Edgar was woken up early in the morning by Liam, who told him it was time to prove his determination to become a citizen of Hallgrin village. Liam immediately gave him work, instructing him to sell ten bottles of wine to the merchant Arlam.

"Alright, Damyen," Liam said, handing him a sack with ten bottles of high-quality wine. "You'll find Arlam in the market. Tell him I sent you. He will give you one hundred silver coins for these bottles. Be careful not to be tricked by him, and don’t accept anything else he offers you."

Burdened with a heavy sack of wine bottles, Edgar hastened through the bustling streets of Hallgrin towards the market. The weight on his back was a reminder of the task at hand, yet a critical detail gnawed at his mind – he had no idea how to identify Arlam, the merchant he was supposed to meet. The market was a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, with vendors vying for attention, but amidst this vibrant chaos, Edgar's concern dissolved as he soon caught the distinctive voice of a merchant.

Rising above the din, the voice boomed with an almost theatrical flair, "Step right up to Arlam's stall, where bargains bloom like spring flowers! Buy low, sell high, only with Arlam, the beacon of honest trade!" The voice led Edgar to a bustling corner of the market where a robust man, adorned with a wide-brimmed hat and a flamboyant vest, animatedly gestured to the crowd gathered around his stall. His charismatic presence seemed to magnetize customers, who were drawn in by his exuberant claims and promises of unmatched deals.

Edgar approached, the sack on his back momentarily forgotten, as he took in the sight of Arlam, this merchant of renowned repute. The vibrant stall was adorned with an array of goods, from exotic spices to intricate jewelry, each item seemingly with a story of its own. It was clear to Edgar that Arlam was not just a trader, but a master of his craft, weaving tales and commerce with equal skill. With a deep breath, Edgar stepped forward, ready to engage with the most illustrious merchant of Hallgrin.

Edgar approached Arlam and told him he was sent by Liam. Arlam was delighted to see the wine bottles, knowing he could sell them for double the price.

"Excellent! Liam’s wine is the best. Here are the coins for him," Arlam said, handing over eighty silver coins.

"Trying to cheat me?" Edgar questioned. "Liam told me how much you should give."

"Forgive me, my memory plays tricks on me sometimes," Arlam replied, counting out one hundred and thirty silver coins. "Tell the blacksmith I thank him for the wine."

"It's one hundred coins," Edgar corrected.

Edgar took the correct amount and returned to Liam, who was pleased not to have been deceived and to receive all the money. Liam heard from a boy sent by Arlam that his new worker seemed honest. He knew he had been offered one hundred and thirty coins, yet he refused. A thief would have taken the extra money for himself. Edgar realized right from the start that he was being tested by the two men, and he was not going to fall into their traps for anything in the world.

Liam quickly found another task for him. He was to go to the Sly Fox Inn and buy five loaves of bread for one hundred silver coins, and with the rest, buy lamb meat.

Without delay, Edgar set off towards the inn, a popular spot for local alcohol enthusiasts. At the entrance stood a massive man, tall and very fat, who often harassed the weaker patrons after having a drink too many. He charged ten coins to anyone wishing to enter the inn.

"I've never seen you around here," the burly man addressed Edgar. "Since it's your first time, you'll need to pay ten silver coins. You know, for protection against bad things..."

"Sorry, I don't have that much money," Edgar replied dryly.

The man, towering and broad-shouldered, scrutinized Edgar with a skeptical eye. In his mind, Edgar was merely another transient soul passing through the village, negligible in the vast weave of existence. However, his gaze lingered on the sword Edgar bore – an exquisite piece that whispered tales of craftsmanship and value. A cunning glint sparked in the man's eyes as he proposed a trade – the sword for a month of unrestricted access to the village's amenities.

Edgar was taken aback, his disbelief mingling with a simmering anger. The gall of the man to suggest such an exchange! It was as if the honesty and integrity he had hoped to find in Hallgrin were nothing but wisps of smoke, vanishing before his very eyes. His refusal was firm, his tone icy as he demanded the man step aside, for he had matters of greater import to address.

The man, unaccustomed to such brazen dismissal, felt his anger surge like a storm. In a swift motion, fueled by wounded pride and rising ire, he lashed out with a clenched fist, striking Edgar with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The impact echoed through the market square, a clear indication of the man's formidable power and the now tangible strain that enveloped the atmosphere.

Fuming with rage, Edgar sprung to his feet, unleashing two swift punches at the towering figure. Yet, to his dismay, the giant of a man seemed hardly affected by the strikes. Determination set in Edgar's jaw as he tightly clenched his fists, preparing for the next move. As the hulking man lunged forward once more, Edgar channeled his frustration into a single, forceful blow that caught his adversary off-guard. The impact sent the giant reeling backward, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud. In an instant, Edgar was upon him, the gleaming blade of his sword poised menacingly at the brute's exposed throat, his eyes ablaze with the fire of a seasoned warrior.

