Everything went blank.
Morix felt himself drifting through a warm, silent void until suddenly, soft arms wrapped around him from behind. A gentle embrace. Familiar. Comforting. A presence he had longed for since childhood.
Before he could turn to see her face
Morix jolted awake.
He sat upright in the dimly lit inn room, breath heavy, sweat running down his temples. His heart raced as if it were trying to break free from his chest. The moonlight two pale moons of Aurethion filtered in through the open window, painting the room in shades of silver and blue.
Sleep wouldn't return tonight. Not after that.
Feeling restless, Morix rose, threw on his black cloak, and pushed open the window.
With a silent swoosh!, he leaped out from the high floor.
He landed without a sound knees steady, body unmoving as if gravity itself bowed to the strength of a Sword Master. No ordinary human could survive that leap. But Morix was far beyond ordinary.
He began walking through Seraphyne's silent midnight streets.
A Magical Night in Seraphyne
The capital looked different at night alive in a way Elydria never was.
Bioluminescent petals drifted from floating moon-lilies, glowing soft hues of teal and violet. Lumishade butterflies shimmered between the trees, wings reflecting the twin moons like shards of silver glass. A crystal pond stretched along the path, its surface rippling with lights from the glowing fish swimming beneath.
The warm breeze carried laughter from distant taverns. Lanterns powered by gentle magic floated above the streets, swaying like fireflies.
"Beautiful…" Morix whispered.
For a moment, he forgot battles and burdens. For a moment, he felt like a traveler not a warrior searching for a challenge.
Then
Boom.
A shockwave rippled through the air.
Morix's eyes sharpened.
Another shockwave.
And another.
Something powerful… someone powerful… was training nearby.
Instinctively, Morix followed the waves of strength to a clearing behind a cluster of ancient moonwood trees.
There, under the twin moons, a warrior moved.
The Elf of Seven Centuries
He was tall and broad-shouldered, an elf with long silver hair tied behind him. His physique was carved like stone earned through centuries of battle. In his hands, he wielded a massive hammer and a shield, each strike sending tremors through the ground.
Morix watched from behind the bushes, captivated by the sheer force.
But the elf suddenly stopped swinging.
Without turning, he said in a calm but deadly voice:
"Keeping an eye on me from behind the bushes… are you an assassin after my head? Reveal yourself, or prepare to die."
Morix stepped out with raised hands.
"My apologies, mighty warrior. I have no ill intentions. I was only admiring the strength behind your strikes."
The elf chuckled, lowering his hammer.
"Well, train for seven hundred years with unbroken discipline, and you might swing it this way too."
He extended a hand. Morix accepted it.
The moment their hands met, the elf's eyes widened.
"This isn't the hand of a mere adventurer," he murmured.
"This hand has held blades day and night… it belongs to one who has survived countless battles. Who are you?"
Morix couldn't reveal his identity. His name echoed in every training ground from Elydria to Seraphyne.
"I am merely a passerby," he said. "Someone curious about the shockwaves."
"A passerby, huh?"
The elf smiled knowingly.
"Well, I will respect your wish to remain unnamed. I am Gabriel Waladersmith, Army General of Seraphyne."
Morix felt a spark of excitement.
A General… an elf warrior… seven centuries of experience…
Exactly what he'd been searching for.
"Oh mighty warrior," Morix said, eyes gleaming, "lift your hammer and show me the strength of seven hundred years of training."
Gabriel laughed heartily.
"My apologies, stranger. But I cannot raise my weapon against you unless I know you stand on equal ground. Still… I appreciate the thought."
He slung the hammer onto his back.
"Now, I must go. My beloved wife and my beautiful daughter are waiting for me at home."
Morix watched the elf walk away.
For the first time in a long time, he smiled a genuine, gentle smile.
"Can warriors truly find peace like that…?"
He wondered whether he, who had known nothing but battles, could ever rest in someone's arms someday.
He returned to the inn, leaping back into his room through the window without a single sound.
The Tournament
The next morning, Morix stood in line cloak on, identity hidden as adventurers registered for the Grand Tournament of Seraphyne.
A heavy hand suddenly clapped onto his shoulder.
Morix nearly severed it on reflex.
It belonged to a towering Ogre, built like a mountain with muscles stacked like boulders. The ogre looked down at Morix with pity.
"Don't be nervous, kid," he said. "You can always forfeit during the match. It's law no striking once someone admits defeat."
Morix smiled beneath his hood.
"Thank you, friend. I'll keep that in mind."
The ogre puffed his chest proudly. "Good! I'd hate to see a tiny thing like you get crushed."
Morix suppressed a laugh.
Finally, his turn came.
The registrar looked up and behind him stood Gabriel Waladersmith.
Their eyes met instantly.
Gabriel pointed at him, smirking.
"You stubborn man… you actually walked all the way here just to fight me."
Morix blinked.
"What?"
Gabriel grinned.
"Don't play dumb. The winner of this tournament earns the right to challenge me. That's what you're after, isn't it?"
Morix's heart pounded not from fear but pure excitement.
A worthy opponent at last.