clasped together. Slowly, a fiery aura began to encircle his hands, intensifying into a blazing inferno that engulfed his entire being.


    The Bringer of Death, undeterred by the spectacle, charged forward with his sword aimed for a final strike. However, Torquil, now a living embodiment of fire, met the Bringer''s blade with his bare, flame-wreathed hands. In an astonishing display of power, he halted the sword''s advance. The flames leaped from Torquil''s hands onto the Nameless Knight, enveloping him in a conflagration. The crowd watched in a mixture of awe and horror as the Bringer of Death was rapidly consumed by the searing flames, his form disintegrating into ashes within moments.


    Torquil''s triumph served as a striking demonstration of his profound command of age-old and powerful sorcery, a spectacle that left the onlookers in stunned silence, their minds reeling from the display of raw power and the obliteration of a being they had believed to be invincible.


    Edgar understood then. To kill a Bringer of Death, you had to completely destroy their body. This was what Laryus meant when he said these knights were cursed. The body of the cursed had to be entirely destroyed to prevent them from coming back to life.


    The flames around Torquil disappeared, and he returned to normal. He was the victor of the last fight of the day, exiting the arena with all eyes on him. He was probably the strongest knight of the tournament.


    Darr and Edgar were extremely annoyed that they couldn''t penetrate Torquil''s mind to see who the mysterious Torquil really was. The crowd applauded and cheered him, shouting his name. He was their new hero. Even the people of Tuzmad sympathized with the one who defeated the demon in black armor, as the Nameless Knight was called.


    After leaving the arena, Torquil stopped in front of Edgar, looking at him with much hatred. In a blink, he placed his sword at Edgar''s throat, without offering an explanation. King Ludrol''s guards quickly surrounded Torquil, and the king ordered him to drop his sword.


    "You wretch! I''ve been waiting for this moment... Do you remember how you killed my family in front of me when I was just a child? How have you remained so young? What kind of sorcery is this?"


    It was clear that Torquil was not in his right mind. Edgar had never killed anyone''s family; he was not a criminal, and he had never heard of this Torquil. How could he have killed his family as a child when Edgar was the same age as him?


    "I didn''t kill your family. You''re confusing me with someone else," said Edgar.


    "You''re Edgar Argyle, I can''t mistake you. Your face has haunted my nightmares for years," Torquil said, ready to slit his throat.


    "Wait, Torquil!" a familiar voice called out. It was none other than Laryus, emerging from the crowd. Seeing him, Torquil sheathed his sword.


    "What do you mean, master?" asked Torquil. "You''ve always told me he was the murderer of my family."


    "Yes and no. I''d like to discuss this in a place without so many prying eyes," said Laryus. "King Ludrol, you should join us as well."


    Laryus, followed by Edgar, Torquil, and King Ludrol, entered the castle and headed to the throne room, the king''s preferred spot for resolving issues.


    "So... He''s the murderer?" Torquil inquired, looking at Laryus.


    "Yes, he is! Edgar Argyle killed your brother, sister, and parents when you were just eleven. But not this Edgar. They look alike, are one and the same, yet different persons."


    "Now you''re both frightening me," Edgar interjected. "Can someone explain what you''re talking about? Edgar Argyle killed your family, but not this Edgar, another Edgar who is Edgar?" he mocked Laryus.


    "There''s another Edgar Argyle, an Edgar from another dimension, or a demon with Edgar''s face. I can''t even explain it myself. That Edgar is supposedly immortal and incredibly powerful. He''s the Emperor''s right-hand man, and it''s said he received the gift of immortality from him. Rumors are that even the Lord of Demons sides with the Emperor," Laryus cunningly added.


    "The Emperor? Ha! You''re making me laugh," King Ludrol scoffed. "The Emperor despises humans. He would never grant immortality to one, and the Lord of Demons wouldn''t side with him, even in death."


    "Why are you so sure, King Ludrol? Ludrol... An odd name, don''t you think? Last year, I started piecing the puzzle together and realized who you truly are. By the way, have you ever tried pronouncing Ludrol backward?" Laryus inquired.


    "The Lord? The Lord of what? The Lord... of Demons? I''ll kill you! You killed my parents," Edgar yelled furiously.


    Just as Edgar was about to attack the king, Laryus extended his hand towards the young knight and magically paralyzed him, slamming him to the ground, immobilized.


    "That''s what I thought too," said Laryus. "Now I will tell a story, and you, Edgar, will listen. Long ago, a young man named Ludyn found a strange medallion near one of his father''s farms."


    "The medallion that controls demons? The Drimeton?" Torquil asked.


    "Exactly. It took some time before he understood what the medallion was, but by then, it was too late. An unknown force had opened a gate between our world and that of the demons. Ludyn became king at the age of thirty when his father died from an incurable disease. Ludyn sounded like a child''s name, so he chose a new one, one to instill fear in his enemies'' hearts. He chose Ludrol, a name signifying something known only to him."


    Edgar was still paralyzed, unable to move his body despite his efforts. He couldn''t believe he had been so blind as to not realize Ludrol was the Lord of Demons.


    "He killed my parents. Break the spell and let me stand, Laryus!"


    "It wasn''t Ludrol who killed your parents, but that other Edgar I told you about. He didn''t just want your parents dead, but you as well. He wanted to be the only heir, the only descendant of the two great wizards."


    After finishing his explanation, Laryus released the spell that immobilized Edgar. The young knight had seen many things in his life... He watched a Bringer of Death resurrect right before his eyes, but the existence of his malevolent doppelg?nger was too much for him.


    "Why was my family killed?" Torquil asked. "I''m not an heir, just an apprentice to a magician."


    "Who knows, maybe you will become a threat to him in the future, and this was a warning," Laryus suggested. "I don''t have all the answers."


    "You''re wrong, Laryus!" Edgar interjected, raising his sword at Ludrol. "The Breath of Death said they killed my family, and as we know, each Bringer has a demon protector, all controlled by Ludrol''s medallion. Not to mention the attack on Tazul''s capital."


    "Stop, Edgar! It''s not the first time the Bringers of Death claim crimes they haven''t committed. Marcus and I were there, failing miserably when we tried to save your parents. That''s when I saw him for the first time, I didn''t know who he was, but we eventually realized. He looked just like you, but his powers are far too great. Marcus and I fled from him, with you in arms, to save our lives. As for the attack on Tazul and other lands, it wasn''t Ludrol who ordered the demons to do that, but one of the commanding demons, beyond his control."


    "By the way, what do you know about Marcus? I heard Ludrol''s demons destroyed Tazul''s capital."


    "Marcus, along with the other dwarfs, is safe, some in The Kingdom of the Sun, others hidden in the Ice Mountains'' mines. The demons that attacked were no longer under Ludrol''s control. The medallion''s powers have faded. It seems the Fire Demon did something to prevent it from being controlled by anyone."


    Laryus explained to Edgar how Ludrol had used the medallion''s powers to control the demons entering this world. Without a master, chaos would have ensued. Edgar developed a headache while listening. All these years, he prepared to face the Lord of Demons, only to learn now that he was on the side of good.


    "I understand. He tried to kill me, put a bounty on my head, and he''s on our side..."


    "Because I indeed wanted you dead. I knew you were an heir, a descendant of the two wizards. It was only a matter of time before you joined the other side of the barricade," Ludrol added.


    "Ludrol believes that all heirs of Xal''Adunoss'' powers eventually turn to evil," Laryus elaborated.


    "So you were the one who tried to kill me in my sleep last night?"


    "Have you lost your mind? Why would I want to lose the knight representing my kingdom in the tournament?"


    After a brief pause, Edgar said:


    "Now what will you do? You just lost control of hundreds of demons. Do you have any idea what they will do next?"


    "They will do exactly what the Fire Demon orders them. Edgar, it wasn''t a few hundred demons, but a few thousand..." Ludrol revealed.


    "A few thousand? We''re doomed! The Fire Demon spoke to me recently. He told me to destroy your medallion."


    "The Fire Demon spoke to you?" asked Laryus.


    "Yes, we''re old friends. Sometimes we hang out in taverns, get ridiculously drunk, and crack inappropriate jokes..."


    "Edgar! I don''t have time for nonsense. When did the Fire Demon speak to you?"


    "Not long ago. He astrally projected me. The bastard, ruining my beautiful sleep."


    "It means that the medallion created by Adunoss no longer has power," Laryus deduced. "Our time is almost up."


    Laryus told the three that he must leave immediately to consult with Marcus. Only with his help could they find a solution. After Laryus departed, Torquil apologized to Edgar, saying he was sorry for trying to kill him. Edgar responded with a smile, saying he wouldn''t have succeeded anyway.


    Followed by Edgar, Torquil stepped outside, leaving Ludrol alone, deep in thought. An army of uncontrollable demons and the Fire Demon stepping into this world did not bode well for the future of these lands.


    Outside the castle, Torquil and Edgar discussed these issues. Edgar noticed he was being looked at strangely but didn''t expect to be viewed any differently when an individual identical to him had caused so much suffering.


    Edgar asked Torquil everything he knew about his other self, eager to learn as much as he could about this new enemy who had tried to kill him. Torquil explained that the other Edgar, like him, was once a brave knight. However, he managed to anger the Emperor. Realizing Edgar was clueless about the Emperor, Torquil explained that he was the most powerful being in the world, rumored to have played a crucial role in creating demons.


    The other Edgar disrupted some of the Emperor''s plans and defeated his best warriors, drawing his attention. Rumors suggested that the other Edgar had discovered a way to defeat the Emperor definitively. The Emperor poisoned him, fostering a thirst for power and greed in his heart, offering him immortality and the secret of time travel.


    "Where can this Emperor be found?"


    "No one knows where he is, and those who searched for him died in horrible agony, except for your other self."


    Edgar realized the Emperor was the least of his problems at the moment. Approximately nine thousand demon knights had entered their world and would soon be under the Fire Demon''s command.


    As night fell over the Kingdom of Tuzmad, Edgar again declined Ludrol''s invitation to dine with him and the nobles, asking instead for his meal to be brought to his room. To his surprise, two guards were stationed at his door, sent by the king for protection.


    This did little to ease Edgar''s mind, given his lack of trust in the king. He needed rest, for the tournament would continue the next morning, where he would face Darr, another enemy of whom he was unaware. He ate quickly, threw off his armor, and prepared for a short rest. But how could he sleep, knowing that a power-hungry version of himself had killed his parents? That somewhere in a fortress hidden through time and space, an emperor was playing god?


    Edgar had a few things to do here before he set off in search of Marcus, his longtime mentor, who would know what advice to give.


    Restless in bed, chaotic thoughts keeping him awake, he suddenly felt a terrible pain in his abdomen, as if stabbed. The pain subsided quickly, but he felt sick, clueless about what caused this pain that almost killed him once.


    Getting up, he lit a lamp and checked the site of the pain. Lifting his shirt, he noticed a new, ugly scar he hadn''t had before. What kind of sorcery was this? As he stared at his new scar, new memories flashed before his eyes.


    He remembered entering the Dormant Forest with Lockdar, meeting Laryus, who warned them about the Demon Lord. As they left Laryus''s hideout and headed for the forest exit, an individual with a red hood covering their face attacked him and Lockdar. The assailant knocked Lockdar down with a single punch, then drew a dagger and stabbed Edgar in the abdomen, right where the mysterious scar appeared.


    Lockdar managed to get up in time, striking the mysterious assassin and pulling off his hood, revealing his face. Young Edgar looked at the attacker''s face. At that time, he didn''t know who it was, but now, remembering, he realized it was him, aged about ten or twelve years older. A moment of inattention from Lockdar, and the attacker vanished, while young Edgar was quickly taken to a healer.


    These memories kept repeating in Edgar''s mind, and he couldn''t explain where they were coming from. Were they fabrications of his mind? Or events that had actually happened?


    He thought for a while, then quickly pieced things together. It seemed his other self had traveled back in time trying to kill him ten years ago. Thanks to the information from Torquil, Edgar could breathe a sigh of relief knowing he wasn''t going insane. But how relieved could he really feel, knowing that a psychopathic assassin with the powers of an inheritor, who possessed the gift of immortality and the secrets of time travel, wanted him dead? What had Edgar done for his other self to try to kill him again? Only the future seemed to hold the answers he needed.


    He knew he had to take action; he couldn''t just sit back and wait for the other to kill him when he was just a defenseless child. He kept wondering what he could do against an immortal? Certainly, he had to do something, but first, he had to finish this tournament he had thrown himself into.


    Unable to sleep anymore, he paced his room like a lunatic, trying to come up with an idea. Ideas were slow to come, frustrating the young knight, making him feel powerless for the first time in his life.


    Finally, the sun rose, and luckily, Edgar managed to fall asleep on the floor, getting some rest. He was awakened by loud knocks on his door. The king had sent word that the tournament was starting earlier, and he had half an hour to get equipped and ready for battle.


    Edgar put on his armor, secured his sword to his belt, grabbed his shield and helmet, and hurried to the arena to face Darr. He learned that one of the knights had withdrawn from the tournament and disappeared without a trace. This was one of the Death Bringers, the one called the Faceless Knight.


    Darr, the knight sent by King Lockdar, in whom he had placed high hopes of winning the title of the best knight, had already entered the arena. King Lockdar hoped Edgar would lose his life in this fight and pay for the insult he had caused.


    The knights of the Tuzmad kingdom hadn''t won the tournament for about thirty years, since the last participation of Damyen Argyle, the knight who put on a show in the arena every time he fought.


    Edgar entered the arena, shook hands with Darr, and at King Ludrol''s command, crossed swords with his new opponent. The fight began in moments, with Darr striking powerfully and mercilessly, keeping Edgar on the defensive.


    Edgar noticed Darr''s fighting tactic. He wasn''t trying to disarm him like he did with Hector but was simply trying to stab him. At first, Edgar thought he was imagining it, but after another aggressive strike that would have probably killed him if not for his shield, he asked:


    "What the heck are you doing? Are you trying to kill me? This is just a tournament, hero..."


    "Don''t you realize my sword longs to taste the blood of an inheritor? The bloodlust of inheritors is uncontrollable, the desire for power and the thought of being the sole inheritor burns in me like the fires of hell. I have seen many inheritors killed by this sword, some even begging for their lives..."


    "Damned be you! What kind of man are you? So it''s true... The thirst for power consumes inheritors. How could you kill them, Darr?"


