Ruby Wienshartz, the red-haired teen, lounged by the crackling campfire in Levincia's dense forest, her barbarian-style furs draped loosely over her shoulders. Her twin daggers, Anubis Claw, rested against a mossy log, their intricately carved blades catching the fire's flickering light. Her emerald eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement as she tore off another chunk of crusty loaf, dipping it into the steaming tomato soup her father, Jonathan, stirred in a battered pot. The savory aroma mingled with the crisp night air, and Ruby's grin widened as she caught snippets of the nearby lumberjacks' conversation, their rough voices cutting through the forest's quiet hum.
"Ten imperial weapons," one lumberjack grunted, his axe thudding into a branch. "Sophia's own, from the Last War. Tournament's tomorrow in Levincia's arena—tag-team, open to anyone with guts. But it's a slaughter. Winners claim the whole set."
Ruby's head snapped up, crumbs tumbling from her lips. "Sophia's imperial weapons?" she whispered, her voice brimming with awe. She shot a glance at Jonathan, who stirred the soup with a steady hand, his weathered face half-lit by the fire's glow. His gray eyes flicked toward her, catching the spark of adventure in her gaze.
"We're entering, right, Dad?" Ruby said, her words muffled as she chewed the soup-soaked bread. "Theessh taste soo gooood, but those weapons? We'd be unstoppable!" She gestured wildly at her Anubis Claw daggers, her movements quick and precise, a testament to years of training under her father's guidance. Jonathan chuckled, a low, warm sound, as he ladled a portion of soup into a carved wooden bowl and passed it to her. "Eat first, Ruby. Chasing legends can wait till morning." He reached over, ruffling her fiery hair, his calloused hand lingering a moment longer than usual, betraying a hint of caution beneath his smile.
Ruby swallowed her bite, undeterred. "Come on, Dad! Sophia's weapons? The Sophia? Hero of the Last War, slayer of the Shadow Clans? We could win those, and Anubis Claw would have legendary siblings!" She mimed a swift dagger slash, her form perfect, the air whistling faintly as the imaginary blade cut through it. Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Jonathan's expression softened with a trace of concern. He leaned back, his spear propped against his shoulder, its worn shaft polished by years of use. "Those weapons aren't just trophies, Ruby," he said quietly. "They're relics. Forged in blood and fire. Some say they're cursed. You don't claim something like that without paying a price."
Ruby rolled her eyes, sipping the warm soup, its tangy heat spreading through her chest. "Cursed, blessed, who cares? We're the best team out here. You with your spear, me with my claws—we'd crush any challenger!" She set the bowl down, scooting closer to the fire, her furs brushing the dirt. The forest around them seemed to pulse with life—crickets chirping, leaves rustling, and the distant howl of a wolf echoing through the trees. The lumberjacks' voices faded as they trudged deeper into the woods, their words leaving a tantalizing challenge hanging in the air.
Jonathan poked at the fire, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky. "You're too much like your mother," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the stars peeking through the forest canopy. "Always chasing the next big fight, the next big story." Ruby caught the wistful tone in his voice and softened, her fingers tracing the etched patterns on one of her daggers. "Tell me about Sophia again," she said, her voice quieter now, the tournament's promise igniting a hunger for tales of the past.
Jonathan sighed, settling onto a log, his spear resting across his knees. "Sophia was a storm," he began, his voice low and steady, weaving into the night like a bard's tale. "She fought with those weapons like they were extensions of her soul—blades, spears, a bow that could pierce a dragon's hide. She led Levincia against the Shadow Clans when they swept through these lands, burning everything. She turned the tide, but it cost her. After the war, she vanished. Left her weapons behind in the arena's vault. Some say she couldn't bear their weight anymore—too much blood, too many ghosts."
Ruby listened, her eyes wide, the fire casting shadows across her face. She imagined Sophia, a towering figure cloaked in legend, wielding blades that sang with power. "Why'd she leave them?" Ruby asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Jonathan shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No one knows. Maybe she wanted to be free. Maybe the weapons demanded too much. But they're locked in that arena now, waiting for someone worthy—or foolish enough—to claim them."
Ruby's fingers tightened around her dagger's hilt, her resolve hardening. "I'm ready," she said, her voice steady despite the chill creeping through the forest. "We're worthy, Dad. We'll show them." Jonathan studied her, his eyes searching for something—fear, doubt, or perhaps a trace of her mother's reckless spirit. He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe we will, Ruby. But tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we'll see if Levincia's arena is ready for the Wienshartz duo."
The fire crackled, its warmth pushing back the night's cold. In the distance, the faint lights of Levincia's arena glowed on the horizon, a beacon of glory and danger. Ruby leaned back, her mind racing with visions of clashing steel and cheering crowds, while Jonathan watched the shadows, his hand never straying far from his spear. The forest whispered around them, and the promise of Sophia's legacy loomed large, drawing father and daughter toward an uncertain fate