In the shadows of history, beyond the reach of mortal eyes, the Immortals have waged their secret wars, bound by the sacred code: *There can be only one*. "Eternal Duel: Untold Chronicles of the Immortals" brings to light the hitherto unseen sagas o...
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**Chapter 1**
Snow swirled like a thousand angry spirits across the Russian steppes, the wind a mournful howl tearing at the bones of the world. In the village of Krasny Yar, the only defiance against the bleakness was the stubborn flicker of hearth fires within the Cossack huts. Alexei Romanov, his young face etched with the lines of a life too quickly aged by the harshness of the land, cleaned his sword with the practiced motions of generations of warriors.
His thoughts, never far from the legends whispered around those dwindling fires, turned to the immortals. To be like them would be to defy even the grip of winter, to transcend the hardships of their existence. But such things were mere stories, no place for them amidst the grit of daily survival.
The night splintered. Hooves shattered the brittle silence, followed by screams rising in a piercing chorus. Alexei was on his feet, sword in hand, before the echo of the first cry died. The Kurgan - a name dripping with fear and blood.
The village burned. Huts were kicked into piles of flaming kindling. Cossacks, hardened men Alexei had known his whole life, were butchered. Their wives, their children...his breath caught as he saw Irina, laughter frozen on her lips, struck down before his eyes.
Then, the Kurgan himself. A giant even in the flickering light, encased in black armor that seemed to swallow the flames. The monstrous curve of his sword mirrored the malevolence in his eyes.
"Face me, beast!" Alexei roared, not in hope, but in the desperate fury of a cornered wolf.
The Kurgan laughed, the sound like stones grinding together. "So eager to die, boy?"
But Alexei was more than a boy; he was the fury of his ancestors poured into a single soul. The Kurgan, perhaps taken aback, was momentarily on the back foot. Steel rasped on steel, strength pushed to its limits, but Alexei was outmatched. His sword skittered across the frozen ground.
"Your end," the Kurgan hissed, raising his twisted blade.
Alexei closed his eyes, not in surrender, but defiance. The world went dark, pain flared...then nothing.
**Chapter 2**
Breath tore from him in a ragged gasp. Snow. Smoke. His own blood...but no pain? Alexei sat bolt upright, staring at his body. Whole. Unscarred. Witchcraft! He scrambled back, eyes wild, only to freeze as a calm voice pierced the chaos.
"The legends, young Alexei, are more than tales around a dying fire."
Alexei turned. A weathered face, dark eyes lined with a sorrow Alexei only now realized had always lurked beneath the surface in every elder. This was Vasily, an immortal - and now Alexei was one too.
Days turned into weeks. Vasily taught him in isolated clearings. Not just to fight, but the rules, the endless duels, the Quickening - the surge of power from an immortal's death that only one could claim.
