| SIR BÁL’ZAK

***

"I am Sir Bál'zak, the Maléficar of the East and servant to the King of Skygard." 

The man, draped in a golden-hued robe, strode forward, sitting on his steed. He handed the flag he carried to a soldier behind him. His gaze fixed upon Leonidas before turning to the lifeless, bloody form of the elf. "Is this your doing?"

'King? There's a king?' Leonidas felt a spark of excitement, momentarily forgetting his dire situation. He swiftly collected himself and replied in a low tone, "Yes."

"Well done."

Leonidas lifted his head — had he misheard? Was it just his imagination playing tricks on him?

"We have been hunting this fugitive for months," Sir Bál'zak elaborated. "How old are you, lad?"

"Fifteen," Leonidas answered, lowering his sword. Upon seeing this, Bál'zak's eyes were drawn to the weapon.

"Your blade... You've mastered Environmental Manipulation?" Bál'zak's expression revealed surprise but quickly returned to normal. "And you say you are fifteen? Have you not participated in the mandatory Evaluation?"

Leonidas slowly shook his head. He was unfamiliar with the terms Bál'zak used and had no interest in seeking clarification from him; that would only cast negative attention on himself. It was wiser to remain quiet and gather answers later.

"Could you be a Foreigner? From outside The Four Continents?" Sir Bál'zak dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. "It matters not. I shall ask you once more; speak only the truth. Were you the one who killed that elf?"

Leonidas released a silent sigh as he grew weary of treading cautiously. At times like these, he wished he could simply eliminate everyone standing before him. 'Sadly, this is an unknown territory; I cannot estimate their powers nor overvalue my own.' With no other choice, he nodded in affirmation.

A young soldier at the rear hesitantly uttered, "Pardon my intrusion, Sir Bál'zak, but I find it difficult to trust the lad. His blades imply some degree of power; yet, I am... suspicious in regarding his defeat of an elf – creatures known for their excessive Celestia. Furthermore, he appears to be a commoner. Should that be accurate, why did he not partake in the Evaluation that even peasants eagerly anticipate? Something is amiss."

Sir Bál'zak pondered over these concerns while resting his hand on his chin. After several moments, he voiced his thoughts, "Indeed, it raises curiosity as to why he neglected the Evaluation. Nevertheless, bear in mind that the elf was exhausted and devoid of Celestia following months of eluding our forces. Consequently, it is possible that he slew this fugitive from the Kingdom of Tha'xar after a long and arduous pursuit. I am willing to extend some trust." His expression darkened abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Next time, refrain from speaking unless requested. Do we have an understanding?"

The soldier meekly complied with a nod before retreating.

Sir Bál'zak then addressed Leonidas directly: "The ability to wield Celestia is an uncommon gift among individuals under fifteen who have not attended an Academy. Your skills cannot be ignored. Thus, by my authority as Maléficar of the East, I deem your Evaluation satisfactory within the Empire's criteria. You are to accompany us henceforth—resistance will result in coercion. Make no mistake."

Leonidas internally lamented his limited options once more: battle these men and risk death due to underestimation or succumb and accompany them, with a fifty percent likelihood of facing dire consequences.

"Where shall I follow you?" Leonidas inquired, breaking his silence.

"Our destination is Thyrnda," Sir Bál'zak informed him. "Within that quaint village, a carriage awaits to transport you to Fjǫrland—the famed Academy town of Valhalla. This century, Valhalla shall carry out the Trials for newcomers who have passed the Evaluation. They will be subject to the scrutiny of the Matrixum, which shall reveal the extent of divine blessing upon them, measure their bestowed essence, as well as guide them toward one of four Academies for enrollment."

Leonidas paled at this deluge of unfamiliar information. What benefit could there be in speaking the same language when its content remained foreign?

"I understand, Sir Bál'zak," Leonidas finally said. He was eager to finish this conversation. "Shall we move now?"

Sir Bál'zak paused. "I have endorsed your Evaluation with the authority bestowed upon me by the king; its significance is immense. If your performance is merely adequate, the Maléficar of the North, South, and West may look down upon me, and my region. Thus," he delved into his robe, retrieving a twisted, golden blade, forged from a fine yet potent material. "I must extend this trial. Step forth and engage."

Leonidas widened his eyes in surprise. He looked to his sword, and realization surged within. The reason its aura remained glowing was because it still sensed battling intentions in the area. It knew there was more to fight.

"Do not be afraid," continued Bál'zak. "Strike with all your might."

Leonidas nodded. His lips curved into a smile. "Understood."

In a swift motion, Leonidas charged forth, his footwork appearing as a blur. He closed the distance between him and Bál'zak in mere moments, who stood firm atop his steed with his scimitar lowered. With a fierce war cry, Leonidas leaped upward, hoisting his blade over his head, and unleashed a devastating strike.

Sir Bál'zak deftly raised his weapon to meet the incoming onslaught with precision. Upon impact, their blades vibrated intensely as opposing energies clashed — golden and crimson hues mingled in an explosive display that illuminated the forest and resonated through its surroundings.

"Interesting swordsmanship," Sir Bál'zak acknowledged emotionlessly. Retracting his weapon and shifting to the left, he lunged with deadly intent. Leonidas evaded by recoiling swiftly before landing back on the ground.

Relentlessly pursuing his prey, Bál'zak unleashed a torrent of ferocious attacks – hacking, striking, and thrusting with terrifying force. Rising to meet the challenge head-on, Leonidas showcased his prowess through skilled deflections, parries, and lethal counter-attacks against the overwhelming assault.

In an electrifying moment of cunning strategy, Sir Bál'zak feinted – burying his blade deep into Leonidas' shoulder only for it to bite empty air. Ducking beneath the blow, Leonidas masterfully parried and disarmed his opponent, sending Sir Bál'zak's weapon flying. With a triumphant smirk, he leveled his sword mere inches from his foe's throat, savoring the taste of victory.

Or so it seemed.

"Fotizá!" roared Bál'zak before Leonidas could draw any closer.

A tumultuous inferno erupted from the void, the sheer intensity of which flooded Leonidas' body with excruciating pain. Yet it was frigid – the blinding flames overwhelming his senses and threatening to consume him whole. Screaming in agony as the searing cold engulfed him, he crumpled to the ground, overpowered by its merciless wrath. It felt as if even Hephaestus, the god of fire himself, had struck him down.

Leering triumphantly, Bál'zak's amused expression was burned into Leonidas' vision before he succumbed to darkness, and then he knew no more.

***