    "With simplicity and meticulous precision, much like my attempt on your life the evening prior to the tournament. It confounds me how you yet draw breath; I witnessed the blood streaming from your frame."


    "Because I am immortal. Fear me!"


    Darr, with an air of determination, spun his sword in a swift, overhead arc and unleashed a barrage of relentless attacks upon Edgar.


    In an intense exchange, Edgar found himself thrust to the ground, as Darr, his grip iron-tight on the sword hilt, lunged in an attempt to deliver the final blow. Edgar''s quick reflexes saved him; he rolled aside on the hard, unyielding ground. With a burst of newfound energy, he sprang up, seized his Phoenix sword, and in a swift, decisive move, drove it deep into Darr''s chest. Blood surged violently from the wound, signaling the impending demise of the once-formidable knight. Darr''s lips quivered, struggling to form words. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, he whispered faintly but earnestly, trying to convey a final message.


    "Lockdar... said... if I kill you... he would help me... regain... my kingdom, Darr said, dying in Edgar''s arms."


    Edgar won the fight but at a very high cost. He had killed the brother of Princess Valleria. How was he going to tell the girl he was in love with that he had killed her brother? Because he was in love with the princess who had saved his life a while ago, even though he kept trying to deny his feelings for her.


    Lockdar would pay sooner or later, no matter how powerful he might be. As long as he had that sword with him, he couldn''t be easily defeated. However, now he had to focus on the tournament. He wanted to win, to prove he was worthy of the Argyle name, the name of the last knight who won the title for Tuzmad.


    Next was the fight between Torquil and the Nameless Knight, one of the Death Bringers. Edgar thought it was going to be a very interesting fight, after seeing how easily Torquil had defeated the other Death Bringer. The two entered the arena, and at King Ludrol''s signal, they shook hands, then started the fight.


    With a single sword strike, the Nameless Knight shattered Torquil''s shield, and with another blow, he forced Torquil to drop his sword to the ground. A kick to the chest knocked Torquil down, and his attempt to rise was his undoing. The black-clad knight''s sword swiftly beheaded him, shocking everyone.


    No sooner had Darr''s lifeless body been removed from the arena, another knight fell victim to this cursed tournament. Unable to contain his anger, Edgar rose furiously from his seat and stormed into the arena without waiting for the king''s signal, charging at the Nameless Knight.


    The knight removed his helmet, revealing his terrifying face. His face was burned, and a deep cut marred his right cheek. It was none other than the Death''s Breath, whom Edgar had encountered in the Dark Forest.


    "We meet again, Edgar Argyle. This time I won''t let you breathe another day. Prepare to meet your parents!"


    "Before I kill you, tell me, why did you lie that you and your comrades killed the wretch''s family? Well, you didn¡¯t fool me but the Edgar of this dimension, whose friend I killed earlier. I''m referring to that pathetic prince, Darr, or whatever his name was. By the way, I don¡¯t like it when someone takes credit for my deeds."


    "What? You''re that Edgar? The Emperor''s right hand? asked Death''s Breath fearfully."


    "What do you think? Would Edgar kill a friend?"


    Death''s Breath threw himself at Edgar''s feet, begging for mercy, to the astonishment of the onlookers who had their eyes fixed on the arena, unaware of what was happening. Edgar wanted to find an easier way to kill a Death Bringer, other than burning them to ashes, especially since he didn''t have powers like Torquil.


    "Please, Lord Edgar! I beg you, don''t cut my throat, pleaded Death''s Breath. If you spare my life, I swear to serve only you."


    "I almost feel sorry for you. I appreciate that you told me how to kill you more easily. Seriously, did you really believe me when I said I was the Emperor''s subject?"


    "What? I can''t believe I was so easily fooled, raged Death''s Breath, who had no choice due to the Phoenix sword at his throat. Anyway, I am willing to serve and protect you with my life, if you spare it."


    "Why should I believe you? You serve the Fire Demon. You would never betray him."


    "Yes, I would, especially when my fate is sealed. My mission has failed, you are still alive and have won the tournament. If you don¡¯t kill me, the Fire Demon will. Spare my life, and I will switch sides and divulge the demons'' plans to you."


    "Fine, so be it... But if you try to deceive me, remember I know how to kill you."


    "You won''t regret this, my lord, said Death''s Breath, vanishing magically in a cloud of dust."


    Had Edgar made the right choice in sparing the Death Bringer''s life? Nothing could prevent him from presenting himself before the Fire Demon, claiming Edgar''s trust in him, offering a chance to backstab Edgar at any moment.


    The spectators, who had been watching breathlessly, were greatly disappointed to see that the fight between the last two knights did not occur. On the other hand, King Ludrol was utterly baffled as to why Edgar had spared the life of the Death Bringer. He had no choice but to declare Edgar the champion of the Tournament of the Ten Knights.


    His name was called out powerfully in the crowd, as people applauded the young knight. King Ludrol gestured for Edgar to come to him, placing a medal around his neck and then loudly proclaiming:


    "Tuzmad, behold your champion!"


    At the king''s feet lay a chest containing a thousand gold coins, the prize due to the winner of the tournament. It was a true fortune. With this money, Edgar could buy lands, animals, servants, and even a lordship title. He would no longer need to work for the rest of his life.


    From the crowd emerged the two brothers, Tenzim and Turalon, congratulating Edgar on his victory. They were no longer considered outlaws, as Edgar had requested the king to withdraw all charges against them.


    Participating in the Tournament of the Ten Knights had not been a pleasant experience for Edgar, forced to kill to avoid being killed. He had just become a hero to hundreds of people who had watched the tournament with bated breath.


    "Why, Edgar? Why did you have to kill him? Was this title so important to you?" came a thin, trembling voice.


    It was Valleria. With tears in her eyes, she tried to look at Edgar, struggling to control herself and not to lash out at him.


    "Edgar had to do it, didn''t you see? Your brother seemed to have completely lost his mind," said Tenzim.


    "Valleria, I can''t imagine what you feel, but try to understand... Edgar had no choice," added Turalon.


    "Valleria is right... I shouldn''t have killed him. I lost control," admitted Edgar.


    He avoided telling the truth about Darr. He wanted Valleria to retain a good opinion of her brother. It was enough for her to have lost her brother; learning he was a murderer would have been too much. Valleria looked at Edgar with contempt, then disappeared into the crowd.


    The name of the new tournament victor was shouted from all sides. It was a great honor for the Kingdom of Tuzmad that its representative won the Tournament of the Ten Knights. The last knight who had won the tournament for them was Damyen Argyle, about thirty years ago. King Ludrol threw a grand celebration in honor of the knight who brought victory to his kingdom. Edgar was named the hero of Tuzmad, the highest rank a knight could hold, even more prestigious than that of the army''s captain.

 The Kingdom of the Sun Under Siege

    A week had passed since the tournament ended, yet people were still talking about the fierce battles fought in that arena. Edgar was now staying in his parents'' old house in Dornaran, a place where he hadn''t lived for long.


    With the prize money, he bought planks to build a new roof, fixed up the house, constructed a stable for his horse Lightning, and renovated the small forge his uncle had built ten years ago. There, he cleaned his armor, sharpened his sword, and shod Lightning. The skills learned from his uncle Falo proved very useful. Despite now being wealthy and a respected knight, he wasn''t ready to give up the trade he learned from his uncle.


    He enjoyed no longer being considered a criminal who had to hide due to bounties on his head. He even went fishing at the Dul''Zare River, where he caught some fish, which he found absolutely remarkable. To live peacefully away from battles and troubles seemed like an incredible dream.


    Unfortunately for him, his luck in enjoying a quiet life didn''t last long. Someone was pounding at his door. Upon opening it, he found a knight dressed in black, his face covered by a helmet. It was none other than Breath of Death, whom Edgar invited inside, even though he didn''t trust him.


    Breath of Death took a seat and told Edgar he had news for him. Edgar listened attentively, warning him it would be wise not to deceive him.


    "Approximately eleven thousand demons have been brought into this world through a portal opened by the Demon of Fire. The portal is temporarily closed, but with such an army, the whole world is in danger," Breath of Death revealed.


    "How can they be stopped?" Edgar asked. "There must be a way... preferably one that doesn''t involve the loss of human lives."


    "One way is to banish the Demon of Fire back to the Realm of the Dead, where he came from. An army of demons without a commander will be easy to defeat... but without losses, that''s unlikely."


    "You do realize you''re not much help, right?" Edgar said. "Are you still loyal to this demon?"


    "I betrayed him to save my life. He recently summoned me to present myself before him. He would have killed me on the spot if I had done so."


    "Do you think I care? When I spared you, I thought you would share more important things, like the plans of the commanding demons."


    "Then listen carefully! The Demon of Fire is preparing to wipe the Kingdom of the Sun off the map. The attack could start at any moment."


    The Kingdom of the Sun was one of the most powerful realms on earth. With its army defeated, there would be no one left to protect the smaller kingdoms. Something had to be done quickly. Edgar told the Bringer of Death to leave and meet him in Tuzmad.


    Immediately, Edgar donned his armor and strapped his sword to his belt. He still hadn''t unraveled the mystery of this sword, found at his father''s grave. It was unbelievable that Edgar could craft a sword identical to his father''s without ever seeing it.


    He mounted Lightning and rode swiftly towards Tuzmad. If what Bringer of Death had told him was true, Ludrol needed to know and prepare for a possible attack. As a hero of Tuzmad, Ludrol should consider Edgar''s advice.


    Lightning nearly flew alongside the Dul''Zare River, speeding past the flower-filled plains. At sunset, Edgar finally reached the gates of Tuzmad Castle.


    Upon entering the throne room, he saw King Ludrol consulting with one of his trusted lords. The king was surprised to see Edgar so soon, especially since he had refused to become the captain of his army. Edgar bowed to the king, announcing he brought important news.


    "What news?" asked Ludrol.


    "I have reason to believe that a demon army will attack the Kingdom of the Sun," Edgar said. "Don''t ask me how I know..."


    "Probably from that Bringer of Death," King Ludrol remarked. "By sparing his life, he''s become your servant."


    "What will you do? Will you offer support to King Lockdar?"


    "First, there''s no proof that your information is true. I can''t trust someone who tried to kill you."


    "Then that would mean you shouldn''t trust yourself, Your Majesty."


    "I was mistaken about you. Back then, I thought you were a criminal who would join the other side."


    Before the king could finish, a messenger burst into the throne room with terrible news. He reported that the Kingdom of the Sun was under attack by a vast army and that King Lockdar had been assassinated the previous night.


    Edgar couldn''t believe his ears. He had hoped he would be the one to defeat King Lockdar. However, the people of the kingdom needed help. King Ludrol''s response infuriated him. Ludrol hoped the Kingdom of the Sun''s army would halve the demon forces, and he planned to send his army only after the battle ended, to destroy the demons, save the Kingdom of the Sun, and become the ruler of both realms.


    Edgar found Ludrol''s plan utterly disagreeable. Sacrificing human lives just for Ludrol to become the savior king was not something he could condone. Leaving the castle, he met with Bringer of Death, disguised as a wandering knight. Breath of Death informed him that the Kingdom of the Sun was on the brink of collapse, especially since the king was dead and there was no one to command the army.


    "Where could I possibly muster an army to fend off these demons?" Edgar asked, agitated. "From where? Ludrol is a coward aiming to play the hero, only to later claim the Kingdom of the Sun. I can''t expect even a single warrior from him... Unless he wishes to help... He must wish to... He is the only one who can."


    "Whom are you referring to?" inquired Breath of Death, puzzled.


    "I''m talking about Mestafol, the immortal spirit of the Lymdor Desert."


    "Mestafol? Why do you believe he would assist you? He is ruthless, never helping anyone, especially not a human."


    Breath of Death was mistaken. Mestafol was once a human, not just any human, but the king of the Kingdom of Lymdor, one of the greatest and most powerful kingdoms ever to exist on earth.


    Edgar, with a sense of purpose, climbed atop his steed, accompanied by the ominous Breath of Death, as they embarked on the arduous trek across the expansive Lymdor Desert. Understanding the length and peril of the journey ahead, Edgar meticulously prepared, packing enough provisions to sustain them through the desolate terrain. A full day and night of travel lay before them, with Breath of Death providing dubious companionship.


    In the eerie calm of the desert nights, Edgar found little repose, his rest constantly disturbed by the necessity of vigilance. The threat of betrayal loomed ever-present, and he dared not completely surrender to sleep, aware that his enigmatic travel companion might seize the opportunity to dispatch him.


    As dawn broke, casting its first rays over the sandy expanse, Edgar awoke and cautiously assessed himself, half-expecting the cold betrayal of steel against his skin. However, much to his relief, he remained unharmed, an unexpected indication that, for the night at least, Breath of Death had chosen not to betray his trust.


    After enduring the rigorous journey, Edgar and his mysterious companion finally arrived at the vast expanse of the Lymdor Desert. The sun beat down harshly upon the endless dunes, signifying the beginning of another arduous segment of their quest ¨C a journey that would take two days and nights to traverse before they could reach the Kingdom of the Sun.


    In this desolate landscape, the enigmatic Mestafol was conspicuously absent. Edgar, feeling the urgency of their mission, raised his voice, calling out Mestafol''s name into the echoing silence of the desert. In response, a swirling tempest of sand materialized before them, a stark contrast to their first encounter. This time, Mestafol revealed himself not as a creature of sand, but as a formidable whirlwind, embodying the unpredictable and untamed spirit of the desert itself. The sight was both awe-inspiring and unnerving, reinforcing the otherworldly nature of their journey.


    "What do you want? Who is he? I sense an evil power," said Mestafol.


    "I could say the same about you, Mestafol. He is Breath of Death, my... trusted partner," Edgar replied. "What happened to you? You look different."


    "I can take any form I desire. What brings you here, Edgar Argyle?"


    "I need your help. You''re immortal and possess unimaginable powers. I need you to save the Kingdom of the Sun, which is currently under attack by demons."


    "Demons? Near Lymdor? There haven''t been demons in this world for thousands of years..."


    Mestafol was no longer certain of the absence of demons when Breath of Death removed his helmet, revealing his face. Edgar persuaded him, saying that if he didn''t help, the Kingdom of the Sun would face a fate similar to, or worse than, Lymdor''s. With these words, Edgar managed to sway Mestafol.


