Chapter 4

  Magnus Castus of "The Sword"

  Aaronn walked steadily to the center of the arena, enclosed by towering stone walls. He could feel the pressure of the spectators— even the empty stands seemed to echo with the intensity of a thrilling combat. He stopped about ten paces from his opponent, who was already waiting for him.

  “I expect a great deal from you, Aaronn,” Magnus said, fitting his helmet into place.

  Aaronn lifted his gaze toward the king seated in the royal box. He could make out his silhouette and sense the presence of several figures beside him.

  “That is my father, and the Order of the Chosen to which I belong,” Magnus continued. “I am the Sword, the offensive force of Eile?n. At my father’s side stand the Heart, the Shield, the Void, and soon my sister of the Hand.”

  A powerful voice resounded between the walls of the arena.

  “I, Julius Castus, King of Eleusia, shall now state the matter to be resolved. A foreigner has appeared among us, indirectly calling into question my rule and that of my ancestors. He claims that the inequalities between Eile?n and the world below are unjust, and that, as king, it is my duty to restore balance. These are the words of a stranger who knows nothing of our world, yet dares to challenge the greatness of our ancestors—greatness proven time and again throughout our history.

  “So… what makes a great king? The victor of this duel shall cast his light upon this question. No surrender is permitted. The fight shall continue until the death of one of the two combatants. Should the foreigner emerge victorious, he will be invited, received, and heard at the king’s palace.”

  Julius paused briefly before continuing.

  “I hereby announce the beginning of the duel between Magnus Castus and Aaronn Karselfeni.”

  Aaronn turned his attention back to his opponent.

  “Why bring so many people?” he asked.

  “So that there may be witnesses to the light of this day,” Magnus replied. “The outcome of this battle could mark a major turning point for Eile?n. A great king cannot afford to conceal such a moment from his most devoted servants.”

  Aaronn let out a soft laugh.

  “What is it that makes you laugh?” Magnus demanded in a grave tone.

  “A great king?” Aaronn replied. “What is a great king, Magnus?”

  Magnus took a few moments to answer, as though wary of a trap hidden in the arrogance of his opponent’s voice.

  “A man whose name inspires greatness and authority. His subjects are loyal and properly disciplined, ensuring the stability of the realm. They serve the king, granting him unshakable strength. Thus, even after his death, his name resounds like a blessing across generations.”

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  Aaronn’s gaze darkened.

  “That’s wrong,” he said. “A great king is a good man, in service to his people.”

  “And what is a good man, according to you?” Magnus retorted, drawing his sword.

  “A good man is one who lives by fully embracing the place he occupies. He chooses what is right, despite the sacrifices it demands. He is not perfect—but his vision extends beyond the illusions of this world, knowing that the chaos before him will eventually fade, giving way to the harmony he has envisioned.”

  Aaronn glanced once more toward the king in his royal box, finding no resemblance to the image he had just described.

  “From what I’ve seen,” he added, “your father is very far from that definition.”

  Magnus raised his sword fiercely, ready to begin the fight.

  “You have been among us for barely an hour. Know your place. I tried to show you respect, but you persist in looking down on us with your lofty words. I will strike you down here and now.”

  One leg drawn back to anchor his stance, Aaronn braced himself. His mission had barely begun, yet he had already made a grave mistake. This duel was nothing more than a desperate attempt to be heard. What choice would his father have made in his place? What would Aaliyah have chosen? Surely, she would have begun this mission in the world below.

  Four lights burst into existence above Magnus. From the luminous shards, swords took shape—it had to be his power of creation. The weapons hurtled toward Aaronn. He dodged them with a series of acrobatic maneuvers. In mid-evade, another blade came straight at him. He leapt through the air to avoid it.

  “You can walk on air?” his opponent exclaimed.

  Aaronn landed lightly.

  “I can do far more than that,” he replied.

  With a movement of his shoulder—just like his sister—he materialized a sword in his hand.

  “You’re not the only one blessed with the power of creation.”

  Magnus’s eyes widened for a brief instant, but he reacted immediately. A spectacle of light flared above him, followed by a rain of gleaming weapons pouring down on his adversary. Aaronn alternated between swift sword strikes and agile leaps, blocking and evading the onslaught.

  Using his defensive maneuvers as cover, the prince charged forward. Aaronn barely had time to register his approach before their blades clashed.

  “Who are you really, and where does this power come from?” Magnus shouted. “Your very presence insults the divine nature of our species!”

  “These aren’t the words of a man who seeks equality for his world!” Aaronn retorted through gritted teeth.

  Magnus’s strength far surpassed his own. No matter how hard he tried, Aaronn was being overwhelmed. Magnus pushed harder, forcing him down onto one knee. He grabbed Aaronn by the collar and hurled him violently across the arena. Aaronn slammed into the ground, dragged along by the force of the throw.

  “You come to our world like a messiah, seeking to impose your conditions and your judgment! You claim to be so advanced—so tell me, how do you intend to bring equality to Eleusia? How will you end suffering, inequality, and war? Give too much power to the weak, and they will turn it against you! It is in mankind’s nature to cause harm! Only we—the Chosen—were selected to live outside this infernal cycle!”

  Aaronn struggled back to his feet. He wouldn’t last much longer against him. Yet to fulfill his mission, his true strength lay in the teachings he had received.

  “That’s wrong!” he replied. “Your people simply lack love—something the current king and his predecessors have been incapable of giving them!”

  “You dare insult our lineage? If your father believes peace can be spread through love alone, then he is a pitiful king. Only rules and discipline can achieve that!”

  “You’re los—”

  Aaronn’s words were cut short as a sword pierced his abdomen. He staggered backward, struggling to keep his balance. Another blade embedded itself in his right leg, which buckled beneath him; a third struck his left arm, and a final one pierced straight through his diaphragm.

  “I showed you mercy by holding back,” Magnus declared, “but that ends now. Your words are meaningless, steeped in na?veté and delivered with unbearable condescension.”

  The prince summoned a massive pillar, which crashed violently into Aaronn, hurling him against the arena walls. The stone shattered on impact, debris collapsing over him in total silence.