A huge crowd had gathered around the training grounds. Nobles, assistants, soldiers—everyone stationed within the castle walls—stood poised, their gazes fixed on the impending spectacle. The setting sun bathed the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft pink, casting an otherworldly glow over the courtyard.
At one end stood King Xerxes, armored and imposing, his hands resting atop a massive two-handed sword with the tip buried firmly in the ground, a symbol of raw, immovable power. Behind him loomed his elite Xargian Guard, their helmets bearing the snarling visages of fierce predators: bears, lions, eagles—all poised for the hunt. But it was a soldier adorned with a helmet shaped like a roaring dragon’s maw who stood closest to the king, signaling his elevated rank. The Xargian Guard were renowned as relentless and formidable; no one dared underestimate them. Niles caught sight of the guard wearing the wolf helmet. He hadn’t entirely forgiven the punch from earlier, but he made a note to remember the helmeted figure for later.
The king's children, Xemena and Xhiva, sat at the long end of the field, their eyes locked on the arena. Aurelia sat beside Xemena, a testament to her position as the goddess and her pledge to remain neutral. Xander stood nearby, slightly apart from the others as always, a silent observer with eyes that missed nothing.
In Niles’s corner, his "planet-buddies," Roy and Gustavus, rallied around him. Xemena watched from her seat, raising an eyebrow as Gustavus attempted to ease Niles’s tension with an impromptu backrub while Roy bellowed strategies in his face, his voice intense as if infused with every bit of motivation he could muster. The energy in their corner was electric, the trio working in what could only be described as chaotic harmony. At one point, Roy even gave Niles a few sharp slaps to the face.
“Perhaps the slapping is for energy purposes,” Xemena murmured to herself. But then, clear as day, she heard Roy’s shout: “What do you mean you went for a stroll instead of training before the duel? I thought you were just joking. I’m gonna smack the idiocy right out of you!” Gustavus, cringing in horror, wailed, “Please, just apologize—it’s never too late! I don’t want to end up like you!”
Their assistant, not one to be outdone, looked ready to faint. “Sir Niles,” he cried, “what do you mean I should wear your clothes and pretend to be you for the first and third rounds?”
Xemena snickered and shook her head. “I guess that’s not it.” Turning to Aurelia, she remarked, “So, Goddess, here we are. Your champion stands there, prepared to fight for your honor and shoulder your blame. How does that make you feel?” Her voice dripped with contempt, yet Aurelia met Xemena’s gaze unflinchingly.
“I feel… human,” Aurelia replied, the words as much a revelation to herself as to Xemena. Xemena scowled; it wasn’t the answer she’d expected or wanted, and that irked her. But Aurelia couldn’t deny what she felt in this moment—an intense, unfiltered humanity, stirred by the presence of someone willing to stand up for her without expecting anything in return. Xemena’s eyes narrowed, scarlet and unforgiving, as she leaned close to Aurelia. “You’re not safe yet. Remember that.”
Xhiva, the corpulent prince, overheard the exchange and snorted. “Sister, it’s no wonder you have no female companions with small talk like that.” He laughed and reached into a satchel, pulling out a decadent pastry. “And before you do anything to the goddess, I want my turn with her.” His lecherous eyes crawled over Aurelia, and she felt a chill sink into her bones.
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“Careful, brother,” Xemena replied, her tone almost playful. “Keep talking like that, and you might be the next one challenged to a duel by the goddess’s fool of a champion.” Both laughed, their voices laced with cruelty, causing Aurelia to look down, clinging to a silent prayer for Niles’s success.
The king, tired of the spectacle being reduced to jest, slammed his sword into the ground, the clash ringing through the courtyard. It was a summons, an unmistakable command to proceed with the duel.
The assistant coughed loudly, drawing attention as he separated himself from Niles’s antics. Straightening his stance, he declared, “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here to witness the duel between these two men. Please, introduce yourselves.”
The king spoke first, his voice carrying authority. “I am Xerxes, King of Xandria, the Dragon of a Thousand Crowns!” He raised his sword, its gleaming tip aimed at Niles.
Niles, scrambling to think of something suitably impressive, improvised. “Uh… I’m Niles, a cool guy from Earth!”
King Xerxes’s Veritas Gaze fell upon him, and Niles felt an oddly physical sensation of judgment. The king’s slight shake of his head indicated the “cool” part hadn’t exactly rung true. Embarrassed, Niles tried again, this time mumbling, “Niles, a pretty funny guy from Earth?” The king’s expression remained unimpressed.
“Oh, come on,” Niles muttered in defeat. “Alright, I’m Niles.” This time, the king nodded.
In Niles’s corner, Gustavus looked bewildered. “What the hell is wrong with him?” he whispered, while Roy, equally baffled, sighed, “He’s lost it.”
The assistant then stepped in to explain the rules: a straightforward duel, all skills and weapons allowed. But Niles stood with no armor, no weapon, and seemingly no plan—mainly because no one had lent him anything.
The king, noting this, arched an eyebrow. “It seems you’re confident, coming weaponless to a duel. Very well.” In a surprising move, he cast his own sword aside.
Roy grinned. “This will cost the king dearly.” Gustavus nodded approvingly. “Just as planned.”
The assistant raised his voice. “BEGIN!”
Niles’s hands darted into his pockets as the king rushed forward, practically airborne. “Pocket sand!” Niles shouted, flinging a handful of gritty sand toward the king’s eyes.
“Perfect!” Roy yelled, his confidence swelling. “We’ve got this!”
But things didn’t go as planned. The king sidestepped with ease, the sand scattering harmlessly. Silence fell over the courtyard as Niles froze, stunned his attack hadn’t worked. King Xerxes, his face dark with anger at such a mockery, glared. “Enough games. I’ll end you as I did your friend.” He raised his palm, preparing a powerful, bone-rattling slap, his form a blur of speed.
“Barrier!” Niles cried, summoning a translucent wall of light just before impact. The glowing shield should have been perfect—a rock-solid defense. The king’s momentum alone should have guaranteed a spectacular crash.
Unfortunately, the barrier was more “barrier-ish.” The king passed through it as though it were nothing but a faint mist. “Oh,” was Niles’s last thought before the slap connected, sending him tumbling across the courtyard. Rocks scattered, and dust rose in clouds around him.
The assistant, approaching as Niles lay sprawled in the dirt, asked, “Do you yield, Sir Niles?”
Niles, still disoriented, whispered back, “Do I look cooler if I keep going?”
The assistant considered, glancing back at the unimpressed crowd. “Honestly, Sir Niles, I’d say your reputation is worse off than when you started.”
That was enough for Niles. “I yield,” he managed, “but only if you make it sound cool.”
The assistant nodded, his voice booming out to the gathered crowd. “Our king has bravely fought a summoned champion from another world! Though the depths of Niles’s true power remain a mystery, today our king has emerged victorious!”
Niles gave a shaky thumbs-up from the ground. “Nice.”