Chronicles of The God Slayer of Shadows-Chapter 43 - Forty Three

The days in Dawnfire passed like fireflies in a storm—fast, bright, and never still. At the break of dawn, steel clashed in the Ironbrand training grounds. Adrien's blade cut through the morning haze, slicing dummies with precise, economical swings. Damien sparred beside him, all fiery agility and relentless footwork. Where Adrien moved like a shadow honed by war, Damien was a blaze of passion still refining its form.

"Again," Galvir barked from the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Your elbow's sloppy. A goblin could dodge that swing." Adrien exhaled, wiped sweat from his brow, and swung again—sharper, tighter, lethal.

At midday, Fenrik would drag them to the guild's underground chambers. There, they honed focus—silent meditation, control of inner energy, shadow flow for Adrien, flame resonance for Damien. It wasn't just physical strength the Evermoon demanded. It was will. At night, the city lit up with orange lanterns and tavern songs. Sometimes they ventured out—Adrien, calm and observant, Damien laughing over cheap ale. Adrien didn't talk about the gods or his past. But when the stars blinked above, he sometimes stared up too long... and said nothing. freewebnσvel.cøm

The second week brought bruises, new techniques, and rivalry. Damien won a sparring match and bragged for two days until Adrien knocked him into the training pit with a sarcastic, "Careful now—wouldn't want the wind to tip you over." Despite the jabs, a bond formed. Mutual respect. Quiet trust.

By the end of the second week, they stood at the gates of Dawnfire's central plaza, overlooking the massive white-marble coliseum bathed in the golden light of morning. "Today's the day," Damien said, rolling his shoulders with a grin. "Evermoon registration. You ready?" Adrien smirked faintly, eyes scanning the crowd forming at the gates. "I've fought demons, gods, and arrogant nobles. A few sword-swinging hopefuls won't be the end of me."

"You forgot to mention your charming personality." "I keep it sheathed. Like my blade. Sharp, but only when necessary." They stepped forward, toward the coliseum's gates, where banners bearing the Evermoon crest fluttered high above. The city was watching. So were others.

And Adrien could feel it—something was stirring behind this tournament. Something far greater than gold or glory.

The gates to the Evermoon Coliseum loomed tall, carved from gleaming white stone and inlaid with golden runes. Guards in silver plate armor stood on either side, keeping order as hopefuls from every corner of the realm filed through. Some bore family crests, others rough cloaks and hardened fists. Warriors, mages, archers—each face carried ambition, and some, desperation.

Adrien and Damien stepped into the line. A clerk beneath a registration awning called out names in a monotone voice, aided by two assistants writing on glowing parchment. Above them, a massive magical sigil hovered in the air, marking each contestant's entry and sealing their fate as participants. "Name?" the clerk asked without looking up. "Adrien." He paused, then added with dry amusement, "Just Adrien. No House. No titles. Not yet, anyway." The clerk looked up, slightly annoyed. "Category?" "Swordsman," Adrien said simply, then gestured toward Damien. "And this is Damien. Fire mage. He's also here to break things."

Damien grinned, giving the clerk a short bow. "I break things gracefully." The clerk scribbled notes, eyes shifting between them. "Both of you are in Group C. Preliminary rounds start in three days. You'll be summoned through these sigils—don't lose them." He handed them two small obsidian tokens etched with moonlight runes. Adrien studied his for a moment. It hummed faintly in his palm.

As they walked further into the coliseum's inner yard, the sheer size of it struck them. Tall viewing towers surrounded the open arena, seating built high enough to fit thousands. Behind the yard, the tournament quarters stretched—barracks, training areas, private dueling rings. A group of armored contestants watched Adrien pass. One, broad-shouldered and cocky, snorted and muttered something under his breath. Adrien didn't even glance at him.

"Think that guy's important?" Damien asked. "If his mouth is faster than his blade, he's already lost," Adrien replied dryly. They moved toward the training wing, the hum of the city fading behind stone walls.

Damien looked sideways. "You think we'll make it to the end?" Adrien's expression remained calm, but his eyes were sharp. "I didn't come here to lose. And I didn't come here just for the gold."

Damien raised a brow. "Then why?" Adrien tucked the obsidian token into his cloak.

"Because someone's watching," he said, almost to himself. "And I want them to know I'm back."

The wind stirred above the coliseum, fluttering the Evermoon banners as they disappeared into the arena halls.