Corvus stood before the most prominent members of the Tiamat clan. The men and women standing in rigid rows formed the core of the tribe. Each of them had forged the Tiamat name in blood and fire, carrying the burden of the greatest wars of the past. But among them, four stood apart… They were not just the most feared individuals among the Tiamats, but across the entire continent.

  Corvus’s father’s eyes burned like a scorching flame even in the darkness. His face was lined with the harsh marks of years and battles. He was not only known as the most powerful Sanguinar of Rhazgord but was also considered one of the ten strongest individuals on the entire continent. Beside him stood Corvus’s grandfather Drakan and his two brothers. In their youth, these three men had been warriors whose mere names made their enemies’ knees tremble. Every battlefield they stepped onto had turned into a bloodbath, their names echoing like whispers of death in the wind.

  To Corvus’s right and left stood fifteen young warriors. These youths represented the highest potential of the Tiamat lineage and were also his relatives. Each of them carried the blood of the Tiamat clan in their veins, knowing they were born to continue the legacy of their ancestors, who had become legends. Yet, the youngest among them was Corvus. The eldest among them was Kurz Tiamat, a twenty-seven-year-old warrior. They were all formidable fighters, but none of them knew why they had been summoned that night. Their armor gleamed with a metallic sheen in the darkness, and their weapons were poised for an unknown threat.

  The deep silence of the night was suddenly shattered by Drakan’s firm and authoritative voice:

  “The future of the Tiamats is in danger!”

  His words echoed through the chamber. Some of the young warriors lifted their heads in surprise, their eyes filled with uncertainty and concern. However, Corvus, who was well aware of the dark intrigues brewing in Rhazgord’s shadows, was not surprised at all. Drakan continued, his voice strong, each word ringing out like the strike of a hammer:

  “As of today, we will end the internal rivalry within our family! Each of you holds the potential to become a Sanguinar in the future, and that is a great honor for us! But difficult times are approaching. And in our weakest moment, we cannot be divided! We must be one!”

  The young warriors exchanged glances. The weight of witnessing the collapse of a tradition deeply rooted in Tiamat law settled over them like a heavy silence. For centuries, internal competition among the Tiamats had been seen as a trial that tempered a warrior like steel in fire. But now, though the enemy remained unknown, the mere possibility of division within the family was so dangerous that even this ancient tradition had to be questioned.

  Drakan was right.

  Everyone believed that Corvus would be the next Sanguinar. His strength, lineage, and past made him the strongest candidate for the title. However, the other young warriors had not yet given up. They had supporters within the family, and this had created a subtle but growing divide. As Corvus continued to rise, this division became more apparent. Whispers in the shadows, silent alliances forming, and mounting jealousy… The Tiamats were fracturing from within.

  Drakan’s voice rose once more, this time carrying the weight of a decision:

  “That is why today, the future leader of our tribe will be chosen, and the rest will swear an oath of loyalty to them before the Gods!”

  His words fell like a heavy stone upon the young warriors. This was neither in line with Tiamat traditions nor Rhazgord’s customs. Until now, the strong had always taken power by force or through cunning. Leadership had to be earned, not sealed with a divine oath. But in the face of the looming chaos, the Tiamat elders had decided to break this ancient law for the sake of unity. Strength would no longer be just a display of personal ambition. A leader would be chosen for the sake of unity, for the family, for blood.

  A tense silence settled among the young warriors. Some faces showed worry, others repressed anger. Yet only three among them met Drakan’s words with unwavering composure: Corvus, Kaleyra, and Kurz.

  The others unconsciously turned toward this trio—with fear, doubt, and perhaps a bit of admiration. Though they were all skilled, they needed more time to reach the level of Corvus, Kaleyra, and Kurz. This was an unexpected and bitter realization for the younger warriors: if a selection was to be made today, the winner would most likely be one of those three.

  Drakan took a deep breath and scanned the room with a stern gaze. His eyes swept over the lined-up warriors, most of whom bore expressions of tension and impatience. Some clenched their fists, others closed their eyes and took deep breaths. Today was one of the most crucial moments in Tiamat history.

  “The names called will step forward one by one! At the end of these battles, the last one standing will be supported by the entire family!”

  His voice echoed through the cavernous chamber. The young warriors flinched, but none retreated. They all knew the weight of being here. Then, two names were called. The young warriors gripped their weapons and stepped forward. Drakan locked eyes with the two young fighters before him. They exchanged intense glances, but there was clear hesitation on their faces. Fighting their own kin… spilling their blood… This was what the laws and traditions demanded of them, yet their instincts still resisted.

