P46 - Flamebound and Forgiven

If someone walks through fire... they'll never walk the same again.

Location: Flamme University - Cafeteria:

The cafeteria was silent again.

The air sizzled.

Brant stood with his back turned, body tense, still holding his stance like a statue forged in war. His eyes burned--fire and light entwined in his soul--and extending from his arm was no longer his father's blade.

It was something more.

A spectral weapon: sword-shaped light, fused with radiant flame, glowed from his palm, extending outward with celestial symmetry, carved into it was the vows he made and oaths he took, looking like it got stronger with each promise he made and upkept.

He had pierced the second attacker without hesitation--straight through the chest--burning a glowing, permanent 'X' into the fabric of his clothes and the skin beneath.

The boy dropped like ash, unconscious but breathing.

Brant kept breathing too, slowly, rhythmically. The fight was over--but if he let his guard down now...

He wouldn't know how to face her.

But... he didn't have to.

Because Solira ran forward, the weight of her guilt crashing into his back, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I was scared... I thought I had no choice... and you still... you still..."

Her tears soaked the fabric of his back, and she didn't let go.

Brant's fingers twitched. Slowly, he turned, seeing her eyes swollen with pain and her shoulders trembling with shame.

Without a word, he reached out... and gently patted her head.

"I'm sorry too..."
"I should've saved you... sooner."

She sobbed into his chest--this time not from pain or fear... but from finally feeling safe.

The Next Day...

A massive courtyard formed the central plaza of Flamme University. Hundreds of students filled the audience rows of the academy amphitheater.

The air shimmered with magical heat.

On stage stood five students, lined shoulder-to-shoulder in front of banners representing Flamma's eternal fire:

Brant Pyra, standing tall, the Flamebound Blade visible on his back, glowing with a subtle pulse.

Veltra Flare, proud and smug, holding a firework wand she clearly snuck in.

Orin Blazeward, hands calmly folded, standing in knightly composure.

Lysa Cinderfall, arms crossed, but her eyes watching Brant closely.

Solira Kyne, who technically didn't compete--but as the school's top-ranked student, was always included in official honors.

The Headmaster stepped forward, golden robes sweeping the stage.

"These five have shown not only skill, but heart. Strength, but also discipline. Each of them had earned the right to represent Flamma in the most sacred event of our era."

Medals floated from the Headmaster's staff, affixing themselves around the necks of Brant, Veltra, Orin, and Lysa.

Then a scroll was handed to each of them--marked with a glowing crest: 781.
"In two months' time... the 781st Arena Games will begin."

Solira tugged at Brant's shoulder, dragging him slightly down as she kissed him.

The crowd roared.

The Headmaster's voice deepened while smiling:

"This is not just a tournament. This is where battle-gods and goddesses collide. A crucible of power... forged by history... written in blood... watched by kings."

"Train hard. Because the gods show no mercy."

The drums echoed across the plaza as a new era dawned.

The flames of war were rekindling...

And someone needed to rise up and defend his nation's reputation and the loved ones of many, and that man was standing here at its edge...

Pyrelux.