    In the midst of the vast desert, a remarkable phenomenon unfolded before Edgar''s eyes. From the very sands that stretched endlessly beneath the sky, there arose a host of valiant sand knights, astride majestic steeds as grand as any that had ever graced the stables of kings. These were the spirits of warriors of yore, noble souls who had laid down their lives in service of their sovereign. Even beyond the veil of death, their loyalty endured, unwavering as the mountains themselves.


    Fashioned of the desert sands, these spectral warriors formed an imposing array around Edgar. Their ranks were filled with swordsmen whose blades shimmered with the mirage of heat, archers with bows drawn taut, ready to loose arrows swift as the desert wind, and lancers whose sand-crafted spears held the promise of unyielding strength. Here, in the heart of the desert, Edgar found himself amidst a vast and silent army, a testament to the enduring valor and devotion of those long passed.


    "This is what I call an army risen from the ground," Edgar exclaimed. "With this army and your powers, we''ll send the demons back to Hell."


    "No, Edgar. I will not fight. I despise wars. You will lead the army to victory," Mestafol declared.


    In a blink, Edgar set off with Breath of Death and the vast army gifted by Mestafol, heading towards the Kingdom of the Sun. Whatever Mestafol''s reasons for not participating in the war, Edgar respected them and would remain eternally grateful for his help.


    In the Kingdom of the Sun, Turalon and Tenzim fought fiercely alongside the kingdom''s army. Outnumbered, they had to retreat within the walls surrounding the castle. Archers tried to bring down the demons who, using a battering ram, attempted to break the gates. The gates appeared unlikely to hold much longer, and the archers were falling one by one, struck by arrows or spears.


    Tenzim ordered the lancers to position themselves in front of the gates as they were about to give way. Without King Lockdar, they were finished, for the king''s men barely heeded the commands, resulting in total chaos. The real trouble emerged as the gate succumbed, and hundreds of demons surged through.


    The lancers fell dead to the ground. They fought valiantly, but against these demons, the chances of success were slim. Tenzim and Turalon fought side by side, leaving behind the lifeless bodies of the demons.


    From behind, a demon rushed at Tenzim, knocking him to the ground. The demon drew a dagger, aiming it at him, but Turalon managed to behead the demon with a single sword strike, then lifted his brother from the ground.


    A moment of distraction, and an arrow pierced Turalon''s left shoulder. Terrible pain seized his entire arm, but he had no time even to pull the arrow out, as he needed to fight the demons.


    The demons'' faces were incredibly frightening. Their long, pointed ears adorned with large, thick earrings made them look terribly menacing. Their black skin, white eyes, long, sharp teeth protruding from their mouths, and mercilessly stitched wounds gave them a grotesque appearance. They were armed with swords, axes, bows, and daggers. Fighting them was difficult due to the immense powers they possessed. When all hope seemed lost, strong rustling sounds suddenly filled the air. It was the dwarves led by Marcus, riding the legendary and famous griffins. There were about twenty griffins, and behind each griffin, two dwarves.


    In the tumultuous skies above the grand castle, a legion of magnificent griffins soared, each a marvel of nature''s artistry. These creatures, as large as horses, bore the proud head and front talons of an eagle, and the hindquarters of a mighty steed. Their wings, grand and majestic, spanned wide, casting great shadows upon the earth below. Atop these noble beasts rode the dwarves, each pair working in seamless harmony.


    As the griffins swooped and dived, one dwarf would guide the majestic creature with expert precision, while their companion unleashed a torrent of fiery destruction upon the demonic horde besieging the castle. With each pass, sacks full of enchanted orbs were transformed into roaring infernos, exploding with fierce intensity upon impact, turning demons into ash in their fiery wake.


    The demonic archers, in desperation, loosed volleys of arrows skyward, aiming to bring down these feathered avengers. Yet, their efforts were in vain. The griffins, armored in scales as tough as the strongest metal, shrugged off the arrows with ease, their skin impervious to such feeble assaults. Each swoop of the griffins was a dance of death, their riders raining down fire and fury, turning the tide of battle in a spectacular display of aerial prowess and power.


    As the battle raged, a shadow loomed from the ominous dark clouds above, heralding the emergence of the demonic army''s fearsome secret weapon. A colossal black dragon, conjured from the deepest abyss of their dark world, broke through the cloud cover, its arrival shifting the balance of the fray. This gargantuan beast, summoned for the singular purpose of aiding their ruthless conquest of humanity, descended upon the battlefield with an air of malevolent grace.


    Adorned with scales as hard as the toughest steel, the dragon''s hide acted as impenetrable armor, deflecting arrows and spells alike. Atop its menacing head, two formidable horns arched skyward, sharp and threatening. From its cavernous maw, it belched forth torrents of scorching flame, engulfing the battlefield in searing heat and fire. Its wings, vast and mighty, stretched wide, dwarfing even those of the noblest griffin, granting it unmatched speed and agility in the air.


    Not just its fiery breath, but also its whip-like tail served as a deadly weapon, lashing out with bone-crushing force. And within its monstrous jaws, rows of massive, razor-sharp teeth promised a swift and gruesome end to any who dared approach. The dragon''s presence alone instilled terror in the hearts of warriors, as it carved a path of destruction through their ranks, its might unchallenged, a dark herald of despair for the forces of humanity.


    The battlefield trembled beneath the might of the black dragon, a creature of nightmare and destruction. In a singular, swift motion of its monstrous tail, it swatted two griffins from the sky, their majestic forms crashing to the earth with a dreadful finality. Neither the noble griffins nor the brave dwarves astride them withstood the devastating blow, their lives extinguished in an instant of raw, brutal force.


    But the dragon''s wrath did not end there. Its breath, a torrent of unbridled inferno, engulfed the airborne griffins and their dwarven riders in a fiery maelstrom. The sky was alight with the tragic spectacle of burning griffins, their feathered wings ablaze, plummeting towards the ground in a nightmarish descent. The shrieks of the majestic creatures and their riders echoed across the battlefield, a chilling demonstration of the dragon''s formidable might.


    In mere moments, the sky was cleared of griffins, leaving only the black dragon to reign supreme in the heavens. It then turned its malevolent attention to the people below. With terrifying precision, it unleashed fiery breath upon them, turning warriors and innocents alike into living torches. Others were not granted even this quick demise, as the dragon would cruelly snatch them up in its colossal jaws, only to release them from a terrifying height, their screams trailing behind as they plummeted to a gruesome end.


    The dragon''s onslaught was not just an attack; it was a show of overwhelming power, a dark spectacle meant to crush the spirit of those who dared resist. The field of battle, once a place of valor and honor, was transformed into a hellscape by the dragon''s fury, its every action spelling doom for the defenders of humanity.


    All hope seemed lost for the two brothers as they witnessed the defeat of the griffins. Not even half of the demons had been slain, and their forces were reduced to just a few hundred. They wouldn''t hold out much longer. Neither they nor the castle, as the catapults hurled large rocks at its walls. The dragon, seemingly unstoppable, ensured the demons'' victory. The cursed dragon incinerated everything in its path, and their arrows couldn''t even penetrate its skin.


    As despair gripped the heart of the Kingdom of the Sun, an unexpected miracle unfolded. Out of nowhere, a colossal whirlwind of sand roared into existence, looming over the battlefield. This cyclone, a force of nature unto itself, clashed with the fearsome dragon. In a breathtaking display, the whirlwind engulfed the dragon, drawing it into its swirling vortex with immense force. The dragon struggled against the unyielding grip of the whirlwind, but to no avail. Moments later, the whirlwind released its captive, sending the dragon''s remains plummeting towards the castle walls in a gruesome spectacle.


    Tenzim and Turalon, standing amidst the chaos of battle, could only watch in stunned silence. The whirlwind, now a fierce ally, turned its wrath upon the demonic forces. Sand and wind lashed out like the tentacles of some ancient, vengeful deity, tearing through the ranks of the demons with unstoppable ferocity. The tide of the battle shifted dramatically as the whirlwind rampaged across the battlefield, leaving destruction in its wake and rekindling hope in the hearts of the kingdom''s defenders.


    "By all the gods!" Turalon exclaimed.


    The battle began to balance the moment Edgar appeared, accompanied by a vast army. They cleaved through the demons'' bodies with their swords as effortlessly as an axe through wheat. Many demons recoiled in horror upon seeing Breath of Death, once their ally, now fighting against them. Although Edgar was loath to admit it, the two of them made an effective team, unstoppable together.


    This didn''t sit well with the Fire Demon and the Soul Devourer, the leader of the Death Bringers. Soul Devourer spotted Edgar, aimed his bow, and fired. Edgar''s luck held as Breath of Death caught the arrow in mid-air, saving the young man''s life.


    "Thank you! You saved my life. But why? I can feel your rage, I know you want to see me dead."


    "It''s true, but I fight these feelings of fury to feel human again, to know sympathy. I''m tired of only feeling hate, instilled in my mind by demonic forces. Listen, I''m not sure we can win with the army we have. We need to take down their commanders, starting with Soul Devourer."


    "He''s mine!" Edgar declared, charging towards Soul Devourer.


    In moments, he confronted the most brutal and powerful of the Death Bringers. Soul Devourer''s face was hidden beneath a helmet crafted from steel and gilded with gold, matching the armor he wore.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Soul Devourer raised his sword towards Edgar but hesitated to attack. Edgar sensed his reluctance and fear.


    "I feel fear. Why? Don''t you want to kill me?"


    "If you die, your powers will transfer to the other. I don''t want to be responsible for creating an unstoppable monster. You may not know about him, but he''s no inheritor like you. He gained his powers through battles and spells. The powers of an inheritor, a descendant of the two great wizards, are unimaginable. If he gains your powers, he''ll become so strong, not even the Emperor will scare him."


    "I don''t understand. I know he''s powerful, making my powers seem insignificant in comparison. Why would he need them?"


    "Because the powers of an inheritor who fully masters them can become an immeasurable force. The Emperor brought demons into this world, and with his death, our future is not bright."


    "So, my death would be beneficial? It would rid humanity of you. You never wanted to kill me, did you?"


    "Your death beneficial? Fool! With your powers, the other Edgar will destroy everything, turning all opposition to ash."


    Everything started making sense now. That was why Breath of Death hadn''t killed Edgar in the Dark Forest, nor did they intend to at the Ten Knights'' Tournament. They lured him into the tournament to learn about his malevolent counterpart. The demons had a well-devised plan, likely concocted by one of their commanders. But their plan was far from complete, as the most interesting part was yet to unfold.


    "Exactly! It wasn''t us who devised the plan, but the Emperor," Soul Devourer revealed, reading Edgar''s thoughts.


    "If he''s so powerful, why doesn''t he deal with him himself?"


    "Because he''s fled, and we have no idea where or when he is. He could be in the Era of Dragons or even in the Era of the Great Wizards. Meet with the Emperor, and he will stop the attack."


    "What? The Emperor wants to see me? He''ll stop the attack if I agree?"


    "Precisely."


    "Fine, I''ll come!"


    No sooner had Edgar agreed than the demons ceased their assault, retreating subtly, leaving the other humans clueless about what had transpired.


    Edgar couldn''t help but think how psychopathic the Emperor was. Attacking a kingdom, taking so many lives, just to get him to come? Wouldn''t it have been easier to send an invitation?


    "Very well, come to the ruins of the Na''Zul palace at this time tomorrow. Do not be late," Soul Devourer instructed.


    Within hours, not a single demon was in sight, as if they had all vanished into thin air. Edgar entered the castle, finding Turalon tending to his injured shoulder. The survivors were relieved that the battle was over and they had lived. Not Edgar. He felt responsible for these people''s lives. He cursed the day he was born, the two great wizards, and their descendants.


    Tenzim and Turalon were overjoyed to see Edgar, but he paid little attention to their words, lost in his own thoughts, trying to fathom what the Emperor, who had gone to such extreme lengths in his godlike play, wanted. The brothers had no idea about Edgar''s deal with Soul Devourer.


    In the hall, Edgar spotted Valleria, tending to the wounded. When she saw Edgar, she approached him, embracing him, and apologizing. Edgar was perplexed. He should have been the one apologizing, for he had killed her brother.


    "I''m the one who should be apologizing..."


    "No, Edgar. I know what you tried to do. To preserve my brother''s honor. The truth has been revealed to me. I know my brother was a criminal, I know about the inheritors he killed, I know about his deal with King Lockdar."


    "How did you learn the truth?"


    "I am an inheritor. I have the power to see the past, the present, and the future. That''s why you must not go to the ruins of the Na''Zul Palace tomorrow," Valleria implored.


    "Valleria, if I don''t go, the demons will attack again."


    It was clear that Valleria foresaw a disaster, insisting that he shouldn''t proceed to the meeting with the Emperor. Edgar felt a sense of foreboding too, but saw no alternative.


    Until now, he had never feared death, perhaps because he had never been so close to it. But more than anything, he wished to live for Valleria. He saw the love in the beautiful princess''s eyes, and all he wanted was to spend the rest of his life with her, leading a peaceful existence. He couldn''t believe how much love for the princess had transformed him. To Edgar, love was divine, surpassing all deities. If gods existed, he believed they would bow to the power of love, fascinated by the depth of feeling it could evoke, placing it at the pinnacle of Paradise''s eternal realms.


    Valleria pleaded with him not to go to the ruins, sharing her vision of him, hoping to persuade him not to leave. She told him how she saw him killed by his own sword.


    "Please, Edgar! My visions never fail. They will kill you," Valleria said, clasping his hands in her warm palms.


    Unfortunately, Valleria couldn¡¯t sway Edgar, as a part of him was eager to meet the Emperor. He decided to stay in the castle for the night, possibly his last. He heard a knock on his door, which he opened swiftly, only to find no one. Left behind was a small leather-wrapped parcel. Inside, he found a small grey stone with a black crown etched in the center and a note with ancient words: "Na''Zul en dun." It was a magical stone, and those were the activation words, teleporting whoever held the stone to the ruins of the Na''Zul Palace.


    Edgar had no idea what the future held or what plans the Emperor had for him. He struggled to sleep, as the sun seemed to rise earlier than usual.


    Exiting the castle, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Tenzim, Turalon, and Valleria were determined to follow him on his perilous mission. He briskly told them it wasn¡¯t necessary for them to accompany him. Holding the magical stone, he uttered the magic words and vanished before their eyes. Tears formed in Valleria''s eyes, fearing for Edgar''s life because of her visions.


