Mendrova, the Relentless Assassin

The Knight's Arena roared to life. Thousands of eyes were locked on the center of the battlefield—where blood, sweat, and glory collided. Rogg stood tall at the heart of the grand arena, a place steeped in the echoes of brutal and savage duels. His gaze cut through the deafening crowd, sharp and unwavering. Today, he fought not just for victory, but for recognition—for the right to claim his place as the true emperor of the Whiteheaven Empire. The first step on that path: to become the leader of the Doliex knights, a title that could only be earned by conquering the Knight's Arena.

Brisena was the first to enter the field, her movements fluid and deadly, the mark of a master assassin. She darted through the battlefield like lightning, slipping past every blade and spear that tried to take her down. With one swift, surgical strike, she ended the fight—her dagger landing with flawless precision at her opponent's vital point. The crowd erupted in applause, swept up in the elegance of her clean and decisive victory.

Next came Elandra—the dark horse of the tournament. Her opponent, a towering knight known for his brute strength, charged at her relentlessly. But Elandra remained calm, calculating. She let him attack, dodging with ease at the last possible moment before countering with razor-sharp precision. As fatigue wore down her foe, she unleashed a final, devastating assault that sealed her stunning victory.

Then came Nyx, a name synonymous with speed. His opponent wielded twin blades, but never got the chance to put them to use. In the blink of an eye, Nyx was already behind him—his strikes so fast, so accurate, they left the challenger crumpled on the ground before he could even react.

On the far side of the arena, Argento Mokio stepped forward. Famous for his bone-shattering punches, he now faced a fully-armored warrior. But armor was no match for Argento's fists of steel. With relentless blows, he broke through the defenses piece by piece until his opponent collapsed under the weight of the assault. Argento emerged victorious, a living legend among knights.

As Brisena approached him, Argento flashed a wide grin."Princess? Fancy seeing you here again."Brisena offered a faint smile. "I should be the one asking you, Argento. Sneaking into the tournament like this—were you trying to avoid us?"Argento laughed. "Avoid you? Not a chance. I just needed to test myself. Besides, my life has changed. I have a family now. I've come to understand how precious time with them is. Just as you're fighting to bring your brother Rogg home, I'm trying to reclaim the time I lost on the road... and the time I wasted before that."Nyx chuckled, "You always had a way with words, Argento. But that sounded a little like an excuse," he teased.

As they talked, a thunderous cheer erupted. All eyes turned toward the center of the arena. Rogg stood there—now the main spectacle.

Before him lay five of the arena's finest warriors, all defeated. Their bodies, though not bloodied, lay motionless. Rogg stood among them, barely scratched. His fighting style was unpredictable, almost formless—like a raging storm, wild and lethal. His speed and strength defied logic.

A Doliex master, watching from the stands, gave a slow nod."He's no ordinary fighter. He's a god of war… a living weapon. His strikes are beyond anticipation."

The next match turned brutal. Rogg faced a seasoned knight—one with decades of combat under his belt. Every move from the veteran was sharp, well-practiced, but none could touch Rogg. With uncanny reflexes, overwhelming power, and an instinct born for battle, Rogg dismantled everything in his path.

Midway through the clash, the high elder of the Doliex cried out,"Enough! We've seen you eliminate enough knights singlehandedly. You may advance to the next round!"

The arena fell silent. Rogg looked toward the grandstand where the masters sat in solemn judgment, then bowed in deep respect.

"Rogg, god of war," one elder declared, "with this victory, you have proven yourself the strongest among Doliex knights and assassins. You have earned your place among our top thirty-two warriors. But this honor bears a weight—you will now face opponents even more formidable."

The arena thundered in celebration. Rogg had triumphed.

Yet Rogg's gaze didn't linger on the cheers. It focused instead on a different presence—one that loomed darker than the others. A mysterious figure among the crowd of knights: an enforcer in the service of Thaldrim Covartis. This knight wore a cloak of deep black, his face hidden behind a featureless mask. He moved like a shadow—silent, swift, and terrifying—slicing through his opponents with unsettling ease.

And Rogg knew, deep down, that the real battle was only just beginning.

No one could predict his fighting technique—brutal yet calculated, precise yet ferociously fast. His opponents fell one by one in mere seconds, often before they even realized what had happened.

