The queen's briefing at dawn was short and brutal.
She met them in the same shattered throne room, now lit by pale morning light streaming through broken stained-glass windows. The old mage stood at her side, Liora and Seraphine flanking her like silent guardians. The queen's face was drawn, but her voice held steel.
"The corrupted heroes' scouts have been probing our defenses for weeks," she said. "We captured two last night. They will not speak of their masters' plans, but their guilt is certain—villages burned, innocents slaughtered. If you are to face the greater darkness, you must first prove you can spill blood without flinching."
Brad shifted in his indigo robe, staff leaning against his shoulder. "So… what? Sparring? Target practice? We're down."
The queen's gaze didn't waver. "Execution. In the training yard. Publicly. The guards and remaining council must see that the summoned ones are not merely a legend."
Chad's armored shoulders stiffened. "Execution. Like, right now?"
"The alternative is doubt," the queen replied quietly. "Doubt spreads faster than corruption. Prove your resolve, and the kingdom will rally behind you."
Brad exchanged a look with Chad. No jokes this time. Just a quick nod.
A scarred knight stepped forward. "Follow me, my lords."
They followed him through echoing corridors and down a wide stone staircase that opened onto the training yard. The space was a broad oval of packed sand, completely enclosed by the keep's towering walls. High ramparts ringed the top, lined with guards, archers, and a scattering of servants and remaining nobles watching in tense silence. Torches burned in tall iron stands even in daylight, their flames steady and unnaturally bright.
At the far end of the yard, two men knelt in the sand. Thick iron cuffs bound their wrists behind their backs, chains staked deep into the ground. Both wore tattered black tunics stamped with a stylized dark sun—the mark of the corrupted heroes. The bigger one was human, with a shaved head and fresh bruises blooming across his jaw. The other was an elf, lean and sharp-featured, silver hair tangled and matted with dirt, green eyes blazing with hate.
The knight stopped at the sand's edge and drew his sword with a slow rasp.
"These are scouts of the Black Moon Legion," he announced, voice carrying to the ramparts. "They have confessed to torching three villages, murdering farmers, and delivering captives to their masters' dungeons. Their sentence is death."
He turned to Brad and Chad. "Defeat these evil foes. Show Eldrathar that the prophecy has teeth."
Brad stared at the chained men. Chad stared too.
Chad muttered under his breath, "What? For real?"
Brad swallowed. "They want us to… straight-up kill them. In front of everyone."
The knight's expression was hard. "Mercy is a luxury the kingdom can no longer afford. The corrupted show none. If you hesitate, the council will question your worth. And doubt will kill us faster than any blade."
The human prisoner laughed, a harsh bark. "Look at them. Fancy robes and shiny armor. They'll piss themselves before they swing."
The elf sneered. "The old kings are dust. The new ones sit on thrones of bone. You summoned children to fight gods."
Brad gripped his staff tighter. Violet sparks crackled along the ebony wood. Chad's hand rested on the hilt of his broadsword, thumb brushing the rune-etched pommel.
Brad exhaled slowly. "They're bad guys. Villages burned. People dead. Right?"
Chad nodded once, grim. "Yeah. Doesn't make it feel good."
The knight stepped back, giving them the yard. "Begin when ready."
Brad walked forward first, boots sinking into the sand. Chad matched him step for step. The prisoners watched, smirking, chains rattling faintly.
Brad stopped about ten feet away. "Last chance to say something useful. Or apologize. Or whatever."
The human spat. "Tell your king the Black moons will rise. And you'll burn with the rest."
The elf's eyes locked on Brad's sparking staff. "Magic boy thinks sparks will save him. Pathetic."
Brad raised the staff. Mana surged in his chest—hot, electric, eager. The System screen flickered in his vision:
[Mage – Level 1]
[Mana: 150/150]
[Skill: Spark – Ready]
Chad drew his broadsword with a clean metallic song. The blade hummed, runes glowing gold for a split second.
[Warrior – Level 1]
[HP: 300/300]
[Skill: Wide Strike – Ready]
Brad glanced at Chad. "You take the big guy. I've got the elf. Quick. Clean."
Chad nodded. "On three."
They counted silently.
One.
Two.
Three.
Brad thrust the staff forward. "Spark!"
A violet bolt snapped from the amethyst tip, streaking across the sand like a whip of lightning. It slammed into the elf's chest with a crack that echoed off the walls. The prisoner jerked, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. Smoke curled from charred fabric. He slumped forward, chains clinking, lifeless.
Chad moved at the same instant—fast, brutal, no wasted motion. He closed the distance in two strides, sword flashing in a downward arc. Strike activated—his blade glowed briefly gold, weight and force multiplying. The swing cleaved through the human's shoulder and deep into his chest. Blood sprayed across the sand in a bright arc. The man gurgled once, then collapsed.
The yard went dead silent.
Brad lowered his staff, breathing hard. The sparks on his fingers flickered out. His stomach twisted.
Chad sheathed his sword slowly, staring at the blood on the blade. "Fuck."
Brad stared at the bodies, too. "Fuck."
The knight sheathed his own weapon and bowed. "The first kill is complete."
Two blue screens appeared at once:
[Quest Complete: First Blood]
[Experience Gained: 200]
[Level Up! Brad – Level 2]
[Mana Pool increased to 180/180]
[New Skill Unlocked: Mana Surge (Temporary +50% mana for 30 seconds, 5-minute cooldown)]
[Level Up! Chad – Level 2]
[HP increased to 350/350]
[New Skill Unlocked: Fear Collector (Next attack deals 20% bonus damage to foes below your level)]
Brad let out a shaky laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "We just leveled up from… that."
Chad wiped the blood from his gauntlet onto the sand. "First kill. Feels heavier than I expected."
Above them, on the ramparts, the queen watched in silence. Liora's emerald eyes were unreadable; Seraphine's hand rested lightly on the queen's arm.
Brad looked up at the high walls, then back at Chad. "This world doesn't mess around."
Chad nodded, voice low. "Then we don't either."
They turned and walked back toward the knight, sand crunching under their boots, leaving two bodies cooling in the morning light.
The prophecy had drawn first blood.
And the frat bros had just crossed a line they could never uncross.