The God of War Calen Storm

The Duel Begin

Evan sneered, stepping closer to Calen until they were nearly nose to nose. “Afraid? Why would I be afraid of a pathetic worm like you? You dare to challenge me? Fine. I’ll crush you under my boot like the insignificant insect you are!”

The room erupted into laughter and jeers, the nobles and courtiers treating the challenge as a source of great amusement. The idea of Calen—Aerondale’s greatest disappointment—facing Evan, its most promising warrior, was nothing short of absurd to them.

Even King Ryan chuckled, his voice booming over the crowd. “This will indeed be an entertaining spectacle. Very well, Calen. I will allow this duel. Let us see what shred of honor, if any, you have left.” He paused, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “But let’s make this interesting. If, by some miracle, you win, not only will you avoid exile, but I will reinstate your honor. You will take your place in the military as a captain—or even a general!”

The hall exploded in laughter, the nobles doubling over at the idea of Calen holding such a prestigious title.

“Can you imagine?” one of them said between gasps. “The weakling Calen Storm giving orders in the military? He’ll probably trip over his own sword!”

“Don’t worry,” Evan called out, his grin broad and menacing. “He won’t make it that far. I’ll end this farce before it begins.”

Calen stood firm amidst the laughter and mockery, his resolve unshaken. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, the once-familiar warmth of power coursing through him again.

“You’ll regret underestimating me, Evan,” Calen said, his voice low but steady. “I’ll prove to all of you that I am more than the man you think I am.”

Evan barked a laugh. “Bold words for a man who can barely stand. Fine, Calen. Let’s see if you have the courage to back them up. Meet me at the training grounds at dawn. And prepare to face your end.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as the crowd began to disperse, already treating the duel as a foregone conclusion. Calen, however, remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on Evan, who smirked smugly before walking away. Tomorrow, he would prove them all wrong.

The next morning, the training grounds were packed with spectators. Nobles, soldiers, and commoners alike had gathered, eager to witness what they believed would be a one-sided spectacle. Cries of “Evan! Evan!” echoed across the field as the towering warrior raised his massive sword high above his head, basking in the adoration of the crowd.

“You’ll all have a show to remember!” Evan declared, his booming voice drawing even louder cheers. He turned in a slow circle, his confidence radiating as if the duel were already won.

When Calen stepped into the arena, the cheers turned to mocking laughter and sarcastic applause. Dressed in his bloodstained, rain-soaked clothes from the day before, Calen looked like he was already defeated. His slight frame and unremarkable presence stood in stark contrast to Evan’s broad-shouldered, armored figure.

“Look! It’s the court jester!” one spectator shouted, drawing laughter from the crowd.

“He doesn’t even have proper armor!” another jeered. “This will be over before it starts!”

Calen ignored the taunts, his gaze fixed on Evan. His hand rested on the hilt of his family’s sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the morning sunlight. Beneath the surface of his calm demeanor, he could feel the energy coursing through him, stronger than ever.

Evan smirked, pointing his massive blade at Calen. “You’ve got guts for showing up, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you.”

The king, seated on an elevated platform overlooking the arena, raised his hand to silence the crowd. His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Let the duel begin! Show us your strength, Evan—and you, Calen… well I don’t have a word for you...” He finished with a laughter.

A hush fell over the crowd as Evan strode forward, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. “Come on, Calen. Make your move. Or are you too scared to swing that toothpick you call a sword?”

Calen unsheathed his blade in a fluid motion, its edge glinting with a strange light. The crowd murmured, noting something unusual about Calen.

“So you can pull out your sword now, huh? Let’s see what you can do!”

Evan lunged, his massive blade arcing toward Calen with devastating speed and power. The crowd gasped, expecting Calen to crumble under the first blow.

But Calen moved.

In a blur, he sidestepped the attack, his body lighter and more agile than anyone could have anticipated. Evan’s sword crashed into the ground, leaving a deep gash in the earth. Before Evan could recover, Calen was behind him, his blade poised and ready.

The crowd fell silent, their laughter replaced with astonished murmurs.

Evan turned, his expression shifting from smug confidence to confusion and anger. “What the—?”

Calen’s voice was steady, almost cold. “I told you not to underestimate me.”

The duel had only just begun, but the tide was already shifting.