    "Lucky devil," Tenzim remarked. "No girl has ever cried over me. I don''t know about you two, but I''m heading to that place. I''ll be there in less than five hours."


    "I''m coming too," declared Turalon. "I don''t want to miss out on all the fun."


    "And I... have no intention of letting the father of my unborn child lose his life," declared Valleria.


    Tenzim''s eyebrows knitted together in a comically puzzled expression, prompting Turalon to discreetly nudge him. Valleria noticed the brothers exchanging glances and finally broke the silence.


    "Yes, I''m pregnant. Edgar and I had some time together before the tournament started."


    "Another one? I hope this little heir-to-be isn''t as much trouble as Edgar," Tenzim joked, laughing.


    Meanwhile, Edgar had already arrived among the ruins of an ancient palace. As he wandered among the debris, he heard his name called out by Soul Devourer, who appeared behind him, clad in his magnificent gold-dusted armor. Edgar asked the knight where the Emperor was, and the answer he received was astonishing.


    "Not where, but when. The Emperor is right here, where once there was a beautiful flower garden. Allow me to show you."


    A whirlwind of dust enveloped them both, transforming the ruins into towering walls. When the whirlwind dissipated, Edgar found himself in a palace that seemed newly constructed.


    He was in a beautifully colored room, filled with a pleasant aroma that reminded him of his childhood days running through flower-filled fields. An old man in gray robes, crowned with a golden, jewel-studded crown, was tending to his flowers. It was the Emperor.


    He meticulously cared for his plants, and upon seeing Edgar, he exclaimed loudly, "Behold, my new champion!"


    The Emperor led Edgar to a uniquely fragrant red flower with a shiny green stem. He explained that this flower, named the King''s Scepter, was the last of its kind and his most precious treasure, tended for over fifteen hundred years.


    Edgar had seen more beautiful flowers, especially in the Giant Mountains'' fields, but he refrained from commenting. The Emperor continued to talk about flowers, their care, and the importance of sunlight.


    Meanwhile, Tenzim, Valleria, and Turalon finally reached the palace ruins, but there was no sign of Edgar. Fearing they were too late, they realized the truth ¡ª they had indeed arrived too late, by a thousand years. They unanimously agreed on their helplessness, with only the magician Laryus capable of assisting them.


    A thousand years ago, Edgar could no longer endure another word about the Emperor''s flowers and interrupted him with a cold tone:


    "I never knew a criminal like you could have an interest in flowers..."


    The Emperor pretended not to hear Edgar''s comment, continuing his discourse on his magnificent flowers. This was too much for Edgar. He would rather face death than hear another word about those damned flowers. He was beginning to despise flowers because of the Emperor. Eventually, the Emperor stopped and asked why Edgar was calling him a criminal.


    "Do you have any idea how many people your demons have killed?"


    Unfortunately, once again, Edgar didn''t receive an answer but heard the Emperor talking about flowers yet again. Edgar felt his head was about to explode.


    How could someone be so indifferent? Or so obsessed with flowers? At that moment, Edgar seriously started to doubt Valleria''s predictions. He was convinced he would be killed by a flower, not a sword.


    "You have some very beautiful flowers around here," Edgar finally said, convinced he would not be listened to.


    "Do you think so?" the Emperor asked. "I have collected them from all corners of the world and all periods of time," he added with pride. "Wait until you see them all, then you''ll truly be amazed."


    "Let''s get back to the issue with the demons, why did they attack..."


    "You must see these flowers, they are truly amazing! I''ve been caring for them for a very long time."


    It was unbelievable! Every time Edgar tried to steer the conversation away from flowers, the Emperor seemed to become deaf. It was unlikely that this madman was the Emperor everyone spoke of, the one who instilled fear in the hearts of demons and subjugated them.


    Finally, the Emperor sat down on a chair, and to Edgar''s relief, he stopped talking about flowers. He began to talk about wars and how he was merely a pawn, unable to control them.


    "Every thousand years, the earth is bathed in blood, turning into an endless altar of sacrifices."


    "And you, not wanting this to stop, sent your demons to attack the Kingdom of the Sun."


    "If it hadn''t been me, someone else would certainly have commanded them, and perhaps then there wouldn''t have been someone as lenient as me. The great Adunoss left us the secrets of controlling them. Let''s suppose I know a way to banish the demons from this world and would need help... Would you agree to assist me?"


    "What''s the catch? I don''t understand why you want them gone, especially since you have control over them."


    "I have been betrayed by two of my most powerful servants. Cuer''Ilf, known as the Demon of Fire, and that other Edgar, who has become a real headache. Cuer''Ilf and the other Edgar have joined forces and managed to draw a large army of demons to their side, using the teachings of Adunoss. The truth is, I am starting to lose control of this situation."


    "And how could I possibly help you?" asked Edgar, puzzled.


    The Emperor asked if Edgar was aware of some stones created by Nagus, known as the Sun Diamonds. He explained that these were created with the sole purpose of destroying all demons in this world and sealing their world''s portal forever. He added that there are three such diamonds, not two, as Edgar believed, and their power can only be activated when the three diamonds are together. This is where Edgar came in. Only a descendant of Nagus could harness their power.


    Edgar thus learned from the Emperor that one diamond was with Cuer''Ilf, another with the other Edgar, and the whereabouts of the third were unknown. Edgar knew. He didn¡¯t think about the third diamond lest the Emperor had the ability to read thoughts. He didn¡¯t trust the Emperor, and the location of the third diamond should not be revealed. The Emperor then revealed the weakness of his other self, who was not as immortal as believed. A dagger to the heart could take his immortality in moments.


    After revealing all these things, the Emperor sent Edgar back to his own time, right at the moment when Turalon, Tenzim, and Valleria were arriving at the ruins.


    They asked him if he managed to find the Emperor, and when Edgar told them that he had spoken with him for an entire day, the three cast dubious glances at each other. How could he have talked with the Emperor for an entire day? The sun hadn¡¯t even set. Tenzim jokingly told Edgar that wandering among the ruins could cause serious hallucinations and that he should get a better job. Saving the world from a demon army doesn¡¯t bring in much income, and a child isn¡¯t easy to raise.


    Edgar didn¡¯t understand what he meant, but when he returned to the castle, Valleria gave him news that shocked him more than learning about the existence of his evil self. He smiled at the princess, embraced her tightly, and then kissed her passionately.


    The two were just about to make wedding plans when they learned that the Trian Kingdom was under attack by the demon army. The Trian Kingdom, allied with the The Kingdom of the Sun, now under King Dumytrius''s command, Lockdar¡¯s cousin, requested Edgar to lead the cavalry that was to support Trian.


    Dumytrius entrusted a large part of his army to Edgar, aware that the hero acclaimed across two kingdoms was the most suitable to lead his forces. The young man bid farewell to Valleria and hurried to the Trian Kingdom. King Bardolph, the ruler of the kingdom, desperately needed fresh forces, as his men were falling under the demons'' blades.


    It was about a six-hour journey to the Trian Kingdom, and King Bardolph''s people had to hold out until reinforcements arrived. The residents of Trian had left their homes and retreated to the castle by the king''s command. Women and children were hidden in a tunnel behind the dungeons, and the prisoners were released, armed with a sword, and sent to fight alongside the king''s army.


    In a display of unparalleled bravery and unity, the dwarves of New Tazul, riding atop thirty majestic griffins, soared into the battle-scarred skies. These fearless warriors, guided by the wisdom and strategic planning of Marcus, brought a new surge of hope to the beleaguered defenders. Each griffin, a symbol of strength and agility, bore its dwarf rider with grace, their powerful wings cutting through the air as they dove and swirled in a dance of war. The dwarves, with their hearts as vast as the mountains they hailed from, unleashed a relentless barrage of enchanted fire projectiles, earning a begrudging respect even from their demonic adversaries.


    However, the tides of war are often cruel and unforgiving. Despite their aerial prowess and the fear they struck into demonic hearts, the griffins and their dwarf riders were not invincible. The demons, though bereft of their draconian allies, were cunning and ruthless. They had prepared for this aerial onslaught, arming themselves with arrows dipped in lethal poison. One by one, these deadly shafts found their marks, piercing the sky to bring down the noble griffin riders. Each fallen warrior was a blow to the morale of the defenders, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of this relentless war.


    The once-mighty forces of King Bardolph found themselves in a grim predicament, their numbers dwindling as the relentless onslaught of the demon army forced them into a desperate retreat. The battlefield, strewn with the valiant fallen of Trian, bore witness to the brutal efficiency of their demonic foes. With many of their brethren grievously wounded and their ranks halved, the soldiers of Trian had little choice but to fall back to the supposed sanctuary of their castle walls, their hearts heavy with the burden of retreat.


    As the massive gates of the castle groaned shut, sealing the remnants of Bardolph''s army within, a palpable sense of dread settled over the beleaguered defenders. The demon army, vast and seemingly indomitable, encamped around the castle, a dark tide waiting to crash upon the walls of the last bastion of Trian. The strategic significance of this moment was not lost on the defenders; the fall of Trian would signal a dire turn in the war, laying bare the path to The Kingdom of the Sun. Without the support of Trian''s forces, King Dumytrius''s already weakened army would stand little chance against the impending demonic siege. In the shadow of the castle walls, amidst the weary and wounded, a silent question hung in the air: what hope remained for a kingdom on the brink of ruin?


    As the siege of Trian Castle intensified, the very foundations of the stronghold trembled under the relentless assault of the demon army''s formidable siege engines. Their catapults, dark and monstrous in design, hurled massive stones that thundered against the ancient walls with catastrophic force. Each impact sent a shudder through the castle, as chunks of masonry were torn away, weakening the once-impenetrable barriers that had stood as silent guardians for centuries.


    The soldiers and inhabitants within the castle, their faces etched with fear and desperation, watched in horror as their last line of defense was systematically dismantled by the relentless barrage. The air was filled with the deafening roars of the catapults and the ominous cracks of fracturing stone, generating a discordant symphony that mirrored the growing trepidation within their souls. With each strike, the possibility of the walls giving way grew ever more likely, a grim reality that weighed heavily on the minds of those who had sought refuge behind them. The castle, a symbol of strength and resilience, now stood precariously at the brink of collapse, its fate, and that of its defenders, hanging in the balance.


    When hope began to fade for the inhabitants of the Trian Kingdom, King Dumytrius''s army, led by Edgar, arrived at their destination. Edgar ordered the cavalry to split into two groups. The first group was tasked with destroying the demons'' catapults and ensuring that the demons did not penetrate the castle walls. The second group, which included Edgar, was to attack the rapidly advancing demons from the side. When this plan was implemented, the demon army found itself surrounded by a large part of The Kingdom of the Sun¡¯s army. Caught off guard and disoriented by Edgar''s plan, many of the demons who did not fall to their swords began to retreat.


    Unfortunately, they couldn''t savor their small victory for long, as another demon army appeared over a hill, previously hidden, awaiting new orders. Leading them was none other than Cuer''Ilf, the Fire Demon himself. When Edgar saw their numerical superiority, he swallowed hard, aware that they didn¡¯t stand a chance against them.


    To their surprise, the demon army did not attack but sent a messenger to negotiate with Edgar. The messenger conveyed that his master no longer wished to spill his demons'' blood and proposed a bargain to Edgar. They would resolve their dispute in the oldest tradition of warfare: Edgar''s best man against Cuer''Ilf''s most powerful demon.


    None of Edgar''s men wished to fight. Not because they feared combat, but because they didn¡¯t want the fate of Trian to depend on them. Ultimately, Edgar decided to fight himself, much to Cuer''Ilf''s displeasure. Even though he was a demon, Cuer''Ilf now had a more human appearance, less terrifying than his true form.


    He knew Edgar was strong, so he didn''t want to take any risks. Cuer''Ilf planned to fight Edgar himself. He was aware of the risks, as in this world and in that body, he was as vulnerable as any mortal.


    "You will fight me to the death," Cuer''Ilf declared. "Once I triumph, I will allow your people to leave safely, on the condition that they cede the Kingdom of Trian to me."


    "Agreed, but if I win, your demons will retreat, and the diamond in your possession will be mine."


    "How do you know about the diamond? No matter... Anyway, one is useless to you."


    The figure, clad in black with a concealed face, drew his sword from its sheath after finishing his words, launching a lightning-fast attack at Edgar. His strikes were incredibly powerful, yet not one hit Edgar, who surprised the demon with his swift evasiveness.


    Enraged, the demon swiftly pulled out a dagger and hurled it at Edgar, but the young man dodged it at the last moment. Extremely agitated, the demon drew another dagger and threw it with the same speed. In the blink of an eye, Edgar caught the dagger as it whizzed by his ear and flung it back at its sender. The dagger embedded itself in the demon''s leg.


    Unflinchingly, the demon yanked the dagger from his leg and tossed it to the ground. When he looked up in the direction where Edgar was supposed to be, he realized Edgar had vanished. Hearing a slight noise behind him, the demon managed to dodge just in time, narrowly saving his head from being severed. For the first time in his life, the demon was taken aback by a human.


    "So, now you''re hand in hand with the Emperor? Be careful, he has the power to control minds, and as weak as you are, you''re probably already under his control," the demon sneered.


    "I am not controlled by anyone. The Emperor holds no power over me," Edgar asserted.


    "I have no way of knowing if it''s you speaking right now or the Emperor. I too was under his control for a long time. Lately, his powers have diminished significantly, and many of his followers have managed to break free from his strings."


    "Wait a minute, he told me that you betrayed him."


    "Ha, ha, ha! How naive can you be? Did you really think he would tell you his powers are waning? He brought so many demons into this world that his powers began to fade."


    After this brief respite, the two resumed their fight. The demon''s sword was engulfed in flames, and his attacks became even more powerful. Wounded in his left arm, Edgar felt compelled to retreat from Cuer''Ilf''s assaults. A strong punch from the demon sent Edgar tumbling to the ground.


    In a desperate bid for survival, Edgar''s hands searched frantically for his sword''s hilt, but instead, his fingers closed around the cold, metallic grip of Cuer''Ilf''s own dagger. With an instinctive, lightning-quick response, born of countless battles, Edgar grasped the weapon and, with unerring accuracy, hurled it at his adversary. The blade embedded itself deep into the demon''s forehead, eliciting a guttural, agonized howl that reverberated through the air. Temporarily blinded by his own dark blood cascading into his eyes, Cuer''Ilf''s defenses faltered.


