The Lion and The Owl

The roar of the crowd thundered through the pit, a deafening chorus of bloodlust and excitement. In the heart of the arena, two warriors stood—battle-worn but unbroken.

Vidal the Kingslayer, once a ruler, now a scourge of corruption, had spent years hunting those who abused their power. His crusade had led him deep into Valkenheim, where he and his loyal companion, Alexandru the Fallen Warden, were captured mid-hunt. Shackled and thrown into the arena, they were promised only one way out—victory or death.

Khatun, the ruthless master of the games, had expected them to die as mere entertainment. Yet, to her growing frustration and the crowd’s increasing delight, these two refused to fall.

Vidal fought like a lion, unarmed yet unmatched, his sheer strength turning his enemies’ weapons against them. He crushed bones with his fists, tore shields from trembling hands, and reduced proud warriors to nothing but fear and dust.

Alexandru, once a noble Warden, had adapted to the pit with a deadly grace. His sword and buckler danced in his hands, striking with precision, deflecting fatal blows with ease. Where Vidal was a beast, Alexandru was a tactician—cool, calculated, and lethal.

The arena’s usual challengers had become nothing more than stepping stones to their survival.

Khatun, watching from above, knew something had to change. The games had to be more than just a spectacle—they had to be a challenge. If these warriors wanted their freedom, they would have to earn it in blood.

The gates groaned open again. This time, there would be no easy victories.

The real battle was about to begin.