Colby’s flame blade blazed hotter, his stance firm. He stepped forward before his brothers could answer, his voice sharp as steel.

  “You mistake us, Raiku. We are not weapons. We are not hounds. We are princes of this kingdom—and we will never join you.”

  He raised his sword, fire spilling off the blade like molten light. “Come then. Test your storm against ours.”

  The crowd gasped as the four brothers charged.

  Raiku tore his axe from the earth, sparks bursting outward in a thunderclap. The moment their weapons met, lightning exploded across the square, blinding the crowd.

  Atlas darted in first, Stormtalons flashing. He struck with blinding speed, but Raiku’s axe met him every time, the general’s movements precise, calculated. The clash of steel and lightning rang like thunder.

  Colby followed, his flame blade arcing through the air, each strike forcing Raiku to shift, sparks hissing against fire. For a moment, the square became a storm of fire and lightning, neither giving ground.

  Marco surged water from the fountain, striking at Raiku’s legs, but the lightning met it midstream, vaporizing it in a blast of steam. Marco stumbled, coughing, unable to push through the raw force.

  Jax’s knives flew in quick succession, each aimed for Raiku’s joints and gaps—but lightning wrapped the general like armor, deflecting the blades. With a roar, Raiku lashed out, his axe carving a streak of lightning across the cobblestones. The blast knocked Jax from his feet, sending his last knife spinning from his hand.

  The difference was clear. The brothers had spirit, raw talent, elements in their blood. But Raiku was a veteran—hardened by wars, sharpened by decades of battle, and master of lightning itself.

  Colby and Atlas pressed on, sweat pouring down their faces as they forced Raiku back step by step, their combined fire and wind striking like a storm’s heart. Still, even together, they could barely keep pace.

  Marco tried to recover, pulling what water he could from scattered barrels and puddles, but every attempt fizzled under Raiku’s electric surges. His arms ached, his will faltered.

  Jax staggered to his knees, chest heaving, knives gone. He looked up just as Raiku’s shadow fell over him, the general’s axe raised high. Lightning sparked down the weapon, blue arcs dancing along its edge.

  The blow came down—

  The crackling axe fell toward Jax—when a deafening clang split the square. Sparks exploded as steel met steel, the lightning blast thrown back in a shower of fire.

  Standing over Jax, greatsword locked against Raiku’s axe, was King Gerald himself. His blade was massive, its edge gleaming with years of battle, and his eyes burned with fury.

  “Enough!” Gerald’s roar echoed through the streets, silencing soldier and civilian alike. With a mighty shove, he forced Raiku back, planting his sword into the cobblestones to steady himself.

  Behind him, Sir Rowan appeared, blades drawn, rallying the city guard as they poured into the square to push back the enemy’s advance.

  Gerald pulled Jax to his feet, his tone sharp but protective. “Stand with your brothers. This fight is mine.”

  From the rear of the invading host, another figure emerged. Draped in regal armor of black and crimson, a crown etched with jagged edges on his brow, came King David of the rival kingdom of Eldermoor. His presence was cold, calculating, a shadow opposite Gerald’s blazing strength.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The two kings locked eyes across the chaos. Gerald’s voice thundered, every word dipped in fury.

  “You send an army into my streets, to slaughter my sons? You send your hound to challenge my blood?” He pointed his greatsword at David, its tip glowing faintly from the fire running along its edge. “You will answer for this.”

  King David smirked, hands clasped behind his back. “I only act to protect my realm. Your sons are not boys—they are weapons of prophecy. Would you have me wait until they burn the world before I act? No, Gerald. I will strike while the storm is young.”

  Raiku stepped forward, lightning crawling along his armor, axe humming with power. His eyes never left Gerald’s. “My king need not dirty his hands. I am enough.”

