They had grown—not just in skill, but in spirit.
Somewhere through the passing years, the once-young trainees had become teenagers, around eighteen or so—still training in the same place, at the same hour, under the same fading sun.
Mira laughed lightly after a strike. "You're still too slow," she teased.
Nathan smirked again, raising his wooden blade. "Or maybe you're just too fast."
Their swords met once more, the sound echoing through the golden field—two figures still chasing mastery beneath the same eternal sunset.
Mira adjusted her footing, brushing her hair aside with her sleeve. "You used to tell me to control my speed," she said with a grin, circling him. "Now you can't even keep up."
Nathan chuckled, turning his stance to match hers. "That's because you've turned your advice against me."
"Or maybe," she countered, darting forward with a blur of motion, "you've gotten predictable."
The sharp crack of wood echoed as Nathan blocked her strike, their blades locking together.
For a moment, their eyes met—focused, sharp, and competitive, yet carrying a flicker of warmth beneath the tension.
"Predictable, huh?" Nathan said, pushing her back slightly before stepping aside. "You still leave your left side open."
Mira scoffed and lunged again, a swift horizontal swing. "That's only if you can reach it."
He deflected her blow with practiced ease, smirking. "So that's your plan now… talk and swing?"
"Only when it gets you distracted," she replied, twisting her blade and catching him off guard. Her speed flared again—controlled now, precise, her movements flowing like a current of air. Nathan barely managed to meet her final strike, both swords crossing with a sharp thud.
The silence that followed was filled only by their breathing—their shadows stretching long over the grass as the sun dipped lower.
Nathan grinned faintly, lowering his blade. "You've really mastered it, haven't you?"
Mira tilted her head, catching her breath. "Control, not mastery. There's still more to learn."
He smirked, straightening. "You sound like me now."
"Guess you finally taught me something," she said lightly.
Their laughter mixed with the wind, soft but grounded in the weight of years, they are still dueling under the same sunset that had watched them grow.
But then Mira's teasing smile returned, a little sharper this time.
"So… you gonna stop holding back now, or should I slow down again for you?"
Nathan's brow rose slightly, a grin curving at the edge of his lips. "Careful with your words, Mira. You might regret that."
"Then prove it," she challenged, stepping forward, her eyes glinting under the fading light.
Nathan raised his blade again, steady. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Their final duel began.
This time, neither spoke—only movement filled the space between them. Mira's sword cut through the air in flashes, her speed near perfect, every swing backed by balance and precision. Nathan met each strike calmly, adjusting his stance, reading her rhythm.
Then she feinted left and spun—her blade slicing through the air with impossible speed.
Nathan blocked it—barely.
The next second, a faint blue glow pulsed from the medallion hanging around his neck. The light spread across his arm, down to his hand, and then into the blade.
Mira's eyes widened. "Nathan!"
Their swords met again, and the force burst like thunder.
A shockwave rolled across the field, grass bending with the pressure. The blue light flared brighter—and crack! Mira's sword shattered in half.
The recoil launched her back a few steps, her boots skidding through the dirt until she dropped to one knee. She clenched the broken hilt, breathing hard, the air trembling faintly from the impact.
Nathan froze where he stood, his blade still faintly glowing, the medallion flickering with a dim, fading hue.
"Mira!" he called out, stepping forward quickly.
She raised her hand, exhaling through a weak laugh. "I'm fine… I think. Just didn't expect your sword to explode on me."
Nathan lowered his weapon immediately, his voice soft but tense. "I didn't mean to. I swear, I'm sorry, it just... happened."
Mira looked up at him, her grin small but genuine. "I know. Still, that was… impressive. Painful, but impressive."
She looked up at him, half-laughing, half-serious. "Sorry, I went a bit too far."
Nathan lowered his sword, a hint of concern in his tone. "No, I should be the one saying sorry."
She took his hand, standing back up, brushing off the dirt from her knees. "No, I should. I went too far teasing you," she admitted, still chuckling lightly but with a bit of seriousness in her tone. "I guess I deserved that."
Nathan shook his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You didn't. But next time—maybe don't challenge energy you don't understand. I didn't mean to use that much power."
Mira smiled faintly, shaking her head. "You really don't know your own strength, do you?"
Nathan stepped closer, offering his hand. "Maybe, but still… I forgive you."
She chuckled softly as he helped her up. "And I forgive you too, idiot."
She wipes the dust on her pants with her hands, glancing at his medallion, the faint blue still glowing at its center. "That thing… it reacted, didn't it?"
He looked down at it, expression unreadable. "Yeah. I felt it. Like it moved on its own."
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind whispered past them, carrying the scent of dusk and grass.
The sunset faded fully into twilight, their shadows blending into the dim light of the field.
Mira broke the silence first, her voice soft but sincere. "Still… that was a good match."
Nathan looked at her and smiled faintly. "Yeah.... It was."
And as the stars began to appear above them, the faint blue light of his medallion flickered once more—quietly, almost like a heartbeat—before fading away into the night.
