The sun was harsh above the Terra training ground, but no soldier dared to complain. General Ovrek stood tall, a weathered warrior dressed in thick black armor, his stern eyes scanning the rows of new recruits, war elephants, and freshly imported horses from northern isles.
Ovrek stood tall near, arms crossed, eyes scanning every motion like a hawk bred for war. Their muscle and discipline impressed even him.
Every clang of swords, every synchronized march echoed through the earth like thunder.
Far beyond the marble fencing of the palace's southern terrace, hidden beneath a tall tree, a teenage girl with tangled black hair watched the scene intently. Her fingers dug into the bark as she squinted to study Ovrek's form.
A voice whispered sharply from behind.
"Layra?! What the hell are you doing here?!
This is royal palace grounds, not some market square. If anyone sees a Tula girl snooping here—"
"Quiet!" She snapped, her eyes never leaving the field. "I come here every day. If you don't have the guts to stay silent, leave. Don't you dare tell anyone."
Her friend Ruun, a nervous boy with uneven teeth and tired eyes, glanced around, fidgeting. "Fine, fine. Just... why? Why watch this madness every day? You know we're not even allowed to look at this."
She finally looked at him. Her voice was soft but dangerous. "Because the nobles fight. The nobles rule. The nobels matter. And I'm not dying like a rat just because I was born a Tula."
He blinked, startled. "You're serious? Are you–"
SLAP.
Her hand flew to his mouth. "Shut up, idiot! You'll get us both executed."
He nodded quickly, signaling her to let go. As soon as her hand dropped, he coughed into his sleeve. "You'll choke me to death one day..."
"Hush– look! They've stopped. Something's happening."
Down below, General Ovrek raised his hand. The soldiers stepped back. A group of elite royal guards emerged from the east gate, bearing something covered in velvet cloths– crimson, gold, and ivory. The wind grew still as if holding its breath. They laid the covered swords reverently on obsidian pedestals before the general, bowed low, and retreated.
The red cloth concealed a blade with a black grip veined in cracks of deep crimson. The second blade lay in gold cloth with a white jewel-studded grip. The third, veiled in ivory, bore a faint purple hue that shimmered like spider silk.
Ovrek approached the weapons cautiously. He examined them with a furrowed brow before turning to three guards.
"You. Step forward. Choose one."
The guards looked between each other, unsure if it was a test or a punishment. One stepped forward hesitantly and reached for the red-wrapped sword.
His fingers brushed the grip.
FLASH.
A joilt of unseen energy hurled him backward. He screamed, clutching his skull, convulsing on the ground.
A thick aura of dread unfurled from the sword, wrapping around the ground like a black mist. The sun dimmed. The air turned dry and heavy.
Whispers. Laughter. Screams. Echoes that weren't there moments ago.
Even Ovrek staggered.
"Back!" He roared. "Everyone, fall back!"
A field froze. The soldiers obeyed instantly, dragging the screaming man away. The aura pulsed again– then vanished. Like it had never been.
Everyone exhaled at once.
A tall man stepped forward through the crowd, calm and unfazed. He wore the Richhan army's white robe, a half-mask, and the badge of a foreign general. His voice broke the silence.
"Well, that didn't go as smoothly as you expected."
Ovrek turned, fuming. "Who are you to speak without permission?"
"I am General Merix, envoy from Richha. These swords were sent as a... tribute."
"Tribute? That sword nearly killed a man. What kind of cursed weapon is this?"
Merix tilted his head. "You should ask a Brawn, General. It seems your court forgot to tell you what they now possess."
"What do you mean?"
Merix stepped closer. His voice dropped to a low, menacing tone. "These are not mere swords. They're the sealed bodies of the Brothers of Destruction."
Ovrek's eyes widened. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Some of the guards stepped back instinctively.
"Are you serious?!" Ovrek barked. "That's a myth. A curse tale."
"Then why did the ground scream when your man touched it?" Merix reply coolly.
Ovrek clenched his fists. "Why would Zerem send these to Terra without telling us?"
"Perhaps he wanted you to learn humility through history." Merix's voice held an amused edge. "You've trained soldiers well, General. But your ignorance of this lore is danger to all of you."
Ovrek stared at the blades again. "Take them back to the vault. Guard them with your lives."
The soldiers obeyed, lifting the swords carefully.
Layra, still watching from the trees, whispered, her eyes widened. "Brothers of Destruction? I've heard that name in the scrolls hidden under the shrine..."
"I don't know how you can hear all that from here," Ruun mumbled. "This spyglass better come with subtitles."
"I need to go," she said suddenly.
"Wha–? Where?"
"The underground shrine. I think I know what this means."
She droped the spyglass in his lap and vanished like a smoke.
"Layra, no–! You can't just– ugh!"
Back in the field, Ovrek pointed to the soldiers. "Return the blades to the vault. Carefully."
As the guards moved cautiously, a single black butterfly descended from the sky and landed on Ovrek's shoulder.
He froze.
The Richhan smiled. "Looks like the Scorpion King didn't liked it that much."
Ovrek turned, his voice low and grave. "We will speak of this again. Privately."
"I'll be waiting," the Richhan general said.
The wind picked up again. The butterfly took a flight. And behind it, the whispers in the dust began to anew.
General Ovrek didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the horizon.
The sky was starting to turn red.
Again he heard a silent voice in his head, of the Hermit. "The deal is done. But it's a bait– more than a deal. You've invited the wolves to your table and laid your children before him."
I won't let that happen, no matter what it takes.