"I thought this test was supposed to be hard..." Micha'el murmured to himself with a calm, almost amused tone as he strolled through the forest path leading toward Aetherthorn.
Sunlight spilled through the Runewood canopy in golden shafts, casting dappled shadows across his lean, graceful form. Micha'el's long golden hair, like flowing threads of sunlight, danced with the morning breeze.
His attire—simple, regal robes of yellow and gold—clung lightly to his frame, embroidered with the sigils of the Goldhair tribe. He wore no armor, no bag, and no supplies. Just one item accompanied him: Vael'turien, a massive greatsword nearly as tall as he was, strapped to his back, and, of course, confidence.
Despite the sword's massive size, it moved with him as though weightless thanks to its special runic upgrades.
In that moment, Micha'el looked less like a returning warrior and more like a noble prince—though he bore no crown.