The night had settled softly over the hills when Nathan glanced toward Mira, still brushing the dust from her clothes after their spar. The faint blue from his medallion had long faded, replaced by the glow of lanterns beginning to flicker in the distance. The faint rustle of grass brushed against their boots as the cool breeze carried the sound of the nearby village—music, chatter, and laughter faintly echoing over the hill.
Nathan exhaled, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Hey," he started, swinging his wooden sword over his shoulder. "They rebuilt the main village, right? I heard tonight's their night opening… fireworks and all, wanna go?"
Mira looked up, surprised but curious. "The new main village? You mean after all these years? I think it's not a village anymore; it's more like a city in a kingdom."
He nodded, eyes glinting faintly with the reflection of the setting sun. "Yeah. They said it's finally finished. My father even announced an anniversary festival tonight. Thought maybe we could check it out—before everyone gets drunk on roasted meat and dancing."
Mira laughed lightly. "You just want to see the fireworks, don't you?"
"Maybe," he said with a smirk. "Or maybe I just need company."
She nudged him with her elbow. "Flattery won't work, your highness. But fine... I'll come. Just don't make me regret it."
Nathan smiled faintly, brushing his hair aside as he placed his wooden sword back onto the practice rack. Mira did the same beside him, both taking one last look at the open field that had seen countless duels between them. The training ground felt quieter now—wind brushing gently against the training flags, the faint smell of dust and wood lingering in the air.
"Guess that's enough for today," Nathan said with a small grin.
"Yeah," Mira replied softly, glancing back at the rack. "It feels weird leaving this place after sunset. Feels like we grew up here for training."
Nathan chuckled lightly. "We did."
They stepped away from the field, Nathan walked ahead, with Mira following a few steps behind as they approached the stone bridge leading into the capital of the Atlon Kingdom. The faint sound of running water echoed below as they crossed, the reflection of lanterns shimmering across the ripples. Fireflies danced faintly near the edges of the river, lighting the shadows like tiny sparks.
The view ahead opened to the rebuilt main village—streets alive with laughter and lanterns, merchants calling out their wares, and children racing through the cobblestone paths waving ribbons in the air. The air itself seemed to hum with life, filled with the faint music of flutes and drums echoing from the plaza.
The scent of sweet bread and roasted corn drifted around them, mingling with the sound of music from the plaza. Mira's eyes darted around, her curiosity barely contained as the glow of city lights reflected in her eyes.
Nathan noticed her expression and smiled. "You look like it's your first time seeing the city."
"Well, many times since foundation." she replied, grinning, "it does feel new again. Everything looks different… brighter."
They walked further in, brushing past stalls of glowing crystal ornaments and food carts sizzling with freshly grilled meat. Nathan bought two cups of apple honey juice from a nearby vendor, handing one to her.
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Buying drinks for me now? Should I be honored?"
He smirked. "Just don't say I never treated you."
She took a sip, her eyes widening a little. "Okay, fine. You're forgiven—for beating me earlier."
Nathan laughed, "I'll take that as a victory."
"It's so different," she murmured after a moment, looking around. "Last time I came here, it was half-broken and empty."
"Yeah," Nathan said, watching the crowd. "A lot changed since then. Even us."
Mira grinned. "Especially you. You used to trip over your sword trying to act cool."
Nathan gave her a playful side-eye. "And you used to cry every time I beat you."
Mira's eyes widened. "I did not!"
"You did."
"I almost did... once," she shot back, crossing her arms with a small glare. "Don't twist it."
He chuckled. "Close enough."
They laughed together, weaving through the lively streets, their conversation blending with the music and chatter around them. The towering silhouette of the royal castle loomed faintly in the distance—its spires lit by golden torches, shimmering like stars above the city. Mira glanced at it, her expression softening.
"Still feels strange seeing that castle from here," she said quietly. "Knowing it's where you live."
Nathan followed her gaze. "Yeah… sometimes it doesn't even feel like home. Not without everyone who helped me get here."
Mira looked at him, her smile faint but sincere. "You made it home by protecting it, Nathan. That's what matters — this kingdom belongs to you."
He glanced at her, touched by her words but hiding it behind a grin. "You're getting good at speeches. Trying to take my spot later?"
She smirked. "Maybe. Someone has to keep you humble."
Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "Good luck with that."
A group of kids suddenly ran past, waving little flags with the royal crest, shouting, "Long live Prince Nathan!" Nathan froze mid-step, caught off guard as Mira burst out laughing.
"See? You're famous," she teased, elbowing him. "You can't even walk down the street without fan clubs."
Nathan sighed playfully. "Yeah, very funny. You should sign up as their leader."
"Tempting," she said with a mischievous grin.
.
.
As they walked closer, the streets grew brighter and busier. The air buzzed with laughter, music, and the hum of excitement. Ahead stood the newly built arena stadium — massive, circular, and beautifully lit by rows of lanterns along its towering walls.
Nathan stopped for a moment, gazing up with quiet admiration. "They really finished it… the new arena," he said softly. "It's said to fit over ten thousand people now."
Mira whistled under her breath. "Ten thousand? That's insane. You could fit the entire village twice in there."
Nathan chuckled. "Yeah. It's been years since they first laid the foundation. I used to sneak by here when it was just rubble and scaffolding."
