Chapter 2: The Weight of Shadows

The morning sunlight shone through the arched windows of the imperial palace, lighting up the grand corridors with a warm golden glow. The storm of the previous night was so intense that it seemed like the world was waiting with anticipation. Why? Arian felt that the morning was not a source of comfort. The night he spent reading the book about imperial history, the name "Voidfang" echoing in his mind like an evil spell.

While sitting at his desk, he crossed over the archetypal designs of artifacts and battles. Legendary: The Voidfang, believed to give its masters unmatched power, shaped the future of the Aldenor Empire.arhitects. But it had vanished into history, its place a myth and jumbled with mysteries.

"This is not a coincidence," Arian quipped, recalling the peculiar orb he had seen in the woods upon waking. "If the Voidfang is real, it could be my secret to understanding this world... and surviving it.".

His mind was thrown back by a knock at the door. Quickly closing the book, he turned to look at the young maid who had entered the room respectfully and with her head nodded.

The Emperor summoned you to the training grounds, as she softly said.

Arian frowned. He had been thinking about council meetings from the previous day. His siblings (mostly Marcus) had made clear they considered him an outsider. The unassuming prince who had no place in their world of dominance.

Upon arrival, Arian stood and adjusted his robes to indicate well. "Lead the way.".

A vast expanse of sand and stone was once the training ground, which was enclosed by walls embellished with empire flag. In organized formations, soldiers and knights moved with precision and deadly maneuvering.... As Arian approached, his heart raced.

Marcus and Darius, his older brothers, were positioned in the center of the premises, each donning their ceremonial suits. With his slender build and sharp eyes, Marcus was full of confidence.' Although smaller in stature, Darius had a sharpness to his features that suggested cleverness.'".

They were accompanied by an individual who immediately won them respect: General Alistair, the empire's leading military strategist and one of his own legends. He was a fearsome man with shattered skin and sternness.

Marcus nodded in agreement and mentioned, "The youngest is joining us." He then pondered, wondering if you would be brave enough to show up.

"Arian looked at his brother with a determined look. It's not about the good news.". Your insecurities are not something I can do for myself.

Marcus's smile disappeared as the onlookers laughed, leaving only a hint of happiness. A voice like that of 'a blade' General Alistair came forward,

"Enough is enough," he declared. "The current meeting is not about trivial disagreements.".

It is a way of getting ready for the inevitable.

He looked at Arian, his eyes tense. "You've been away from these sites for an extended period, Prince Arien." Then, another look appeared. To be referred to as Aldenor, one must first demonstrate their merit.

Arian nodded and stood beside his brothers. Their eyes could see him, filled with disdain.

A strenuous obstacle course was introduced as the initial challenge, designed to test the physical endurance of even the most experienced soldiers. Although a stranger, Arian's physique was slim and agile, which worked in his favor. He persevered through the course, his thoughts reliving memories of his previous existence to reflect and adjust.

At the conclusion of the session, he felt a burning sensation in his muscles and experienced gasps in ragged breath. But he had done it and the crowd was surprised.

Arian's determination was put to the test during sparring, which was his second obstacle. Equipped against a veteran knight, he promptly recognized his lack of combat experience. However, it was only after some time had passed. Arian had to rely on his instincts and quick thinking, as the knight's attacks were always so precise and unrelenting.

General Alistair urged, "Keep your guard up!".

Arian grimaced, avoiding a swing that could have knocked him out. Using his smaller frame, he ran circles around the knight and with luck struck him enough to send them sprawling.'

Despite the crowd's applause, Marcus still looked pleased.

Marcus nodded and questioned the skill. "Let's take a warrior.".

Arian was unable to protest due to Marcus' deadly strike on him. Marcus's strikes, which were aimed at humiliating and overpowering each other, made the sparring match a much more hazardous affair.

Arian's mind raced. He was outmatched, but he persisted. With a deliberate feint, Marcus was disarmed and his blade skidded across the ground.

Arian felt a sense of achievement as the crowd gasped in unison. But Marcus's fury was palpable.

A loud shout from General Alistair brought the arena to a halt.

He was a mask of rage. Marcus picked up his blade and stalked away, his head in an expression of frustration.

Arian's chest was shaking in the middle of the grounds. Despite his survival, the events of the day made it clear that the path ahead would be perilous, with both sides facing each other and his family on the defensive.

The night before, Arian was seated by his chambers' window, with the rainy air emitting its scent. He recollected the events of the day, his mind racing towards the Voidfang.

To survive in this world, he needed power, and a strong presence that would make him stand his ground.

He looked towards the far-off mountains, where legends recounted ancient mysteries concealed in the remains of long-forgotten monarchies. There was an aura of determination in his eyes.

With a grimace on his lips, I warned them not to underestimate me. "They'll be disappointed in the outcome.".

Thunder was heard as the storm clouds gathered once again outside, signaling an impending disorderly situation.