The golden banners of the Solmere Empire fluttered high over the capital. Today was no ordinary day. The Sun Trials had arrived—an ancient tradition where the heir to the throne proved their strength before the royal bloodline and the people.
But this time, something was different.
The people expected Vaeron Solmere, the Second Prince, to be crowned the next king. He had mastered Solaris magic, led armies to victory, and stood proud as the empire's strongest warrior.
But then... Kaelith returned.
The First Prince. The one who vanished years ago. The boy who was thought too gentle, too quiet, too unfit to rule. But he had come back—not as a boy—but as a warrior. His cloak flowed behind him, his eyes calm yet sharp, and a quiet fire burned within his chest.
And so, the throne made its decision.
There could only be one king.
To decide the rightful heir, the Sun Duels were announced.
---
The duel was held in the heart of Solarae Coliseum, a massive arena carved from sunstone and blessed by the first King of Light. The entire royal court was present—lords, generals, mages, and scholars—each watching from their golden seats. The common people filled the surrounding terraces, their cheers and gasps echoing into the heavens.
In the center stood Kaelith and Vaeron, two brothers born of the same blood, but now standing on opposite sides of fate.
"You should've stayed gone, brother," Vaeron growled, his sharp eyes filled with pride and fury.
Kaelith did not reply. He simply drew his blade with grace. The silence in his gaze spoke louder than any words.
With a roar, Vaeron dashed forward, his sword gleaming with fiery mana. He swung hard, aiming straight for Kaelith's neck.
Clang!
Kaelith blocked it with ease. His stance was perfect—no wasted movement, no panic. His blade danced like wind and burned like sunlight.
Every swing from Vaeron was met with a precise counter. Every blow was dodged or parried. Kaelith's training with Varn, the ancient warrior, was showing. The crowd gasped with each flawless motion.
Vaeron's frustration grew.
"I AM THE KING!" he shouted, eyes blazing. "I was chosen by Solaris itself!"
His aura erupted, golden and wild. And then—he whispered the name of a technique forbidden even among high mages.
"Seven-Headed Serpent."
From his body, a massive serpent of pure flaming mana burst out, each of its seven heads roaring with hunger. The ground cracked beneath them, and heat washed over the arena like a furnace.
But something was wrong.
The serpent twisted and screeched as its form changed—becoming more vile, more corrupted. The magic had been tainted.
The Bloodmaris was spreading.
Vaeron's own mana had turned against him, enhancing the serpent beyond control. Its heads snapped toward Kaelith, ready to devour.
But Kaelith stood tall.
He gripped his sword tighter, his eyes glowing with a warm, golden light. He spoke softly, but the entire arena heard his words:
"Solar Magic: Executioner Sword."
His sword extended, shining like the sun itself. And then he vanished.
"Seven Flash."
In an instant, seven bright strokes tore across the battlefield.
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
The seven heads of the serpent fell—cleanly sliced—before their roars could even finish. The crowd sat in stunned silence as the massive beast crumbled into sparks of golden dust.
For a moment, even Vaeron froze.
The members of the royal bloodline—princess, queen, dukes, and sages—all leaned forward in awe. The Executioner Sword was one of the oldest royal techniques, and Kaelith had mastered it... and even perfected it.
Whispers spread through the arena like wildfire.
"Could he be the true heir...?"
But the duel wasn't over.
With a cry of rage, Vaeron summoned his Mana Blade, a shining construct of raw energy and will. Kaelith summoned his own. The two blades clashed with a thunderous shockwave.
The ground trembled.
Mana crackled in the air like lightning. Wind howled. The very skies darkened.
And then—Kaelith's blade shattered Vaeron's.
The blow sent Vaeron to one knee.
But what followed… was something no one expected.
Vaeron screamed—not in pain, but in agony. His body shook violently. Dark veins spread across his skin, his eyes turning pitch black.
The Bloodmaris Curse had broken loose.
The corrupted mana inside him exploded outward, distorting the air itself. And then—above the arena—a tear opened in the sky.
A portal.
From it, foul winds poured through. The sky turned crimson. And from that gaping void… they came.
Demons. From the Otherworld. Creatures of chaos, hunger, and shadow.
They crawled and flew out in swarms, hissing and shrieking, their forms twisting like nightmares. The crowd panicked. People screamed and ran. Even the strongest royal warriors hesitated.
But Kaelith didn't move.
He stood in the center of the chaos, his cloak flapping, his eyes closed.
Then, he raised one hand.
And whispered words that no one in the empire had heard in centuries.
"Darkness Magic: Black Eclipse."
Above him, a black hole formed—vast and deep, devouring light, sound, and fear itself.
The demons stopped mid-flight.
They looked at Kaelith—and froze.
A prince who could control two royal magics? Both Solar and Darkness?
Impossible.
They fled. Screeching, diving back into the portal they had come from. The sky rippled as the portal closed, sealed by the balance of mana.
And silence returned.
Only Kaelith remained standing, his breath calm, his sword at his side. His cloak settled gently behind him.
The entire arena stared at him—in fear, in awe, in silence.
Then slowly, one by one, the members of the royal court stood.
And began to clap.
---
The High Chancellor of the Empire stepped forward.
"Prince Kaelith Solmere," he said, his voice shaking, "You have shown wisdom, strength, and mastery beyond any ruler before you. Today, before the eyes of the Sun and the People, we declare—"
He paused.
"—you are worthy of the Crown."
Kaelith looked down at Vaeron, who now lay unconscious, the Bloodmaris slowly retreating under healing magic. Kaelith didn't smile. He didn't cheer. He simply turned and looked up at the burning sun above.
"I never wanted the crown," he whispered, "But I will protect this land... if no one else can."
The crowd erupted in cheers, tears, and cries of joy.
The First Prince had returned.
And with him, came the dawn of a new age.