  Drakan sensed the tension in their eyes and sighed deeply. At last, he spoke again, his tone lower but just as firm:

  “The fight will end when one side is no longer able to continue. Surrender is forbidden… and killing is allowed.”

  The young warriors tensed. It felt as if an icy weight had settled in their throats. They had grown up in competition, but everyone here cared for one another. They all carried the same blood, were children of the same lineage. They did not want to spill each other’s blood, but now… Now, it was inevitable. Many of them stared at the cold stone floor of the arena. Some questioned whether they were truly ready for this fight. Yet the blood in their veins whispered to them. You must climb to the peak of Rhazgord… no matter what.

  The first fight ended faster than expected. The two young warriors clashed, the sound of steel echoing against the chamber walls, but one fell quickly. Drakan’s face hardened as he gazed at the blood-stained weapon of the victor.

  The second fight felt as though it lasted for hours. The combatants were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Every strike carried the weight of death. When one finally collapsed, the spectators merely blinked, processing what had happened. There was no longer any doubt about the seriousness of these battles.

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  The duels continued. The stone floor of the chamber became stained with sweat and blood. Those who narrowly escaped death withdrew to tend to their wounds, while those still standing prepared for their next fight. No one had died, but two had been severely injured. Among all the fighters, three names emerged as warriors who defeated their opponents without taking a single wound: Corvus, Kaleyra, and Kurz.

  And the only one who came close to their level was Gurak Tiamat.

  Gurak was strong, skilled, but he was not as fearsome as the other three. His body bore the marks of previous battles—a deep cut on his left arm, bruises on his ribs, a wound on his face. Yet the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. No one was willing to back down.

  The next match was drawn: Kurz vs. Gurak.

  Gurak forced himself to fight, his body trembling and breath unsteady, but he refused to retreat. He gripped his axe tightly, muscles shaking as he launched the first attack. Kurz easily deflected the strike and countered immediately. His steel axe tore through Gurak’s defense, slicing his shoulder. The wounded warrior recoiled, gritting his teeth but refusing to fall.

  As the fight dragged on, Gurak's injuries worsened. His steps slowed, each attack became harder to block. The inevitable end loomed closer. Gurak finally realized that survival was his best option. He began to withdraw. Kurz noticed his cousin’s struggle. There was no point in prolonging the fight. He delivered a final strike, knocking Gurak to the ground and pressing the edge of his axe against his throat.

  “It’s over,” he whispered.

  Gurak closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head. The fight was officially over. It was now certain that Kurz had made it to the final.

  The stone floor of the fighting arena was covered with traces of the consecutive battles that had taken place. Bloodstains and cracks showed that this was not just a battlefield but an arena where destinies were shaped.

  Drakan’s voice echoed, overpowering the murmurs of the crowd:

  “The next fight… Corvus and Kaelyra!”

  For most of the spectators, this was not just another match. This was the clash of two exceptional warriors. However, everyone who knew them understood that this encounter was much more than a battle. Kaelyra and Corvus had never been rivals.

  Though the demands of blood made them cousins, their souls were bound by a much deeper connection. Kaelyra valued Corvus even more than her own siblings. Despite his extraordinary talent, she had never seen him as a competitor; rather, she had always supported him. She had taken pride in his every victory and had always been careful not to stand in his way.

  But fate had cruelly intertwined their paths.

  Kaelyra’s plan had been entirely different. Her goal was to fight Kurz and defeat him, thus granting Corvus an easy victory in the final. But now, that plan was ruined. Kaelyra and Corvus were being forced into a confrontation against their will.

  Drakan stood between them. His gaze was stern, his voice authoritative.

  “I remind you of the rules once again: The fight will end when one of you is unable to move. Surrendering is forbidden. Killing is allowed.”

  But Corvus and Kaelyra’s eyes were locked on each other. Drakan’s words barely reached their ears. There was a silent conversation in their gazes. Kaelyra’s deep eyes were filled with concern. Corvus’s, however… as always, carried an unreadable determination. Drakan stepped back.

  “Begin!”

  Kaelyra reflexively raised her axe and took her guard. But Corvus had not even drawn his swords. Kaelyra furrowed her brows. “What are you doing?” she thought. But Corvus’s gaze remained steady. And suddenly… he made a move that changed the entire course of the fight. He extended his hand toward Kurz. His voice echoed against the stone walls:

  “I challenge you, Kurz. I will defeat both you and Kaelyra at the same time.”