    Edgar, seizing this unexpected advantage, quickly retrieved his fallen sword. With a swift, decisive movement borne of both desperation and skill, he drove the blade deep into the demon''s chest. The force of the blow sent Cuer''Ilf staggering backwards, and with a final, defeated groan, the formidable demon collapsed to the ground, defeated at Edgar''s feet. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the frenzied clash of moments before, with Edgar standing victorious, yet profoundly shaken by the narrow escape from the clutches of death.


    "Defeated by a human... How is such a thing possible?" the demon wondered. "It must be sheer luck, because there can be no other explanation," he added, tossing at Edgar''s feet a diamond as small as a child''s fist, clear as a tear and as bright as the sun.


    With his last breath, Cuer''Ilf''s body was consumed by fierce flames, turning to ash within moments. Witnessing the defeat of their leader, the demon army began to retreat, slowly but surely. However, they didn''t get far before an army of dwarven riders took them by surprise, decimating them with their magical projectiles.


    The Kingdom of Trian was saved that day, but the war was far from over. The demons were numerous, and now, thirstier for revenge than ever. The name Edgar Argyle had become well-known among the demon chiefs, and they had no intention of letting him escape with one of the stones that could bring their destruction.


    The moment Edgar took the diamond in his hand, he felt an astonishingly powerful energy coursing through his body. The diamond shone even brighter in the hand of a heir, signaling that the artifact was activating in the hands of its rightful owner.


    A deep sorrow blanketed the entire Kingdom of Trian. Many brave souls had lost their lives in this battle. King Bardolph thanked Edgar for his deeds, but Edgar insisted that King Dumytrius deserved all the praise, for he had provided more than half of his army to Trian, leaving his own kingdom defenseless. Now, the Kingdom of the Sun and Trian were easy targets, their armies severely weakened. A single attack from the demons could defeat them in the blink of an eye.


    Edgar already missed Valleria dearly. He received a letter from her, stating she had moved into his parents'' house in Dornaran. Valleria''s closing words in the letter deeply moved Edgar: "I hate these wars, I want them to stop, I want you to come home, I want us to raise our child without fear of tomorrow. I love you!"


    How much easier things would have been if Ludrol had also sent some help. Yet, Ludrol was aware of the situation''s gravity. He didn¡¯t want to sacrifice part of his army, risking leaving Tuzmad defenseless in such times.


    The demons had suffered a significant defeat, and Cuer''Ilf''s death was a major setback. However, the real puppet master behind the scenes was not going to sit idly by. He would choose a new leader among the demons, possibly even more powerful than Cuer''Ilf.


    Edgar kept looking at the shimmering diamond. He knew these stones had the power to end the war. Something told him that they must not fall into the Emperor''s hands, so he was determined to do everything possible to prevent this diamond from being seized by them.

 The Traveler

    Ten days had passed since the tumultuous downfall of the demons, and Edgar was now in the luminous halls of the Kingdom of the Sun. The golden rays of dawn had barely kissed the earth when King Dumytrius, with a solemn expression, summoned Edgar to the opulent throne room. There, amidst the towering columns and shimmering tapestries, the king extended a sealed letter towards Edgar, his eyes betraying a weight of unspoken urgency. ?


    In a voice resonant with deep trust and gravity, King Dumytrius entrusted Edgar with a mission of paramount importance. He impressed upon Edgar the critical nature of the task, emphasizing that among all his knights and counselors, it was Edgar alone who possessed the steadfast reliability and discretion needed for such a delicate undertaking. The letter, bearing the royal seal, was not just a mere parchment but a vessel of vital intelligence that needed to be ferried securely to its intended recipient.


    ?As Edgar clasped the letter, he felt the heavy responsibility settling on his shoulders. The king''s unwavering confidence in him was both an honor and a burden. The journey ahead promised to be fraught with unknown dangers and hidden perils, and Edgar knew that every step would have to be measured with caution and foresight. This was no ordinary errand, but a pivotal task that could sway the tides of destiny, and Edgar was determined to see it through to its safe conclusion. ?


    Noticing that the recipient''s name was not specified on the envelope, Edgar asked King Dumytrius to whom the letter should be delivered.


    ?"The letter is meant for King Ludrol," said King Dumytrius. ?


    "For King Ludrol?" Edgar asked, surprised by the response. ?


    "Exactly! I''m sorry I can''t provide more details at the moment, but this letter could end this war, securing our victory." ?


    Without pressing for more clarity, Edgar swiftly mounted his loyal steed, Lightning, and embarked on his journey to Tuzmad. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind as he pondered the contents of the letter clasped in his hand. The possibility of King Dumytrius seeking an alliance with Ludrol lingered at the forefront of his thoughts. It puzzled him, given Ludrol''s evident reluctance to engage in the war, fearing the toll it would take on his forces. ?


    As he rode out of the Kingdom of the Sun, the urge to break the seal and peruse the letter''s contents tugged incessantly at his curiosity. Yet, he resisted, bound by his sense of duty and honor. An unsettling premonition accompanied him, a disquieting sense that the letter held revelations far greater and possibly more ominous than mere political alliances. ?


    The path took him through the scenic landscape towards Diran, a quaint village nestled at the base of the majestic Royal Mountains. As Edgar''s eyes drifted across the horizon, they were greeted by the towering trees of the Slumbering Forest. Contrary to the tales of evil spirits that were said to lurk within its depths, Edgar found a unique solace in the forest''s tranquility. Its serene ambiance, occasionally punctuated by the melodious chirping of birds, offered him a momentary respite from the heavy thoughts that weighed on his mind.


    ?As he rode closer, the forest loomed large, its ancient trees standing as silent sentinels to the secrets they held within. Edgar couldn''t help but feel a connection to these woods, a place that had always been a source of peace and contemplation for him, far removed from the complexities and intrigues of the kingdoms he navigated. ?


    Finally reaching the edge of the Slumbering Forest, Edgar dismounted Lightning, casting a glance towards the Blue Lake. He walked towards the lake to quench Lightning''s thirst. Suddenly, something unsettled Edgar. He couldn''t explain it, but he felt an odd sensation. Lightning reared up on two legs, neighing in alarm, confirming Edgar''s suspicion that something was amiss. ?


    As Edgar approached the Slumbering Forest, an inexplicable pull beckoned him into its enigmatic depths. His lineage, akin to that of Valleria, had begun to manifest in a heightened sense of awareness, an intuition that seemed to guide him through the labyrinth of trees and shadows. ?


    Clasping the hilt of his Phoenix sword, Edgar remained alert, prepared to unsheathe it at the faintest whisper of danger. The forest, usually a sanctuary of peace, now resonated with a subtle undercurrent of unrest. Lightning, his faithful steed, sensed it too, its uneasy neighs breaking the forest''s usual calm.


    ?As he delved deeper, the forest seemed to react to his presence. Birds took flight in a flurry of panic, their wings beating a frantic tempo that echoed through the canopy. The crunch of branches underfoot seemed louder, more pronounced, as if the very earth was responding to his steps. This heightened awareness, a gift of his bloodline, enveloped him in an almost tangible aura of expectancy, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come. ?


    The deeper Edgar ventured, the more palpable the tension became. The air felt thicker, charged with an energy that was both exhilarating and ominous. He pressed forward, driven by a mixture of curiosity and a newfound sense of destiny, his every sense attuned to the ancient whispers of the forest that seemed to both welcome and warn him. ?


    A cold shiver ran through his body, confirming that something was about to happen, and the fact that he didn''t know what terrified him immensely. It felt as if the heavy breath of an enemy was on his neck, and his sense of unease was stronger than ever. Was he losing his mind? ?


    "You''re not planning to deliver the letter, are you?" a familiar voice sounded from behind him. ?


    Turning around, Edgar saw a figure leaning against a tree, their face hidden behind branches. ?


    "Who are you?" Edgar asked. ?


    "I am... you." ?


    Edgar was astonished to see himself. His own alter ego, about whom he had heard so much, had decided it was time for a face-to-face meeting. However, Edgar''s astonishment quickly turned to fury, and in the next moment, he drew his sword and lunged at his counterpart.


    ?"Murderer!"


    Edgar had not expected to face such a formidable opponent, least of all one mirroring his own image. His doppelganger''s reflexes and technique were astonishing, matching his own in a deadly dance of steel. The strikes that Edgar launched were parried with an expertise that was both eerie and impressive, as if his alter ego anticipated every move. ?


    In a breathtaking display of agility and prowess, his other self executed a maneuver so swift it seemed to blur the air itself, catching Edgar off-guard. He found himself suddenly thrown to the cold, hard ground, the tip of his opponent''s sword pressing threateningly against his throat. A chill ran down his spine as he lay there, immobilized by the surprising strength and skill of his adversary. It was a sobering realization ¨C the person he struggled against was not only his equal but had managed to best him with disconcerting ease. ?


    Lying there, defeated and at the mercy of this mirror image, Edgar grappled with the reality of his situation. This confrontation was not just a physical battle but a test of his own limits and capabilities. The realization that he could be so effortlessly overpowered by a reflection of himself was both a humbling and an awakening moment, offering a stark insight into his own strengths and vulnerabilities. ?


    "Fate has made me stronger. I''ve been defeated too many times and faced too many trials to be considered weak anymore. Now listen to me, as I won''t repeat myself." ?"


    I''m not interested in anything a murderer has to say," Edgar retorted. "One way or another, I will end your life."


    ?"Ha, ha, ha! I must admit you''re quite bold for someone whose neck could be sliced in an instant. Yes, you''re right! I killed your parents. I tried to kill you. However, you should be aware that there was a time when I was under the influence of the Emperor''s powers. I never kill innocents, and the reason why the Emperor no longer wanted them alive remains a mystery even to me." ?


    "How convenient! You justify your actions by shifting the blame..." ?


    "I don''t care whether you believe me or not. I''m not here to confess, hoping for forgiveness. I''m here to ensure that the Emperor never lays his hands on the Diamonds of the Sun. In his possession, his powers would become much greater, and I have no intention of becoming his puppet again." ?


    "I only possess one diamond... I have no idea where the other two might be." ?


    "You are mistaken. The second diamond is hidden in the hilt of your sword, Phoenix. Or rather, your father''s sword, in whose hilt I concealed the diamond shortly after his body was laid in the crypt." ?


    His alter ego helped Edgar to his feet, handing him back the sword that had fallen among the fallen leaves. ?


    "Why are you helping me?" Edgar asked. ?


    "I''m helping myself first and foremost. We share a common enemy, and I''m not sure if I can face him alone. Believe me, sometimes the one you considered your enemy can become your greatest ally. I took the liberty of visiting King Lockdar''s crypt to spare you the journey and to obtain the third diamond."


    ?He tossed the third diamond to Edgar, smiling triumphantly. He knew that in the hands of an heir, these stones would become the ultimate weapon against the Emperor, against the demons, and against any other threat. ?


    "Now I possess all three diamonds... I have no idea what to do with them."


    ?"Firstly, you must not let them fall into the Emperor''s hands. Secondly, visit Marcus. He holds all the necessary information regarding these diamonds. One more piece of advice. Do not give Ludrol that letter. King Dumytrius seeks an alliance with Ludrol, but not to fight against the demons, rather to conquer Trian. The madman wishes to expand his territory on the brink of this terrible war." ?


    "What? Dumytrius wants Trian? King Bardolph and Dumytrius are allies. What makes you think this?" ?


    "I know the future. I''m a traveler who has seen much and wishes to change certain things that will bring no good to this world. Open the letter and see for yourself!" ?


    Edgar believed him and unfolded the letter, reading it aloud: "Dear Ludrol, I have reasons to believe that Bardolph suspects our secret alliance. The gold mine, iron ore, and lands rich in grains are necessary to increase our army and become a considerable force in these lands. I''m tired of trading and receiving crumbs. Now is the time to strike, as his forces have been considerably weakened."


    ?"By all the gods! They have completely lost their minds. In an apocalyptic war, they wish to conquer their allies," Edgar muttered through clenched teeth. "I don''t know what to say... Thank you?" ?


    "The fact that I informed you doesn''t change anything, but in a corrupt and malevolent world, a single person can make a difference. Catch this magic stone; it will take you straight to Marcus''s hideout, saving you a lot of time. Marcus will tell you everything you need to do."


    ?After finishing his words, he retreated behind the trunk of a tree, becoming invisible. Edgar felt psychologically overwhelmed. Many of those he trusted had betrayed him, and those he considered mortal enemies had become allies. It seemed that nothing was what it seemed to be. ?


    Holding the letter, Edgar couldn''t help but let out an ironic chuckle. Here he was, on the cusp of becoming an unwitting tool in the schemes of a monarch whose worthiness of the throne was questionable at best. The absurdity of the situation wasn''t lost on him, nor was the pressing need for wise counsel. Resolved, he decided to seek out Marcus, his old mentor, whose wisdom had always guided him through turbulent times. ?


    Utilizing the enchanted stone in his possession, Edgar initiated the process of teleportation. A surge of magical energy enveloped him, and in an instant, he found himself in a new location. He was now within the concealed sanctuary of Marcus, a cave skillfully hidden amidst the formidable expanse of the Ice Mountains. ?


    As Edgar ventured deeper into the cave, the dimly lit corridors gave way to a grand hall. It was a cavernous space, the walls etched with ancient runes that seemed to dance in the flickering light of the torches that adorned them. The atmosphere in the hall was both majestic and mysterious, a fitting abode for a sorcerer of Marcus''s caliber. Here, amidst the shadows and the ancient echoes of the mountain, Edgar felt a strange mix of apprehension and comfort, knowing he was about to confront truths that could alter the course of his destiny.


    "Edgar? How did you get here?" a familiar voice echoed from behind him. ?


    "If I told you who guided me to your hideout, you would probably think I''m mad." ?


    Edgar recounted everything to Marcus ¨C his encounter with his other self, the three diamonds now in his possession, and Dumytrius'' plan.


    ?Marcus and Edgar delved into the depths of the vast library, a treasure trove of ancient wisdom. Shelves laden with dusty tomes and age-old scrolls stretched out before them, their contents holding secrets from forgotten eras. They were searching for one particular book, a rare volume that held detailed knowledge about the mystical Sun Diamonds, artifacts of immense power and mystery. Each book they perused whispered tales of ancient magic and long-lost civilizations, but the elusive tome about the Sun Diamonds remained hidden among the countless spines. ?


