As the last flickers of magical light faded from the Soul Bonding Ceremony, a hush fell over the crowd. The air still shimmered with energy, as if the magic itself hadn't quite settled.
A tall figure in royal navy robes stepped forward onto the grand stage, their voice magnified by magic for all to hear — not just those in the stadium, but across the entire kingdom.
"People of Pentharra," the voice rang out, firm and proud, "today, you have witnessed history. But six months from now... you will witness greatness."
The silence cracked with whispers of curiosity. Then, the announcer continued, letting the words land like thunder.
"In six months, the Initiate Elite League will begin!"
A ripple of excitement surged through the crowd.
"Eight adventurers," the announcer said, "the highest-ranked among all who passed the Adventurer's License Exam, will step into the spotlight. One versus one. Quarterfinals. Semifinals. And then... the final match to crown a champion."
The crowd erupted.
Cheers thundered through the sky. Flags waved. Fireworks, triggered by reacting enchantments, burst into the air like blossoms of flame and color.
"They will have six months to train. To bond with their new weapons. To master the magic that chose them. And when the League begins, they will show us why they were the top eight of their generation!"
Already, excited voices began to shout out names. "Kayden!" "Miya!" "Ren!"
Fans waved signs painted with glowing ink:
Crimson Bolt!
Frostlight Queen!
Gravity King!
Small groups formed in the stands, already claiming allegiance. Spectators eagerly speculated on matchups — who would face who, who might win, and what kinds of powers would clash.
But it wasn't just the central guild region that had risen stars.
Across the other four major guild territories, five more prodigies had completed their Soul Bonding Ceremonies. Each had received a rare, powerful weapon. Each had awakened an extraordinary magic affinity. Their names had already started to spread like wildfire through whispers, scrying mirrors, and magical broadcasts.
This year's Elite League was already being called the most thrilling in decades — a contest not just of strength, but of style, spirit, and destiny.
One champion would rise.
But first, eight legends had to be born.
With the Soul Bonding Ceremony concluded and the cheers from the Elite League announcement still echoing across the capital, the moment every initiate had trained years for had finally arrived.
Each young adventurer, including Kayden, Miya, and Ren, was officially handed their Adventurer's License—a small, rune-etched metal plate infused with tracking and verification enchantments. It marked them as licensed initiates of the kingdom, adventurers ready to carve their names into legend. The final step was to choose a guild.
That decision, however, would not be easy.
All five major guilds had extended offers to the top-performing initiates. Each guild had its own legacy, culture, and fighting philosophy—each one rooted in the traditions of the ancient tribes that once ruled the land before the forging of the unified kingdom.
Highvale, once known as the Tribe of Khar'Zuun, was a land of emerald highlands and towering peaks. Its guild, the Verdant Fang, was fierce and untamed—much like the beasts they were known to command. Led by Orrik Thornmane, the Beast Tamer, this guild prided itself on its mastery of terrain and beast companions. With 3,500 members and ranked 5th, they operated from The Ironroot Crucible, a magical forge nestled in the roots of a living mountain. Their warriors thrived in pack tactics, known for relentless pursuit and savage coordination. For those drawn to nature's wild power, to fighting beside bonded beasts and storming the front lines, Verdant Fang was home.
To the south lay Ashvalen, formerly the Tribe of Vulkarim, a harsh realm of volcanic cliffs and scorched deserts. Here stood the Sunflare Covenant, forged in fire and hardened by war. Under the command of Braxen Volkhardt, the Living Pyre, their 3,650 members were siege specialists. With the Embercore Crucible at their heart, they excelled in attrition combat and tactical demolitions. Their philosophy was simple: outlast, outburn, and outfight. Ranked 4th, the guild's reputation as the kingdom's hammer was well earned—ideal for initiates who wanted to master power through pressure and blaze their path through raw force.
To the north was Nytheria, a frost-covered realm where ice never melted and silence ruled. Once the domain of the Tribe of Skjarnathi, it was now home to the Winterbrand Pact, the top-ranked guild in the kingdom. Under the quiet yet commanding presence of Yando Icevein, the White Requiem, this guild was known for its calculated discipline and battlefield control. Operating from the Shiverglass Crucible, with a tight force of 2,400 members, they were masters of glacial patience and precise execution. For those who sought strength through order and endurance, Winterbrand was an unshakable foundation.
In the heartlands stood Stonecradle, the ancient seat of the Tribe of Durek-Thal, now home to the Ironstride Bastion. Commanded by the stalwart Duran Feldrak, the Unbreaking, this guild was the embodiment of resilience. With 4,100 members, they were the third-ranked guild and had forged a name as the unyielding shield of the kingdom. At the Earthheart Crucible, warriors trained in heavy armor combat, spear walls, and siege defense. Ironstride was ideal for those who valued order, loyalty, and the endurance to hold their ground when all else fell.
