Chapter 25 — Strong Fighters Gather

The castle gates opened wide, welcoming a flood of warriors from across the kingdom—and beyond. The Royal Grand Tournament was no ordinary contest; it was a convergence of the finest swordsmen, spellcasters, and combatants the land had ever seen.

Kaelen observed quietly from the shadows, his golden eyes scanning each new arrival. Soldiers, mercenaries, knights, and champions of distant lands stepped onto the courtyard, some confident, some tense, all eager to prove their strength.

Prince Aric, standing beside him, could barely contain his excitement. “Master Kaelen… look at them! I’ve never seen so many skilled fighters in one place!”

Kaelen’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good. Observation is key. Study them, learn their habits, anticipate their strengths and weaknesses. This is your first lesson in understanding opponents before a fight begins.”

The five Knight Squad leaders arrived in formation, each showcasing their unique skills. Captain Rogan, fierce and imposing, led his squad with authority. Vorak, the Beast Knight, carried an aura of raw power that intimidated even seasoned fighters. Serik, known as the Dragon Fist, displayed a disciplined grace and lethal precision. Aveline, the Phantom Dancer, moved with almost ethereal speed, teasing and taunting all who watched. And the fifth, a new rising star, blended cunning with relentless agility.

As the competitors mingled, rivalries sparked instantly. Some glanced at Aric with curiosity, others with skepticism. They had heard rumors of a young prince being trained by a mysterious master—the one whose skill had begun to rival legends.

Aric glanced at Kaelen. “Do you… do you think any of these fighters could be stronger than you, Master?”

Kaelen’s golden eyes scanned the crowd, calm as ever. “Strength is relative. Some are powerful, some are skilled, some are dangerous. But what matters is preparation, understanding, and adaptability. That is how one wins—not by relying solely on strength.”

Meanwhile, the atmosphere crackled with tension. A few seasoned fighters recognized Kaelen instinctively—the aura, the way he carried himself. Murmurs spread among the crowd: Could it be? The Mirrorblade? Is he here?

Though Kaelen remained silent and hidden, his presence influenced the dynamics of the gathering. Fighters measured themselves, tested others with glances and feints, and began to strategize for the battles to come.

In the shadows, Aric trained his eyes on the elite competitors, noting their postures, their movements, and their potential techniques. Kaelen’s words echoed in his mind: Observe, understand, adapt. The prince realized that this tournament would be a battlefield of minds as much as of blades.

As night fell over the castle, torches casting flickering light over the courtyard, Kaelen withdrew silently to a secluded tower, watching, analyzing, preparing. The kingdom’s strongest fighters had gathered, rivalries had sparked, and the stage was set.

The Royal Grand Tournament was no longer just an event—it was a proving ground, a battlefield, and a crucible that would reveal not only skill but heart, strategy, and destiny. And somewhere in the crowd, shadows stirred, monsters and demons drawn by the energy of warriors assembling, hinting that the battles to come would be unlike any the kingdom had ever faced.