[GUILDHALL – MID-MORNING]
The laughter dies in Monaki's throat the instant the Gold adventurers move.
They don't hesitate. Five of them, veterans, mana-hardened launch at once. Swords flash, spells ignite. A burly elderly woman with a two handed great-sword swings for Monaki's neck. A lean archer nocks and looses three arrows mid stride. Behind them, a mage begins chanting incantations, while two others flank Ruben with daggers wreathed in green poison.
Ruben grins like a wolf.
The fight explodes.
Monaki sidesteps the greatsword blade biting deep into the table instead then drives an open palm into the woman's chest. Ribs crack like dry branches; she flies backward, crashing through a rack of shields, blood spraying from her mouth.
The arrows streak toward him.
Monaki exhales "Vera Forza" and the air around him drops twenty degrees in a heartbeat. The arrows freeze mid-flight, brittle ice forming along the shafts, then shatter into glittering dust before they can touch him.
Ruben moves in the shadow. One Gold adventurer lunges with poisoned daggers Ruben catches both wrists, twists, snaps his bone. The man screams; Ruben drives his hand into his heart, then slams his forehead down, crushing the nose flat. Blood fountains. Ruben spins, catches the second dagger-wielder by the throat, lifts him one-handed, and hurls him into the mage mid-chant. The spell backfires and crystallized Firestones erupts wildly, impaling the thrown man through the chest and pinning him to the wall like a grotesque trophy.
The archer nocks again.
Monaki is already there.
He grabs the bowstring mid-pull, snaps it, then drives scaled fingers (illusion flickering) through the archer's shoulder. Bone grinds. The man howls. Monaki yanks him close, whispers, "Did Vexis send you?," the man doesn't reply, MONAKI slams his elbow into the throat cartilage. The archer drops, gurgling.
The last two Gold adventurers left a pair of brothers, longswords charge together in perfect sync. Blades whirl in a deadly cross-pattern.
Ruben laughs high and manic he meets them head on. His white hair whips as he ducks the first swing, catches the second blade between bare palms (veins glinting briefly), bends it until it snaps. The brother stumbles; Ruben headbutts him, nose exploding in red mist, then spins and drives a fist into the second brother's gut—deep enough to lift him off his feet. Ribs give. Ruben finishes with a casual backhand that sends the man spinning into the bar, skull cracking against wood.
Silence falls. Bodies slump. Blood pools on the floorboards.
Monaki wipes blood from his lips, eyes already locked on the bar.
Tobin stands there freckled, wide-eyed, still clutching the rag he'd been wiping mugs with.
MONAKI
(voice low, lethal)
You.
He blurs forward crossing the hall in a single step, hand outstretched to crush the boy's throat.
But Tobin moves.
Not wimpishly. Not clumsily.
He catches Monaki's wrist mid-strike grip like iron forged in frost. Monaki's eyes widen a fraction.
Tobin twists. Monaki is forced back a step surprise flickering across his face.
They clash fast, brutal.
Monaki punches scaled fist whistling. Tobin ducks, counters with an elbow to the ribs that makes Monaki grunt. Monaki kicks—Tobin blocks with a forearm, bones jarring but holding. They trade blows: punch, block, knee, dodge, backhand, parry. The bar top shatters under a missed strike. Shelves collapse in sprays of glass and liquor.
Ruben watches, leaning against a pillar, grinning.
Tobin ducks under a final haymaker, grabs Monaki by the collar, slams him against the wall hard enough to crack stone.
Then he lets go.
Tobin drags a hand through his hair, freckles fading, features shifting. Illusions peel away like wet paper. Hair darkens to familiar brown, eyes sharpen, posture straightens.
A boy-eighteen now, but unmistakable.
One of the students from the old world. From the school. Before the rift.
TOBIN
(soft, almost sad)
It's me, Monaki. Don't you remember?
Monaki stares. Recognition slams home.
MONAKI
…Tokita?
TOKITA
Yeah. Wow. The rumors are true. You've gotten strong.
Monaki exhales shock giving way to questions.
MONAKI
How are you here? Where are the rest?
Tobin now Tokita smile fades. He glances at the open door behind the bar dark, waiting.
TOKITA
I don't have much time anymore. I was sent by the King of Elyria. To deliver this.
He reaches into his apron, pulls out a sealed scroll black wax stamped with a roaring lion.
TOKITA
Give it to the royal house of Velhem. Directly.
Monaki takes it, fingers brushing Tokita. Cold, too cold.
Tokita turns, walks toward the open door.
Monaki lunges after him.
MONAKI
Wait
Tobin steps through. Door slams shut.
Monaki wrenches it open.
Empty storeroom. Shelves. Dust. No Sign of TOKITA. No footprints. No trace.
As if he'd never been.
Monaki stares at the scroll. Breaks the seal.
The parchment unrolls. Elegant script, royal seal.
"To the Royal House of Velhem,
I, King Aldric of Elyria, am prepared to end this century of war. Surrender is unnecessary. Victory will suffice.
I propose a contest: ten of Velhem's finest warriors and mages against ten of mine. A tournament. No armies. No siege. Winner claims dominion.
The field: Akiza the frost-ringed island. Warm within its shores, neutral ground.
In two weeks' time.
Summon your best.
And ensure the mage called Monaki is among your chosen. I have a special gift prepared for him.
Refuse, and Velhem falls.
Aldric"
Monaki reads it twice.
Then he smiles wide, ear-to-ear, cold and hungry.
RUBEN
(leaning over his shoulder, grinning)
Fun things, right?
MONAKI
(rolling the scroll, voice low)
Let's go show this to the royals.
They run out the blood-soaked guildhall, into the streets where war horns already blare.
Two weeks.
Akiza island.