After teaching the man a lesson, Edgar entered the inn and spotted Garlin sitting at a secluded table. He was the best dressed there, with customer satisfaction being his primary concern.

"I'd like five loaves of bread and..."

"You're the young man trying to become a citizen of this village, right? Liam sent you, didn’t he?" Garlin said. "I need your help too. Aran owes me a hundred silver coins. Could you please go and collect it for me? He lives across from my inn."

Eager to become a citizen of Hallgrin, Edgar agreed. It didn't seem too hard to act as a messenger. He found Aran, a thin man with two small, poor children. Aran was a widower, as his wife had died from an incurable disease some time ago. When Edgar told him the reason for his visit, Aran burst into tears, saying he didn't have the money and had two children to feed.

Edgar couldn’t believe that what seemed like an easy task turned out to be so difficult. Feeling pity for Aran, he thought for a moment and said:

"Don't worry, I'll pay your debt."

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart!" Aran exclaimed. "I knew you weren't a scoundrel like Garlin. He gave me fifty silvers, calling it a gift, and now he's demanding double. I should never have trusted a man who puts his thug at the inn's entrance to extort money for 'protection' from strangers and the feeble-minded."

Edgar set out for Garlin's inn, now doubting the wisdom of his decision. He had promised to pay Aran's debt, but all he had were Liam's coins. Ultimately, he resolved to use Liam's money to settle Aran's dues.

Garlin was astonished. He realized Edgar had paid off Aran's debt, knowing Aran didn't have a penny to his name. Garlin had hoped to seize Aran's land to expand his inn, and his tactic to burden Aran with debt had seemed like a brilliant plan.

"What are you doing, paying off his debts? Well, money is money. Now, what can I get for you?" Garlin asked, cunningly.

"I'll take five loaves of bread and enough lamb to make up a hundred silvers," Edgar responded in kind.

"Do you have the money to pay?" Garlin asked, his triumphant smile broadening.

"You’ll give me these goods as a gift, to keep me quiet and not tell everyone that your thug at the entrance is there on your orders, extorting money," Edgar retorted.

Without another word or question, Garlin acquiesced.

Pleased with his success, Edgar returned to Liam with the requested items. Just before Edgar's arrival, Liam had heard about the incidents at the inn. He learned how Edgar had beaten Garlin's thug, helped Aran, and acquired the goods for free.

Liam was satisfied. Surely a thief or criminal wouldn’t behave in such a manner. Typically, a person trying to become a citizen would be under Liam’s scrutiny for a longer period, but Edgar had quickly proven his noble character.

Liam informed Edgar that he couldn’t offer him work yet until he convinced Arlam and Garlin of his worthiness to become a Hallgrin citizen. Thus, Edgar went to Garlin, who, like Liam, would test him. Seeing Edgar again in his inn, Garlin nearly lost his mind. But when he learned Edgar's purpose, he smirked triumphantly, planning to teach the young blackmailer a lesson. Garlin offered Edgar a room for the night, as it was nearly sunset, and promised work the next morning. Garlin had bet with Liam that he would prove the young man was not the saint he seemed, and he was determined to do so.

Edgar dined with Garlin. The innkeeper was a short, balding man with a keen gaze, aged about fifty, living alone without children or a spouse, having worked his life solely for the wealth he accumulated.

"If you become a resident of this village, you'll need a house. Have you thought about that?"

"Not yet. I was hoping to buy two horses and a cart, then haul wood from the forest to build my own house."

"You plan to take wood from the Dark Forest?" Garlin asked, his voice quivering.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"As long as you don't enter there at night, there's no problem. But all who have ventured into the forest after dark never returned," Garlin warned Edgar.

"Why? What's in there?" Edgar asked with curiosity.

"It's rumored that the forest is the lair of one of the Death Bringers' leaders, possibly the one known as the Breath of Death," Garlin explained. Seeing Edgar's puzzled look, he continued, "This individual was once a mighty king, a thousand years ago. Legend says that after his death, he made a pact with the Fire Demon, who granted him a return to the world of the living. His powers are said to come from this demon, and killing the demon would turn the Breath of Death back into a mere corpse."

Garlin further revealed that there were three main leaders among the Death Bringers, each gifted with powers by a different demon. "The first is the Black Sorcerer, a practitioner of black magic, believed to have discovered the elixir of immortality. He supposedly died 1,500 years ago, but the Fire Demon brought him back to life."

"The last of these leaders is the Soul Devourer, protected by the Demon of Death. Once a noble knight drawn to the dark side, he was resurrected by the Demon of Death to become a champion in the underworld and a leader of the Death Bringers."

