The Devourer's Dominion

The sun crept over Erindale, its golden light slipping through the cracks in the wooden shutters of Aetheron's small room. Outside, the town was already alive—merchants setting up their stalls, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the distant clang of blacksmiths hammering steel. But inside, the air was still.

Aetheron sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror. His dark hair was a mess, his face shadowed from another sleepless night. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. Today was the day. The Crimson Tournament sign-ups had begun, drawing warriors from all across the land.

He didn't care about winning. Not like the others did.

For him, the tournament wasn't about fame or glory. It was survival.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Before he could answer, it swung open.

Aria.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her usual smirk in place. "You look like hell."

Aetheron sighed. "Good morning to you too."

She stepped inside, her boots clicking against the wooden floor. Her dark cloak billowed slightly as she moved—she never stayed in one place for too long. A fighter, a wanderer, someone always on the move. And yet, somehow, she was still here.

"Well?" she asked, tilting her head. "You signing up or not?"

Aetheron looked away. "Do I even have a choice?"

Aria raised an eyebrow. "Everyone has a choice, Aetheron. Yours just happens to be a little... limited."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a scroll, tossing it onto the table. The parchment was crisp, sealed with the red insignia of the Crimson Arena.

Aetheron picked it up, turning it over in his hands. "You stole this, didn't you?"

Aria grinned. "Borrowed. Without intention of returning."

He shook his head but couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips.

Aria sat on the edge of the desk, her expression turning serious. "Look, I know you don't care about all the tournament hype. But this isn't just some contest. It's a battlefield. People will be watching. The wrong people."

Aetheron's fingers tightened around the scroll. He knew what she meant. His ability—the thing he had spent his whole life hiding—wasn't something he could just use freely. If the wrong person saw it, if they figured out what he was…

He exhaled through his nose. "I know."

Aria studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright then. Just don't get yourself killed."

With that, she pushed off the desk and strode toward the door.

"Aria," he called after her.

She paused.

"...Thanks."

She smiled—just a little—before disappearing into the streets.

Aetheron sat there for a moment, rolling the scroll between his fingers. Outside, the town buzzed with energy—excitement, tension.

This tournament was going to change everything.

He sighed, standing up and tossing the scroll onto the table.

"Guess it's time."

Throwing his cloak over his shoulders, he stepped out into the streets of Erindale.

The registration hall was packed. Warriors of all kinds filled the space—some wrapped in armor, others brimming with raw magical energy. The air was thick with tension, the weight of unspoken challenges hanging in the air.

Aetheron moved through the crowd, his presence going mostly unnoticed. That was good. He needed to keep it that way.

At the front desk, a bored-looking clerk sat behind a thick wooden counter, scribbling names onto parchment. He barely glanced up as Aetheron stepped forward.

"Name?"

"Aetheron."

The clerk's quill scratched against the paper. Then he looked up, finally taking a proper look at him. His lips curled slightly. "No noble crest. No guild emblem. A commoner, huh?" He smirked. "You do realize most competitors come from the strongest houses?"

Aetheron didn't answer.

The clerk shrugged, dipping the quill again. "Alright. Preliminaries for you. Prove yourself there, and you might survive long enough to face the real contenders."

He stamped an emblem onto a slip of parchment and pushed it across the counter. "Crimson Arena. First match is tomorrow."

Aetheron took the slip without another word, turning back into the sea of warriors.

Aria was waiting at the training grounds beyond the city walls. The faint clash of steel echoed in the distance as fighters tested their skills.

"You're in?" she asked.

Aetheron held up the emblem. "Preliminaries."

She nodded. "Good. But it won't be easy. You saw the kind of people entering, right? Some of them aren't just strong—they're monsters."

Aetheron's expression didn't change. "Then I'll have to survive."

Aria exhaled. "You need a strategy. Your Devourer ability—"

"—is hidden," Aetheron cut in. "No one can know. Not yet."

She folded her arms. "And when will you reveal it?"

Aetheron stared at the distant arena. "When I have no other choice."

Aria shook her head. "Just be careful. There are abilities here no normal human should be able to steal. And if the wrong people see what you can do..." She trailed off.

Aetheron knew what she meant.

If they found out what he was, they wouldn't just try to kill him.

They'd try to control him.

But that was a problem for later. Right now, he had a tournament to survive.

And something told him this was only the beginning.