"Typical Nathan," Mira teased. "Always wandering where he's not supposed to."
He grinned. "Can't help it."
They stepped toward the entrance where two spearmen, fully armored and holding long steel spears, stood guard beside the massive doors. The faint torchlight reflected off their polished armor, giving them a stern, unyielding look.
As Nathan approached, one of them raised his spear across the entrance. "Halt! Inspection before entry."
Nathan stopped immediately, a little taken aback. "Ah... inspection? We just wanted to..."
But before he could finish, the other guard blinked in surprise, lowering his weapon. "Wait… is this—Prince Nathan?"
The first guard's eyes widened. "What? Oh, forgive me, Your Highness!" He quickly stepped aside, lowering his spear. "We didn't recognize you right away."
Nathan raised both hands awkwardly. "Uh, no problem. Really. I understand, keep up your work." he said, trying to sound casual but a little shy about the sudden attention.
The guards bowed slightly as the gates opened for him. But when Mira followed behind, both spears crossed in front of her.
"Whoa, whoa... hey!" Mira blinked, stepping back a little. "I'm not some random intruder. I'm with him!"
Nathan turned around, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, she's with me. Please, let her through."
The guards hesitated for a second, then nodded and moved their spears aside respectfully.
As the two entered, the guards muttered quietly under their breath, "Sheesh… looks like that's the prince's close... partner."
The second spearman smirked. "Close partner, huh? Sounds a bit more than that."
The first one scoffed lightly. "Heh, maybe. Still, lucky lad — not every day you see the prince walking around with someone like her."
"Quiet," the second warned with a grin. "You'll get us scolded again."
They both chuckled quietly and straightened their stance as Nathan and Mira walked further inside.
.
.
Mira barely heard it. Her face flushed slightly, though she tried to play it off. "Close partner, huh…" she muttered just loud enough for Nathan to hear, smirking a little.
Nathan froze for half a second, pretending not to react. "They… probably meant it as a compliment," he said stiffly.
"Mmhm," Mira hummed, grinning. "Sure, Your Highness."
He sighed. "You'll never let that one go, will you?"
"Not a chance."
The two laughed softly as they entered the arena. Inside, the massive structure stretched open into a grand circular field surrounded by rising stone seats. The floors gleamed from recent polishing, and a few janitors were still cleaning up, sweeping confetti and checking lanterns before the night's main event. The echo of their footsteps filled the quiet halls.
"This place is huge," Mira said, glancing around, her voice echoing faintly. "Feels like it could host an army."
Nathan nodded, his eyes tracing the vast arena. "Hard to believe this used to be the burned village," he said quietly. "The serpent destroyed everything here… and those undead wandered around until morning. Guess they really were weak to sunlight."
He paused for a moment, then glanced at Mira.
"And… I remember you lived here," he added softly. "You and your grandfather, with your merchant store on the street."
Mira looked at him, her eyebrows lifting slightly at the memory.
Nathan chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "There was that time they put the place under minor-to-major quarantine, right? Because of that… white faceless monster." He shivered a little, remembering. "Bald, sharp features… everyone panicked for days."
But this time, he kept going — his voice steady, almost drifting as he remembered.
"And the soldiers kept patrolling every houses… people couldn't even step outside without permission. That night was so quiet back then. Even the wind felt strange. I still remember waking up in a crate inside your market, where people stayed during the emergency," he continued, gesturing vaguely. "The whole street covered in fog because of the heavy rain, and hearing people whispering about curses and bad omens. Honestly, I thought the monster would jump out again, but it did."
Mira frowned. "Yeah. That thing was.. terrifying."
Nathan nodded. "Maybe you remember it, Mira. I still don't know what that monster's purpose was. Why it even lurked around here. They said it was just a mythical story but… it didn't feel like one."
Mira turned to him slowly, staring for a second. "…Nathan."
"Yeah?"
"You're… talking a lot."
He blinked. "What? I'm just explaining—"
"No," she cut in, squinting her eyes. "This is like… few sentences in a row. Are you okay?"
Nathan froze for half a second. "I... I talk sometimes."
"No you don't," she deadpanned. "Not like this. You're acting like a storyteller who drank too much apple honey juice."
He scoffed, face warming slightly. "I'm giving context, Mira."
"Mmhm," she hummed, smirking. "Sure. Context."
Nathan sighed dramatically. "Great. I finally try to say something meaningful and you treat me like I'm malfunctioning."
Mira snorted. "Well… you did start yapping out of nowhere."
"Well, maybe because of my—"
"Shushhh." She wagged her finger in disapproval.
Nathan looked away. "Unbelievable."
Mira nudged him with her elbow, laughing. "Relax, relax. It's not bad. Just… unexpected."
He blinked his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. "Fine. Next time I'll just stay quiet."
"No," she said quickly, softer this time. "It's… nice hearing you talk like that."
Nathan blinked, caught off guard. "Well... Good to hear..."
They stood at the edge of the viewing platform for a moment, taking it all in. The vastness of the place, the hum of preparation, and the faint music from outside blended into one peaceful scene.