    Meanwhile, Valleria found herself ensnared in the grips of a harrowing vision that repeated itself with disturbing regularity. In her mind''s eye, she saw a scene of dire foreboding - Edgar, caught unaware, brutally ambushed. Her heart raced as she watched him fall to the ground in her vision, defenseless and vulnerable. The unseen assailant then retrieved Edgar''s fallen sword, its blade gleaming ominously as it was raised to deliver a fatal blow. Despite the clarity and intensity of her vision, the killer''s identity remained shrouded in shadow, an enigma that heightened her sense of dread. Valleria felt an overwhelming urge to warn Edgar, to somehow alter the course of this impending tragedy, but the elusive nature of her premonitions left her feeling helpless and fraught with anxiety.


    ?Valleria hadn''t heard from Edgar for several days, and this absence was driving her to despair. The two brothers, Turalon and Tenzim, tried to boost her spirits and encourage her, saying that a stubborn person like Edgar could get out of any trouble. ?


    Days passed like hours, and hours like seconds, without Valleria hearing anything about Edgar. Turalon and Tenzim made efforts to find Laryus for news, but in vain. It was as if Laryus, too, had been swallowed by the earth. ?If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Meanwhile, in The Kingdom of the Sun, Dumytrius was going mad with worry because he hadn''t received any news from Ludrol. The thought that Edgar had read the letter was increasingly preoccupying his mind, prompting him to send another messenger to Tuzmad. ?


    Three days later, Dumytrius'' messenger reached Tuzmad, only to be assassinated by a mysterious knight in black armor. The knight picked up the letter, read it with a satisfied smile, and then tore it up. As the clock in the tower of Tuzmad Castle struck midnight, the mysterious knight headed towards the castle entrance, where he was stopped by two lancers, telling him that no one enters the castle at such a late hour, especially strangers. ?


    A soft sound of a sword leaving its sheath was heard, followed by two groans of pain, and finally, two lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood.


    ?A quiet hum and a dark aura enveloped King Ludrol''s castle. The king, sleeping in his silk bed adorned with golden souvenirs, was troubled by a disturbing dream where death reigned over his lands, waking him as if burned. He regained his composure after a few moments when he realized he was in his room, in his bed, and the images he saw were just a nightmare. Suddenly, the king was seized by a cold shiver, giving him the impression that death was approaching, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. ?


    Was he losing his mind? He glanced at the door of his room, half-expecting someone to burst in at any moment. This thought quickly faded, as he remembered that four well-trained swordsmen were at the entrance. ?


    A powerful hum suddenly filled the air, and the windows of his room burst open, causing Ludrol to leap out of his bed as if scorched. There was no one there. It was the wind that had opened the windows, and the cold air that entered hit him squarely, helping him regain his senses.


    ?All the candles in his room were extinguished by the wind. Ludrol recovered from his fright and finally mustered the courage to close the window, slamming it shut as if to take revenge for the scare he had experienced. He looked out the window. A full moon illuminated his gloomy face. A ghostly shadow passed through his room, magically lighting all the candles at once. ?


    Ludrol felt a heavy breath on the back of his neck. He turned around and froze. His heart began to beat fiercely, as if it would burst out of his chest. His face turned as white as chalk, and his body started to tremble uncontrollably. Was what was happening just another nightmare? No, although he wished it were, but sometimes reality can be crueller than any horrific nightmare.


    The figure standing before Ludrol appeared to be a knight no older than thirty-five. His eyes, black as char, sized Ludrol up from head to toe. He furrowed his brows and smiled wickedly. A knight blending with the darkness, thanks to his black armor and cloak. ?


    "What will become of these lands if the dead no longer stay in their graves?" asked Ludrol with a trembling voice, trying to maintain his composure and not show fear.


    ?"Let''s just say I''m allergic to crypts and marble coffins," said the mysterious knight. "You didn''t expect the last heir of Adunoss to just cross his arms and lie in a tomb while you all have all the fun, did you?" ?


    "But... It''s impossible! I saw you, you were dead. It can''t be you. You are dead, you wretch!"


    ?"I''m alive, Ludrol. A living dead. You see me now, you saw me at the last tournament of the ten knights and at the tournament thirty years ago, which I easily won." ?


    "It seems true. You are now one of the Bringers of Death, specifically the most powerful of them, the Soul Devourer." ?


    "You flatter me, Ludrol. Yes, I am one of the cursed ones. I lost everything, Ludrol. My family, friends, life. Now, all that matters is the grand plan of Adunoss. The one to create a new generation of humans, superior to you, and I am willing to help, even if it is achieved through fire and sword." ?


    "Do you hear yourself talking? The hero I knew would never speak like that. Your weak mind is under the control of the Emperor," said Ludrol.


    As King Ludrol engaged in a clandestine conversation with the enigmatic knight, a profound and mystical energy began to stir within Marcus, Laryus, and Edgar. This surge of power, emanating from the legendary Sun Diamonds, was unmistakable, coursing through their veins like a torrent of celestial fire. The moment was critical; to unlock the third and final diamond''s immense potential, the handle of Edgar''s sword needed to be dismantled, a task fraught with uncertainty and risk. ?


    Yet, within this vortex of power and prophecy, a singular truth became undeniably clear: the Sun Diamonds'' true might and purpose were destined to manifest only through Edgar, the rightful heir of the great wizard Nagus. It was as if the diamonds themselves recognized their master, ready to unveil their hidden forces in his grasp. This realization ignited a newfound hope in their hearts, a beacon of light in the overwhelming darkness of war. The promise of the Sun Diamonds, now so palpably close to being fulfilled, bolstered their spirits, imbuing them with a determination that this dire conflict might indeed find its resolution through the hands of Edgar, the bearer of a legacy steeped in ancient magic and power.


    ?In a distant era, set against the backdrop of a magnificent and sprawling palace, the Emperor, a figure of regal solitude, dedicated himself to the meticulous care of his exotic and resplendent garden. Each flower, a vibrant specimen from diverse corners of the world and moments in history, stood as a living symbol of his deep-seated love for the marvels of the botanical world. His serene routine, however, was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a knight whose presence commanded attention.


    This knight, with a piercing gaze and hair cascading like a river of time, was none other than Edgar, an unexpected visitor in the Emperor''s secluded sanctuary. The Emperor, taken aback by this sudden intrusion, chose to avert his eyes from Edgar, feigning indifference. He continued to tend to his beloved flowers, the pride of his empire, each bloom a story of conquest and beauty. Yet, beneath his veneer of disinterest, a storm of emotions stirred, sparked by Edgar''s unforeseen appearance within the walls of his grand palace. The Emperor, known for boasting about the unrivaled beauty of his floral collection ¨C a treasure trove of nature''s finest from various epochs and realms ¨C found himself at a rare loss, confronting a presence that challenged the tranquility of his carefully curated world.


    ?"I kill them, and they come back to life. I''m starting to believe my mission here is in vain, and it would be best to return to my own affairs," said Edgar. ?


    "Patience, my dear Edgar. The Devourer of Souls poses no threat to us. Despite losing control over the Bringers of Death, they will probably prove useful in the future. Otherwise, we annihilate them."


    ?"Patience? My counterpart in this time grows stronger by the day, and your foolish plan to leave the diamonds in his possession makes me wonder if you''ve lost your mind. Moreover, my victims are coming back to life and establishing formidable cultures with terrifying names that could cause us significant trouble. What if he breaks free from Cuer''Ilf''s spell? What if he allies with Edgar? The heirs of Adunoss and Nagus..." ?


    "You will kill Edgar, but only after he uses the power of the Sun Diamonds. Not before. Until then, be his friend. You manage to deceive people well. I want to see the power of these diamonds, to know if what is said about them is true, or just empty words. However, the most important thing is that I want to see how they are activated." ?


    It seemed that Edgar''s other self had deceived him. He was in cahoots with the Emperor, and their goal was to study the Sun Diamonds. They were aware that without someone like Marcus and Laryus, they would never uncover their secrets, which is why they decided to use them. ?


    The Kingdom of Tuzmad was enveloped in a somber mood the following day, as news of King Ludrol''s unexpected demise the previous evening had spread rapidly. The king was found deceased without a single mark of injury, leading many to speculate that his end came from natural causes. ?


    Two days after this unforeseen event, a solemn procession took place. The king''s lifeless form was gently placed upon a ceremonial boat, which was then set to drift along the Dul''Zare River. This spectacle drew thousands of mourners, including prominent figures like Tenzim, Turalon, Valleria, and the wise Laryus. As part of the ritual, skilled archers launched arrows, set ablaze, soaring into the sky before arcing downwards towards the boat carrying the king. This act symbolized his final journey, in accordance with the ancient traditions of water and fire, as King Ludrol had desired for his own departure. ?


    Everyone watched the king''s boat until it sank. From that day on, Sormain was to be the new king of Tuzmad. ?


    Laryus, with his age and wisdom, stood amidst the mourners, his thoughts consumed by perplexity. The mysterious demise of someone younger than himself, without any apparent ailment, piqued his curiosity and concern. His musings were soon to be addressed, albeit in an unexpected manner, as a figure approached and halted beside him. ?


    This figure was a knight, distinguished by his height and the flowing black hair that framed his face, encased in gleaming black armor. His demeanor exuded an unmistakable air of arrogance, and the smirk playing upon his lips carried an ironic tinge. Laryus felt an involuntary shiver course through him at the sight of this man, a reaction born of a deep-seated recognition. This was no ordinary knight; he was the very individual responsible for King Ludrol''s sudden and fatal heart attack. The realization struck Laryus with a mix of apprehension and a growing urge to unravel the truths lurking beneath this enigmatic presence. ?


    "I hope your heart won''t fail you too, old Laryus." ?


    "I have no reason to be afraid. Marcus and I have long been aware of your presence in this world," said Laryus confidently.


    ?"So, you''re also aware that I will kill you if you stand in my way," the mysterious knight retorted. ?


    "Laryus? Old Laryus?" came sudden voices from behind them. ?


    Valleria, Turalon, and Tenzim, who had just spotted the old mage, approached him. Stopping in front of them, the two brothers scrutinized the enigmatic knight from head to toe, unable to recognize who he might be. One thing was certain: the knight reminded them of someone. ?


    Upon seeing him, the beautiful Valleria began to feel a strange sensation, but couldn''t pinpoint why.


    "You should feel safe now," the knight said with a malicious smile. ?


    "What makes me feel safe is the fact that Edgar is trained in using the Sun Diamonds. You''ve heard of Edgar, haven''t you?" Laryus replied with a hint of challenge in his voice. ?


    "Master Laryus, who is this man?" Turalon asked, sensing the tension between the two and furrowing his brow as he menacingly placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. ?


    "I advise you to keep your sword sheathed, young man! I don''t think you realize whom you''re dealing with," the knight replied, smiling. ?


    "Don''t overestimate yourself!" Tenzim said through clenched teeth, also placing his hand on his sword.


    ?The situation was on the brink of escalating further, but everyone''s attention swiftly shifted to the beautiful Valleria, who suddenly felt ill and collapsed. She was experiencing a powerful vision. She found herself in a familiar room with a round table in the middle, adorned with a vase of sweet-smelling flowers. In one corner of the room, there was a crib where a beautiful child, angelic in appearance, slept peacefully. ?


    The room was softly illuminated by a lantern burning slowly next to the vase of flowers. A young woman, around Valleria''s age, entered the room. Her emerald-like eyes sparkled in the lantern''s light, and her long, brunette hair made her look like a fairy. The young mother gently covered the child with a blanket and tenderly kissed him. The child''s father, a tall, strong man with coal-black hair and eyes, also entered the room.


    Valleria stood beside them like a phantom. The man lovingly embraced the young mother and gazed at his child with immense tenderness. Looking more closely at the child''s father, Valleria realized it was the same knight standing beside Laryus. Observing the surroundings more carefully, she recognized that she was in Edgar''s house in Dornaran. The couple were Edgar''s parents, and the little boy in the crib was the father of the child she was carrying. ?


    Suddenly, a loud noise echoed through the room as the door was violently flung open by three knights in black armor, their faces covered. The images gradually blurred until nothing was visible, only the sounds of agony echoing in the princess''s mind. Valleria regained consciousness, finding herself surrounded by the two brothers and Laryus.


    ?"My child, sometimes the past should not be disturbed." ?


    "Where did Damyen disappear to?" asked Valleria, noticing that he was no longer in sight. ?


    "So that''s the name of the conceited one," Tenzim muttered under his breath. "Does he also have a last name?"


    ?"Yes. Argyle." ?


    Tenzim and Turalon were on the brink of shock. They couldn''t believe that the man was Edgar''s father. ?


    "How is this possible?" asked Tenzim. "Does Edgar know?"


    ?"Everything is possible, absolutely everything. No, Edgar does not know."


    ?It was said that when a soul cannot find rest due to a gruesome death, it cannot enter the realm of eternity until justice is served for its demise. Stuck between the two worlds, Damyen made a pact with the Demon of Death to return to the living world. Unfortunately, the demon betrayed him, as his mind was lost upon returning to life, forgetting the purpose of his return and thus becoming the leader of the very order he sought to annihilate. ?


    "Wait a minute," Turalon interrupted when he learned that Damyen is the leader of the Death Bringers. "I thought there were only three..."


    ?"No, this order has dozens of members, but only the best are chosen to hold a rank like Damyen''s. What is certain is that they change completely. They can no longer think clearly, dominated by hatred and fury." ?


    "He''s simply under the manipulation of the Demon of Death," said Valleria. "This demon needed a champion to carry out his plans in our world."


    ?"Wasn''t he the Emperor''s puppet?" asked Tenzim, confused.


    ?"He was. It''s said that the Emperor''s powers have significantly weakened, losing control over the demons," said Laryus. "Unfortunately, we don¡¯t know for sure if this will be permanent. Who knows, maybe in the future, he will become as powerful as his father..." ?


    "Damn it! Are we now going to find out that the Emperor is Adunoss''s son?" asked Tenzim in disgust.


    ?"By all the gods!" exclaimed Turalon. "How can we fight against someone who might attain the status of a god?"


    "The Emperor has been stopped before, which means it can be done again. For this to become possible, the Order of the Sun Circle must rise once more," said Laryus. ?


