Will of the Battlefield

In the Imperial Capital of Great Murak...

Emperor Augustus Novastra sat within the Hall of Heaven.

Marble pillars towered overhead. Golden banners fluttered.

The ruler of the greatest empire upon the continent appeared utterly relaxed.

An elderly eunuch approached. "Your Majesty. The letters have been sent."

Augustus nodded. "Good."

The old servant hesitated. "May I ask why?" he asked with a slight bow.

The emperor smiled. "When men cease fighting, they begin thinking. And thinking rulers tend to become troublesome."

The eunuch wisely remained silent.

Augustus rose. He walked toward the balcony overlooking the capital. Millions lived below.

"The young fight beautifully these days," the emperor chuckled. "Thane Ironforge, Etno Kamsi, and Donovan Young. What a fascinating and curious generation."

The emperor turned his gaze back to the servant. "And curiosity should be rewarded."

The old eunuch bowed. "As you command." He readily withdrew.

Time passed slowly, and within two days, the continent exploded once again with a new piece of news that came to find every ear despite the rain.

Every court, tavern, and every marketplace.

Even the crude military camps spoke of only one thing.

The thing the emperor planned. It was, at first glance at least, completely unrelated to the war brewing or delayed.

It seemed like a different matter, one that gave the common folk something to discuss and get busy with.

The Grand Aspirant Tournament... That was what the empire called it.

The imperial decree had reached every nation, which was nothing but a simple invitation.

An invitation from the sole emperor himself to every great talent among the fresh aspirants from every kingdom and nation.

The emperor had decided not to bother himself with the brewing war or bad weather... He decided to give every common man a miniature war.

One that would rage within the entire continent.

One that wasn’t very bloody, yet bet the future upon.

One that might result in severe consequences if things happened to go wrong.

The emperor was extremely generous with what he was trying to do.

The victor would receive treasures, wealth, weapons, martial arts, rare techniques, and most importantly: recognition. Continental recognition.

Kings immediately accepted. None dared to refuse Murak. Refusing meant surrendering, losing. A bad sign in the early phase of a seemingly bleak warring period.

Moreover, all wished to measure the strength of their younger generation. All wanted to show off what they had...

The best of the best their lands had to offer.

Especially after hearing rumors from Bentram. Rumors of a giant.

A giant who had defeated Donovan Young.

A giant who had defeated Etno Kamsi.

The infamous giant bloodline, the Ironforge clan.

An untrained blacksmith beat trained future generals. He already earned a great deal of recognition.

Though, slowly... the debate about the maze where Thane failed started to become a topic among common men once again.

The contradictions fascinated everyone. Still... the tournament nature was still unknown, and who knows...

Maybe this time he could find his match.

Under the bright endless sunny sky, King of Soland, Land of the Sun.

King Aurelius Silulus frowned. "You expect me to believe a giant defeated Kamsi’s grandson?"

His minister nodded. "So the reports claim."

"Reports lie."

"Several kingdoms confirm it, even eyewitnesses saw the public event. He is the son of Count Thomas Ironforge."

The king narrowed his eyes. "Then send Ser Lionel’s son. The boy needs humbling."

Another place was also wondering what was happening or what the aim behind the emperor’s invitation was: the Sultanate of Khol.

Sultan Rashid stroked his beard. "Another Ironforge giant left the frozen mountains of the north?"

His vizier nodded.

"Interesting." The sultan smiled. "Send one of the twins. We cannot allow the world to forget about Khol."

In the Republic of Tataria, a meeting was ongoing to discuss the current changes.

The council of the Senate erupted in argument for a while and did not seem to be calming down any time soon.

"We should not participate."

"We must participate."

"It is dangerous."

"Dangerous! How? It is profitable."

Finally, an old senator slammed the table. "Enough!"

He looked around to silence the others. Once all eyes were finally on him, he continued, "Send someone. Preferably the one least likely to embarrass us." He gave a word that did not seem refutable to anyone.

Last but not least, the lands waiting for war to knock on their doors... Khanate of Tharun’kai~

Within a massive tent, Mirza Murad Khan Bijarani laughed loudly. "A tournament?" He smacked his armrest a few times in amusement.

One of his captains nodded. "The Emperor’s decree."

Murad stroked his beard. "Excellent. We cannot currently kill Krynovans. Perhaps, our children can beat them instead." The bloodlust in his eyes did not cease in the slightest.

Laughter echoed throughout the tent.

Back to the kingdom of Bentram, within the great walls of Blue Leaf Academy...

News reached the academy by evening. Students crowded every notice board. Chaos erupted instantly.

Conor arrived breathless. "Thane!" He seemed to have been running a lot.

The giant looked up from dinner. "WOOOT?" His face was entirely stuffed with food.

"You’ve been invited!"

"To dinner?" Thane forced food down to speak properly again.

"No!" Conor raised both hands high. "A tournament!"

"Huh, tournament?"

Thane pondered for a few seconds before returning to eating.

Conor stared. "A continental tournament!"

"What kind of shitty tournament is this?"

"Biggest in the continent, something that has never happened before."

Thane stood immediately. "When do we leave?"

"They have given a month’s time," Conor answered.

Thane looked at Max. "I have something to ask from you, and you can’t refuse."

Max frowned. "Then don’t fucking ask."

A smack hit his head.

Far away, kings sharpened their ambitions. Generals prepared for war.

Spies began moving, and beneath the surface, old enemies stirred.

For the first time in centuries, the entire continent would gather in one place.

Such gatherings rarely ended peacefully.

And somewhere, in the darkness beyond mortal kingdoms, something ancient had already begun to watch.

A strange pitch-black being appeared into thin air. His seven eyes showed reflections of giant walls of the capital.

Bad weather changed things beyond anyone’s imagination. Those who were never meant to meet shall collide with each other.

The game, it seemed, was about to grow much larger.