Every 5 years, a game unites 10 realms offering the ultimate champion, immortality. Those who are not as successful, will live in wealth and infamy. There is really no loss, isn't it? For sure, there is nothing nefarious about this, right?
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CHAPTER 1 HAR BANA, HRAVAR DOMINION HOLY DOMINION OF ARATH
A young boy sat entranced in front of a screen, his eyes wide and fixed on the scene unfolding before him. He leaned forward, almost as if he were trying to get closer to the broadcast being shown all the way from the Realm of the Great Empire. His breath came in short gasps, and his hands were clenched into tight fists as he watched. The world around him faded away, and he was completely absorbed in the Homecoming parade being played out on the screen. The boy's heart raced as the recap of the Prince's best fight started playing. As if he has not seen this before during the actual Cup, but reminiscing Prince Cael's battle with Lucas Ritter was even more enthralling as the boy notes every little detail he can get his eyes on: the Parnish official uniform, the difference of their chosen weapons even their fighting styles and regil expressions, including the Pop star's ginger-colored hair as compared to the Prince's golden locks.
"What's that?" A girl's voice interrupted the boy, asking. The boy, Manvel, replied irritably, "Leave me alone."
Undeterred, the girl persisted, "Manvel, what's that?" But Manvel continued to ignore her. "Is that Prince Cael's homecoming?" the girl continued, trying to engage Manvel in conversation.
"What do you think?" Manvel replied with obvious annoyance.
"Didn't they say the Prince should have been disqualified?" the girl continued to pester him.
"Shut up, Gali!" Manvel retorted.
A third voice, that of an older woman, intervened. She called out to Manvel with the same impatience, "Manvel!" After a few seconds, she called his name again with a more urgent tone, "MANVEL!"
Finally, the boy turned around. He had the typical features of an Arathite, with alabaster skin, silver hair that shimmered in the light casted by the screen, and round eyes framing light gray pupils.
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"Yes?" The boy was both annoyed and curious. "I am busy Miss."
"Well so am I, so don't waste my time." answered the older female who was clearly one of the caretakers of the facility. "Your brother has returned and he is looking for you." and on cue, a taller teenager enters the room.
"MIKAYEL!" shouted the boy as he ran to embrace his older kin.
"I miss you brother" returning a tight grip on the younger boy. "So how was the 3 weeks without me?"
As Mikayel stepped into the room, the other children's eyes were drawn to him like magnets. Despite his average height, his commanding presence made him seem larger than life. His chiseled features were a study in contrasts - a hooked nose perched above sharp cheekbones on a diamond-shaped face, all laid on the unblemished, pale alabaster skin of an Arathite. But it was his eyes that truly mesmerized: light gray like a storm cloud, with a sharpness that seemed to cut right through you as if he was born decades prior to his age. Mikayel didn't have to say a word to make his presence known - it was as if he emanated a kind of magnetic force that pulled everyone towards him.