  For a moment, the crowd was frozen in silence. Everyone held their breath. Kurz’s face immediately twisted with rage. Kaelyra, on the other hand, widened her eyes in shock. What was he trying to do? Was this just a foolish display of arrogance? Whispers rose among the elders. Some smirked mockingly, others muttered angrily.

  “Arrogance is deadly, Corvus,” Kurz whispered, gripping the handle of his axe even tighter. But Corvus did not react to his words. He simply turned to Drakan and spoke with unshakable confidence in his voice:

  “I want to fight Kaelyra and Kurz at the same time. Only if I succeed will I truly deserve leadership.”

  Drakan narrowed his eyes. He looked at his grandson with a mixture of anger and disappointment. He believed that Corvus’s recent streak of victories had made him arrogant. But there was no arrogance in Corvus’s eyes. Only conviction. The elders erupted into heated debates. No one believed Corvus had a chance of winning this fight. Kaelyra and Kurz were both incredibly powerful on their own. Defeating them together… was impossible. But the debates were abruptly cut off by Sakhaar’s voice.

  “I accept your offer,” he declared, his voice echoing against the stone walls.

  Everyone turned toward him. His eyes burned with an unquenchable authority. And then, he finished his words:

  “But if you lose, you will be exiled from the tribe. Do you accept?”

  The hall fell into a stunned silence. Suddenly, the elders erupted in protest. They could not allow this! No matter how arrogant Corvus was, he was too valuable to the family. His exile would be a great loss to Tiamat blood. But Sakhaar did not heed their objections. His crimson eyes silenced all dissent. He had made his decision, and no one could question him. All eyes turned to Corvus. They silently pleaded for him to withdraw from the fight. But Corvus, without breaking eye contact with Sakhaar, spoke just one word:

  “Yes.”

  While the elders grumbled in fury, among the younger warriors tending to their wounds, a mixed feeling of admiration and fear spread. Corvus would either become a legend or be condemned to a cursed exile.

  Drakan stepped forward with heavy steps and called for Kurz. The fight was about to begin.

  Kaelyra and Kurz stood on one side. Corvus, on the other, alone. He drew only one of the two swords on his back. The runes on the blade instantly glowed with a crimson light. A dazzling energy flowed along the steel surface. The battlefield fell silent. Kaelyra gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her axe with both hands. Kurz narrowed his eyes, sizing up his opponent. They might be kin, but this was a fight.

  Drakan cast one last glance at both sides. He took a deep breath. And then, he gave the signal.

  “Begin!”

  With those words, the fight started—yet movement did not. A heavy, oppressive Light Stone energy enveloped the entire arena. There was a palpable tremor in the air; pure energy spread in invisible waves, making even the spectators’ hair stand on end. The immense power rising from Corvus collided with the auras of Kaelyra and Kurz, shaking the air like an invisible storm and creating a clash at the center. But in this struggle, Corvus’s energy did not retreat in the slightest. On the contrary, with each passing second, it pressed down on his opponents, suppressing their auras step by step.

  Though invisible, this battle was undeniably felt. Every corner of the arena was falling under Corvus’s dominion. His possession of such an overwhelming level of Light Stone energy astonished not only the spectators but even Sakhaar. Before the fight, Sakhaar had gauged Corvus’s energy levels with a mere glance, and at that moment, he had not sensed such power. But now, that energy was rising rapidly, expanding almost uncontrollably. Within just a few breaths, Corvus’s Light Stone energy had begun to dominate the entire arena, creating a tangible pressure around him.

  Kaelyra and Kurz felt their muscles tense under the crushing weight pressing down on them, even breathing became difficult. Both had believed themselves to be on equal footing with Corvus. They were at the same level of mastery, wielded the same amount of Light Stone energy. In fact, just months ago, they had believed they possessed even more than him. But the scene before them shattered that belief entirely. Corvus was not just suppressing one of them—he was suppressing them both simultaneously, effortlessly making his presence known.

  They quickly erased their shock. This pressure would only continue to increase, and if they hesitated, they would be completely overwhelmed. Without wasting a moment, they sprang into action. At the same time, they lunged at Corvus, their eyes filled with unwavering determination. In an instant, two figures streaked across the arena, striking with steel-like precision and crushing force.