With the three factions set on acquiring the necessary edge to emerge victorious in the war to come, the world became suffused with a miasma of anticipation and dread. Though all-out war had not yet broken out, mysterious skirmishes reared their heads across the globe. Destroyed villages, razed fields, kidnappings, and murders... these events only became more common as the race for power quickened its pace.

  Rota: "Sorry, I'm late this week..."

  Rotavitea knelt down next to a grave, flowers in hand. The name inscribed upon the tombstone read Clavia.

  Rota: "The workshop has been especially busy. Seems like there's a tournament happening in town... A lot of warriors have come to purchase the best weapons and armor they could find. We've really made a name for ourselves, Clavia..."

  She laid the flowers down gently by the grave. Behind her, a small black and white fox padded forward, sniffing at the stone before curling up beside it.

  Rota: "Lele, show some respect...!"

  The fox merely flicked her ear, then sat up again. It seemed she had grown accustomed to the name she had been given.

  Rota: "Anyway, I was cleaning out some old dusty drawers the other day. Look what I found..."

  She pulled an ornate silver bell from her pocket.

  The moment it caught the light, Lele's fur bristled. She bared her teeth, a low snarl escaping her throat.

  Rota: "Lele, stop! I know you don't like it, but Clavia should know I found it."

  The fox quieted, but her teeth remained bared, eyes locked onto the bell -- glowing faintly. Some kind of magic churned behind her gaze.

  Rota: "I recognize the inscriptions... I guess Ballo must have given this to you, right? Don't worry. I'll keep it safe. It’s the only thing we've left of him, after all... Well, that *I've* left of him. For all I know, maybe you're already together again. He was certain that would be the case, moments before he passed..."

  She tucked the bell safely back into her pocket. The glow in Lele's eyes faded.

  Rota: "... That's all I wanted to show you today. Sorry I can't hang around for long, but we've got a lot of orders to take care of... But I'll make it up to you next week, I promise!"

  Standing up, she brushed dust from her coat. The little fox followed, trotting close behind as they left the graveyard and stepped into the bustling city streets.

  Immediately, she regretted not taking a different route.

  The roads were far more crowded than she anticipated -- packed with travelers, merchants, and wandering warriors drawn in by the tournament. Too many people. She struggled to move through the throng, pushing past shoulders, weaving through conversations.

  Then --

  A collision.

  A sharp jolt knocked her backward, sending her straight onto the stone-paved street.

  Rota: "Ouch... Hey, watch where you're going!"

  As Rotavitea falls, the bell is thrown out of her pocket, ringing several times as it rolls around the ground. Lele seemed extremely perturbed by this, and immediately focuses her attention on it again. As soon as she does, the bell mysteriously stops ringing.

  Pink wind rose: "Excuse me? You're so damn tiny I barely saw you! You should be the one paying more attention..."

  A woman had stumbled into her -- young, perhaps five or so years older than herself. She had striking pink irises, her pupils shaped like a wind rose. Beside her stood a man, his eyes just as peculiar -- a deep blue, with pupils shaped like ensos.

  The man crouched to retrieve the bell but froze, his fingers hovering just above it. His gaze flickered -- not to the bell, but to the fox.

  And for a moment, he looked almost... impressed.

  Blue enso: "Well, well... There's something I haven't felt in a long time."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Lele growled.

  Then snarled.

  Then -- lunged.

  Rotavitea barely caught her in time, pulling her back into her arms before she could sink her teeth into the man's wrist.

  Rota: "Lele, stop that! And you, lady -- you're lucky I'm in a rush, or else..."

  The man chuckled.

  Blue enso: "Please, don’t mind her. She’s rude to everyone. Including *me*."

  The woman rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

  Pink wind rose: "Oh cry more, would you?"

  The man ignored her and instead picked up the bell, holding it out to Rotavitea.

  As she took it from his hand, he gripped hers firmly.

  He helped her stand.

  And as she did, she noticed something.

  For all his nonchalance, his fingers lingered on hers just a second too long.

  Like he was memorizing the moment.

  Like he was memorizing her.

  Blue enso: "Sorry about that. Have a good day, yes?"

  With that, they were gone.

  Rotavitea watched them disappear into the crowd, scowling.

  Rota: "People these days...!"

  Lele, however, was still tense in her arms. Still stiff.

  Still watching them.

  Rota: "... What's gotten into you?"

  In the meantime, inside a nearby tavern, Virno slammed his fist against the counter.

  Virno: "Oh, come on, what’s gotten into you?!"

  He sat beside a scruffy-bearded man, ale in hand. The Lion’s mask still adorned his face, though now it had been altered further-- reinforced with leather and dark metal, lending it a regal, almost ominous presence.

