Chapter 28 — Kaelen vs Knight Captain

The Royal Grand Tournament was in full swing. The cheering crowd, banners fluttering, and the clashing of swords created a symphony of battle across the arena. Yet, amidst the chaos, Kaelen observed silently, hood shadowing his face, golden eyes calm and calculating.

A commotion broke out near the arena’s edge. Captain Rogan, leader of one of the elite Knight Squads, had challenged a fellow competitor—an act bordering on unsportsmanlike conduct. His aggressive nature and desire to assert dominance threatened to disrupt the tournament’s fairness.

Kaelen stepped forward. “Rogan,” he called, voice low but commanding. The crowd fell into a curious hush. “Cease your challenge. This is a tournament, not a display of arrogance.”

The knight smirked, ignoring Kaelen’s warning. “And who are you to interfere, masked stranger? A master or just a coward hiding behind a hood?”

Kaelen’s fingers tightened on the Morphblade. The weapon shimmered, shifting seamlessly into a spear. “I am neither. I am an observer. But if you continue, you leave me no choice.”

Rogan laughed, drawing his massive sword, its edges gleaming under the sun. “Then let us see if the rumors about you are true. Let’s see if you are worth the whispers they speak.”

The battle began. Rogan charged with raw strength, attempting to overpower Kaelen with brute force. Kaelen’s movements were fluid, adapting instantaneously, copying the knight’s own aggressive style and enhancing it. Every strike Rogan made was mirrored, countered, and redirected with precision.

The crowd gasped, recognizing a mastery they had only heard of in legends. Kaelen’s Morphblade shifted forms at will, matching Rogan’s weapon swings with perfect synchronization. Spear became sword, sword became spear, each strike a flawless adaptation of his opponent’s technique.

“You… how?!” Rogan shouted mid-battle, frustration creeping into his voice. “You know my moves… my style… my strength!”

Kaelen’s golden eyes remained calm, unwavering. “Observation, adaptation, understanding. Strength alone is meaningless without knowledge of your opponent.”

With a swift maneuver, Kaelen disarmed Rogan, sending the massive sword clattering across the arena floor. He pointed the tip of his blade toward the knight’s chest, the crowd holding its breath.

“I yield,” Rogan said, chest heaving, sweat glistening. “Your skill… it’s unmatched.”

Kaelen sheathed the Morphblade. “Let this be a lesson, Captain. Skill is earned, not imposed. Respect the rules, respect the fighters, and you will survive this tournament.”

The audience erupted in cheers, whispers spreading like wildfire: The masked master… the Mirrorblade… is here!

Aric watched from the sidelines, awe and curiosity swirling within him. Lysandra, too, leaned forward, her eyes wide. Kaelen’s presence, his calm authority, and his flawless technique had captivated the arena and everyone within it.

As the dust settled and Rogan retreated, Kaelen vanished silently into the shadows, leaving behind a mixture of fear, respect, and intrigue. The tournament had gained not only a new standard of skill but also the unmistakable aura of a legend walking among them.