The Emberheart estate stood cloaked in the quiet stillness of a gathering storm. A week remained before the fateful deathmatch, and tension lingered in the air like a thick mist. Eden Emberheart sat quietly by the window of the family hall, her hands trembling slightly as she traced the rim of her wand. Though she tried to focus on her training, her thoughts kept returning to the looming clash with Valen Draymore.

She knew better than anyone the stakes of this fight. It wasn’t just her life on the line—it was her family's name, their position in the kingdom, and the political ties that held their world together. The weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders, heavier with each passing day. A shiver ran through her spine.

At that moment, Joy’s innocent voice cut through the tense silence. “Mother, why do we never talk about your family? Where do they live?”

She gently brushed her youngest daughter’s cheek, the hint of a shadow crossing her face. “My past is... complicated, little one,” she said softly

Eve, who sat beside Joy, raised an eyebrow, sensing that her mother wasn’t eager to delve into that subject. Eden too, looked curious, but it was Joy’s wide-eyed innocence that pressed Mira to speak.

“Our family,” Mira began, her tone soft and measured, “has a long history, but where I come from is a different story.”

“You’re from Sylvara, aren’t you, Mother?” Eden asked, her interest piqued.

Mira nodded, her smile faint. “Yes, I’m from Sylvara, a kingdom far from here. My journey began not as a fighter, but as a healer.”

Joy’s eyes lit up. “A healer?”

“Yes, I wasn’t always trained in martial techniques,” Mira said. “Sylvara was a peaceful land until war broke out with the kingdom of Noctara. It was during that war that I realized healing wouldn’t be enough. Our soldiers needed protection, and I couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.”

The mood in the room shifted as Mira’s expression darkened. “That was when I met him. At the time, he was just a nameless warrior, unknown to the world, but destined to become the most feared fighter of his era. He showed me the way of the martial path—taught me that magic alone wasn’t enough to survive in this world. Eventually, he became known as the Blood Paladin.”

“The Blood Paladin?” Eve echoed, her voice filled with curiosity. “The founder of the Knights Academy?”

Mira nodded. “Yes, the very same. He built that academy with his own hands after the war, shaping it into the foundation of martial training for the kingdom. The path he carved out changed everything for me. I became a dual-path practitioner—a rare combination of magic and martial prowess.”

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Eve, always the scholar, leaned forward, eyes bright. “And what about the academy itself? What kind of methods did the Blood Paladin teach?”

Mira hesitated, her gaze softening as if lost in a memory long buried. “His methods were... different. He believed that strength came not just from discipline, but from pushing the body and mind to their absolute limits.”

Eve’s questions continued, but Mira suddenly grew distant, her eyes flickering with thoughts she didn’t voice. “I think that’s enough for now,” she murmured before excusing herself, leaving her daughters behind in the quiet of the family hall.

Joy, however, was still brimming with questions. “Eden, what does it mean to be dual-path? What’s all this about martial and magic?”

Eden sighed, glancing at her younger sister. “Dual-path means mastering two ways of fighting. Most people focus on either magic or martial arts, but Mother can do both. It’s rare, even among the elite.”

Joy blinked, still a bit lost. “But why do we have to fight at all?”

“Because,” Eden said, her voice heavier than she intended, “it’s the way the world works. Power means everything here. Our family has responsibilities, and we can’t afford to be weak.”

While Eden spoke, Eve had fallen silent. Her thoughts drifted far from the conversation, lost in ideas about her own path and future plans. Her mind was elsewhere, and without a word, she stood and made her way to the library, her absence barely noticed by her sisters.

Eden watched her leave with a knowing smile. “She’s inspired,” she said to Joy. “When she gets like that, it’s best not to disturb her.”

“But I still have more questions!” Joy protested.

“Trust me, Joy, Eve’s not going to hear you even if you scream in her ear right now,” Eden said, chuckling softly. “She’s too deep in her thoughts.”

Meanwhile, across the capital, the atmosphere was no less charged.

Valen Draymore had returned from his harrowing training under the brutal guidance of Darius Draymore. As he strode through the halls of his family’s estate, flanked by his uncle, a cold, unyielding resolve radiated from him. His youthful arrogance had been stripped away, replaced with a warrior’s pride and the heavy weight of purpose. His steps were steady, each one a testament to the pain and discipline he had endured.

A group of nobles had gathered in the hall, some whispering about the upcoming deathmatch. As Valen passed, one of the younger nobles—an overconfident man from a lesser house—sneered and muttered, “Let’s see if you survive your foolish challenge, Draymore. The Emberheart girl will tear you apart.”

Valen stopped, his expression unreadable. Without hesitation, he lifted his wand, and a glowing magic circle appeared before the noble. Flames erupted around the man, and in an instant, he was reduced to ash. The air crackled with the remnants of the spell as the noble’s remains drifted to the floor as dust.

Valen turned to face his father, Magnus Draymore, and bowed deeply. “Father.”

Magnus’s expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the pride in his eyes. “You’ve come far, Valen.”

The hall fell into silence as Valen stood tall, his gaze hard and unyielding. The deathmatch was near, and he would be ready.