Then, as they stepped back outside through the open gate, the night sky suddenly erupted in color. Fireworks burst into blues, reds, and golds, painting the heavens above the cheering crowd. Mira's eyes reflected the lights, wide with awe.
"Wow…" she whispered, smiling genuinely. "it's... beautiful."
Nathan smiled beside her, watching the sky. "Yeah. Worth the walk."
They stood still for a while, surrounded by cheering people and flashing lights. Music echoed from the plaza, drums and flutes blending with laughter. Children pointed at the fireworks, merchants handed out food, and the whole village seemed alive again after years of rebuilding. Mira tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stealing a glance at Nathan, who looked calm yet thoughtful under the glow.
A grand banner hung above the arena gates — "Atlon Kingdom Anniversary: 10 Years of Strength and Unity." The streets were lined with banners of blue and silver, and guards in ceremonial armor stood proudly by the entrance.
"Looks like they really went all out this year," Mira said, her eyes scanning the crowd.
Nathan chuckled softly. "Well, it's not every day the kingdom celebrates ten years of peace."
Trumpets suddenly sounded from the stage, echoing across the open plaza. The crowd's chatter faded as the voice of Commander Galen boomed from the central podium.
"People of Atlon!" Galen's tone was deep and commanding, yet filled with warmth. "Tonight, we celebrate not just a decade of rebuilding, but a decade of unity — forged through courage, sacrifice, and hope!"
The audience roared with applause. Mira joined in, clapping proudly, while Nathan smiled faintly beside her.
"Always the big speeches," Mira teased.
Nathan laughed under his breath. "That's Galen for you. I think he's been waiting for this day since forever."
Soon after, Galen stepped down from the stage and disappeared backstage. The lights dimmed for a moment before flaring brighter as King Nalon himself appeared. His royal blue cloak shimmered under the lanterns, his presence drawing instant silence.
"My people," the King began, his voice calm yet powerful, "ten years passed, this land was nothing but stone and dust. And yet, here we stand — not broken, not divided, but stronger than ever. Tonight, Atlon rises once again."
Cheers erupted again. Nathan and Mira were now part of the crowd, standing shoulder to shoulder as the King's words carried through the night air. The harmony of voices, the glow of the torches, and the warmth of the people filled the moment with pride.
Mira looked around, smiling softly. "You're right, It's hard to believe this used to be ruins."
"Yeah, I know," Nathan replied quietly. "That was a whole lifetime ago."
But soon, his expression shifted a little, remembering something. "Hey… uh, Mira. I need to go backstage for a bit. There's something they asked me to do."
She tilted her head. "Backstage? What for?"
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Not sure. The councilor called me earlier. Probably something formal again."
Mira rolled her eyes teasingly. "Prince problems."
He sighed. "Guess so. I'll be quick."
"Go," she said, waving him off with a grin. "I'll be here. Don't trip walking on stage, alright?"
He smirked. "No promises."
Nathan turned toward the backstage, slipping away quietly through the side path unnoticed by the large crowd. The people's attention remained fixed on King Nalon's speech, his voice echoing across the vast arena as lanterns swayed above the cheering masses.
"He still hasn't changed that nervous face of his," she murmured, shaking her head slightly.
Mira turned her gaze back toward the stage, watching the King address his people while the crowd stood in awe, their faces glowing in the golden light. She waited patiently among them, her eyes calm yet thoughtful.
.
.
Backstage was alive with activity—guards rushing, performers preparing, officials adjusting banners bearing Atlon's crest. Nathan entered and immediately spotted familiar faces: Commander Galen, the councilor, his mother Queen Rhea, and a few squad leaders discussing tonight's schedule. The air felt heavier here, the hum of organization and tension replacing the freedom of the streets outside.
"Mother," Nathan called softly, stepping closer. "What's going on?"
Queen Rhea turned with a warm smile, her presence calm and regal. "Ah, Nathan. Perfect timing. We were just talking about you."
Nathan blinked. "That never sounds good."
Before she could answer, the old councilor chuckled. "Your father's giving a message soon. It's the kingdom's anniversary, after all. But we thought—it's also yours."
"My… anniversary?"
"Yes," Galen said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ten years have passed since the prince who once hid behind the castle gates stood up for his people."
Nathan hesitated, unsure how to respond. The councilor stepped forward, smiling kindly. "You've grown, Prince Nathan. It would be an honor if you gave the message tonight. The people would love to hear from you."
He froze for a moment, glancing between them all. "Me? I… I've never done that before."
Queen Rhea touched his arm gently. "Then it's time to start."
He looked down, then nodded slowly. "Alright… I'll try."
"Don't try," the councilor said with a grin. "Just speak from your heart. And that's enough."
.
.
Nathan waited behind his father on stage, standing straight as the fireworks faded into the crowd's cheers. King Nalon's speech echoed through the arena—his words filled with pride, strength, and warmth. Nathan listened quietly, feeling both small and grateful under the glow of the stage lights. From where he stood, he could faintly see the sea of faces below, flickering with lantern light and excitement.
When the king finished, the people roared in celebration.