"Lord Rogg? What has caught your attention so seriously that you're watching the arena so intently?"Brando Velary's voice cut through the air behind him, breaking Rogg's concentration.

"Brando?" Rogg glanced back briefly, then turned his eyes once more to the fight unfolding below. "I'm observing potential threats—those who might pose a real challenge."

Brando chuckled. "Haha! I figured as much. Your strength and skill are far beyond what ordinary knights can comprehend, Lord Rogg."

Rogg's gaze grew more focused. "Brando, may I ask for your help?"

Brando's brow furrowed. "Help? With what, exactly?"

"I need allies. Soldiers. I must win this tournament—and I need your strength to select an opponent from Thaldrim Covartis's camp." Rogg's eyes gleamed with determination. "Only then can I ensure my path to victory, and earn the right to command the Doliex warriors."

Brando hesitated. Rogg's words weren't easy to digest. The top 32 round did indeed allow fighters to choose their opponents before advancing to the final sixteen—but targeting a warrior from Thaldrim Covartis was bold, maybe even reckless.

"Lord Rogg, I've heard the Empire's accusations against you," Brando finally replied, understanding now that Rogg's true aim in winning the Arena was to gain power and the support of the Doliex knights. "But I know who you really are. I'll stand by your side after this tournament. I believe in your leadership—and your strength."

Rogg's stare deepened. "Very well. You wanted to fight fair and by the rules in the Arena. But this time, Brando, I need your strength—like back in the Mozkdu Forest, and again in Whiteheaven. We fight for justice. We fight for humanity."

Brando smiled and gave a firm nod. "Then so be it, my Lord. If that's your will, I'll stand with you."

Just as it was when Rogg fought Lagosh, Brando had been one of the fifteen Doliex warriors instrumental in their victory. Now, they were together again—facing an even greater challenge, and a foe whose power could not be underestimated.

Rogg's gaze shifted once more to the dark figure cloaked in black at the center of the arena. He knew—the real battle was about to begin.

"His name is Mendrova," Brando said, his voice heavy, as though the very name carried weight. "He was trained personally by Master Sigido Covartis—one of the most ruthless strategic assassins in Doliex history. Sigido's close ties to Thaldrim gave Mendrova a place at his side as a personal bodyguard. But he's not just a skilled fighter, Rogg. He's the reigning champion of this Arena."

Rogg studied Mendrova from across the battlefield. His silhouette was shrouded in black, his long cloak drifting in the wind. The way he stood—calm, unshakable—spoke volumes of his unwavering confidence. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, ready to rip apart anyone who dared face him.

"He's good…" Rogg muttered under his breath. "Maybe even good enough to jeopardize everything I've planned."

Brando's eyes were resolute. "Very well, Lord Rogg. If we must take him down, then I'll be the one to face him. But that likely won't happen until the Round of Sixteen."

"Good," Rogg nodded. "Mendrova is yours."

The fourth round had come to an end. From the hundreds who had entered, only thirty-two remained—each among the fiercest warriors of the Doliex.

The Knight's Arena had now become a proving ground for the truly elite.

Among the surviving fighters, two dominant schools of combat emerged: Knights and Assassins.

Knights relied on physical endurance, solid technique, and sheer strength to overpower their foes. They were built for long battles and could withstand punishing blows without faltering. Fighters like Rogg, Elandra, Thaldrim, and others fell into this category—strongholds of power, as solid as fortresses.

Assassins, on the other hand, thrived on speed, precision, and lethal instincts. They relied on agility and pinpoint attacks—every move a dance of death, where a single slip from the opponent meant the end. Vuuxi, Mendrova, Brisena, Nyx, and a few others were the finest examples of this kind.

But there were also warriors who stood in between—fighters who could combine the strength of a Knight with the agility of an Assassin. Flexible, deadly, and nearly impossible to predict. Robb, Brando, Argento, and several others fell into this hybrid category.

Now, with the next stage approaching, the tension in the arena thickened. Every warrior sized up the others—searching for openings, calculating weaknesses, building strategies.

And among them, Rogg was ready.

He didn't just want to win—he had to prove that none of them stood on his level.

He was the storm—unrelenting, unstoppable—ready to sweep away anyone who dared block his path to glory in the Knight's Arena.