As he absorbed the tale, Edgar's mind wandered back to the cave in the Giant Mountains where the Black Sorcerer had boastfully claimed responsibility for the demise of his family, along with the involvement of his alleged comrades – these very leaders spoken of by Garlin. Despite the Sorcerer's words, a seed of doubt took root in Edgar's heart; he was not entirely convinced that these figures were the true architects of his family's tragic end. This uncertainty, however, did not soften his stance. Edgar's resolve remained unshaken – he would not allow the possibility of their innocence to deter him from seeking justice or retribution. With each passing moment, the path ahead seemed clearer – a path that led inexorably into the heart of the Dark Forest, where answers and, perhaps, vengeance awaited him.

Edgar, driven by a fervent desire for retribution against his family's perpetrators and the notorious Death Bringers, meticulously devised his plan of vengeance. He was acutely aware of the need for discretion, cautious not to let Garlin suspect his inner turmoil and intentions. The young knight had resolved to infiltrate the enigmatic and perilous Dark Forest the following evening. His objective was clear: to confront and eliminate any Death Bringer lurking within its shadows. Edgar, embroiled in a web of adversaries – the Death Bringers, the formidable Lord of the Demons, and the treacherous King Lockdar – understood the gravity of his quest, with each of these foes yearning for his demise.

After savoring his last bite of the evening meal, Edgar excused himself, retreating to the solace of his room. The knight, eager for rest, donned attire more suited for relaxation – a long, pristine white shirt, coupled with black trousers and sturdy boots. His faithful companion, the Phoenix sword, was securely fastened to his back, a silent sentinel ever ready for action. Emerging into the crisp night air, Edgar found Garlin seated outside the inn, enveloped in a cloud of smoke emanating from his cherished, aged pipe – a poignant memento from his father.

Garlin, ensnared in a mesh of contemplation, seemed distant, his thoughts seemingly drifting with each puff of smoke. Edgar approached, his inquiries hanging silently in the air, hesitant to disrupt the old man's introspection. Moments ticked by, the only sound the soft rustle of the pipe. Finally, Garlin's eyes met Edgar's, and with a heavy heart, he began to unravel a story steeped in melancholy, a tale that seemed to weigh down his soul with every word spoken.

"I wasn't always just a money-grubbing scoundrel," Garlin began. "Years ago, I was deeply in love with a beautiful woman named Dariana. We were so happy together; I thought no couple could be more perfect."

As he spoke, Garlin's sadness deepened, revealing a burden he had carried for some time. Edgar listened quietly as Garlin opened up, his story filled with growing hate and anger.

Garlin recalled a beautiful spring day when they had decided to picnic in the Dark Forest. While he picked flowers for Dariana, he suddenly heard her scream. Rushing to her, he found her lifeless, with no apparent wounds. The cause of her death was deemed natural by the healers. From that day, anyone who ventured into the Dark Forest never returned alive.

Garlin described seeing a figure in a long, black cloak with a gleaming crown and fiery red eyes protruding from their sockets. He couldn't recall how he escaped, only waking up at the forest's edge.

"You're not the only one who's suffered because of them," Edgar responded. "When I was one, they killed my parents. I was saved by two mages, Laryus and Marcus, and raised by my uncle in the Giant Mountains, whom Lockdar killed. The Death Bringers, King Lockdar, Ludrol, and the Lord of Demons are all after me, and surely none of them wish to check on my wellbeing."

"Who are you really, Damyen?" Garlin asked, initially thinking Edgar a mere bandit but now seeing a noble soul.

"Damyen was my father's name. I am Edgar Argyle. I'm sorry I lied, but I didn't know who to trust anymore. I need your help because you seem to know much about these Death Bringers. Do you know how they can be killed?"

Garlin fell silent, recognizing Edgar's thirst for vengeance, but how could he explain that death can't be conquered? What Edgar sought to do seemed impossible, as no one had yet found a way to stop a Death Bringer.

"Edgar, I admire your courage. Often, courage is three-quarters madness and a quarter folly. You can't kill someone who's already dead," Garlin said somberly.

"Come on, Garlin! There must be something you know that could help me," Edgar implored.

"If you're a skilled enough fighter, you could challenge them to a fair fight. None of them would refuse. A fair fight means combat without the use of magical powers. If you win, they owe you answers to two questions," Garlin explained.

"What could I possibly ask them?" Edgar pondered. "Of course, I could ask how they can be killed. You're a genius, Garlin. But something else troubles me..."

"What is it?" Garlin inquired.

"You mentioned Dariana was attacked during the day, but when we talked about this, you said they attack only at night."

"I can't explain it. Back then, when I took her for a picnic, I had no idea of the evil that lurked in the forest. All I remember is that the day before, Dariana started speaking strangely. She said she wasn't like ordinary people, that she was an heir..."

