CHAPTER 137: AT FESTIVAL OF TRIALS.

Kael held the small beggar child tightly in his arms, feeling the boy’s small frame tremble against his chest.

Without looking back, he sprinted through the winding alleys, his feet pounding against the cobblestones.

Behind him, the shouts of Erianlia’s guards echoed, but their footsteps were slower, heavier.

Kael’s breath came in sharp bursts, but his legs carried him swiftly and surely, weaving through narrow passages only someone who knew the city well could navigate.

"Where do you live?" Kael asked between gasps, glancing down at the boy’s wide, frightened eyes.

The child with his low voice "Down the lane. Past the market. Near the old well." he pointed.

Kael nodded, turning sharply as the boy pointed the way.

The streets grew narrower, the shadows deeper.

Kael’s heart pounded—not just from the running, but from the responsibility pressing down on him. He wasn’t just running for himself now; he was running to protect this small life.

The boy’s footsteps—light and quick—helped guide him through the maze of alleys. Every so often, Kael glanced behind.

The guards were still chasing, and the distance between them kept increasing. The narrowness of the lanes and Kael’s knowledge of hidden paths gave him the advantage.

Finally, they reached a small cluster of rundown houses. The boy’s eyes brightened despite the fear still lingering in them.

"From here there is a small houses made of words, it will directly lead to my home", the boy says.

The child looked back once, hesitation flickering in his eyes before disappearing into the shadowed doorway.

Kael took a deep breath, steadying himself. The danger wasn’t over—Erianlia’s men were still out there—but for now, he had done what mattered most.

With one last glance toward the crowded house and disappeared.

Elysia’s Ascent

Her home was alive with excitement as the Festival of Trials drew near, an event where practitioners from all backgrounds tested their strength, skill, and resolve in the grand arena.

This year, the festival held special significance — it marked a pivotal moment for Elysia, the heiress of the prestigious Vandelis family, a name whispered with awe and respect across the entire region.

Her father, Vandelis, had personally arrived at the Arcadia area weeks earlier with a sealed invitation to the festival, an honor few families received.

Elysia’s father approached her quietly in their family’s dining hall. In his hand, he held a delicate envelope, unlike any ordinary letter.

The parchment was thick and rare, shimmering faintly under the candlelight, sealed with their family crest in shining gold.

He presented it to her with a rare, proud smile—an expression Elysia seldom saw from the usually stern man.

"This is your moment," he said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of generations. "Your family legacy demands it."

Elysia’s heart beat faster as she carefully took the invitation. It wasn’t just a piece of paper; it was a symbol of honor, power, and responsibility. She felt a surge of pride mixed with fierce determination.

The invitation was embossed with the official insignia of the Council of Clans and the Celestial Royals—the ancient ruling body that governed all the noble families and upheld the sacred traditions of their world.

She traced her fingers over the elegant calligraphy, reading the words aloud softly:

"By the will of the Council of Clans and the Celestial Royal, the Festival of Trials is hereby extended to the Vandeliš lineage. The bearer of this invitation shall compete for honor, power, and recognition among the most esteemed heroes."

Alongside her name, only a few others from the highest echelons of society were listed.

Noticeably missing were the names of Cecelia’s family and the Haldens—both respected and powerful families who had chosen to participate in these festivals for reasons nobody dared speak aloud.

Some said it was political tension; others believed the timing was unwise. But Elysia paid no mind to the gossip from their maids.

She barely cared about the politics or who was invited or excluded.

All she knew was that this festival was her chance—her chance to become stronger.

"These festivals will happen in two days," she said, voice steady with conviction. "At the Arena of the Council of Clans, in North Moon City."

Her eyes flashed. "I will go—no matter what the cost. I have to grow stronger."

Beneath that fierce resolve, a cold fire burned. Elysia hated the Celestial Royals with every fiber of her being.

She had seen how all the rich families, no matter how proud or powerful, had to lick the Royals’ boots like low servants, begging for scraps of favor.

"They create problems just for their own amusement," she muttered bitterly to herself one evening, her fists clenched. "And they ride humans like horses—treating laborers as nothing more than beasts of burden."

Her hatred was personal, rooted in years of watching the Celestial Royals trample dignity and justice beneath their golden shoes.

But now, armed with the invitation, Elysia vowed she would no longer be a pawn in their cruel game.

The Festival of Trials was not just a contest—it was a battlefield where she would fight to break free from the chains the Royals had wrapped around her family and every noble house like a suffocating curse.

But first she has to defeat Kael.

On the day of Gathering.

The Council of Clans in North Moon City was alive with a mix of splendor and tension.

Noble and rich families had gathered in the grand courtyard, twenty-five participants are there to compete in the Festival of Trials.

Lanterns hung in brilliant arrays, casting warm, flickering light across the polished marble floors.

Banners emblazoned with family emblems fluttered in the gentle morning breeze, creating a sea of color and prestige.

Elysia walked into the center of it all with a calm, commanding presence. She wore her family’s ceremonial attire—a sleek crimson robe embroidered with silver dragons, each stitch a symbol of power and wisdom passed down through generations.

Her father stood beside her, his posture perfect, his presence radiating authority. He spoke softly as they approached the judges’ platform.

"Remember, Elysia," he said, his deep voice low but firm, "this is not just a test of skill. This is a stage for our family’s legacy. Carry it well."

Elysia nodded, her chest lifting with pride. "I will, Father. I won’t disappoint you—or the Vandeliš name."

From the sidelines, her eyes swept over the gathering of other powerful families.

Representatives wore garments just as splendid, jewels and embroidery reflecting the morning sun.

Some gave nods and curt smiles as she passed, evaluating her as both competitor and rival.