My footsteps echoed slowly as we approached the testing grounds. I walked beside Charl, who was practically vibrating with excitement, while I remained trapped in a spiraling storm of my own thoughts. I lifted my hand, staring at my trembling palm. What is this wretched body? How can it house a heart roaring with courage while its limbs are devoid of power? Is my punishment to live torn between a soul that burns to fight and a vessel that refuses to obey?

  "Andria… Andria!"

  A warm hand on my shoulder jolted me back to reality. I snapped my head up to find Lady Marian studying me, her eyes swimming with concern and maternal warmth.

  "Oh… yes, my Lady," I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper.

  She tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. "Why so absent-minded? Does it weigh on you? The fact that you will not participate?" She sighed, reaching out to straighten the collar of my shirt. "I know you have your reasons, and a fire within you, but in this world… without power, survival is a ghost of a dream."

  Before I could answer, Charl stepped in, his voice booming as he thumped a fist against his chest with overflowing confidence.

  "You are right, Lady Marian. But I will awaken my power! I will wring it out from the depths of my soul until I become a hero."

  Marian offered a faint, sad smile. "Yes, but heroism requires patience."

  Charl winked at me, his heavy hand clapping onto my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. "Do not worry, Andria. When I become a hero, I will be the sword and shield for all of you."

  I forced the corners of my mouth into a pale smile. "Then I wish you good luck, my friend."

  "Don't worry! Heroism is written on my forehead!" he laughed, the sound echoing in the open air.

  Scene 2: The General’s Fear

  Inside the testing hall, the air was thick with invisible tension. A young soldier stood before a high-ranking official, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting nervously.

  "Sir, everything is prepared exactly as you ordered," the soldier stammered.

  The official didn't bother to look up. "Good. Hold your position. Do not abandon it, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"

  The soldier swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yes, sir. But… may I ask? Why all this excessive security? The Heroes are already here with us."

  The official spun around, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Listen here, soldier. If you intend to stand there chattering, do not blame me for the consequences!"

  "Sorry, sir! Going at once!" The soldier saluted clumsily and scrambled away.

  An elderly man leaning on a cane, Sir Armas, approached. He placed a steadying hand on the angry official’s shoulder.

  "Do not be so harsh, General Burdon. He is ignorant of the truth."

  General Burdon wiped a sheen of cold sweat from his brow, his voice dropping to a hush. "I apologize, Sir Armas. But what happened yesterday… it defies explanation."

  Sir Armas gazed into the distance, his expression grim. "You are right. That wave of energy… it was tremendous in every sense of the word. And the strangest part? Only a few felt it, which implies the user has absolute control. But the distance… and the death of Duke Oger." Armas tapped his cane on the floor. "Found dead without a scratch on his body. It was as if his soul was simply ripped away."

  Burdon’s hands trembled slightly. "That is what terrifies me, sir. I am a General. I train heroes. Yet… I feel a primal terror toward that energy."

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  "It is no shame for a human to fear," Armas said softly. "But to run—that is the sorrow of both the living and the dead. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then let the test begin," Armas sighed, looking old and weary. "Truly, to hear a General this afraid… What does fate hide for us?"

  Scene 3: The Earthquake of Heroes

  "This is the Hall of Challenges? It’s colossal!" I gasped, looking at the arena that resembled the mouth of a dormant volcano.

  "Yes," Marian said, gently nudging us forward. "Now, Charl, I will take Andria to the stands to cheer for you. Good luck."

  Charl waved his hand dismissively, not even looking back. "Don't worry about me. I’m going in!"

  The audience gathered, a sea of murmurs, until the competition began. Everyone noticed the seven massive steel doors surrounding the arena.

  Suddenly, the ground beneath our feet began to shudder. Dust rose from the floor. Heavy footsteps echoed from behind the doors—the Heroes were entering. With every step they took closer to the center, the wind howled louder, and the earth groaned as if two giant magnets were being forced together.