Last but far from least was Greenhollow, a verdant region of dense forests and misty hills, once inhabited by the Tribe of Sylvannar. Their guild, the Verdant Shade, moved like shadows through the woods, striking before they were ever seen. Under the guidance of Liora Thorneleaf, the Wildspeaker, the second-ranked guild boasted 2,850 members trained in stealth, ambush, and precision tactics. From their base at the Lifespring Crucible, they served as the kingdom's eyes and knives—masters of reconnaissance and forest warfare. For those who valued subtlety, speed, and surgical strikes, Verdant Shade whispered promises of greatness.
As Kayden and the others stood amid a sea of cheers, offers in hand, the weight of their next decision settled in.
Choosing a guild wasn't just about power or rank—it was about purpose. About who they wanted to become.
And with the Elite League only six months away, the next chapter of their journey had already begun.
Kayden and Miya were on their way home, with Kayden following Miya home before he went home himself.
As Miya stepped up to the gate of her modest home, the lanterns inside flickered softly, casting warm shadows through the windows. Before she could reach the door, she turned as Kayden spoke behind her, voice hesitant but sincere.
"Well… this is your stop, Miya. But before you go, I just want to let you know…" he scratched the back of his head, "I'm proud of you. And for a long time, I've admired you. You always stand up for me… and you're always there when I need a hand. Thanks."
His voice dropped near the end, trailing into a shy smile.
Miya blinked, then giggled softly, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. "I hope to always be there for you. If not, you'll probably end up making all the wrong decisions," she teased. "So it's best if I stay close."
They both chuckled, the air between them calm and full of silent understanding. With a final look and a quiet "goodnight," they parted ways—for now.
Miya opened the door to find her grandmother, Ilma, already waiting by the hearth with a steaming kettle of berry-spiced tea. The small home smelled of sweetbread and herbs. Her little brother, Pellen, darted forward with a wooden sword in hand, eyes wide with excitement.
"You did it! You're an adventurer now, right?" he asked, bouncing in place.
"I am," Miya said, kneeling to hug him.
Ilma beamed from her chair, her face glowing with pride. "Your sister would be proud too, child," she said gently.
The family sat together that evening, a warm stew bubbling on the stove as Ilma served slices of fresh loaf and spiced root vegetables. They ate, laughed, and celebrated Miya's new title as a licensed adventurer. Her license plate sat on the table in front of them, catching the candlelight.
Pellen insisted on sparring after dinner, swinging his toy sword and demanding to "test the future Royal Mage Captain." Miya obliged, laughing softly, flicking harmless snowflakes at him using her new soul bond staff, which shimmered faintly with frost.
In that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, Miya's dreams didn't feel so far away.
Back at the Duskveil estate, Ren's homecoming was met with cheers from the house servants and an enthusiastic handshake from his brother, Zentral Duskveil, the famed Magisterial.
"Well done, little brother," Zentral said, clasping Ren's shoulder firmly. "Initiate license, soul-bonded weapon, and a spot in the Elite League. Looks like you're finally stepping into your own shadow."
Ren gave a confident smirk. "Just wait. Soon I'll be stepping past it."
Their father, Lord Odahin Duskveil, sat at the long stone dining table in the great hall. Though rarely expressive, he offered Ren a nod of approval. "A Duskveil leads by strength and excellence. You've taken the first step."
The evening feast was anything but modest. Roasted pheasant, honey-glazed roots, spiced wine, and golden rolls were laid out in abundance. Ren sat at the head beside his brother, bragging to his younger cousins about his gravity-bound greatsword and how it crushed a training dummy into the floor.
Laughter echoed, and while he basked in the celebration, a part of Ren looked quietly toward Zentral. Someday, he would surpass even him. And he would make the Duskveil name more than just feared—it would be legendary.
At the edge of the village, Kayden stepped through the door of his home to the smell of roasted chicken and garlic rice. His mother, Elizia, looked up from the kitchen and gasped with joy.
"Kayden! You're home!" she rushed forward, pulling him into a tight hug.
His father, Elan, set down his work hammer and gave a hearty clap to Kayden's back. "About time you earned that license, son. Now you're officially one of the crazy ones chasing monsters for a living."
Kayden laughed. "Thanks, Dad. I'll try not to get eaten."
The dinner table was full that night—his little sister Liana, chattered nonstop, asking if he could show them his soul bond weapon. He gently placed it on the table, and their eyes sparkled in awe.
As they ate, Elan raised a mug. "To Kayden, adventurer of the realm. May your blade or should I say gauntlet stay sharp, your mind sharper, and your armor… well, hopefully you remember to wear it."
The family burst into laughter. The rest of the night was filled with stories, teasing, and food until everyone was full and content.
Later, as the house quieted and the hearth dimmed to glowing coals, Kayden stepped outside for some air. He looked up at the stars—so many of them, scattered like dreams waiting to be caught.
Tomorrow, the journey would continue.
But tonight… tonight he was just Kayden, surrounded by family and love, and finally—finally—standing on the edge of destiny.