Then someone in the crowd shouted, "It's Prince Nathan! Let him speak!"
Others joined, their cheers rising in rhythm.
King Nalon turned to him, smiling proudly. He placed a firm hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Go on, son. They're waiting."
Nathan swallowed hard, stepping forward. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied his breath and looked at the countless faces before him—people he had trained for, fought for, and grown up with. For a moment, the noise faded into silence.
"Uh… hi everyone," he began awkwardly, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. "I'm not really good with speeches."
Mira, watching from the crowd, smiled faintly. "He's doing it," she whispered to herself.
Nathan continued, voice growing steadier. "I just wanted to say… thank you. For standing with the kingdom through all the years, through the battles, and through rebuilding. Atlon is strong because of all of you. And I'm… proud to be part of it."
He paused, glancing toward Mira's direction though he couldn't see her through the lights. "Sometimes, growth takes time. But even when things break or fall apart… we rebuild and rise. Together."
The crowd erupted in cheers, applause echoing across the stadium. Nathan exhaled slowly, smiling in relief as his father clapped him on the back.
.
.
.
In the crowd, Mira's eyes softened. The lights reflected against her gaze, making them glisten faintly. She crossed her arms, smiling with quiet pride.
She didn't smile often, but seeing Nathan handle himself up there… it tugged at something warm inside her.
"That's the Nathan I know," she murmured, the fireworks above painting her expression in soft gold.
Just as she settled into the moment, a voice suddenly popped up beside her — loud, energetic, and impossible to ignore.
"Mira?! Mira Althea?! Look at you!"
Lyra barreled in with a grin, nearly bouncing in place. She was wearing a magenta-and-white formal attire, the very same assigned to performers for the big event on the arena stage.
Mira blinked, a little startled, but her expression stayed composed. Typical Lyra, arriving like she's in a hurry.
"Lyra… uh wow. You still talk like you're sprinting every hour," she said dryly.
Lyra laughed, nudging her shoulder. "Since when did you get taller than me, old friend? Last time we trained together we were, what… ten? Eleven? And now look at us… teenagers with responsibilities. Ugh."
Mira let out a quiet breath through her nose, amused. "You make it sound like we're forty."
"Sometimes I feel forty!" Lyra exaggerated, fixing her outfit as if preparing for another rehearsal. "Anyway, I've been looking around for you. Didn't expect to find you hiding behind a crowd like some mysterious guardian."
Mira shrugged lightly. "I'm not hiding. I'm just… watching."
'And watching always felt safer than celebrating.' she said to herself.
But even as she talked, her eyes kept drifting toward the arena stage, scanning the entire place — the entrances, the rooftop guards, the crowd movement, the glow of the lanterns. Her mind wasn't fully relaxing; it never did.
Lyra noticed. "Hey… you're listening to me, right?"
"I am," Mira said, nodding. "You're just talking fast, as always."
"Good, because I—wait." Lyra narrowed her eyes at the stage. "Hold up. Is that… Nathan? Prince Nathan? I think I saw you two talking earlier. Are you two… friends?"
Mira looked at her, expression neutral but teasing just a little.
"Friends? I mean… I guess? He bothers me sometimes, so maybe."
Lyra smacked her arm lightly.
"Oh don't give me that. You don't let just anyone bother you."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Then maybe you're also in danger. You're bothering me right now."
Lyra burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, I deserved that one."
Before they could continue, someone suddenly leaned close from behind them.
"Hey."
Both Mira and Lyra flinched, Mira stepping back a half-step while Lyra nearly yelped.
"Noah?!" Lyra groaned, glaring. "You again, idiot. Are you trying to make people lose years of their life?"
Noah, tall and now nineteen, stood between them in his formal performance attire. He grinned with zero guilt.
"Relax, you two. Just testing your reflexes. Looks like they haven't improved."
Mira shook her head and bumped her fist lightly against his.
"Still dramatic. You must be Nathan's old friend, right?"
"You guess right," Noah replied proudly. "Duo training partners since we were kids. He still owes me three wins, by the way."
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"You owe him ten losses. Don't rewrite history."
Noah pointed at her. "Okay, why are you everywhere just to publicly ruin me?"
"Because someone has to," Lyra replied flatly.
Mira chuckled softly under her breath, a tiny smile appearing and fading.
'These two… nothing ever changes.'
Noah tilted his head at her.
"You look calmer than I remember. Last time we practiced, you kicked me so hard I almost saw my ancestors."
"That was your fault," Mira replied. "You kept talking."
Lyra slapped her knee laughing. "See?! This is why I missed you two."
Around them, the crowd kept cheering, lanterns glowing, fireworks popping in the sky. The three of them turned toward the stage as the noise softened again.
.
.
.
The crowd's cheers slowly settled into an expectant murmur, but Nathan on the stage could still feel the warmth of their applause lingering against his chest. King Nalon placed a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder, leaning down slightly.
"Well done, Nathan," he said quietly, voice low enough that only Nathan could hear. "You spoke well. Honest, heartfelt… exactly what they needed."
Nathan nodded, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips.
Maybe I didn't mess it up after all.
"Thank you, Father."
