One Way Out Is to Become Emperor

"Mother, if I choose to become emperor… what's the way out of this mess?" Rogg asked, his voice trembling. His eyes fixed on Mother Zeeva, searching for clarity amidst the shadows of fate looming before him.

Mother Zeeva took a long breath, her hand reaching for the necklace around Rogg's neck and lifting it into the light. "The only way... is this necklace," she said, her voice laced with solemnity. Her aged eyes lingered on the pendant—identical to the one Robb wore. "This isn't just a symbol of the imperial bloodline. It holds a power and purpose far greater than you understand. It's the key to a destiny beyond imagination."

Rogg stiffened, a chill running down his spine. "What do you mean, Mother?"

"You'll need the Doliex tribe's forces. And to win the Knight's Arena, you'll have to fight with Brisena and your brother by your side," Mother Zeeva continued, her tone growing weightier. "But even that won't be enough. Robb and Vuuxi must take both necklaces to Mount Lakhsa and find Brovon. Only he can guide you to obtain Thalasson the Whiteheaven, the trident that signifies the one true emperor. For Emperor Brovon took it there long ago."

Silence fell over the grand chamber, heavy like the stillness before a storm.

"This is a dangerous gamble," she went on, her voice lower but intense. "Rogg, you must win the Knight's Arena and buy us some time. It's the only way Robb and Vuuxi can reach Brovon before the imperial army strikes—even if I believe they won't breach the gates of Thalvion. Our hope lies in silencing those who would put Rogg on trial. If Robb and Vuuxi fail… if any of you fail… Whiteheaven will fall into the wrong hands forever."

Rogg turned to Robb, Brisena, and Vuuxi. A silent fire of hope passed between them. "Robb, Brisena, Vuuxi..." his voice quivered, "would you support me as emperor? If not, then one of you must take the throne instead."

Robb exhaled deeply, his eyes dimming for a moment before he answered. "Mother… Brother Rogg… I plan to return to the Central Continent of Megido, to the land of Yodha, once this is over. The people of Grifindor still need me."

Brisena looked directly at Mother Zeeva, her voice calm and firm. "I'm an imperial princess—I could become an empress—but the throne was never my desire or destiny. This burden belongs to either Brother Robb or Brother Rogg."

Mother Zeeva nodded slowly, as if she had anticipated their answers. "Very well. The future of Whiteheaven now lies in the hands of you four. But now, I ask that you all stand with Rogg." Then she turned to Vuuxi, her gaze deep and commanding. "Vuuxi, I entrust your siblings to you. Protect them. And trust them in return."

Vuuxi stood tall. "As you command, Mother. I'll always be by their side."

Mother Zeeva handed Vuuxi a faded clan plate. "Use this to pass through the Aetherglace Gate. Give it to Eldros Aedrin—he is my uncle. He'll let you through... and make sure you don't get lost on Mount Lakhsa."

"What?!" Robb's eyes widened. "Mother... you still have family on Mount Lakhsa?"

Brisena and Vuuxi exchanged surprised looks, shock written across their faces.

"There are things I cannot yet tell you," Mother Zeeva said, her gaze diving into the memories of the Aedrin clan's hidden past. "Your great-granduncle Eldros knows the origins of our clan better than anyone. But remember—your mission is not to uncover that truth. You have a far more urgent task."

Robb and Vuuxi exchanged a look. The weight of their purpose had never felt clearer.

Vuuxi patted Rogg on the shoulder. "Brother, we're counting on you to win the Arena."

Robb added, "And if you can… retrieve Grandfather's Axe. That would prove you are the rightful heir."

Rogg clenched his fists. "I swear I will win. But you—you must come back. With or without the trident… come back alive."

Brisena nodded, her eyes shimmering. "Robb, Vuuxi… We'll be waiting."

Mother Zeeva then handed Vuuxi a pouch of bluish bread and a supply satchel. "Give this to Eldros. It's his favorite bread. Tell him… tell him I send my longing regards."

That very night, Robb and Vuuxi mounted their steeds—Goldstrom and Snowfire—and galloped away from Aeternum Vale. Their silhouettes vanished into the dark, riding toward a fate wrapped in mystery, toward Mount Lakhsa… where the empire's greatest secret awaited revelation—or perhaps had already been buried forever.

With Robb and Vuuxi gone, it was now up to Rogg, Brisena, Nyx, and Elandra to advance to the top 32 and reach the fifth and final round. In the fourth round, the Knight's Arena still held 150 combatants. Robb and Vuuxi's departure had reduced that number to 148.

Their only strategy now was to defeat as many knights and assassins as possible. If all four could survive to the final 32, their chances of winning would skyrocket.

"Nyx, please deliver a request to Brando Velary—ask him to ally with us," said Brisena, her voice steady but cautious. She didn't want Rogg to overhear.

"But Princess, Brando Velary is Master Thalion Velary's prized son. There's no way he'd pick a side in this Arena, not if it risks his father's reputation," Nyx replied hesitantly.

"Even though he fought alongside us against Lagosh, it doesn't mean he'll join us again in the Arena," Elandra added, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"You're both right," Brisena murmured, biting her lip, her mind racing. "It will be difficult to bring him back to our side. If not for Vuuxi rescuing him from the Guava Lowlands, he might never have joined us. Still… we need his help. Best to ask in the name of Vuuxi—or even Rogg."

Brando Velary had long been Vuuxi's fiercest rival in the Knight's Arena—year after year. Their skills were nearly identical, and every duel between them ended in a razor-thin margin. Though Vuuxi often emerged victorious, it only deepened Brando's curiosity and respect. More than rivals, Brando held great admiration for Vuuxi.

Two years ago...

Tension gripped the Knight's Arena. The long-anticipated final match had arrived—Brando versus Vuuxi. The grand arena fell into silence, the only sound the whisper of wind between the clash of steel.

Brando stepped forward, his sharp eyes locked on Vuuxi without hesitation.

"Vuuxi, I won't lose this time!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the coliseum.

Vuuxi gave a faint smile, sensing the electric tension in the air. "We'll see, Brando. I won't hold back."

The duel erupted. Brando lunged first, his sword cutting the air at lightning speed. Vuuxi dodged gracefully, reading his opponent's moves with uncanny precision. They clashed like twin bolts of lightning, neither willing to yield.

Suddenly, Brando leaped into the air, bringing down a powerful strike. Vuuxi parried just in time, sparks flying as metal screeched against metal. The crowd held its breath, spellbound by the ferocity of the fight.

Brisena, Nyx Varelyn, Elandra Faelin, Moriel Faelin, Venus Covarthis, Xino Covarthis, and Katoki Veynor watched tensely from the arena's north side, while Mogivor Grosbald, Rigudo Faelin, Selene Kythora, Argento Mokio, Legisor Kythora, Reevu Velary, and Joge Varelyn stood to the south. All of them were top 16 contenders in the Arena, and they knew—this duel wasn't just about power, but the future of alliances in the Knight's Arena.

With a swift feint, Vuuxi tricked Brando and landed a heavy blow to his chest. Brando staggered, but didn't fall. His eyes gleamed with fire.

"I acknowledge your strength, Vuuxi," he panted, smiling through the pain. "And because of that, I'll consider the alliance."

That year, Vuuxi once again emerged as the Champion of the Knight's Arena.