    The two brothers were startled. They hadn''t heard anything about the Sun Circle for eleven years, since they were just children. Back then, spurred on by Edgar, they had eavesdropped on a secret meeting of King Ludrol. To keep them silent, they were tricked into believing they had become part of the order. ?


    Not being well-informed about this order, Laryus told them that the Order of the Death Bringers had formed as opposition to the Sun Circle, the most feared order among those with less than noble intentions. Humanity needed heroes, and the Sun Circle never failed them whenever things turned for the worse. Former members of the order began to fall prey to greed and the desire for more power, thus giving birth to the Death Bringers, who in their quest for power started studying occult forces, ending up as puppets of demonic forces. ?


    One thing was clear. Laryus wanted to bring the Sun Circle back into the light. The last members of this order were he and Marcus, the most powerful mages of these lands. Yet, were they strong enough to initiate new members?


    ?For initiation, a ceremony was required to decide whether the new recruits would be accepted or not. ?


    While they discussed the Sun Circle with great enthusiasm, Marcus and Edgar were studying some old parchments, which appeared to be the predictions of seers.


    "In the open space, in a dizzying race of time, the time that has passed is set to become our future, and we are to become masters of a better world." ?


    Edgar didn''t understand any of it, suspecting it referred to time travel, something that wasn''t particularly helpful at the moment. Bored, he continued to read: ?


    "A time will come when all that has been built is to be demolished. A time when chaos will spread across the earth like the leaves of a tree. Chaos that will last a prolonged period, until the sun shines again." ?


    Marcus was acutely aware of the gravity of the situation. The three Sun Diamonds, each a beacon of immense power, had to be kept together at all costs. He understood the peril that even a single diamond could pose if it fell into the wrong hands. In the grasp of a mage with malevolent ambitions and sufficient skill, just one of these radiant gems could wreak untold havoc. The potential for destruction and chaos was too great to ignore. Marcus, with the weight of this knowledge on his shoulders, was determined to ensure their unity. The safeguarding of these diamonds was not just a matter of preserving ancient relics; it was a crucial step in preventing a cataclysm that could tip the scales of magic and power, potentially plunging the world into an era of darkness and turmoil at the hands of a corrupt sorcerer. The responsibility to protect them, to keep them from being scattered or misused, was a task Marcus accepted with solemn resolve.


    ?In the dim light of the ancient library, the old dwarf meticulously scoured the shelves. His eyes, sharp despite his age, scanned each spine until they settled on the volume he sought. With reverent hands, he extracted a thick tome, its cover worn but the gold lettering still shining: "The Craft of Swords." This book was no ordinary compilation; it was a comprehensive encyclopedia detailing the myriad swords that had been imbued with magic by the world''s most formidable mages throughout the ages.


    ?As Marcus thumbed through the heavy, parchment pages, a sense of urgency was palpable in his movements. The information contained within these pages was crucial, holding the potential to sway the tide of the ongoing war. Each page turned was a step closer to an audacious plan he had in mind, a strategy that could either bring about a pivotal victory or plunge them into deeper despair. ?


    He understood the gravity of what he was about to undertake. The enchantments and secrets locked within these ancient pages could forge a weapon of unparalleled might or unleash a catastrophe if mishandled. The fate of entire kingdoms hinged on the success of his plan. Failure was not an option, yet the risk of it loomed large. With each page, Marcus was not just seeking knowledge; he was forging hope, a slender thread in the looming shadow of war.

 A New Dawn

    In the Emperor''s palace, where he tended to his flowers as usual, a sudden, devouring fire ignited in the middle of his garden. The fire spread menacingly but burned nothing it enveloped.


    ?"An interesting appearance, demon!" the Emperor remarked. ?


    "I bring you bad news and worse news," a terrifying voice echoed from within the fire. "Which would you like to hear first, your majesty?"


    ?"Who do you think you are, demon? I know what you want to tell me, and remember, I am your master, so watch your tone!" the Emperor retorted.


    "You were never my master, merely someone who discovered our secret and managed to control us for a long period. That time has passed. Now it''s our time, and we are coming to claim our reward: the realm of humans."


    ?"And what will you do with it? You, a Demon of Death, can never step foot on this realm. Not without my help..." ?


    "What are you proposing? Helping you now, when Laryus is trying to revive long-forgotten forces?"


    "Exactly what I wanted to discuss. I have no power in the Realm of Death, but you are invincible there. If Laryus attempts what I suspect, you can ensure they never leave your domains again." ?


    "And if I help you? What''s in it for me?"


    ?"I will break the spell of the portal that forbids you from stepping into the human world. You can have a few kingdoms and many slaves after the war ends." ?


    "Make me understand your angle in this slaughter. We, demons, seek to conquer a new world. But you, Emperor?"


    ?"I am merely completing what my father began a long time ago." ?


    The demonic fire vanished into the mist, leaving the Emperor to his flowers. He was aware that Laryus, Marcus, and Edgar could overturn his plans if he wasn''t careful. ?


    While the Emperor was lost in thought, Laryus, Valleria, Tenzim, and Turalon ventured into the Slumbering Forest. Led by Laryus, they reached a small cabin, carefully hidden among the trees. Inside, on a dusty table, lay a small chest. Opening it, Laryus pulled out a gleaming, serpentine-bladed dagger with a dual edge. Its gold handle was adorned with three rubies, making the dagger a true jewel.


    ?"At this moment, the Circle of the Sun will be revived. What is about to happen is extremely dangerous. Therefore, Valleria, you will not partake in this ritual, considering your pregnancy," Laryus said. ?


    "How dangerous exactly?" asked Tenzim, stepping back slightly. "I hope this ritual doesn¡¯t involve blood; I don¡¯t want to get a cut on my little finger or anything like that. I might get an infection from that dagger. Who knows how long it''s been lying around here, gathering dust..." ?


    Laryus smiled faintly, then his expression turned grave. He asked Valleria to wait outside. Alone with the two brothers, Laryus explained there were only two ways to be admitted into the Circle of the Sun: a long way and a short one. ?


    "We don¡¯t have time to take the long way," Turalon said, aware they were pressed for time.


    ?"I thought as much," Laryus replied, pointing two fingers at them.


    ?Suddenly, the two brothers were enveloped in an extraordinary sensation of body relaxation. However, they were disturbed by the fact that they couldn¡¯t move; they felt as if they had been turned into statues. Laryus approached Turalon with small steps, gripping the dagger tightly. He apologized for what he was about to do, then the old mage plunged the dagger into Turalon¡¯s heart, dropping him lifelessly to the ground. ?


    "You crazy old man!" Tenzim screamed at the top of his lungs. "I¡¯ll kill you, you psychopath!" ?


    Tenzim struggled against Laryus'' spell, but to no avail, as the same dagger also dropped him lifelessly to the ground. Laryus then stepped outside, where the beautiful Valleria was waiting.


    ?"I suppose they chose the short way, right?"


    ?"You knew what was going to happen, didn¡¯t you?" Valleria, your visions are starting to worry me. They¡¯ve become too powerful, too quickly. Yes, the two chose the short way. They will receive instructions as soon as they reach the other side."


    ?Hundreds of kilometers away, in Marcus''s cave, Edgar and the dwarf mage made final preparations for creating a new weapon, inspired by the book "The Craft of Swords". Using a silver-colored powder from a black pouch, Marcus began drawing a six-pointed pentagram inside a circle on the ground. At each point of the pentagram, a red candle was lit, and then he carefully placed the three Sun Diamonds inside the circle. At Marcus''s urging, Edgar took the Phoenix sword and placed it inside the circle, its tip pointing east. ?


    After opening the gold-lettered book to the desired page, Marcus began to pronounce words in the ancient language of mages in an aggressive tone, as if invoking long-dead spirits: ?


    "Naum ilirem atum cor''dien tvoc, mayav el enterun!" ?


    Knowing a little of the ancient language of mages, Edgar realized that Marcus was indeed invoking spirits, something not allowed to every mage. These weren¡¯t just any spirits, but the spirits of the most powerful mages in human history. The entire room lit up brightly, and six shadows appeared. They had the form of people whose faces could not be distinguished. Each spirit took a place at a point of the pentagram drawn by Marcus. ?


    Suddenly, the room was invaded by multiple voices echoing as if from afar. Each voice uttered a different incantation in a different language, aiding Marcus in gathering the necessary power to combine the diamonds into a single entity. ?


    While Marcus was busy with his ritual, at the foothills of the majestic Royal Mountains surrounding The Kingdom of the Sun, lay the ruins of an ancient fortress, now known as the Black Ruins. There, a knight dismounted his horse, making his way among the ruins. ?


    It was the Soul Devourer, Damyen Argyle, leader of the Bringers of Death. Hidden among the ruins, he was greeted by seven other knights clad in black, their faces concealed by their helmets. At Damyen''s appearance, they stood up, paying their respects to their leader. Below their feet lay a map marking the kingdoms of Tuzmad, Trian, and The Kingdom of the Sun - the true threats to their order. ?


    "Look at them, the Bringers of Death, daring to provoke occult forces, ending up as servants to them," a voice said mockingly.


    ?"My dear son, what a joy to see you again! It''s been a while since you last killed me."


    ?"Damyen, I hope you don''t hold a grudge. What happened between us is in the past. However, I want you to know I''m terribly sorry for what I did. So sorry, in fact, that I''m going to kill myself," Edgar said with a wicked smile. ?


    "You want to kill the real Edgar..."


    ?"The real Edgar? You hurt my feelings. What am I, a hallucination?" ?


    "We know well enough what you are, or how you came into being," Damyen smiled. "I can only wish you luck. I''d love to see how you''ll kill the one holding the Sun Diamonds."


    ?"You forget something very important. The Emperor has granted me access to the throne of time, which gives me the opportunity to easily get rid of your son."


    During all this, Edgar, Marcus, and the Spirits continued their ceremony, Turalon and Tenzim lay breathless on the ground, the Emperor tended to his flowers, Damyen and the other Edgar were ready to cross swords, and Laryus tried to convince Valleria that in the end, everything would end well. ?


    In a realm far removed from the known world, beyond the veil that separates the tangible from the ethereal, lay a domain shrouded in darkness and despair. Here, in this forsaken place, suffering was the only constant, governed by a demon of immense power who reveled in the torment of lost souls that unwittingly wandered into his dominion. ?


    Perched ominously atop the foreboding expanse was the Mountain of Despair, a place where hope seemed to wither away. It was here that the two brothers, Tenzim and Turalon, found themselves in an uneasy slumber, their dreams devoid of the tranquility of the mortal world. ?


    The first to emerge from this dreamless state was Tenzim. As consciousness crept back into his mind, a sharp, unbearable pain clutched his heart, a sensation so intense it bordered on madness. He rose to his feet, his eyes widening in horror and disbelief at the bleak landscape that surrounded him. The mountain beneath him was barren and rugged, endlessly exhaling plumes of grey steam, painting a picture of desolation.


    ?Lying next to him, Turalon too stirred, his expression mirroring Tenzim''s shock and confusion. As he sat up, he took in the stark, otherworldly surroundings, the realization of their predicament slowly dawning upon him. The two brothers stood side by side, gazing out over the desolate landscape, grappling with the reality of their situation in this grim and unforgiving realm. ?


    In the realm of the Dead, a land trodden only by wandering souls departing the world of the living, the two brothers faced each other wordlessly before setting off. Before them stretched a makeshift bridge, crafted from planks and ropes, with a deep, fiery abyss below. ?


    "You first, I don¡¯t want to die again," Tenzim quipped.


    ?They crossed the bridge cautiously but without fear. They couldn¡¯t imagine what it would be like to die a second time. Unknown to them, Laryus had used a magical dagger that allowed mortals to briefly enter this realm. Created by a mighty wizard, the dagger was intended for exploring the realm of the dead without actual death. Its blade was not real but an illusion to trick the subconscious into believing death was imminent, thus sending the mind to the beyond. ?


    Laryus kept this secret, knowing the illusion would shatter if they knew the blade''s true nature. ?


    Their path soon filled with the agonized screams of the damned, making them flinch with each step. Suddenly, a thick, ashen mist enveloped them, blinding them momentarily. When their vision cleared, they saw an old man in a grey robe, his long white hair cascading to his waist. ?


    "My name is Anys, Laryus¡¯s elder brother. I am the creator of the magical dagger Diadran, which brought you to this world." ?


    "Great, thanks a lot," Tenzim grumbled bitterly. "Because of you and Laryus, we¡¯re dead. Senile old fools."


    "Watch your words, you insolent one! Diadran doesn¡¯t kill, it merely allows travel between worlds. So, my brother expects you two to become knights of an ancient order?" ?


    "The Circle of the Sun. You know of it?" Turalon inquired. ?


    "Of course, I know it. I was among its founders. I once had the power to initiate new members, but no longer."


    ?"What do you mean? Did we come here for nothing?" Tenzim asked irritably. "Then show us the door out. I¡¯m not staying here another second. Can you imagine the nightmares I¡¯ll have?" ?


    "With all due respect, Mr. Anys, are you aware of what¡¯s happening in our world?" Turalon asked. "Demons are assaulting the kingdoms with full force, and humanity will eventually succumb." ?


    "Do you really think that just because I no longer dwell among the living, I''m oblivious to their affairs?" Anys challenged the brothers. "Believe me, humanity would have fared better had the Circle of the Sun never been established. With time, its members became blinded by power and greed. And for them, becoming a Death Bringer was but a mere step away." ?


    "Do you presume we''ll follow the same path as those former members who joined them?" the brothers inquired with a hint of defiance.


    ?"I don''t just presume; I''m certain," Anys replied, a tinge of sorrow in his voice. "Only a few can withstand such temptation."


    ?In the shadow of impending war, the demon hordes, acting upon the Emperor''s merciless command, rallied together for a formidable onslaught against Tuzmad, the crown jewel among the kingdoms of the land. At the heart of this realm stood King Sormain, a young ruler whose foresight had given him a precious window to marshal his forces in defense of his beloved kingdom.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ?The impending clash loomed heavily upon the horizon, a dark cloud of inevitability. King Sormain, who had been meticulously groomed in the art of warfare by the most skilled and seasoned warriors of the realm, stood resolute and unwavering at the forefront of his assembled army. The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders, yet he bore it with a quiet, dignified strength. His eyes, usually a beacon of steadfast resolve, now shimmered with unshed tears, not born out of fear, but kindled by a deep and abiding concern for the well-being of his subjects.


