The preparation room official unfolded a parchment with the tournament seal emblazoned at the top. His voice was flat, mechanical—someone who had recited the same words dozens of times already.
"All participants must wear their protective charms at all times during the match. Removal of said charm is grounds for immediate disqualification."
"Victory is achieved when all members of the opposing team have their protective charms broken or surrender. Any spell or technique that bypasses or disables a protective charm for the purpose of causing direct harm is strictly prohibited and will result in immediate disqualification and possible expulsion."
"Offenses under this rule, as well as any violation resulting in life-threatening injury, will be referred to the Royal Council for inquest and may result in criminal charges and trial under kingdom law."
The man looked up from his paper, eyes scanning over Vel, Celia, and Tomas without expression.
"Weapon?" he asked flatly.
Tomas stepped forward first, presenting his wooden wand polished to a warm honey color. The crystal fitted perfectly into the socket carved at its tip caught the light, sending tiny rainbow reflections dancing across the walls.
The official made a note on his clipboard without comment.
Celia unsheathed her rapier with a fluid motion, the slender blade gleaming in the chamber's light. The guard was simple but elegant, perfectly balanced for her fighting style.
Another silent note on the clipboard.
When Vel's turn came, he produced both his sword and a focus crystal. "This is my weapon," he said, holding up the sword, "and this is my focus." He displayed the crystal.
The official raised an eyebrow, the first hint of expression he'd shown. "You going to carry it like that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Unconventional, but as long as you can carry them into the arena, it's not against the rules." He made a more detailed note this time before continuing with the remaining instructions.
From outside the chamber, Vel could hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing match—the crowd's reactions rising and falling like ocean waves, punctuated by Janos Verterre's enthusiastic commentary carrying through the stone walls.
"DEVASTATING COUNTER-STRIKE!" Janos's voice boomed, followed by a tremendous roar from the audience.
The official cleared his throat to regain their attention. "All team members need to be present within ten minutes after the current match ends. Failure to appear will result in forfeit." He rolled up his parchment. "Any questions?"
Vel exchanged glances with Celia and Tomas. No one had questions, so they simply nodded in unison.
"Very well. Prepare yourselves." The official turned and exited the chamber, the heavy door closing behind him with a dull thud.
The three stood in silence, listening to the muffled cheers and commentary from the arena. Vel moved to the stone bench against the wall and sat down, rolling the focus crystal between his fingers.
Tomas began pacing, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. His knuckles whitened as he clutched his wand with both hands, holding it close to his chest like a talisman.
"I shouldn't have come here," he muttered, his voice trembling. "I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake." His pacing quickened, becoming more frantic with each turn. "What was I thinking?"
Vel stood up, pocketing his crystal. "Tomas, take a breath."
"I can't do this," Tomas continued, shaking his head. "What if my casting fails? I might freeze up!"
Celia stepped into his path, gently placing her hands on his shoulders to halt his pacing. "Hey..."
Tomas reluctantly met her gaze.
"You have every right to be here," she said firmly. "We've seen what you can do in training."
"She's right," Vel added, moving beside them. "Remember that you came up with your own spell? That was impressive spellcrafting, and you did that on your own."
Tomas said nothing. He sat heavily on the bench and began tapping his feet rapidly against the stone floor. The nervous rhythm echoed in the small preparation chamber.
Vel exchanged a concerned glance with Celia before approaching his anxious teammate. "Don't be nervous," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Think about what you can do instead."
Tomas's foot-tapping slowed slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Celia came closer to Vel, leaning in to whisper near his ear. "We need him to stay calm, otherwise we might lose before we even begin."
"Can't blame him," Vel whispered back. "This is probably the first time he's ever been in a serious fight."
Vel straightened up, stepping away from Tomas to give him space. With a subtle gesture, he summoned his interface, checking the party system window that only he could see. The status indicators for both Celia and Tomas were visible, showing their current mental states. Tomas's anxiety was clearly reflected in his status.
Vel was about to offer some reassuring words to Tomas when the roar of the crowd suddenly peaked, followed by an explosion of cheers that reverberated through the stone walls.
"AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS! TEAM ARLEN HAS CLAIMED VICTORY IN RECORD TIME!" Janos Verterre's voice boomed through the arena, his excitement palpable even through the thick preparation room walls. "WHAT AN INCREDIBLE DISPLAY OF COORDINATION! THREE MINUTES AND TWENTY-TWO SECONDS—SURELY ONE OF THE FASTEST MATCHES WE HAVE WITNESSED SO FAR!"
Vel exchanged a startled glance with Celia. The match had ended much sooner than they'd anticipated. Team Arlen must have completely overwhelmed their opponents.
"Did you hear that?" Tomas whispered, his face paler than before. "Three minutes..."
A sharp knock on the door startled all three of them.
"Ten minutes," the official called from outside, his voice muffled but clear enough to understand.
Vel took a deep breath, feeling the cool stone air fill his lungs. He held it for a moment before exhaling slowly.
Celia adjusted her rapier belt and straightened her uniform. Her face had taken on the focused expression.
Ten minutes until they would step into the arena. Ten minutes until they would face their first real test as a team. Ten minutes that suddenly felt both eternally long and impossibly short
---
Landre pushed the oaken doors open and stepped into the council chamber. Imelda and Sarvin fell in behind as she crossed to the round table and settled into the chair opposite the commander. His red cloak was draped over his shoulders as his eyes followed her every movement. Colored light from the windows spread over her fingers on the table.
The far door thudded; Master Helyns slipped in last, dusting road grit as the room quieted. The guards along the walls stood as if they were part of the decoration.
The expectant, curious eyes around the table pressed in, reminding her of the withered faces and vacant eyes back then. Landre still couldn't shake the images.
She laced her fingers to stop the tremor, then lifted her chin.
"Thank you…" Landre paused, steadying. "…for agreeing to this gathering. I trust you received the report enclosed with the invitation."
The words came harder than usual—her first time acting without the Church's guidance.
Commander Varius sat across from her, his salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his scalp, his arms crossed.
"The Royal Council recognizes the severity of this threat, Saint Landre. An entire village drained of life force is no small matter."
"Regrettable… but a cost we reckoned with when the Expansion began. We knew not all settlements could be safeguarded."
Landre's jaw tightened at the flat delivery. Her knuckles tensed. She let out a slow breath along with her frustration.
Behind her stood Imelda and Sarvin, silent pillars of support. Their presence provided comfort, though the weight of responsibility remained squarely on her shoulders.
Master Helyns spread out a map across the table, her weathered hands telling tales of decades in the field before she'd risen to Guild leadership in Karth.
"The Guild has been tracking increased Voidtainted sightings across multiple provinces—more aggressive, more frequent. But this represents a new level entirely. The intelligence and scale behind this threat suggests we're dealing with something far beyond the usual corruption."
Commander Varius leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "This Alukah creature you've described... Are you certain?"
A flicker of doubt threatened to surface. The information had come from Vel, and while she trusted her brother implicitly, she couldn't reveal him as the source.
"Sister Imelda has finished consulting the archives. She confirms that the creature matches descriptions from Church records dating back three centuries," she replied, silently thanking Vel for his warning.
The commander nodded solemnly. "Then it isn't my place to dispute the Church's knowledge."
Master Helyns shifted her weight, her expression growing somber. "Until this day, we still cannot understand the origin of these occurrences. Adventurer witnesses are scarce—only a handful of trustworthy accounts. The rest..." She waved a hand dismissively. "Exaggerated tavern stories at best."
She paused, and something darker crossed her features. "We've had parties go missing. Good people who never returned from their quests. We fear it's related to these void anomalies."
Master Helyns studied the map spread across the table, her eyes tracing the mountain ranges and forests surrounding the affected village. "Are you requesting we focus our power to take down this threat?"
Landre watched as Commander Varius's expression shifted from determination to caution.
"With respect, Saint Landre," he began, straightening the map corner, "I believe a massive deployment would be counterproductive. Not only would it warn the creature, but it would also strain resources needed elsewhere."
"A mysterious flood on the west coast, outside the Monsoon, has drawn off much of our manpower," he continued. "Still, this threat demands a substantial response."
Landre's shoulders tensed. If Vel was right about this threat, going in underhanded would be disastrous—more resources meant less risk. But she couldn't expect the other factions to follow her request blindly, not without their own strategic considerations.
Master Helyns nodded in agreement. "Committing the numbers you requested to a single location leaves other settlements vulnerable."