"The Black Wizard told me the same thing when he tried to kill me. He said I was an heir. What could it mean?"

"I have no idea," Garlin replied thoughtfully. "Whatever it means, it makes them want to harm you."

Resolved, Edgar decided to venture into the forest, hoping to provoke the Death Bringer and gain the answers he needed. Garlin was shocked by the young man's decision, displaying an obstinacy he had never seen before.

Garlin tried in vain to dissuade him, warning that only death awaited in that place. But Edgar was resolute, already saddling his horse, strapping his sword on his back, and mounting Lightning. He assured Garlin he would return soon.

Regretting his part in the young knight's fate, Garlin was convinced he wouldn't see Edgar again. He felt partly guilty for the knight's destiny, though nothing had happened yet. Perhaps he should never have mentioned the Death Bringers.

As Edgar rode away from Hallgrin, his horse, Lightning, carried him swiftly towards the ominous Dark Forest. The journey was a bittersweet one, as he passed through a meadow that seemed to capture the very essence of beauty and tranquility. This field was a botanist's dream, abundant with rare and medicinal plants like the regal king's mantle, the stately queen's scepter, the healing green remedy, and the exotic crown with three rubies. Edgar’s knowledge of plants, gleaned from his travels and studies, told him that these flora were not just pleasing to the eye but also potent ingredients for various healing concoctions.

Upon reaching the forest's fringe, Edgar secured Lightning to a sturdy tree, fashioning a knot that the horse could break free from, should he fail to return. With a deep breath, he stepped into the dense undergrowth of the Dark Forest, where every crunch of fallen leaves and snap of twigs underfoot reverberated through the still air. He moved with deliberate caution, weaving through the dense thickets and navigating around the tightly clustered, towering trees that seemed to grasp at the sky.

But something felt amiss in this forest. Almost immediately, Edgar sensed an uncanny presence, as if he were not alone. His instincts on high alert, he scanned the surrounding thicket, but his eyes met only the dense foliage and the shadows that played tricks in the dim light. Each step he took seemed to be mirrored by a phantom echo, a sound just out of sight that sent an unsettling chill down his spine. This sense of being watched intensified with each passing moment, turning the forest’s eerie silence into a cacophony of unspoken threats. Edgar, sword at the ready, continued deeper into the forest, every sense attuned to the hidden dangers that lurked within its dark embrace.

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"Show yourself!" Edgar shouted boldly.

Emerging from the dense shadows of the Dark Forest, a figure materialized before Edgar with such abruptness that it seemed to defy the natural order of the world. This being, standing stark and formidable in Edgar's path, was the epitome of terror made flesh. His visage was a nightmarish tableau, skin charred to an abyssal blackness as though he had been kissed by flame, and from this darkness, two piercing red eyes bore into Edgar with an intensity that felt almost tangible.

The figure was clad in a black cloak that seemed to absorb the scant light filtering through the forest canopy, casting him in an aura of ominous power. Upon his head sat a golden crown, incongruously regal and sinister, marking him as a ruler of a realm far removed from any Edgar knew. The crown's gleam contrasted starkly against the darkness of his cloak, creating an image that was both majestic and malevolent.

This was the entity Garlin had described, yet no mere description could have prepared Edgar for the reality of his presence. The air around them felt charged, heavy with the weight of an impending confrontation. Edgar, gripping his sword tightly, faced this crowned specter of the forest, his mind racing to formulate a strategy against a foe who was as much a mystery as he was a manifest threat. The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills before the clash of steel would inevitably speak.

"Edgar Argyle, I knew it was you. You have no idea how honored I am to kill the last heir of the two. I've killed dozens of heirs, but none who inherited from both. You are a rarity, almost a pity that I must kill you," the Death's Breath spoke with a chilling voice that echoed through the forest.

"Before you kill me, do me the favor and tell me what an heir means."

"What? You don't know who you are? An heir is a descendant of one of the two great wizards, Nagus or Adunoss. You are among the last, moreover, a descendant of both - your mother a descendant of Nagus, and your father of Adunoss."

"Very well," Edgar said. "You've just answered an extra question for me. Now, I challenge you to a fair fight."

"Ha, you're clever! But do you really think you stand a chance to cross swords with me?" Death's Breath smirked.

In the shadowy heart of the Dark Forest, where ancient trees bore silent witness, Edgar and Death's Breath clashed with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very earth. Their swords met with a resounding clang, echoing like a herald of battle throughout the dense woodland. Edgar, with agility and finesse honed by years of relentless training and battles, matched the relentless onslaught of his foe blow for blow. His movements were a blur, a dance of steel and survival against an adversary whose skill was legendary.