  Virno: "Spit it out, Pocna!"

  That man was Pocna, Virno’s old sword-fighting instructor. The same man who had once taught him the first lessons of battle, back when he was nothing more than an arrogant noble boy with a wooden sword and too much to prove.

  Pocna: "Young Virno, I’ve told you as it is -- I’ve just got a bad feeling about this tournament. We ought to skip it and attend the next one..."

  Virno tensed.

  In a swift motion, he yanked Pocna closer, voice lowering to a whisper.

  Virno (whispering): "Hey. We’ve talked about this before... I’m not Virno anymore."

  Pocna’s eyes widened, caught off guard by his own lapse.

  Pocna: "Sorry, Sir Vivi... It slipped. But I mean what I tell you, I can’t explain it, but --"

  The tavern doors swung open.

  Two figures entered.

  A woman with pink irises, her pupils shaped like a wind rose. A man with deep blue eyes, their pupils shaped like ensos.

  The woman stepped forward.

  Pink wind rose: "Alright. We’re looking for a Vivi. Supposed to be the undefeated tournament champion... Anyone seen him around here?"

  The man beside her sighed, shaking his head.

  Blue enso: "Dammit, Bazren... Couldn’t you at least be more subtle?!"

  Bazren (pink wind rose): "No time to lose, Xayn. Besides, not like anyone’s paying attention..."

  Indeed, the tavern was just as rowdy as before. The hum of conversation, the clinking of mugs, the occasional burst of laughter -- none seemed to acknowledge them or their inquiry.

  None, except Vivi and Pocna.

  Vivi smirked.

  Vivi: "Huh... Looking for me."

  As he moved to stand, Pocna caught his wrist.

  Pocna: "Please, Sir... If it’s a fight they want, do take it outside."

  Vivi laughed, pulling his arm away.

  Vivi: "No promises...!"

  He strode forward, waving lazily as he approached the newcomers. His right arm swung through the air -- where his missing hand had once been, now rested a cast-iron gauntlet, forged and fitted to his stump.

  But it wasn’t their eyes or their weapons that caught his attention.

  It was the wind.

  As he walked, his wind currents brushed against them -- and something was off.

  The air that should have bent around them didn’t. Instead, some of it passed straight through. As if parts of them weren’t entirely there.

  His smirk faded slightly.

  Vivi: "Well, well. What’s the deal with you two? You seem like a couple of walking skeletons."

  Xayn stiffened immediately.

  A flicker of something -- hesitation.

  Xayn (blue enso): "S-Skeletons?! Hah! What a strange sense of humor..."

  His laugh was forced. Tense. Vivi caught the subtle shift in his posture. The way his weight redistributed, the way his breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. He had struck a nerve.

  Bazren, on the other hand, seemed entirely unvexed.

  She stepped closer. Closer than necessary.

  A breath away.

  Bazren: "... Let’s cut the small talk."

  Vivi tilted his head, intrigued.

  Bazren: "Listen up, *Vivi*. We’ve got a deal for you. I’m here to kick your ass in this tournament. And if I win? You’ll be at our beck and call -- our own mercenary of sorts. Got that?"

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Vivi: "Hmph. Got it just fine, though you have to admit it sounds like a pretty one-sided deal so far... I’ll humor you, though -- what if I win?"

  A pause.

  Just for a moment.

  Bazren: "Didn’t account for that."

  She crossed her arms.

  Bazren: "Do you have a plan in case your sun doesn’t rise in the morning...?"

  Vivi chuckled.

  It was rare -- so rare -- that someone caught his interest like this. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice, her confidence, the weight behind her words -- it was enough.

  Vivi: "You’ve got guts... Let’s see if you’ve got more than that."

  He extended his left hand for a handshake.

  Vivi: "I’ll take this ‘deal’ of yours -- but I'm warning you now... you won’t like my terms and conditions when you’re beaten."

  She took his hand.

  Her grip was strong.

  Bazren: "The sun will rise, mister Vivi... Your 'terms and conditions' are meaningless."

  Their fates were sealed.

  As the three factions moved behind the scenes in their quest for domination, Virno -- Vivi -- had carved a name for himself. A legend in the making.

  Tournament after tournament, battle after battle, he honed his abilities. He had come to learn to wield his power -- without the sword.

  And he thrived.

  Beside him, his old teacher, Pocna, the only man who knew his true identity. His guide. His tether.

  Together, they had spent the last years amassing fame, fortune, and whispers.

  In a way, his childhood dream had been realized.

  Yet, his tale was far from over.

  This --

  This was simply where it became greater than just himself...!