Blades of the Infinite Path

A month had passed since Kieran's arrival at the hermit's secluded clearing. The once-awkward novice now moved with quiet confidence, his strikes imbued with purpose and his mind honed to a razor's edge. The training had been grueling, both physically and mentally, but Kieran felt stronger than ever.

The hermit stood by the clearing, arms crossed, as Kieran packed his belongings. The air was heavy with the bittersweet finality of parting.

"You've come so far this past month. But the tournament will test you in ways no training could."

Kieran slung his pack over his shoulder and bowed deeply.

"There's something you should know. Your master, Kaelus, and I... we were comrades once, long ago."

Kieran's eyes widened.

"You knew my master?"

The hermit's gaze hardened.

"Yes. But if you want to know the truth about his past, you'll need to win that tournament. Prove to me that you're ready to carry on Kaelus' legacy."

Kieran's determination flared anew.

"I will. I promise."

With those parting words, he set off, the hermit's eyes lingering on his retreating figure.

The road to Aetherion was long and winding, cutting through dense forests and bustling trade routes. As Kieran neared a crossroads, he noticed a group of travelers gathered near a waterway. At the center of the commotion stood a young man clad in ornate armor, his platinum-blond hair catching the sunlight. His stance exuded arrogance, and his sword—a finely crafted blade—gleamed with enchantments.

The man called out, his voice carrying a mocking tone.

"Who's next? Surely someone here has the guts to spar with me?"

The crowd murmured, but no one stepped forward. Kieran approached, curiosity piqued.

"I'll spar with you," he said, stepping into the circle.

The blond swordsman's eyes lit up with amusement.

"Finally, someone who is up for the challenge. What's your name?"

"Kieran."

"Selric Thalor."

 The man replied, giving a mock bow.

"Remember that name when you're eating dirt."

The crowd parted to give them space. Kieran drew his blade, adopting the Foundation Guard stance. Selric smirked, his movements smooth and almost lazy as he prepared to engage.

The spar was swift and intense. Selric's strikes were sharp and unrelenting, but Kieran's training had honed his reflexes. He parried and countered with precision, matching Selric blow for blow. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the two clashed, neither gaining the upper hand.

Finally, Selric stepped back, raising a hand.

"Enough. You're better than I expected, Kieran. But we'll see how you fare in the tournament."

Kieran sheathed his blade, his heart still racing.

"Looking forward to it."

With a nod, Selric turned and disappeared down the road, leaving Kieran to ponder the encounter. The path to Aetherion suddenly felt more daunting—and exhilarating.

The capital city of Aetherion was a sprawling marvel, its towering spires and bustling streets a testament to its grandeur. Kieran's breath caught as he passed through the gates, joining the throngs of travelers and merchants. The energy was electric, the air thick with anticipation for the upcoming tournament.

At the grand arena, a long line of hopefuls waited to sign up. Kieran joined the queue, his gaze wandering over the competitors. Warriors of all shapes and sizes stood around him, their weapons and armor reflecting their diverse backgrounds.

When it was finally his turn, a stern clerk looked up from her ledger.

"Name?"

"Kieran."

She scribbled it down and handed him a small token engraved with the number forty-seven.

"This is your entry number. Keep it safe. The rules and matchings will be announced shortly."

Kieran stepped aside, examining the token. Before long, a booming voice echoed through the arena's courtyard.

"Attention, all participants! The Hollow Blade Tournament is divided into three rounds. Round one is a group melee, where the top competitors will advance. Round two will be one-on-one duels. And the final round... well, you'll find out when we get to it."

The crowd murmured with excitement as the announcer continued.

"Pairings for the first round will be posted shortly. Prepare yourselves, and may the best swordsman win!"

Kieran's grip tightened on his token. The tournament was no longer a distant goal. It was here, and he was finally ready to face it. As he turned to leave, he spotted Selric in the crowd, the same smug grin on his face.

"See you in the ring, Kieran," Selric called out, his voice dripping with confidence.

Kieran didn't reply. He simply smiled, his resolve unshaken. His undying determination to carry on his master's legacy had brought him this far, and he wasn't about to falter now.