Lyra'kaidos locked eyes with her master, the unspoken challenge sparking a determination within her. To wield a revered Psyrixal, like her peers, she knew she must sharpen her assaults and fortify her defenses.
"He doesn't look like he's playing games today. I can see from the look in his eyes. We both want the same thing. Deep breaths..." She calmly inhaled and exhaled "I can do this," she whispered to herself.
Before surrendering to the unknown, Lyra's mind raced; beside her stood her Ka La Ma Era Ila Ma – her fellow scholars – and then, with purpose, entered the luminous cyan circle.
With a commanding gesture, The Vorakai (Royal blade keeper) rose to hid feet, and the assembly fell silent.
"Zhilakai Voraxysyn! We have gathered here once again for the Psyrixal attunement. This is the one thousandth time we are doing this," He said, a faint chuckle escaping his mouth. "It's officially been a millennium since our father, Valkorvus Zha'rielvora, the unyielding combatant, put an eternal rest to the malefic, Kalidor Arktovolt."
Beneath the towering, black obsidian figure of Valkorvus, he knelt. The intricate patterns on the double-edged axe in its hands glowed with a delicate light like that of its eyes. The light glinted off the statue as the gathering responded in kind, their movements synchronized. "Honor forged, victory claimed!" echoed through the space, the assembly's voices a firm and resonant declaration of their triumph.
The annual gathering at the Thikor Zha – the Balanced Dwelling – sees four hundred and twenty students compete for the Psyrixal, a weapon of profound significance to the Zha'rielvora. Called "Soulsteel," it is believed to amplify their combat abilities by aligning with their very essence, a tradition established in the Aethoriksyn era, the "era of ancient harmony," after the victory of Valkorvus.
The Vorakai, having risen from his kneeling posture, faced the assembled students. His usually deep voice softened with a hint of concern. "Contestants," he began, "you have all prepared for this day. Many never receive the chance to even stand within these grounds, yet you are all fortunate enough to compete in this annual event. Are you ready for the trials that lie ahead? Or..." He paused, his gaze shifting to Lyra, who was absorbed in observing the intricate layout and designs of the infrastructure.
He approached her, his tone gaining a sharper edge to capture her attention. "Daughter of the Aethonar!"
Lyra flinched, responding hastily, "Sir! Victory is... Um... I was definitely still present." A nervous smile flickered across her lips.
"You would do well to heed what I am about to say regarding this challenge. Do not believe that your lineage as the Aethonar's daughter will grant you leniency should you fail. While the surroundings may be captivating, you are here on a mission, young woman." His words were direct, though his expression remained neutral and composed. "Bring your focus back to the task at hand, for your team will be venturing into the subterranean levels."
A ripple of snickers spread through the other students at the public reprimand. Lyra pressed her lips together in embarrassment, offering a weak acknowledgment. Her eyes darted to her father and master, both of whom wore expressions of skepticism. She offered them a hesitant wave before quickly looking away, her cheeks flushed.
"Battle instructors, your students are about to embark on a journey that will shape their lives. You have fifteen minutes to engage with them. Make these moments count." The Vorakai concluded his address for the time being, granting the students a brief period of interaction.
Lyra'kaidos found herself approached by her master's imposing figure and her father, their gazes fixed intently upon her.
"Is this some jest to you?" Her master's voice held a note of disappointment. "You simply had to draw the Vorakai's attention."
"Whoa! Hear me out. At least... he noticed me. How about that?!" Lyra retorted defensively, though her bravado quickly waned as her father interjected.
"Lyra!" he exclaimed, his irritation evident. "Kraval has imparted all his knowledge of combat to you. I see no reason why your attention should be directed towards the ceiling when you are being addressed. When I first received my Psyrixal attunement, I was barely your age. Nineteen, just like you, when I earned my own Psyrixal. And within a few years, I ascended to the Voraethor before becoming the Ae–"
"Aethonar!" she interrupted, "I know, okay? I just don't understand why you constantly have to boast about it. Give me a break." She feigned a dizzy spell.
"Can you be serious, right now?!" A sharper tone underscored his demand for her attention.
Lyra's expression shifted, becoming serious, and her voice deepened slightly as she voiced her frustration. "Father. I know what I desire for my life. You, more than anyone, know that I don't require constant direction. I am no longer a child. I am an exceptional Zha'rielvora. So do not be surprised when I complete this flawlessly." She declared with self-assurance.
"Calm yourself," her master interjected. "Do not become arrogant. This is not a typical training exercise. This competition will determine your path towards becoming a great Kalyndori or even the Zhilakorin, second in command."
The facilitator announced that only seven minutes remained. Students began preparing for their mission. "Uh... Vykar. Master. With all due respect... I am not going to be either of those things," Lyra declared. "I intend to be the protector of realms! Or the one who will forge a lasting balanced vylaxys." Both her master and father shot her disapproving looks.
"What in frozen hells are you saying? You can't even assemble a simple toy, let alone establish balance for the nation," her master countered.
Lyra's disappointment was palpable, and she offered a hasty excuse to return to the group.
