Phoenix Warriors

Chapter 1

The Phoenix Warriors, a group of the most dangerous, ruthless, and deadly fighters ever assembled. Legends were whispered about their feats—tales of entire armies brought to their knees, of enemies who fled at the mere mention of their name. Each member of the Phoenix was a master of combat, their names etched into the history of Veloria like scars on the desert sands. The most dangerous group in history.

There were six of them, each deadlier than the last.

Francis was known for his quick thinking and agility, moving like a blur on the battlefield. He was never the biggest, but his speed made him almost impossible to touch. He was the first to act and the hardest to catch, a man who always had a plan for every situation, no matter how dire.

Conrad, in contrast, was a brute of pure strength. He stood taller than most men, his broad shoulders and thick arms a testament to the power he wielded. Cruel and merciless, Conrad enjoyed breaking his enemies—physically and mentally—watching as their will shattered beneath his crushing blows. His Favorite pastime was reminding everyone just how strong he was, and few dared to challenge him.

Then there was Ravik, a master of strategy and deception. His dark eyes were always calculating, finding ways to outmanoeuvre his opponents both in combat and out. Ravik had a knack for making his enemies believe they were winning, only to reveal the trap he had laid for them all along. Cold and calculating, he fought with a sword, but his mind was his most dangerous weapon.

Kael was the silent killer, a man who spoke little but acted swiftly and without hesitation. His twin blades flashed like lightning, deadly in his precision, cutting down foes before they had a chance to scream. His silence was unnerving, but his efficiency made him invaluable. Where Kael went, death followed in eerie quiet.

Dane was the wild card, unpredictable and often unhinged. He revelled in chaos, his fighting style a whirlwind of ferocity that left even his fellow Phoenix Warriors wary. With his feral grin and fiery eyes, Dane fought like a man possessed, untamed and uncontrollable, his bloodlust never quite satisfied.

And then there was Xavier, the deadliest of them all. He wasn't the fastest like Francis, nor the strongest like Conrad. He didn't rely on strategy like Ravik, nor did he strike silently like Kael. Xavier was something else entirely—a force of nature. His reputation as the captain of the Phoenix Warriors was earned through sheer dominance, a terrifying combination of skill, precision, and ruthlessness. No one who crossed Xavier lived to tell the tale, and he commanded the others with an authority that no one dared challenge. The Phoenix Warriors obeyed him not just because he was their captain, but because they feared him. His dark eyes held the weight of a thousand battles, and his blade, the legendary Ashfire, was said to have been forged in the flames of a fallen star.

You cannot become one of the phoenix warriors without a blade, at the end of the whole trail a cadet will seek out a blade but if the blade you chose doesn't chose you everything all of it was for nothing.

Xavier led the Phoenix Warriors with an iron will, and those under his command respected one thing above all else: strength. Strength was survival. Weakness was death.

And here I was, an orphan from the slums, standing on the edge of the courtyard of the Phoenix Citadel, staring at a group of men who would happily gut me out. Honestly, I wasn't sure what was worse—being slaughtered outright or spending my days being thrown to the ground repeatedly by men who hated the idea of me breathing the same air as them.

I wasn't much to look at, I'll admit. Small for a warrior, with no grand heritage or shiny lineage. Just a girl from the streets of Valoria with quick hands and an even quicker wit, trying to make my way into the most feared warrior order in the world.