Capítulo 41: 5K Tournament!
The morning light filtered through the cracks of the window, casting streaks of gold across the room as Nizara stirred awake. His eyes opened slowly, his mind already focused on the day ahead. Today was the opening ceremony of the 5K Tournament, a defining moment not just for him, but for his very survival. Rising from his bed, the faint creak of the wooden floor echoed, reminding him of the weight of his chains just days prior. He stretched, exhaling deeply, steeling himself for what was to come.
He glanced out of the window at the bustling streets of the Valoria Kingdom, already teeming with life. Competitors from the four other kingdoms—Arcadia, Villanova, Vaebreta, and Solandria—were arriving in preparation for the grand event. The streets were alive with the chatter of merchants, spectators, and warriors alike. Nizara's thoughts briefly returned to King Auzara's decree: guards would watch him 24/7, and he was forbidden from meeting his squad or comrades. The words rang clear in his mind:
"You'll fight alone, Nizara. No assistance, no squad. Prove yourself or perish."
Instead of dread, Nizara felt a sense of grim determination. He had no choice, but he also had no intention of failing. Dressing quickly, he left his room, stepping into the cool morning air. Two guards stood stationed outside his quarters, their watchful eyes tracking his every move.
One of them, an older soldier with a hardened expression, narrowed his eyes. "Finally awake, are you?"
Nizara ignored the comment, walking past them with confidence. He smirked to himself, remembering Zalthor's words:
"Leave the kingdom before they get suspicious of you and your mysterious power."
But Nizara didn't leave. Instead, he was here, walking toward the tournament grounds to face whatever awaited him.
The ceremony spot was grand, located in a massive plaza near the royal palace. Banners representing each kingdom fluttered in the breeze:
Arcadia's emblem, a golden phoenix on a crimson field, symbolized power and rebirth. Their squad, clad in shining, golden armor, stood with regal composure, exuding confidence.
Villanova, represented by a silver wolf on a forest-green banner, had competitors dressed in dark leather armor, their sharp, calculating eyes scanning the crowd like predators.
Vaebreta, with its icy blue crest of a frost dragon, brought warriors in silver and blue battle gear, their cold stares matching their kingdom's reputation for ruthlessness.
Solandria, the kingdom of the sun, bore a radiant sunburst on a white and gold banner. Their squad was clad in dazzling white cloaks, giving them an almost divine appearance.
And then there was Nizara—alone, standing amidst the bustling crowd of squads, his black and silver attire contrasting sharply against the vibrant colors around him.
As he observed the competition, a tall, lean competitor approached him. The young man had a relaxed gait, his messy auburn hair and confident smirk giving him an air of arrogance.
"Hey, you," the competitor said, sizing Nizara up. "Which kingdom are you from, and where's your squad?"
Nizara looked at him briefly before replying flatly, "Valoria. I'm competing solo."
The competitor blinked in surprise. His loud reaction drew the attention of nearby squads. "Solo? Are you serious? This tournament's meant for squads."
Nizara simply shrugged.
Another competitor nearby, a bulky warrior with a two-handed axe strapped to his back, chuckled. "Solo, huh? Either you're brave, or you're a fool."
The auburn-haired man turned back to Nizara. "Have you even competed in one of these before?"
Nizara shook his head silently, his expression indifferent.
The competitor sighed. "Well, let me clue you in, then. The tournament has three stages. First, there's an all-out Battle Royale in the Forest of Death. It's every squad for themselves, and it's chaos. Second, you'll have to clear dungeons, which test teamwork and strategy. And finally, the 1v1 matches in the grand arena—head-to-head combat in front of the royals and spectators. Survival depends on skill and, frankly, luck."
Nizara tilted his head. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I've competed before," the man replied smugly. "This is my third time."
Before Nizara could respond, a commanding voice echoed across the plaza. Vice High Commander Elara stood on the central stage, her black hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Her cold expression silenced the crowd instantly as she began speaking.
"Competitors," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. "This tournament is not for the faint-hearted. The rules are simple: fight with honor, but know that survival is your priority. In the Battle Royale, alliances are allowed but not enforced. The Dungeon Trials will test your intelligence and combat prowess. And in the 1v1s, only strength and skill will decide the victor."
Her piercing gaze scanned the crowd, lingering on Nizara briefly before continuing. "Remember: cheating will result in immediate disqualification. Death, though unfortunate, is not uncommon in this tournament. Be prepared. You have one hour to make your final preparations."
As the competitors dispersed, Nizara began to walk away. His guards trailed behind him, their watchful eyes never straying. He took a deep breath, activating Swiftstride in an attempt to slip away from their gaze, but before he could take a single step, a delicate yet firm hand gripped his shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going, Nizara?"
He turned to see High Commander Seraphina, her emerald eyes gleaming mischievously. She was stunningly beautiful, with dark black hair cascading down her back and an alluring smile that could disarm even the most hardened warrior.
Nizara glared at her, his annoyance evident.
Seraphina laughed softly, the sound almost musical. "Come now, don't give me that look. I was just going to invite you to breakfast."
Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward a nearby cafe. Despite himself, Nizara allowed it, his curiosity piqued.
As they sat down, Seraphina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "Listen, Nizara. I know you're confident, but this tournament isn't just a game. It's brutal, and you're walking in alone. You need to take this seriously, or you won't leave it alive."
Nizara sipped the drink she ordered for him, his expression blank. "You think I don't know that? I didn't choose this. But I'm not going to lose."
Her smile faded slightly as she studied him. "You're reckless," she said finally. "But maybe that's exactly what you need to survive."
Finishing his drink, Nizara stood. "Thanks for the warning and the drink, Seraphina. But I don't have the option to lose. I'll win, no matter what it takes."
As he walked away, his voice carried back to her. "Even if it means killing."
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