The house at the edge of the forest was quiet, the night stretching like a velvet curtain embroidered with stars. A few lamps burned gently, casting golden glows over the old Lova residence. Inside the wooden hall, the faint scent of pine oil mixed with fresh ink.
Kent walked through the dimly lit corridor, drawn by the soft, rhythmic strokes of a brush. The door was open, and inside sat the head of the Lova family, Lord Teron Lova, hunched over a long wooden table, drawing talismans with effortless grace.
Each brushstroke glowed for a moment before settling into a quiet stillness on the paper. The sigils were refined—complex runes meant for channeling aura, amplifying spells, or reinforcing weaponry. Across the room, a dozen talismans lay neatly stacked, all meant for his daughter, the whip-wielding warrior of the ring.
Kent hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “May I ask something?” he said, voice calm but curious.
Lord Teron didn’t look up. “Of course,” he said, his tone light, yet dignified.
“You had a kingdom,” Kent began, walking closer. “Three cities under your rule. You could’ve lived out your life in luxury. Yet you sold it all… for a whip. Why?”
At that, Lord Teron threw his head back and laughed. It was a full, rolling laugh—deep and proud, not foolish in the slightest.
“Ha! That whip is not just a weapon. It’s her wings.” He leaned back in his chair and finally turned to face Kent, his eyes sharp but warm. “If my daughter wins the Golden Heir Tournament, I can build ten kingdoms on the ash of the three I sold.”
Kent was taken aback by the certainty in his voice. “But… what if she loses?”
Lord Teron leaned in, his breath brushing Kent’s ear as he whispered with a grin, “Then the one who defeats her must be someone stronger than her. A man like that—” he chuckled, “—he’d make a fine son-in-law. I’ll marry her off and still become the richest father-in-law in the realm! After all, who could refuse a beauty like my daughter?” He ended with a wink and a knowing smile, before returning to his talismans.
Kent’s lips twitched into a smile. The man’s love for his daughter was overwhelming, full of hope, strategy, and pride. He watched as Teron returned to his brush, the ink flowing like an extension of his will.
After a few quiet moments, Teron asked, “What about you, Kent? What is it that you dream of?”
Kent didn’t hesitate. His gaze turned still, serious. “To become Eternal.”
The brush paused in Teron’s hand. He didn’t laugh this time. He stared at Kent, the amusement in his eyes slowly fading into something else—an understanding, perhaps, or pity.
“Boy…” Teron said, placing the brush down and standing up. “Do you even understand what it takes to become an Eternal?” He stepped forward, his voice low. “You need monstrous luck, unshakable will, and endless strength. Years of blood, sacrifice, betrayals, and heartbreak. It’s not a dream—it’s a nightmare few dare to walk through. The realm chews up those who aim that high.”
Kent held his gaze. “I don’t expect it to be easy.”
Teron was about to respond when the door creaked open.
In walked Rina Lova, still dressed in her battle leathers, her long whip coiled at her waist like a living creature asleep. Her silver hair was damp from a wash, falling over her shoulder in a silky cascade, and her violet eyes flicked between the two men before settling on Kent.
“Oh, so the dreamer’s here,” she said with a teasing smirk, striding in. She moved with the elegance of a panther—effortless, yet filled with power. “I heard you want to become an Eternal?” She laughed gently. “Don’t brag so much. Keep your goals smaller—you might achieve a few that way.”
She approached the table and picked up one of the talismans her father had drawn, holding it up to the light with a critical eye. “Not bad, Father. This one won’t combust mid-battle, at least,” she said playfully.
Kent stood up. “What are you without that weapon?” he asked, voice level. “If you lost that whip, would you have defeated the man today? You rely too much on it. You speak as though I’m the dreamer… but you’re the one clinging to a tool to define your strength.”
Rina’s eyes narrowed, and a sly grin spread across her face. “And here I thought you had some sense.” She twirled the talisman between her fingers. “Let me teach you something, dreamer. A weapon is not a stick—it’s a warrior’s second life. A true cultivator knows how to bond with their weapon until it becomes an extension of their soul. My whip, Serpent Soul Lotus, is a Grandmaster-rank relic. Only Sect Masters or war generals possess such arms.”
She stepped closer, her presence strong enough to make the air feel tighter. “With this weapon, I’ll slice through the early rounds of the tournament. Let the weak exhaust themselves—I’ll conserve my strength for those who actually matter.”
Her eyes burned with pride. “And you—do you think your average weapon can even survive a clash in the Golden Heir Tournament? You’ll be left holding broken hilts and shattered steel. Stop dreaming. Learn. Grow. And maybe you’ll be lucky enough to survive the qualifiers.”
Kent clenched his jaw, his eyes cold and unreadable, about to fire back with words that would cut like a blade—but before he could speak, a gentle hand touched his shoulder.
It was Elder Jill, who had quietly entered the room.
“Not now, Kent,” she said softly, but her voice carried the weight of command. “There is a time to teach, and a time to learn.”
Kent exhaled slowly and gave a respectful nod.
Jill turned to Lord Teron. “We’re ready to leave in the morning. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Lord Teron smiled and bowed lightly. “You are always welcome in the Lova house, Elder. May your journey be safe.”
Rina folded her arms, talismans in hand, and gave Kent a long look. “Good luck, Eternal dreamer. You’ll need it.”
Kent said nothing, only offering a small nod as he followed Elder Jill out of the room, his mind ablaze with thoughts.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees as stars continued to glitter above, each one a reminder of distant, nearly unreachable heights.
And Kent, walking through the night, promised himself silently—
Till now, he didn’t consider the Golden tournament as a must win objective. But now, after meeting Rian, he decided to crush the tournament like a tyrant.
–
Tq 😉