"Good luck, lunakhrai," her father muttered.
As Lyra walks angrily to the circle, she turned to see Kryo'nya, her childhood slash best friend, standing before her, clad in an outfit identical to hers – a dark, hooded cloak with a subtle sheen, perfect for stealth and shadowy endeavors. The cloak's folds were expertly draped, concealing his figure and movements, but his sleek, white hair spilled freely, framing his face. His piercing orange eyes sparkled with mischief. A utility belt wrapped around his waist, holding various daggers, pouches, and tools of the trade. His boots were black leather, soft and flexible for silent movement.
Lyra chuckled, "Kry, what are you wearing? It almost looks like mine."
Kryo'nya grinned, swirling to show off his attire. "At least my breasts are completely covered," he teased.
Lyra'kaidos playfully jabbed him in the chest. "Hey! My cleavage isn't bothering anybody. You're the strange fake trailing off. My eyes are up here, crony."
Kryo'nya pursed his lips, introducing himself with a cheesy flair, "My apologies, little Aethonar. I'm Kryo'nya Veloxi." He took Lyra's hand, planted a kiss on it, and gazed into her eyes "I'm not that kind of man. I would never fixate my gaze on your cleavage."
Lyra's gaze roamed his features: his bright orange eyes mirroring her own, eyelashes batting like a lady's, and a heartwarming smile. His jawline, though, was distinctly masculine, softening his otherwise feminine appearance – the slicked-back white hair, the delicate facial structure. He almost looked like a lady, but the sharp angles of his face and the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed a masculine charm.
"Wow! You're definitely a dreamy guy." Lyra'kaidos said, her sarcasm dissolving into laughter.
Kryo'nya smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Lyra's laughter faded, and she studied Kryo'nya's expression. "So, what brings you here?"
Kryo'nya's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Isn't it obvious? To show some love before you probably get beaten up to a pulp. Unlucky for me, I don't get to see it." He feigns disappointment.
"Thank you so much." A sarcastic appreciation escaped her mouth.
Kryo'nya shrugged. "Perhaps we can... collaborate. I have skills that might benefit your endeavors."
"But you can't join me," she said. "How did you even get in here? This is strictly Zha'rielvora's domain. You should have been stopped by the guards before entering this land. This breach proves the guards are slacking."
"Slow down" he implies. "The guards are doing their jobs. I'm just too fast for their normal eyes to see." He points at his legs slowly taking the form of a shadow.
"What's with the emphasis?" She comments.
The crowd's anticipation peaks as the challenge draws near. Suddenly, Lyra's hand wraps around Kry's, and she bursts into a sprint, towing him to their circle.
Kry's laughter echoed through the arena as he recovered from the surprise.
"Lyra! Hold on," he reminded her, his voice laced with amusement and caution.
Breathless, Lyra released his hand, her eyes aglow with excitement within their designated circle.
"Yeah?"
"If I go in with you... don't you think it would mess with the sensors?"
"What sensors?"
"The ones that know how many people are in each circle. When I checked with my Speedlink, I saw four hundred and twenty bodies. In your circle, I saw one hundred and five."
"Sooo... What's the problem here?" She questions his explanation.
Kryo'nya shakes his head in disbelief and replied her. "Crony," he exclaims. "Sometimes, you are as dense as that chakram dagger on your belt."
"I'm not, moron." She counters "I know you could easily use your shadow powers or whatever to cloak your self."
Kry looks confused at first glance, but realizes her idea is very useful. He pretends to have the idea in mind but she doesn't buy it. They bicker a bit before they get interrupted with an announcement.
The Vorakai offered them quick warnings and tips so they'd know how to go about their mission. "The facilitators will take it from here. Each group has their own facilitators. 10 facilitators assigned to each group for protection. This mission isn't ordinary. I know you were all told about this before you got here." His voice becomes almost inaudible. It was almost like he didn't want to speak. "People have lost their lives from this. The places some of us were sent to, cost us our comrades lives." He paused to gather his composure and resumed, "I hope everyone comes out safe. Subterranean people are probably gonna have it the hardest because there's not much light under vylaxys. Either way, I wish you all Good luck."
The floor within each circle begins creating patterns resembling various structures. Lyra'kaidos's circle projects a temple, its intricate details unfold before her eyes. As she analyzes the pattern, it starts to look eerily familiar.
Before she can pinpoint the connection, Lyra'kaidos is suddenly transported to an ancient-looking forest. A massive, worn-out building looms before her, covered in moss, vines, and teeming with creatures.
Lyra'kaidos recognizes the structure instantly, but her excitement is short-lived. She turns to share her discovery with Kry, only to realize he's nowhere to be found.
Panic sets in as Lyra'kaidos scans her surroundings, noticing the sparse number of students. Some are already showing signs of fear, anxious about being left without a facilitator.
Taking a deep breath, Lyra'kaidos pushes aside her own confusion and focuses on calming her teammates. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure this out," she reassures them, trying to project confidence.
As she speaks, Lyra's eyes continue scan
ning the surroundings, searching for any sign of Kryo'nya or a clue to what's happening.