Death's Breath, a figure shrouded in the darkness of countless tales and feared across realms, found himself taken aback. Never before had he encountered an heir of such extraordinary prowess. Each of Edgar's strikes was precise and powerful, pushing the shadowy figure to the brink of his own formidable limits. The air around them crackled with the intensity of their duel, a maelstrom of clashing blades and shifting shadows.

The battle raged on, a test of endurance and will. In a pivotal moment, Edgar's sword was knocked from his grasp. Time seemed to slow as it spun away, glinting in the dim light. But with reflexes as swift as lightning, Edgar rolled, evading a fatal blow and reclaiming his weapon. In one fluid, seamless motion, he lunged, driving the Phoenix sword deep into the heart of Death's Breath.

The forest fell silent, save for the heavy breaths of the combatants. Edgar stood victorious, yet his victory was heavy with the realization of the immense power and danger he had just overcome. Death's Breath, the once invincible adversary, lay defeated, a demonstration of Edgar's might and the unyielding spirit of an heir destined for greatness.

"How... is this possible? I feel... pain. I haven't felt this since I was a mere human. What... what kind of sword is that?"

Death's Breath dropped his sword, falling to his knees. He gazed at Edgar's sword and recognized it. It was the same sword by which he had been killed long ago. How was it possible that this sword still existed?

"I've defeated you! Now answer my question. How can I stop the Lord of Demons?"

"The Lord of Demons... He is the one who commands the three demons who, in turn, command us, the Bringers of Death. Only by killing the demons will you stand a chance against him, as without them, his powers will drastically diminish."

After revealing this, Death's Breath died before Edgar. Edgar had just killed someone presumed to be immortal, giving him great hope of winning this battle. Clearly, there was something special about his father's sword, but he had no idea what it was.

Unfortunately, he had no time to ponder, as Death's Breath came back to life the moment Edgar turned his back. It seemed his protective demon was not ready to let him rest in peace. Edgar's expression was indescribable when he saw him rise from the ground.

"You must be jesting..."

Edgar, gripping his sword with a firm resolve, faced an adversary unlike any before. Death's Breath, in his terrifying visage, let out a deep, menacing laugh that echoed through the forest, causing the very earth beneath Edgar's feet to shudder. The trees around them, as if summoned by this dark laughter, twisted and turned, their branches snaking towards Edgar with ferocious speed. But Edgar, with agility honed through countless battles, danced between the assaulting limbs, each dodge a narrow escape from their crushing grasp. His sword slashed through the air, cutting down branches that dared to encroach upon him. The scene was a maelstrom of nature's fury and a warrior's defiance, a battle not just against a singular foe, but against the very elements themselves.

"Enough!" commanded Death's Breath, and the trees immediately fell to the ground. "I have new orders. It seems I am not allowed to kill you here. We will meet at the Tournament of the Ten Knights. My comrades and I will be there. There, the fate of these lands, doomed to destruction, will be decided."

"Why is the tournament so important to you?"

"There will be a lot of people there, including ten kings from different kingdoms. They will witness our power. Besides, your head will be the most valuable trophy for our leader," said Death's Breath before disappearing into a mist.

Edgar had little time to prepare, as the tournament was starting in about a week. Entry to the tournament cost a hundred gold coins. He needed armor, and even decent armor would cost at least fifty gold coins. He didn't even consider a shield, as it was also quite expensive.

He left the forest and found Lightning greedily eating grass at the forest's edge. Although the horse had freed himself, he had not left his master. Edgar mounted Lightning and rode swiftly back to Hallgrin, where he found Garlin just as he had left him. Garlin couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Edgar unharmed, without a scratch. Overjoyed that the young man was alive, he asked Edgar to recount everything that had happened.

Garlin showed no surprise when Edgar recounted how Death's Breath had revived right before his eyes. He also mentioned their plans to show themselves to the people at the Tournament of the Ten Knights.

Edgar wondered what chance he stood against the Bringers of Death. Barely managing to face one alone, facing all three seemed impossible. Learning the truth about being a descendant of both Nagus and Adunoss only added to his anxiety, as the last thing he needed was to be caught in the war between the followers of the two wizards.

He needed to find a way to participate in the tournament to prevent the Bringers from killing innocents just to showcase their powers. With time until the tournament, he needed a place to stay and blend into the crowd, away from the spies of Lockdar or Ludrol. Returning to their matters, he asked Garlin what more he needed to do for him. Garlin said Edgar had proven his intentions, showing himself to be sincere and honorable, so he didn't need convincing anymore. Garlin then threw Edgar a small bag containing about twenty gold coins.

"Thank you! But what have I done to deserve this?" Edgar asked.

"You don't even know how much you've done. You've convinced both me and Liam that you're an honest, brave young man worthy of becoming a citizen of this village. However, you still need to convince Arlam, the merchant."

Edgar bid Garlin farewell and headed to the market. He found Arlam selling his goods, always stationed away from the other merchants. Arlam was a 39-year-old man with chestnut hair, brown eyes, and thick eyebrows.