  When their auras finally collided in the center, a shockwave burst forth, piercing the sky. The entire city—land, sea, and buildings—shook violently, like a toy rattled by an angry child.

  Then, the energy vanished. The ground stilled. But the cheering erupted.

  "Oh, they are amazing! Look! It's Achilles, Commander of the Red Lions, built like a fortress! And Mark, Lord of the Wind, Commander of the Freedom Eagles! There is Tatsuka the Dark, Commander of the Black Crows… he looks terrifying. Kaori of the Poison Plants… Shinji of the Blue Whales… Ryoma of the Immortal Flames!"

  Whispers spread through the crowd. "But where is the Lord of Ice? Did he not come again? It seems their strongest has no interest in us this year. Just my luck."

  The General took the microphone, and a heavy silence fell over the crowd.

  "Welcome, heroes. This opportunity is to honor your ancestors. Men and women who defended these lands for centuries with their bodies, spirits, and blood. Their spirits guide us. Their bodies ignored a thousand wounds to move forward. Their blood flows in us—blood of honor, patience, and a refusal to surrender. That is why the first test is this: We have placed a coin four kilometers away. Use your minds. Use your power. Bring it here."

  Scene 4: The Struggle

  In the arena, the contestants froze. The physical strain of the mental task was immediate. Veins bulged on foreheads, faces turned red with exertion, and bodies shook violently from the effort of projection.

  "That test is brutal," someone whispered.

  "No," Marian murmured, her eyes fixed on the field. "It is a test of will. Look, that young man is trying to pull it with brute force; he’s failing. His energy is weak."

  I focused on Charl. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched so hard I thought they might crack. Sweat dripped from his chin.

  "We have a winner: Oliver!" the referee shouted.

  "Second: Anders!"

  "Third: Oliver!"

  "Come on, Charl," I whispered, gripping the railing. "Don't forget your promise!"

  "Time is up!"

  "Wait!" Charl’s eyes snapped open, pupils dilated. His hand shot up, snatching at the empty air. Clink.

  "I caught it!" he gasped, holding up the coin with a trembling hand.

  "Another winner before the buzzer! Well done, Charl!"

  Scene 5: Shadows in the Forest

  While the arena erupted in celebration for Charl joining the Red Lions, a very different scene was unfolding deep in the forest.

  A man named Maurice stepped into a damp cave, the entrance like a gaping maw. The air inside smelled of ancient decay. He walked until he reached the dark castle hidden within.

  "So, you finally decided to come, Maurice?"

  The voice came from the shadows, cold as the grave.

  Maurice dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. "Of course. How could I not obey my Lord?"

  "Good. The Master is waiting inside. Enter."

  Inside the throne room, illuminated only by ghostly blue flames, Maurice stood trembling.

  "Maurice..." The voice of the Lord of Death resonated from a massive throne, vibrating in Maurice’s chest.

  "Greetings, Your Majesty."

  "Why did you disobey and leave through the gate?"

  "My Lord, that is not important! A spirit told me you found an interesting child. Tell me, what did you find?"

  "I went to kill someone, a client ordered me, and I—"

  The Lord of Death didn't speak. He simply stared. Suddenly, chains erupted from the void, binding Maurice and dangling him over a pit filled with the wailing dead.

  "I am the Lord of Death. For everything, there is a reckoning. If you lie, your fate is eternal silence."

  "No, my Lord! No!" Maurice screamed, his eyes bulging with terror. "I will tell you! There was a boy… one of my beasts attacked him, but suddenly… that boy released a tremendous power of darkness! It was overwhelming! That is what caught my interest! I only wanted to investigate, believe me!"

  Suddenly, the ceiling of the cavern shook. Dust and debris fell as a shockwave passed overhead.

  The Lord of Death looked up, his eyes seeming to pierce through the rock and soil to the world above. A smile slowly spread across his face, revealing sharp, predatory teeth.

  "I feel it... The gates of hell are trembling above us. Such a mighty power..." He looked back at the dangling man.

  "Do not hurry our meeting, little demon. For I, too... am waiting."