After a restless night at the inn, I woke to the first rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I got up slowly, my muscles aching slightly from the previous day.

Opening the door to my room, I shuffled toward the shared washroom, hoping to find some hot water to freshen up. After everything that happened yesterday, a relaxing bath felt long overdue.

Fortunately, luck was on my side. I managed to find a basin with water still warm enough to soothe my tension. As I washed, I let my mind wander, contemplating my next steps in Valoria.

Once I was clean and feeling more energized, I returned to my room to dress. Slipping into my mage attire brought back a sense of confidence, as though my robes provided an extra layer of protection against whatever lay ahead.

Downstairs in the bustling main hall of the inn, I claimed a corner table and ordered a hearty breakfast. The inn was coming alive with the chatter of other travelers, mostly merchants and artisans judging by their clothes and demeanor. None of them seemed threatening, which was reassuring.

As I ate, my thoughts drifted. Elder Eleazar had warned me about the dangers of this city, so staying here too long didn’t seem wise. My goal was still to reach the eastern part of the kingdom as soon as possible.

Yet, something about Valoria intrigued me—the king’s oppressive rule, the brutal execution I witnessed yesterday. This city was shrouded in secrets begging to be uncovered.

Perhaps, if I tread carefully, I could learn more about the situation here. Who knows? Maybe I could even help these people break free from their tyrant king.

With renewed determination, I finished my meal and stepped out into the busy streets of Valoria. Wandering aimlessly, I took in the sights—the colorful shops, the stone buildings, the throng of citizens going about their lives.

Suddenly, a commotion ahead caught my attention. A crowd had gathered around an impressive royal procession.

At the center of the entourage stood a man dressed in regal splendor, a red cape flowing over his shoulders and a crown gleaming on his head. There was no doubt—this was King Gaspar himself.

Holding my breath, I slipped into the crowd, careful not to draw attention. The king was preparing to make an announcement.

“People of Valoria!” he bellowed, his voice commanding and resonant. “Hear me, for I bring important news!”

The crowd fell silent, every eye fixed on the monarch. After a brief pause, he continued, his tone solemn:

“Tomorrow, within the walls of my palace, a grand tournament will take place! Men and women from across the kingdom, regardless of their station, are invited to compete!”

Whispers of surprise rippled through the crowd, and I frowned, intrigued. A tournament organized by the king? That was unexpected.

“This tournament will test your skills in combat, strategy, and endurance!” Gaspar declared dramatically. “The victor shall claim a prize of unimaginable value—a treasure worthy of a champion!”

He paused again, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd. “So, what are you waiting for? Come to the palace courtyard tomorrow to register!”

With that, he turned, his retinue falling into step behind him as they moved away. The crowd erupted into excited murmurs, speculating about the upcoming event.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As for me, I remained rooted in place, deep in thought. Why would a king notorious for oppressing his people suddenly host a tournament? Was this an olive branch or a trap?

Before I could ponder further, a soldier in armor approached me, his expression sharp with suspicion.

“You there! Did you hear the king’s announcement?” he barked.

I stiffened slightly, forcing myself to remain calm. “Yes, I heard it. And I can’t help but wonder what’s motivating His Majesty to organize such an event.”

The soldier let out a derisive chuckle. “Hah! The king’s likely trying to curry favor with the people. But don’t be fooled—there’s always something shady behind his schemes.”

He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “So, are you planning to participate?”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much I should reveal. Trusting the king’s guards felt unwise, but entering the tournament could offer a way into the palace—and a chance to learn more about this tyrant.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m considering it,” I said firmly.

The soldier’s eyes flashed with suspicion, but he only nodded in return. “Fine. Do as you will, mage. But remember, the king is always watching. One misstep, and…”

He made a slicing gesture across his throat before walking away, his heavy boots echoing on the cobblestones.

A shiver ran down my spine. That wasn’t exactly reassuring. I’d have to be extra careful if I wanted to compete in this tournament.

Still, my curiosity outweighed my fear. If this was a chance to uncover King Gaspar’s secrets, I couldn’t let it pass.

As I considered my next steps, a group of mercenaries caught my eye. They were speaking heatedly with one of the royal guards near the platform where the king had stood.

“…stolen, you say?” the guard growled, irritation evident in his tone.

One of the mercenaries, a grizzled man with a weathered face, nodded gravely. “Yes, that’s right. The Sword of the Dark Lord of Valoria was taken from our reserves last night.”

A jolt of panic shot through me. The Sword of the Dark Lord of Valoria? Could they mean the weapon I’d acquired at the Black Market?

“Impossible!” the guard exclaimed, visibly shocked. “That sword belongs to King Gaspar himself! Who would dare steal it?”

The mercenary spread his hands helplessly. “We don’t know. But the king must be informed immediately. This is an insult that cannot go unanswered!”

The guard nodded grimly. “Understood. I’ll relay the message to His Majesty. Rest assured, he’ll deal with this swiftly.”

As he strode away, the mercenaries exchanged worried glances.

Meanwhile, my mind was racing. So the sword I had was a royal relic, and King Gaspar wanted it back. If anyone discovered I had it, I’d be in serious trouble.

Taking a steadying breath, I forced myself to think clearly. My best chance was to act quickly and discreetly. Perhaps entering the tournament could provide an opportunity to slip into the palace and return the sword without drawing suspicion.

Resolving to see this plan through, I secured the sword carefully in my bag, making sure it was completely hidden. There was no way I could let it fall into the wrong hands.

As I crossed the square, a strange sensation washed over me—a prickling at the edge of my senses. Frowning, I instinctively reached for the sword at my side.

It felt as though… something dark and menacing was nearby.

Scanning my surroundings, my eyes landed on King Gaspar, still surrounded by his entourage. And then I felt it clearly—an aura of sulfur and corruption radiating from him.

My breath caught. No. This couldn’t be… Could it?

The king’s aura was unmistakably demonic.

Gripping my sword tightly, I clenched my jaw. This explained so much—his cruelty, his iron grip on the city. If he was possessed by a demon, then his tyranny was just a symptom of something far more sinister.

In that moment, my decision solidified. I had to enter the tournament, infiltrate the palace, and stop King Gaspar—whatever the cost.

Raising my head high, I walked toward the registration platform with purpose. This was no longer just about curiosity. This was about protecting the kingdom from the clutches of a demon.