Recognizing Edgar, Arlam didn't forget someone he couldn't easily deceive. He thought Edgar came to buy something, not seeking help to become a citizen of Hallgrin. Unfortunately, Arlam said he couldn't offer work, being too busy selling farmer Anadin's goods.

"If I sell what you have here, will you offer me work?" Edgar asked.

"Yes. Do you really think you can convince someone to offer twenty-seven gold coins for all this merchandise?"

"I'll give you twenty gold coins," Edgar offered.

"Are you joking or trying to fool me? After all, I should be the one doing that. Given that I know you, I'm willing to sell all this sheep cheese for twenty-five gold coins. Is that okay?"

"Twenty gold coins, or stay here in the sun all day. It's not even noon, and the sun is scorching. Can you imagine if the cheese spoils and you can't even get a gold coin for it?"

"Darn! You're a crook, you know that? Here, take these jars of cheese. By the way, what will you do with them?"

"Let's see, here's the money. Can I work for you now? I need to prove that I deserve to become a citizen of Hallgrin," Edgar said.

"Ah, yes! Hallgrin and its petty politics. Honestly, I don't care. If you've convinced Garlin and Liam, you've convinced me too. Here's a tip for you: if you want to earn some money, go to Anadin's farm. Trust me, he pays well."

Done deal. Edgar took the jars of sheep cheese, and just a few meters away, he managed to sell them to another merchant, recovering ten gold coins. "What a deal!" he thought to himself, slightly amused after losing ten gold coins for no reason. At least now he had Arlam's approval to become a citizen of Hallgrin.

He returned to Garlin, where he took Lightning and headed to Anadin's farm. Garlin warned Edgar that the farmer tended to work his laborers hard. Rumors about Anadin were quite harsh, with some saying he had even killed his own son for trying to deceive him. Those working for him were not allowed to stop without his permission, under threat of punishment. Edgar didn't plan to heed these rumors circulating around the village. He mounted Lightning and sped toward Anadin's farm. As he passed the Dark Forest, he eagerly anticipated meeting the daunting farmer, hoping to find work and earn some money.

As the last hues of twilight faded, Edgar reached the outskirts of Anadin's farm. Before him, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, stood a grand farmhouse, its architecture a testament to skilled craftsmanship. The farmhouse, robust and elegantly constructed, was encircled by a cluster of modest cottages, each appearing cozy and inviting, with warm light spilling from their windows. The cottages, though small, were meticulously maintained, reflecting a sense of pride and care.

Edgar's gaze wandered over the farmhands, who were winding up their day's work. Their expressions, illuminated by the flickering light of lanterns, were not marred by the weariness one might expect after a day of toil. Instead, their faces radiated a sense of fulfillment and contentment, a rare sight among laborers.

With a sense of curiosity, Edgar dismounted from his steed, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. He made his way towards the impressive farmhouse, his eyes still taking in the tranquil scene around him. However, his progress was abruptly halted as a young man, seemingly of Edgar's own age, emerged from the shadows of a nearby tree. The stranger's stance was neither threatening nor welcoming, but cautious, as if measuring Edgar's intent. His eyes, sharp and observant, locked onto Edgar, waiting for him to make the next move.

"Stop there, bandit! Take one more step, and I swear I'll drive my dagger through your skull," the boy shouted.

"Calm down," Edgar replied soothingly. "I'm not a bandit, just someone looking for work. Please kindly tell the owner of this farm someone is looking for him.

"I am the owner," the young man said. "Moreover, there's no work left for anyone."

"You're the owner? I have my doubts. How about calling Anadin for me?"

Hearing his son talking to a stranger, Anadin came out to see what was going on. The blond-haired young man who had stopped Edgar was indeed Anadin's son, the same one rumored to have been killed.

"What do you want, stranger? Are you Ellan's messenger? I told him I'd pay him tomorrow."

"No, you've misunderstood. Arlam told me you need workers."

"Arlam? Yes, I told him I need some people. What can I say? You can start working tomorrow if you wish. You'll sleep in one of the rooms in my house, and one of my men will show you to your room."

Four hours after sunset, Edgar was delighted to have found work at Anadin's farm. In the farmer's large house, dinner was served in a vast hall. Here, all his workers, including him, his wife, and son, gathered.

Anadin was a forty-seven-year-old man, yet no one would guess him a day over forty. He had the same fierce look as his son, Dorian, who kept glancing at the newcomer. Edgar remained silent throughout the meal, attentively listening to the others. They talked about their day's work, each sharing their accomplishments, keen to show Anadin their diligence.

One worker mentioned the upcoming Tournament of the Ten Knights at Tuzmad Castle. Even Dorian was eager to see it, having heard this year's tournament would be extraordinary. Little did they know it would be exceptional for a dreadful reason - the participation of the Death Bringers and their leader, the Lord of Demons.

