Prologue

The cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd echoed across the colossal arena, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, its rays reflecting off the polished armor of guards stationed around the massive Colosseum. For the hundred souls trapped in the arena, this was not a game—it was a death sentence.

"The rules are as follows,” the Magi announced, his voice amplified by an unnatural echo. “This is a game of survival. Only the last one standing atop the roof will emerge victorious. Escape? That is for fools who dare to dream.”

Laughter erupted from the stands as the cruel words sunk in. Above it all, the emperor, Madoshi, lounged in his ornate throne, sipping from a gilded goblet as his lips curled into a sadistic smile. He gestured lazily for the games to begin, and the arena exploded into chaos.

For Karmin, his younger brother Daniel, and their aging father, the reality of their predicament was stark and unforgiving. They were not warriors; they were a family caught in the emperor’s cruel entertainment. But Karmin, the eldest and most resourceful, refused to accept their fate.

“Stay close to me,” Karmin commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. He tightened his grip on Daniel’s arm and scanned their surroundings. “We’ll find a way out.”

Their strategy was clear—avoid direct confrontation with the other participants and focus on escape. But the guards, armed with Materia-enhanced weapons and unrelenting in their pursuit, complicated every step.

Karmin led his family toward the nearest stairwell, dodging flying debris and the desperate attacks of other participants. “We’ll break through the door,” he shouted. “Once we’re outside, run for the alley on the right!”

The climb to the roof was brutal. Bodies clashed and fell around them, and every step forward felt like a battle won. As they reached the final stretch, an all-too-familiar figure blocked their path.

“Alphonse,” Karmin muttered, recognizing an old high school rival. Alphonse’s hulking frame and fierce expression made him an intimidating opponent.

Before Karmin could react, Alphonse lunged. Thinking quickly, Karmin used Daniel as a distraction, propelling him forward to catch Alphonse off guard. While the move didn’t incapacitate the larger man, it created enough of an opening for Karmin to deliver a series of calculated strikes.

Panting and battered, the family finally reached the rooftop door. With one last push, they burst through, descending rapidly into the lower levels of the Colosseum. The main entrance loomed ahead like a beacon of hope.

But freedom was not without its price. The guards were relentless, their shouts echoing in the halls as they closed in. A fierce officer with a snarling police dog led the pursuit. The family sprinted for the alley, narrowly avoiding capture, and ducked behind a pile of trash cans.

For a long, tense moment, they held their breath. The officer and his dog passed by, and the family was finally safe. Exhausted but alive, they embraced, tears of relief streaming down their faces.

As they caught their breath, Daniel noticed something peculiar on his ankle—a silver collar with a blinking electronic device. His wide-eyed expression mirrored the family’s realization: the emperor’s control extended far beyond the arena.

Far from the Colosseum, in a quiet rural village nestled in rolling hills, a young prince named Alvicent gazed out over the horizon. His childhood had been far from luxurious, despite his father’s wealth and influence. While the king indulged in opulence, Alvicent spent his days herding sheep and wandering the countryside, learning more about the common folk than the ways of the court.

Now, both his father and elder brother were gone, leaving him as the kingdom’s reluctant heir. The news of his impending coronation had spread like wildfire, stirring both hope and skepticism among the people.

Alvicent’s mind was heavy with the weight of expectation. The kingdom was fractured, torn apart by internal rivalries and external threats. Independence and prosperity were fleeting dreams, and he would need to prove himself as a leader if he hoped to preserve his family’s legacy.

His first meeting with the royal counselor, Arteth, came on the heels of this realization.

“Hello, my young prince,” Arteth greeted, his tone both respectful and calculated. “I offer my deepest condolences for your brother. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Lord Arteth,” Alvicent replied, his voice steady but weary. “I understand there is a crisis in the neighboring villages. Can you provide the details? As for matters concerning the succession, I am not ready to discuss that yet.”

“Of course, my lord,” Arteth said, bowing slightly. “The nearby village of Noir is facing a dire water shortage. Their dependence on aid from the capital has left them vulnerable. The people are suffering, and tensions are rising.”

Alvicent frowned, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “Then we must act quickly. Prepare a caravan with water supplies, and schedule a trip to the village. I need to see the situation for myself.”

Arteth nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “As you wish, my lord. I will ensure the necessary preparations are made.”

Alvicent’s determination to address the kingdom’s crises burned brightly, but he knew the path ahead would be fraught with challenges. The nobles whispered of his inexperience, the commoners looked to him with cautious hope, and foreign powers loomed on the horizon, ready to exploit any weakness.

Still, he pressed on. The memory of the Colosseum survivors, their fight for freedom against impossible odds, served as a grim reminder of the stakes. To rule the kingdom of Mord was not merely a matter of power—it was a matter of survival.

With each step, Alvicent steeled himself for the trials to come. The days ahead would be filled with battles, betrayals, and impossible choices. But he was determined to rise above it all and prove that he was worthy of the crown.