    ?This young king, in stark and poignant contrast to his predecessor, held a profound respect and care for the lives of his people, placing their safety and prosperity above his own life. As the demonic forces, vast and seemingly insurmountable in number, drew near, King Sormain prepared to lead his outnumbered army into battle. It was a fight they knew to be dauntingly unfair, yet they were bolstered by their king''s courage and his unwavering commitment to their protection and the safeguarding of their realm. ?


    In the resplendent Kingdom of the Sun, an ominous cloud of dread hovered as an overwhelming tide of demonic warriors surged forward, their intentions as dark as the shadow they cast upon the land. This was no mere skirmish, but the prelude to what was fated to be the most colossal battle ever witnessed in the annals of human history. The demonic legions, vast and ruthless, were driven by a singular, cataclysmic ambition: the utter annihilation of humankind.


    As the demonic hordes advanced, relentless and unyielding, a palpable sense of despair gripped the heart of the kingdom. The defenders, brave and steadfast, faced a daunting reality. They were tragically unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the threat that now loomed before them, casting its ghastly shadow across the realm. The burning question that seared through the minds of soldiers and civilians alike was the mysterious, rapid convergence of this vast demon army. How had such a formidable and destructive force come together so swiftly, seemingly out of nowhere? This enigma added a chilling layer of fear and uncertainty to the already grave situation, as the kingdom braced itself for a confrontation that threatened its very existence and the future of all humanity. ?


    After Edgar''s departure from the Black Ruins, another Death Bringer appeared, informing Damyen of the Emperor''s massive planned attack on Tuzmad and the Kingdom of the Sun. Enraged, Damyen reacted swiftly, his fist colliding with a rock in fury. ?


    "Damyen, what do you propose we do?" asked another Death Bringer, wary of their leader''s mood. ?


    "I feel free for the first time," Damyen confessed. "The demonic voices in my head are gone, and the Emperor''s influence has vanished. Since Cuer''Ilf''s death, I feel capable of making my own decisions. Gather what troops we have under our command and aid the humans."


    ?"All gods, Damyen! Your love for humans has always been your greatest weakness," the Death Bringer remarked cynically.


    ?"The gods... If they had enough power, they would steal love from us mortals, to revel in such a divine thing themselves," Damyen mused. "Once, we too were humans, and somewhere in our souls, I believe we still are."


    ?"And your plan?" the Death Bringer probed. ?


    "To destroy the portal through which the Emperor brings his demons. Without it, the Emperor will lose a great deal of his power." ?


    "It seems like a solid plan, but you won''t succeed alone," cautioned a fellow Death Bringer.


    ?"Leave that worry to me. Just gather your forces!" Damyen replied, mounting his horse and swiftly departing the Black Ruins for a location known only to him. He pondered his unexpected liberation, previously only knowing hatred and rage. Aware that this freedom wouldn''t last as long as the Emperor lived, he hastened to thwart the Emperor''s plans. ?


    In the secluded depths of Marcus''s cave, the culmination of their mystical endeavor reached a climactic moment. As Marcus chanted the final incantation with unwavering focus, an intense, radiant light erupted from the heart of the pentagram, engulfing the cave in a brilliant luminescence. The light was so overpowering that it temporarily robbed everyone of their sight, leaving them in a state of awe and disorientation.


    ?As the dazzling glow gradually receded like the tide pulling away from the shore, an eerie calm settled over the cave. The once manifest spirits, along with the precious Sun Diamonds, had vanished, leaving no trace of their ethereal presence. In the center of the now silent pentagram, the Phoenix sword stood embedded in the stone floor, its blade emitting a glow reminiscent of the warm, golden rays of the sun.


    Edgar cautiously approached the sword. With a steady hand, he grasped the hilt and felt an extraordinary surge of energy pulsating through him. As he drew the sword from its stony sheath, a rush of blood surged through his veins, his heart thundered like a drum in his chest, and his senses sharpened to an unprecedented degree. The world around him seemed to come into greater focus, sounds amplified, and the minute buzz of a fly echoed in his ears. This transformation left Edgar awestruck and bewildered, unable to comprehend the newfound power that now flowed through him. ?


    Marcus looked on with pride. Before him stood the heir of Xal''Nagus, now imbued with the great wizard''s powers, thanks to the Phoenix sword, reforged with the Sun Diamonds.


    ?Edgar smiled, his mind filled with ancient knowledge. He was transformed, no longer the boy raised in the mountains, the young knight, the hero. He was part of something grander. The diamonds had awakened dormant powers within him, keys unlocking the lineage of his ancestors. Smiling at Marcus, he vanished in a radiant light. ?


    On the Realm of Death, Tenzim and Turalon finally convinced Anys of their noble intentions and lifelong dedication to the Circle of the Sun. ?


    "Your will makes you worthy of the order, but the true reason I contacted Laryus for capable men is different," Anys revealed. "A kilometer away, on that hill, you will invoke and challenge the Demon of Death." ?


    "Always a catch. Kill the Demon of Death? How can anyone kill Death itself?" Tenzim exclaimed. "How can we possibly succeed?"


    "The path to success lies in self-esteem and faith. The belief that you can. That you deserve. That you will succeed." ?


    "Nice words, but our necks are on the line," Tenzim remarked with a hint of sarcasm. ?


    "You might not realize, but the Emperor has weakened. His power has been drained by the demonic army that passed through his portal. Killing this demon would be another blow, as it''s the last commander of the legion brought to your world," Anys explained. ?


    Tenzim and Turalon realized they had no choice but to face the most powerful being they''d ever encountered, with slim chances of victory. ?


    Meanwhile, the Kingdom of the Sun found itself in the throes of a devastating siege, its once unbreachable walls now trembling under the relentless onslaught of the demonic forces. Simultaneously, the grand kingdom of Tuzmad teetered on the precipice of invasion, its defenses strained to the breaking point by the Emperor''s relentless demonic legions. The battlefield was a scene of chaos and despair, as the combined might of the two kingdoms'' armies was being methodically dismantled. Even the valiant efforts of the small but fierce contingent led by the enigmatic Death Bringers were proving to be insufficient against the overwhelming demonic tide. ?


    In these dire moments, King Sormain, with a heavy heart and a burdened soul, issued the command for his people to retreat, to save what remained of their lives and hopes. It was a decision that weighed heavily on him, a clear indicator of the grave situation they faced. However, just as the shadows of defeat began to engulf the battlefield, a sudden, brilliant light pierced the gloom, halting the advance of darkness. From this radiant beacon emerged a figure of hope and renewed vigor - a young knight, his grip unwavering on the hilt of the legendary Phoenix sword. ?


    "Edgar! Poor timing and wrong location to use a magic stone," Sormain remarked. ?


    Without a word, Edgar charged towards the demon army, brandishing the Phoenix sword that gleamed in the sun''s rays. A deafening thunderclap filled the sky, and massive fireballs rained down violently on the demon army. A wave of light emanated from Edgar''s sword, felling the enemies breathlessly. ?


    Sormain watched from afar, bewildered. "These powers must be bestowed by the gods," he thought, watching as the demon bodies lifelessly hit the ground. ?


    When the brothers invoked the Demon of Death, it appeared as forewarned by the Emperor. It mocked the brothers'' attempt as feeble. ?


    "You two? It must be a joke. I always thought Laryus would be the one to come after me, but he seems too cowardly." ?


    "I completely agree with you, Mr. Demon," said Tenzim. "Believe me, this is the last place I want to be, and you don''t seem like pleasant company. Besides, you''re quite ugly."


    ?"Tenzim, we''re not here to propose to him," Turalon said, charging at the demon with his sword. ?


    Impressed by his brother''s courage, Tenzim followed suit, throwing himself recklessly into battle. The demon, surprised by their power and dedication, gathered all his strength, fighting them fiercely without underestimating them again.


    In the Kingdom of the Sun, the iron gates yielded, and demons stormed the citizens sheltering within the walls. Watching from afar, Edgar knew his firestorm could harm the inhabitants, so he used the wave of light again. It cleansed Tuzmad, incinerating the demons and turning them to ash. ?


    As the castle''s inhabitants prayed in gratitude for the miraculous event they had just witnessed, Tenzim clenched the heart of the Demon of Death tightly in his hand. He and his brother had succeeded in defeating the last commander of the demonic legion. Anys watched the battle from afar, convinced that the two brothers would restore the order to its former glory. Laryus, who had been vigilantly watching over them, now appeared before the awakened brothers.


    ?Approaching the portal, Damyen prepared to close it using an incantation known only to him. The portal was vast, like the gates of a castle. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Whirling around, sword in hand, he was ready to face any threat.


    ?"I''m going to destroy the portal, Edgar. Neither you nor the Emperor will stop me," Damyen declared. ?


    "I have no desire to stop you, father. Thank you for the clues you left," Edgar responded.


    ?Edgar threw his sword towards the portal, and it was struck by dozens of lightning bolts, reducing it to a heap of stones.


    ?"The unleashed powers of a heir... Edgar, you are in danger! The other Edgar will try to ascend the throne of time, to harm you before you discover the knowledge inherited from Xal''Nagus," Damyen warned.


    Before he could finish speaking, Edgar had already vanished in the blink of an eye.


    ?In the Emperor''s palace, the other Edgar stormed in furiously. The destruction of the portal signified a lost battle for them in this timeline. He couldn''t bear being surpassed in power by the one he could once easily kill. He hurried towards the throne room, where the Emperor was waiting.


    ?"You''re in a hurry?" a voice called from behind him. ?


    Turning around, he froze at the sight of Edgar holding the majestic Phoenix sword.


    ?"Give me the sword, and I''ll end the Emperor''s tyranny. He trusts me; I can get close to him," the other Edgar demanded.


    ?"Here you go," Edgar said, handing over the sword, seeming glad to be rid of the curse. ?


    "How naive he can be!" the other Edgar thought, taking the sword. Without hesitation, he stabbed Edgar in the heart, felling him lifelessly.


    ?In the throne room, the Emperor awaited with a smile. Everything had unfolded as he had foreseen. As soon as Edgar entered the palace, the Emperor had invaded his mind and forced him to hand over the sword to his other self. Now, the Sun Diamonds were in his possession, and with the new knowledge and powers they offered, he planned to resurrect his father, Xal''Adunoss. ?


    "You invaded his mind, didn''t you?"


    "Yes. He did exactly as I commanded. Now, you must fulfill your part of the promise."


    "What promise?"


    ?"The one where you leave this world. Your services are no longer needed, now that I have the diamonds." ?


    By invading his mind, the Emperor forced him to end his own life. He lifted the sword, and with the newly acquired power, he smiled contentedly. He felt like a god, an immortal with limitless powers, destined to rule all humanity. ?


    However, the Emperor''s joy was short-lived. The Phoenix sword miraculously vanished from his hands. Confused by this occurrence, he looked up and saw a flower fall at his feet. It was the most beautiful flower from his garden, the one he had protected for centuries. The flower that had safeguarded his immortality.


    ?Before him stood a knight, whose presence was impossible. This shouldn''t have happened, as he had foreseen an entirely different future. ?


    "Why does no one stay dead?" the Emperor yelled, struggling to control his fury and shaking. "How is this possible? My visions never fail." ?


    "What you saw were the visions I implanted in your mind. It was all an illusion."


    ?"No, it can''t be true! I am the Emperor of Time!" ?


    "You were. Since you proved to be an unfit emperor, it''s time for someone else to succeed you." ?


    In the Slumbering Forest, Laryus, Turalon, and Tenzim tried in vain to stop Valleria from crying. When Edgar was killed by his own sword, the young princess experienced the moment through a vision.


    The sacrifice of Edgar, a valiant warrior whose life was claimed in the throes of a brutal war, became a poignant symbol of the high cost of peace. In memory of the young hero''s selfless deeds, King Sormain decreed the construction of a grand statue, a permanent testament to Edgar''s bravery and sacrifice. This noble effigy, standing tall in the heart of the kingdom, served as a reminder of the courage and resolve that had turned the tide of battle.


    ?In the Kingdom of the Sun, a significant tribute was paid to Edgar''s legacy. The bustling King''s Road, a vital artery of the kingdom, was rechristened Argyle Road, in honor of the hero who had fought with the strength and valor of the gods themselves. Edgar''s tale, woven with feats of extraordinary power and selfless courage, quickly spread beyond the kingdom''s borders, capturing the imagination and reverence of people far and wide. To many, Edgar transcended the realm of mere mortals, ascending in their hearts and minds to the stature of a divine emissary, a beacon of hope and heroism in a world often shadowed by turmoil and strife. ?


    Beside the Blue Lake, Damyen woke up with a terrible headache, a sensation he hadn''t felt in a long time. He thought freely, and the fury and hatred completely vanished from his mind, allowing his heart to feel the beauty surrounding him once again. ?


    Marcus too felt the winds of change, a sense of fulfillment enveloping him suddenly. He smiled, being the only one who knew what had truly transpired. ?


    Days flew by as quickly as weeks and months, and the pain in people''s hearts began to heal. Valleria gave birth to beautiful twins, like little angels. They were the light of her eyes, and she was determined to raise them with all her love.


    ?Laryus and the two brothers reopened the Order of the Sun Circle, hoping to establish the most powerful order to protect the world from the shadows. The first to join them was Damyen. He revealed many secrets to the brothers and trained them in ways only he knew.


    ?"Does this order even have a purpose anymore?" Tenzim wondered. "The demons have been banished forever, the portal destroyed, and the Emperor killed." ?


    "This order has been watching over humanity for a very long time," Laryus explained. "Besides, our mission has just begun." ?


    "Our mission? What is that?" Turalon inquired. ?


    "To destroy the throne of time and banish the new emperor." ?


    Damyen and the brothers were taken aback. Their peace, it seemed, was short-lived. How could a new emperor have arisen? ?


    "Another one? What are his intentions? What chance do we stand against him?" Damyen asked. ?


    "Rumors suggest he''s far more powerful. All I know for certain is that he''s just another criminal. He mercilessly killed the other emperor. Eventually, he''ll make a mistake and expose himself, and the Sun Circle will be there, waiting.¡± ?


    As it has been since ancient times, in times of peace, humanity prepared for war. Grateful to witness another dawn, which our heroes admired in all its glory, they began preparing for a new adventure.