"Damyen, why do you want to work for me? What brings you here?"

"I need money to participate in the Tournament of the Ten Knights," Edgar responded.

"You're a knight?" Anadin asked, surprised, holding great respect for them. "I can't believe a knight would work for me. Shouldn't you be serving a king?"

"I no longer serve anyone. I'm a wandering knight."

"And where is your armor, knight?" Dorian asked mockingly.

Edgar quickly concocted a tale of being attacked and robbed by bandits. The room erupted with anger at the bandits' audacity to assault a knight.

After dinner, Anadin led Edgar to his room - a small, simple space dimly lit by a lantern, with a beautiful painting of a knight in white armor on one wall.

Anadin wished the young knight a restful sleep, leaving him to rest. The next day promised to be exhausting for his new worker.

As Edgar's eyes closed, he was swiftly drawn into the depths of slumber, his mind spiraling into the realm of dreams. In this otherworldly space, Edgar felt an eerie sensation of weightlessness as if he were adrift above an endless sea of clouds. The serenity of this dreamscape was abruptly shattered when a fearsome demon emerged from the mist, engulfed in an aura of scorching flames.

The demon, a nightmarish figure, towered over Edgar, its formidable presence dominating the dream. Its skin was a sinister shade of red, like coals smoldering in a dying fire. Long, vicious claws extended from its gnarled hands, and atop its head, two menacing horns curved skyward. But it was the creature's eyes that struck the deepest chord of terror in Edgar's heart; they were an unnatural, glowing white, devoid of soul or mercy.

This leviathan of a demon was not only terrifying in appearance but also formidable in its armament. Slung across its broad, muscular back was a massive axe, its blades double-edged and gleaming with a sinister light, as if thirsting for battle. Edgar, dwarfed by the demon's overwhelming size, felt a surge of primal fear yet also a strange sense of challenge. In the bizarre logic of dreams, Edgar knew this entity was more than a mere figment of his imagination.

"Edgar Argyle! I advise you to stay away from the Death Bringers. You are not their match," the demon said with a piercing voice that scattered the clouds.

"Who are you?"

"For now, I am your ally, as we share a common goal: the destruction of the Lord. I am known as the Fire Demon."

"The Fire Demon? But don't you serve the Lord?" Edgar asked, puzzled.

"He believes that I do. My power makes his dissipate into thin air. I am forced to play my part, pretending to be his pawn."

"This isn't a regular dream, is it?"

"No, this is an astral projection. I have drawn your consciousness to the same plane as mine, so we can talk undisturbed."

Edgar thought of the immense power this demon must possess to be able to astrally project his consciousness. He couldn't understand, however, why the Fire Demon wanted the Lord of Demons dead. The Fire Demon explained that the Lord wore a medallion created by Adunoss himself, intended to control the three most powerful demons. How the Lord came into possession of this medallion was unknown, but it was clear the demons were not pleased by this.

"So, you want me to destroy this medallion. Why should I do that?"

"Let's say, if you do this, you will receive powers others can only dream of, powers that will help you defeat Lockdar."

"Power? I never wanted power, demon. All I wanted was a peaceful life. Instead, I find myself trapped in a millennia-old war, merely because I am a descendant of two great wizards. Moreover, being an heir, I already have more power than I could ever want," Edgar said mockingly.

"Fool! You disgust me," the demon spat. "Your heir powers won't keep you safe forever."

After saying his piece, the demon disappeared, leaving Edgar alone above the clouds. A new enemy was added to the young knight's list. He couldn't believe how good he was at making enemies.

Early the next morning, Edgar rose from bed before everyone else and went outside to wait for the others. The first to wake was Anadin, who was surprised to find that he was not the earliest riser.

Anadin immediately gave Edgar his first task: to take the sheep to graze. He explained that about five kilometers to the west lay a meadow where the sheep usually grazed. At noon, one of the farmhands would replace Edgar, so he wouldn't have to stay there all day.

Edgar set off with about fifty sheep towards the meadow. It took him nearly two hours to get there, so he lay back in the green grass, resting.

Watching the sheep for three hours, Edgar grew hungry and opened the packet he had received from Anadin. He had barely finished eating when his replacement arrived, informing him that Anadin had another task for him.

Edgar returned to the farm more quickly this time, not having to herd sheep or be cautious of their well-being. Approaching Anadin's house, he noticed two men threatening the farmer with swords.

"Come on! We agreed on fifty, that was the deal," Anadin argued, frustrated.

"Yeah, but we changed our minds. Now we want double," the men demanded.

"Is there a problem?" Edgar intervened, his tone threatening.

"There will be if you don't mind your own business," they responded more menacingly.