He felt the weight of his first speech easing off slowly. Maybe, just maybe… he could grow into this role.
The old councilor stepped forward again, clearing his throat. His voice rose with authority, echoing across the arena.
"People of Atlon! Tonight we celebrate not only a decade of unity and peace, but the unveiling of a structure worthy of our kingdom's pride — the Arena of Valor!"
Down in the crowd, Lyra clasped Mira's arm excitedly.
"Eee! Here it is!"
Mira blinked, neutral but attentive.
Noah whistled under his breath.
"They really did finish it this year… unbelievable."
He folded his arms, eyes still on the stage.
"And wow… Nathan actually did good up there," Noah added with a faint, crooked grin. "Didn't expect him to speak that clean."
Lyra nudged him. "Told you he's not as awkward as you think."
Noah shrugged. "Hey, I'm giving him credit! That was… impressive."
Mira remained quiet for a moment, her gaze softening just a bit.
"He did well," she murmured, subtle praise slipping through.
Lanterns shimmered along the massive walls, casting warm light that rippled over the faces of the crowd.
"This arena," the councilor continued, "stands as the largest in the Valor Continent, rivaling even those of the Aurelia Kingdom…"
Mira's eyes widened just a fraction — subtle surprise, quiet but real.
Lyra, meanwhile, practically vibrated in place.
"Imagine performing inside that open arena! Mira, if I faint tomorrow, drag me off-stage."
Mira replied without looking away, "If you faint, Noah will carry you."
Noah nearly choked. "Hey—why me?!"
"You're taller and… stronger," Mira raised her eyebrow, letting a short smile.
Lyra burst into laughter again.
The councilor's voice carried on with pride and gravity.
"And speaking of the arena… tomorrow will be a day unlike any other — a hyper day indeed!"
The crowd roared. Children jumped. Some veterans stood straighter, their medals glinting.
Noah stretched his arms.
"Tomorrow's going to be insane."
Lyra nodded once.
"Feels like it."
.
.
.
The councilor finished with a final sweep of his staff.
"This arena is the heart of Atlon's unity. Step into it with pride…"
Applause washed over the arena. The old councilor stepped back, handing the stage to the royal announcer as the lanterns glimmered above, bright and warm.
Nathan remained on the stage behind him, standing with King Nalon, Queen Rhea, Commander Galen, and the squads gathered at the back. He let out a quiet breath, shoulders relaxing just a little.
"Tomorrow's going to be… something else," he thought to himself, letting his eyes scan the crowd. "Big day… for everyone."
Down in the crowded people, Mira shifted, her gaze flicking from the massive arena to the stage where Nathan stood.
"Looks like tomorrow's going to be… something else," she murmured under her breath.
Her eyes lingered on Nathan for a second — not in a dramatic way, but in that calm, familiar way she always watched him, just trying to understand the whole thing.
Nathan didn't hear her.
Mira didn't hear him.
But for a brief moment, as Nathan looked toward the crowd, his eyes passed near where she stood with Lyra and Noah. Not enough to notice her clearly… just enough to feel the scale of the moment.
Above them, the night sky answered with a shower of golden sparks.
The Arena of Valor stood tall — alive, bright, ready.
And tomorrow waited for them.
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In the large crowd, Mira felt a twinge of curiosity—almost worry—nestling in her mind. It wasn't about Nathan, not really, but something deeper, something she couldn't quite name. She shook her head slightly, forcing a small smirk onto her lips.
"Nah, nah… it's just your mind, Mira," she murmured softly to herself, as if convincing her own thoughts.
She exhaled and glanced at the two beside her.
"Hey… I think I'm heading home," she said quietly, steadying her tone. "Good luck with your performance tonight."
Lyra blinked, confused. "Wait... home? Why? You were just hyped earlier."
Noah tilted his head. "Yeah… what's going on? You okay?"
Mira gave a small shrug, eyes lowering for a moment. "It's something important. I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
Lyra stepped closer, studying her expression. "Important like… serious? Or important like you just don't want to be here?"
"It's real," Mira replied softly, offering a faint smile. "But I'm fine. Really."
Noah scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure. "You sure you don't want us to walk you out?"
Mira shook her head gently. "No need. Enjoy the night. You two worked hard for it."
Lyra sighed, not fully convinced, but she nodded. "Alright… but don't disappear tomorrow, okay?"
Mira allowed a tiny laugh. "Yeah. I won't."
As she turned away, Noah leaned slightly closer to Lyra, lowering his voice.
"…That wasn't Mira's normal 'I'm tired' exit," he muttered.
Lyra crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Mm. Something's bothering her. But she'll tell us when she's ready… hopefully."
Noah let out a slow breath. "Guess so. Let's… not make it heavier."
Lyra nodded and shook off the worry with a small bounce of her shoulders. "Come on. We still have to prepare for the performance later. And don't forget—you're opening the group dance."
Noah groaned into his hands. "I practiced that spin so many times I'm basically dizzy forever."
Lyra snorted. "Your first ten spins nearly knocked over the props."
"That was ONE! time..."
