The Grand Awakener Tournament had not yet begun officially.
But already, the arena felt like a battlefield.
Every camp — every academy, guild, royal house, hidden sect — moved cautiously.
Rumors spread faster than wildfire.
Stories whispered through merchant stalls and under training tents:
"The cracked-crown Sovereigns have come."
"They carry no banners of kings, yet the kings themselves flinch."
"Their leader… he does not kneel to gods nor crowns."
And in the shadowed corners of the Tournament grounds,
plans were already being made.
Dark plans.
Because in every era,
power fears what it cannot control.
The Hidden Gathering
Beneath the grand pavilions, in a hall sealed by runic wards,
representatives of the oldest forces met.
Noble scions of fallen empires.
Guildmasters cloaked in blood-forged silks.
Legacy descendants from Dragonkin and Elf Sovereign Clans.
They did not meet often.
But today, they agreed on one thing:
Kaelen Drayce could not be allowed to rise.
An elder from the Broken Crown Guild spoke first, his voice dry and venomous:
"He walks without title, without history… yet the Nexus bends to him.
He threatens everything."
A Dragonkin emissary — golden scales faint beneath her robes — hissed softly:
"His bloodline should not exist."
An old, robed scholar from the First Crown Academy clenched his hands behind his back.
"We thought we buried the Primordial Sovereigns.
We were wrong."
The Plot
"Strike early," the elder rasped.
"Before he shows the world what he truly is."
"An accident during the early matches," another whispered.
"A collapse. A duel gone wrong."
"It must look natural," warned the Dragonkin emissary.
"Or the lesser nations will rally behind him."
They all agreed.
Kaelen Drayce must fall
before the world knew what was rising.
Before the heavens could remember the bloodline they once feared.
Meanwhile, in the Heartland Camp
Kaelen sat cross-legged within the main Sovereign Pavilion —
a grand structure crafted from Sovereign-weave cloth and Nexus-wood pillars.
His companions and family surrounded him —
Mira sharpening her blades silently.
Riven meditating, flames swirling faintly around his fists.
Selina humming quietly, healing energies pulsing around the camp.
Eren practicing slow, devastating strikes.
Lyanna reading ancient texts by faint spirit-light.
They prepared not with noise.
But with Will.
Kaelen's Reflection
Kaelen opened his eyes slowly.
He felt it.
The shifting of the world.
The cold hunger gathering in the shadows.
The fear.
The envy.
The hatred.
Good.
Let them come.
They would learn that Heartland was not a flicker to be extinguished.
It was a storm.
It was Sovereignty reborn.
And those who reached for it with bloody hands would find only ruin.
Aria's Turmoil
Elsewhere, within the First Crown Academy camp,
Aria sat alone atop a small stone ridge.
She gripped her sword tightly.
Since feeling Kaelen's presence,
since meeting his gaze across the tournament grounds,
her heart had not known peace.
"Why now?" she thought bitterly.
"After all this time… after everything."
Seren approached quietly, cold and composed.
"You're distracted," Seren said bluntly.
"Dangerous."
Aria didn't argue.
"He's here," she said instead.
Seren said nothing.
But the way her hand drifted to her blade told Aria she understood.
"Will you face him?" Seren asked.
Aria closed her eyes.
Remembered a boy who once dreamed of building a kingdom with nothing but faith and broken steel.
And opened her eyes again,
silverfire burning inside them.
"I'll face him," she said.
"On my feet.
With my blade.
As an equal."
Seren nodded once.
"Then may the world witness."
The Calm Before the War
The sun dipped low.
The drums of the Tournament began to beat — slow, steady, summoning all participants to the Grand Arena.
The first matches would be drawn soon.
Official battles would begin at dawn.
Kaelen stood, Sovereignblade Astryn slung across his back, his cloak rippling against the gathering wind.
His companions gathered at his side.
Their expressions steady.
Their spirits unshakable.
This was not just a tournament.
This was the first battlefield.
The first step.
And the Sovereigns had come to claim it.