  The square trembled with silence, broken only by the hiss of sparks and the low growl of fire from Gerald’s blade. The crowd of soldiers stepped back, forming a wide ring. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

  Gerald’s voice was a low growl, heavy with anger. “Raiku. You dared to raise a blade against my sons. You dare bring your lightning into my home.”

  He raised his greatsword, the flame inside it burning brighter with each breath. “Then you will face me, one on one. No army. No crown. Just man against man.”

  Raiku grinned, baring his teeth. “The storm accepts.”

  The soldiers stepped back, forming a circle around Gerald and Raiku. The air itself seemed to shiver—lightning crackled in arcs around Raiku’s axe while faint heat rippled from Gerald’s greatsword.

  The brothers stood together at the edge of the ring, battered and breathless. Colby’s flame blade sputtered as he struggled to hold it, Atlas’s grin had faded into a clenched jaw, Marco leaned heavily against a fountain, and Jax nursed bruises with quiet defiance. All four stared at their father, hearts pounding.

  King David’s voice cut through the silence, cold and smug. “Watch closely, princes. This is what kings are forced to do—throw themselves into the storm to protect what they love. But your father is not young anymore. He bleeds like any man.” He spread his arms, his smirk widening. “When Raiku crushes him, you will see the truth. Your kingdom is weak. And you… you will have no shield left.”

  Colby growled, fire flickering in his eyes. “He won’t fall. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

  David’s smirk did not waver. “We shall see.”

  Rowan stepped closer to the brothers, his weathered face grim. “You need to understand something before this begins. Your father…” He paused, eyes locked on Gerald’s stance. “He does not wield flame as you do, Colby. He has no elemental spirit.”

  The brothers blinked, shocked.

  “What?” Marco whispered. “Then how—?”

  Rowan’s voice dropped low, grave. “He carries something rarer. Something few men in history have ever awakened. It’s called King’s Will. A power only in the blood of royalty. It does not command fire or storm—it commands the body itself. Strength, speed, endurance, senses… every part of him burns brighter than any natural man. That is why he could unite this kingdom. Why no warrior alive has ever broken him.”

  Atlas’s fists clenched, his heart pounding with pride and fear. “Then he can beat Raiku.”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. But there is a cost. King’s Will takes more from a man than any spirit. It devours years, burns his life like a candle. And your father…” His voice grew heavy. “He is older now. If he pushes too far, he may not make it out alive.”

  The brothers froze, the weight of Rowan’s words crushing them as the duel’s first sparks crackled in the air.

  The square erupted in a roar as Gerald and Raiku launched forward at the same time.

  Gerald’s greatsword cleaved through the air like a falling star, its weight and power driving the cobblestones beneath him to crack. Raiku’s axe, wreathed in snapping lightning, swung to meet it. When steel collided, the shockwave shattered windows and sent both armies staggering back.

  CLANG!

  Sparks and embers flew in every direction. Gerald gritted his teeth, muscles straining, veins bulging as the King’s Will surged through him. Every strike he made was thunder in itself, forcing Raiku backward step by step. For all his youth and strength, Raiku felt the weight of a man who had borne a kingdom on his shoulders for decades.

  The crowd erupted, guards cheering, the brothers watching with awe as their father matched the general blow for blow.

  But Raiku was no fool.

  Where Gerald relied on raw power, Raiku calculated. Each swing of his axe carried a spark of lightning meant not just to clash, but to probe. He shifted his stance, letting Gerald press forward, all the while studying the rhythm of the greatsword, waiting for the perfect opening.

  Their blades clashed again—Gerald drove Raiku down, his sword pressing the axe dangerously close to his enemy’s chest. For a moment, it seemed the king might overwhelm him outright.

  Then, Raiku’s lips curled into a grin.

  Lightning surged—not along his axe, but across his armor, crawling into his arms, snapping outward like a serpent. In an instant, the current leapt from the axe into Gerald’s blade, coursing up the hilt. The king grunted, his body jolted by the force, muscles seizing for the briefest instant.

  It was all Raiku needed.