Their playful argument faded into the noise of the crowd as they moved toward the performer's side area, trying to slip back into their usual rhythm.
The cheers surrounding her rolled like waves, bright and wild, but Mira stepped back slowly, easing herself away from the thickest part of the crowd. She slipped between laughing villagers and excited children, her movements careful and quiet. The festival lights made the whole arena flicker with color, but her mind drifted elsewhere.
She cast a quick glance toward the stage. Something softened briefly in her eyes before she turned away.
Nathan stood there, smiling faintly at the crowd, lantern light brushing against his face. His posture was steady—confident, almost gentle. Seeing him like that sent a small warmth through her chest… yet underneath it, the shadow of worry remained, uninvited.
"What are you even worried about…?" she whispered to herself, brows knitting for a moment.
She shook her head again, brushing aside the feeling. With a light exhale, she turned her steps toward the main exit of the Arena of Valor. Two spearmen guarded the passage, the glow from their torches reflecting across their armor. Mira walked past them quietly, offering a small nod. They nodded back, letting her through without a word.
Outside, the night air was cooler, softer. Lanterns lined the streets like floating stars. Laughter spilled from every corner, musicians played flutes and drums near the stalls, and the scent of food drifted warmly with the breeze.
Mira walked with steady purpose, slipping past groups of villagers. A child bumped into her shoulder and apologized quickly. She smiled back gently before continuing forward.
In the distance, she caught a glimpse of Nathan's large castle atop the hill. Its outline glowed faintly under the night sky, torches lining its walls like scattered fireflies. For a moment, she stared in its direction—silent, thoughtful.
Then she turned her eyes forward again.
As she moved deeper into the streets, the noise of celebration slowly faded behind her. Every step brought quieter sound—just her soft footsteps tapping the cobblestones, and the distant echo of the festival still alive somewhere behind her.
Finally, she reached the plaza area.
The new restaurant stood proudly on a clean fresh lot — built where the old burned village used to rest, now transformed after years of rebuilding. Its windows glowed warmly, the wooden sign gently swaying from the lantern breeze.
Mira pushed the door open.
Inside, her aunt and uncle were already tidying the last bits of the shop. Dishes neatly stacked, floor halfway cleaned, the familiar warm smell of bread and herbs hugging the room.
Her aunt turned immediately. "Oh, Mira. You're here."
Her uncle gave her a tired smile. "Back already? The festival still alive out there?"
Mira shrugged lightly, her faint smile returning. "It's loud… and bright. But yeah, still going."
Her aunt stepped closer, brushing her apron down. "How was your day? You look... hm... tired? Or thinking too much?"
Mira breathed out slowly, trying not to show the small heaviness in her chest. "Just… a lot happened. Training earlier, then the crowd. It's fine."
Her uncle raised an eyebrow. "That's your 'I'm not telling the full story' voice."
Mira rolled her eyes. "It's nothing big. Really."
Her aunt nodded slowly, not fully convinced. "Alright… but don't keep everything inside, Mira. You always do that."
Mira pressed her lips together, smiling faintly. "Yeah… I'll try."
There was a small moment of silence before she looked around.
"Where's Grandpa?"
Her aunt pointed toward the counter. "Sleeping on the rocking chair. He wouldn't go home until he made sure everything was clean. Stubborn as always."
Her uncle laughed lightly. "We told him to rest earlier, but he said, 'A king must close his kingdom last.' We didn't argue."
Mira sighed softly, affection warming her expression. "Of course he did that."
Her aunt, now slipping her shawl on, paused at the door. "Before we leave… are you sure you're alright? You look a little… low tonight."
Mira blinked, surprised she noticed so easily. "I just… have a lot on my mind, I guess. But I'm okay. Promise."
Her aunt gave her a long, gentle look, then nodded. "Alright, sweetheart. We're heading out. Don't stay up too late."
Her uncle added, "And don't think too much. Save that for tomorrow."
Mira huffed lightly. "I do not think too much."
Both of them chuckled.
"Yes, you do," they said at the same time as they stepped out.
The door closed behind them.
Silence filled the restaurant again.
Mira's eyes drifted to the rocker near the cashier.
Her grandfather sat there, asleep, his hands folded over his lap. His hair was almost completely white now, wrinkles deepened by years of work, but his presence—soft, steady—always felt like a warm blanket around her.
Her heart softened instantly.
She approached slowly, careful not to make noise. The lanterns cast a golden glow on her grandfather's face, making him look peaceful—almost as if he were simply resting after a calm day.
Mira stood beside him, letting out a quiet breath.
The world outside was loud—fireworks, cheers, music… celebrations everywhere.
But here…
Here it was calm.
Warm.
Safe.
Mira slowly lowered herself to the floor beside him, sitting with her knees tucked in as she leaned her head gently against the side of the rocking chair. The old wood felt cool against her hair, and her grandfather's steady breathing brushed faint warmth over the top of her head.
For a moment, she closed her eyes.
"…Grandpa," she whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath. "You're really sleeping anywhere again, huh?"
She let out a shaky exhale she didn't realize she was holding.
