Shards of last year's glory still glittered in the air, stubborn against the silence. Golden ribbons clung stubbornly to the rafters, a leftover shimmer from the night the 2023 victor was crowned. To the crowd, he was the pride of their age. To himself, he was only a piece on someone else's board.
No one knew that but him.
And the one who moved the pieces.
The summer of 2023 had ended with fireworks, laughter, and a single boy standing tall above the wreckage of the glass arena. His name was Kael Rynor — champion of the Eternal Curve Battles. The city hailed him, crowned him, and placed the burden of the next year's tournament on his shoulders.
But crowns shine differently under the sun than they do in the dark.
Behind closed doors, Kael bent his head to another — a figure whose name was never spoken aloud, whose hand guided every move from the shadows. Kael was not master of his victory. He was a servant, a carefully polished pawn. And he knew it.
Now, a year later, the spotlight had shifted. The 2024 winner—barely older than the rest of the boys, his face still carrying the earnestness of someone untouched by rot—stood where the champion was expected to stand: smiling, promising, nodding. His name was Eric Thalor, a boy from Khandala, a distant land across the northern seas. His win had been clean, honest, earned purely through skill.
Eric eyes swept the banners and towers — each stone, each scroll, whispered the history he had come to study, the lessons he longed to master. He had come to this country not for fame, but to learn, to absorb every scrap of leadership and strategy it offered. Every alley, every tower seemed to call to him, offering the knowledge he hungered for
It was then, from the shadows of the same hall, a voice rose—sharp, curious, almost innocent:
"Will he take care of the 2025 battle arrangements, just like the one before him did?"
The question spread like a spark through dry grass. Some laughed it off, others nodded quickly—of course he would, that was tradition. But beneath the noise, a silence waited. Many whispered doubts — a boy from another country? Could he handle the pressures? Could he truly command the arrangements that could protect or destroy Savariya?
Kael, standing close enough to hear, did not laugh. He knew the truth: the boy in the spotlight had no idea what it meant to "arrange." He had never seen the contracts sealed in smoke-filled rooms, or the hands that pulled invisible strings above the stage. He hadn't bent his knee to the one whose smile carried poison.
But Kael had. And he had agreed.
The months passed. The city moved on. The champions' names became half-remembered news, their faces fading from banners. Only Kael still carried the weight, his every step heavy with secrets he could never share. Eric, unaware, walked freely — a boy who thought he had earned not just victory, but peace.
Then came February, 2025.
Not the usual summer tournament, but a special showdown, held in Savariya, a land of high towers, sharp spires, and whispered politics. Streets glimmered with frost under the weak winter sun. The arena rose from the city's heart like a mechanical crown, glass and steel reflecting the bright morning light. Every balcony was packed, every whisper caught in the chilly wind.
The announcement ignited the cityhad : "Champion vs Champion — battle for the 2025 arrangements." This was no ordinary fight. The attacks during this match were designed to test not just skill, but the ability to protect, to control, and to command under threat — attacks that could have leveled sections of the city if mishandled.
Even some citizens who had cheered for Eric last year murmured, swayed by whispers and fear: "Better let Kael handle it. He's the safer choice." The higher-up's plan was clear — to pressure Aiden, to test him, to see if he could hold control.
Eric's jaw tightened. He glanced at his team. They echoed the frustration he felt, voices sharp unwavering: "We won this fair and square — our skill and hard work mean something. Don't underestimate us! Whatever happens during these arrangements is ours to bear!!!"
The pressure was immense. Kael's every move would be scrutinized, every failure magnified. Eric's every choice would be judged, a question of capability and control, a measure of whether he could protect Savariya and maintain the arrangements.
Somewhere high in the balconies, the shadowed figure of the higher-up watched quietly, unseen. This was not a contest of glory — it was a battle for power, trust, and the right to command.
Kael's eyes flicked to Eric.
Eric's eyes met his. Pure. Unbroken. Defiant.
This year, the battle was not just for a crown.
It was for control.
And the boy everyone cheered for?
He was already standing in his way.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠉⠉⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠞⠛⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸
⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠇⠂⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢸⡄
⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⢣
⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰
⠀⠀⠀⢨⡟⠋⠙⣧⠀⠀⣰⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿
⢠⡞⠛⠻⡧⠀⠀⢻⣄⡀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏
⠈⣷⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠘⠛⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃
⠀⠙⢷⣄⡀⠀⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⣽⡷⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁
⠀⠀⠀⢿⡁⠸⣇⡀⣀⡤⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡼⠋
⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣄⠈⠛⠉⠀⣠⠞⠛⢳⡶⢤⣤⣤⣴⡶⠶⠶⠚⠛⢩⡿⢦⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⢻⡁⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠶⠖⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣋⣠⡾⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣾⠁⠉⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣌⠙⠳⢶⡶⠶⠶⠞⣫⡿⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠛⠛⠶⠶⠞⠉ - ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