"Don't get involved, Damyen! This isn't your concern," Anadin said. "I'll give you your money, even though this wasn't our agreement..."

Just as Anadin was about to pay, Edgar stopped him. He recognized the two bandits. He had encountered them about four years ago when they were raiding a small village near the Royal Mountains.

The bandits didn't recognize him, but they remembered the beating they got from Edgar and Captain of Lockdar's guards. Irritated that Anadin was prevented from paying them, they turned their swords toward Edgar.

Not tolerating defiance or challenge, their faces turned pale when Edgar drew his sword with the Phoenix inscription.

"Edgar Argyle? You wretch, I've longed for a face-to-face rematch!"

"Unfortunately for you, you've found me again," Edgar smirked.

The fight erupted instantly. The bandits attacked Edgar relentlessly, but he skillfully defended himself. With a powerful sword strike, he broke one bandit's sword in two. Another strike threw the other bandit to the ground, slightly wounding him. The injured man began to scream in fear of dying young.

With a remarkable blow, Edgar severed the leg of the remaining bandit and knocked him out with the hilt of his sword.

These bandits had been extorting Anadin every two months, threatening to burn down his farm if they didn't receive fifty gold coins. This time, their greed led them to demand double.

"Thank you, Damyen... or Edgar. Whatever your name is, I am forever indebted to you. You have no idea how long I've been paying these bandits to leave me and my people alone."

"Edgar Argyle is my name. I had to use a false name because I have many enemies, and due to them, I must hide. As for those two, I don't think they will bother you ever again, and you owe me nothing," Edgar said to Anadin.

"Here, take this," Anadin said, tossing a black leather bag to Edgar. "There are a hundred gold coins in there. That's what you need to enter the tournament, right?"

"Anadin... I can't accept this."

"But you can! If it weren't for you, those coins would now be theirs."

"Thank you, Anadin!"

Edgar bid farewell to Anadin, mounted Lightning, and sped away, leaving the farm and the village of Hallgrin behind. Unsure of his destination, he knew that revealing his location would endanger everyone. Finally, he decided to hide in the Slumbering Forest until the tournament began.

Three hours later, he arrived at Turalon's old campsite in the forest, now deserted since Turalon and his men were in the Kingdom of the Sun. Unable to find food, Edgar found two fishing rods and headed to the lake at the forest's edge. After two hours of fishing, he caught several fish, which he eagerly grilled and ate.

Nightfall gently descended over the Slumbering Forest. Edgar had just finished eating and was preparing for sleep. Exhaustion quickly overtook him, and fortunately, no demons invaded his dreams that night.

The next day, Edgar woke up late. The cheerful singing of birds in the tree branches finally roused him. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see Turalon, Tenzim, Alleria, and Darr around him. He couldn't believe they had found him. They were overjoyed to see Edgar safe and in much better condition than when they last saw him.

The four began to tell him about Lockdar's reaction to the news of Edgar's escape and how they tricked the king into believing Edgar had escaped without anyone's help. Furious, Lockdar had put a bounty of five hundred gold coins on Edgar's head.

"Guess what?" Tenzim asked. "We're going to enter the Ten Knights Tournament in the Kingdom of Tuzmad."

"We represent the Kingdom of the Sun, and Ludrol can't do anything since we're under King Lockdar's protection," added Darr.

"I have two pieces of bad news for you," Edgar said. "You won't be Lockdar's protégés for long, as I plan to kill him. Moreover, what do you think your chances are against the Death Bringers? Yes, they will also participate in the tournament."

Edgar recounted his encounter with the Breath of Death and the dream featuring the Fire Demon. Hearing about the Death Bringers, they shuddered, and their desire to participate in the tournament vanished instantly, except for Darr. He still insisted he wasn't easily frightened and if Edgar could survive them, he surely could too.

"Don't be stubborn, Darr!" Edgar exclaimed, annoyed. "My survival against them is different; it's not just about combat experience... I can say that I'm different, perhaps a bit luckier, I might add."

"I am just like you, Edgar," Darr retorted. "Stop evading the topic! I too am an heir."

"What?" Edgar asked, surprised by Darr's knowledge.

"How do you think we found you? We heirs possess a kind of sixth sense that helps us locate others like us. A sense you're unaware of, because you haven't yet tapped into your true powers."

"Do as you wish," Edgar conceded. "All that's left is for me to find a way to participate as well."

Valleria, Turalon, and Tenzim remained resolute in their decision. They had no intention of dealing with the Death Bringers, not by a long shot. They tried in vain to dissuade Darr and Edgar from participating in the tournament against these formidable foes.

What Darr didn't know was that Edgar was a descendant of both Xal'Nagus and Xal'Adunoss. This meant that Edgar potentially possessed far greater strength than anyone, including himself, could have anticipated.