"You always say the world's safer now… that I don't need to worry so much," she murmured, tracing tiny circles on the floor with her fingertip. "But… sometimes I still do. Even when I don't know why."
Her voice wavered gently, but she held it steady.
"Mom would probably scold me too," she whispered, eyes softening. "She hated seeing me worry. I still remember how she used to hold my hand when I cried as a kid… back before the sickness took her."
Her throat tightened, but she continued quietly.
"And Dad… wherever he is in Aurelia…" she murmured. "I don't even know if he's okay now. Last I heard, he was still recovering from those injuries. I… I hope he's still fighting through it."
Mira's fingers curled slightly.
"And Grandma…" she breathed. "Grandpa never talks about how she died. Just that it wasn't normal. Not sickness. Not age. Something darker. Like she got caught in… something otherworldly. Something abyssal."
She lowered her gaze, staring at her reflection in the polished floor.
"When I was a kid… I was already scared of demons. Of the abyss," she admitted softly. "Not because of stories… but because I kept losing people. Aunts, uncles, cousins — some of them vanished, some died, some ended up somewhere in the world we'll never reach."
She paused, sitting still.
"And the underworld's king," she added quietly. "They said what happened… wasn't normal either."
Mira lifted her hand to her cheek subconsciously, brushing her fingers across the faint line of an old scar.
"I got these during those times," she whispered, touching the one on her right cheek, then the one on her left. "Hidden most days… but they appear when they want to. As if they're reminders."
She breathed out slowly… and then something faint flickered in her hands — a soft, dark shimmer escaping her fingertips like smoke that didn't belong to this world. She stared at it, unsettled but not surprised.
"And this…" she murmured, watching the slow curl of energy drift from her skin. "The hidden power. It keeps releasing on its own. Little by little. The assassin spirit."
Her voice wavered, not in fear, but in confusion.
"It's part of the eight spirits of the Arcane Synergies… the Aura, the Essence, the Unknown One… and the Nexus. All of them forming into Rhombus." She swallowed hard. "But why did this spirit choose me? Of all people… why me?"
Her fingers curled, as if trying to hold the fading smoke.
"What if someone else was supposed to carry this? What if I'm not meant for this at all?" She lowered her head. "I don't even know what to do. I don't understand any of this."
Her breath tightened, and her words came more quietly — more human.
"I was already traumatized by the abyss that took, killed, and erased my loved ones. My whole family… everyone connected to us. Even the people I knew before I could even understand what loss meant." She exhaled shakily, eyes drifting somewhere far away. "And now this spirit follows me like it knows my past better than I do."
She hesitated here—eyes lowering, voice shrinking just a little.
"…And I still haven't told Nathan about any of this," she murmured. "Or Grey… or Aerois… or anyone else. Only my family ever noticed my scar, but not this spirit."
Her fingers brushed the mark again, softer this time.
For a moment, her gaze drifted — not to the floor, but to the memory of something she'd seen earlier.
Nathan… not standing in the field, but moving fast in the middle of a training duel during their childhood morning practice sessions. The wooden blades clashed sharply, students shouting and cheering around them, dust rising from the ground.
And yet… even with all that noise, she noticed it.
The medallion on his neck glowing faintly with a soft blue energy every time he stepped, turned, or swung. It wasn't bright enough for anyone else to catch — everyone else was focused on the duel — but to her, it was impossible to ignore. The light pulsed gently, almost alive, like it was responding to his heartbeat.
She remembered leaning against the training post, pretending she was just adjusting her wrist wraps… when really, she was trying to understand the strange glow.
"Maybe that's the aura, she had wondered silently. The same aura Grandpa used to talk about… the one that exists only in stories about Tenaria's past."
Grandpa's voice echoed in her mind — the old tales he used to tell her about the Arcane Synergies, about spirits choosing their hosts, about how some powers awakened quietly, without warning.
But even with everything she'd heard from him… she still didn't understand it. Not fully.
"Why him… and why me?" she had whispered to herself then, without him hearing.
Now, remembering it, her chest tightened.
"I can't tell him. If I do… something bad might happen. This mark… it's not normal. It feels like it's tied to something I shouldn't touch."
Her voice softened even further.
"Instead of growing stronger… sometimes I feel like they're making me weaker."
Her words lingered, trembling but controlled, like someone who had learned to survive every quiet crack inside her chest — without ever letting it break.
She hesitated here—eyes lowering, voice shrinking just a little.
She drew in a slow breath, forcing a small, steady smile.
"But I'm okay," she whispered — not fully believing it, but needing to. "Really… I'm okay. You don't have to worry. I can handle things now."
Her grandfather stirred slightly in his sleep, the rocker creaking gently, and something in that small sound made the tightness in her chest loosen.
Mira blinked slowly — and a single tear slipped past her right cheek.
She didn't wipe it away.
Her expression stayed calm, almost neutral, as if the tear wasn't sadness but simply something that escaped before she could stop it.
"…Just stay healthy, Pa," she whispered, voice quieter than before. "Please... I don't want to lose anyone else."
The lanterns flickered softly above them, casting warm light across her face as she sat there — quiet, steady, holding all her memories, fears, and strength in that single, steady breath.
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:)