She leaned back, her expression turning thoughtful. "There's another aspect to consider—it's a mine we're talking about. We cannot fit a whole army in there. We don't know what we'll face inside..." She paused, her fingers drumming once against the table. "If the mine collapses..."
Landre's fingers traced the path from the afflicted village to nearby settlements. Resources already stretched thin from the western floods. A mine that couldn't hold massive forces. The risk of collapse trapping their own people. Other villages left defenseless. As much as she didn't like it, she couldn't deny the logic. They couldn't abandon other regions for this single threat, no matter how severe.
"How about a specialized force? Focus on capable individuals over numbers, as much as we can provide or acquire." Landre added, surprising herself. Perhaps Vel's strategic thinking had rubbed off on her more than she realized.
Commander Varius leaned forward with renewed interest. "What exactly are you proposing, Saint Landre?"
She straightened her posture, feeling the weight of her Saint's mantle across her shoulders. "Each of us will commit forces."
The words came easier now as the plan formed in her mind. "The Church can provide a group consisting of Templars, Paladins, and Inquisitors."
Commander Varius nodded approvingly. "I can request a small squadron from the Royal Guards."
"And from the Guild?" Landre asked, turning to Master Helyns.
The weathered guildmaster traced the mountain paths with calloused fingers. "We can assign a few of our top available adventurers. At least one platinum rank will join. Our Adamantine is currently on an expedition."
Landre nodded, relief washing through her. This was progress—a specialized force would be more effective against the Alukah while avoiding unnecessary casualties.
"When can they arrive?" she asked, trying to keep the urgency from her voice.
Commander Varius consulted a small leather-bound notebook. "A few days from now. The fastest would be two days if we send riders immediately."
Two days. Did the villagers have that much time? What if Alukah moved on before they arrived—disappearing into another province, leaving only emptied husks behind?
"What I'm more afraid of is this creature's nature," Master Helyns said, voicing Landre's own concerns. "You said it was tainted by the void. For an already powerful entity..."
She didn't finish, but everyone understood.
Were they really prepared? They were marching toward the unknown with nothing but Vel's warning to guide them.
"All we can do is prepare as best as we can," Landre said, opening her eyes. "For the people whose lives rely on us."
"We strike at dawn," she continued, her voice steady. "When we have the full day ahead of us. The creature should be in its nest."
"We will also need Light- and Fire-attuned combatants."
Commander Varius made notes on his parchment, nodding in agreement. "I'll ensure our squad includes at least two fire-attuned battlemages."
"The infected villagers are another concern," Master Helyns said quietly.
Commander Varius kept his tone even. "They're under the creature's control—guardians or lures. We must prepare..."
"They're victims, not enemies." Landre cut in, voice steady and polite. "We should not harm them unless it is our last resort. If we defeat the creature... Gods may yet show us how to save them."
Varius and Helyns exchanged a glance—concern flickering between them, as if her belief had clouded her judgment.
The room blurred, distant. That slow breath pressed at the back of her mind.
"He spoke to us," Landre murmured, gaze distant. "If we had left sooner, could he have been saved?"
"Saint?" Helyns' voice landed.
Landre blinked, centered herself on the inked routes, and nodded once.
Maybe this was naive, a hope of saving everyone, but it was all who she was—it was why she became a Saint. Not for glory or power, but to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
"The villagers' lives will be considered in our approach," Varius conceded, though his tone suggested he thought it a complication rather than a priority.
"I will also be joining," Landre said.
Sarvin stepped forward, concern evident in his posture. "Saint Landre, the High Priest might not—"
"This isn't negotiable," she said without looking at Sarvin, eyes fixed forward, her voice gentle but firm.
Commander Varius nodded, recognizing the determination in her eyes. "We will brief our forces once deployed."
"Then we're agreed," Master Helyns said, rolling up the map. "See you again in two days."
As the others departed, Landre remained at the table, her fingers still clasping the other to conceal her trembling.
Landre's heart beat faster at the thought of what waited in that mine—of exposing herself to that darkness again, but this time she wouldn't flee. She closed her eyes, drawing strength from her faith, from the image of those suffering villagers. A short prayer formed on her lips, silent and steadying.
"Goddess of Light, shine my steps, still my fear, and let your radiance find the lost."