Vincent Lionsheart was born for victory.

His parents had even gone so far as to choose him a name they felt closest to the very word. They did both start with a V and ran for exactly 7 letters. But his parents had done everything in their power to ensure the similarities didn’t end there.

They found him the greatest tutors. Ensured he created the most powerful runes possible to a family of their status — which really was saying quite a lot. Vincent’s life was one that could have been considered a very straightforward one. It could have been generally summarized with a single concept.

Vincent won.

It would have been somewhat hard not to. He had absolutely no trouble admitting that everything had been practically handed to him on a silver platter. Vincent had not slacked off during his lessons, nor had his tutors allowed him to cut corners.

The Lionshearts were a family of warriors. They had no need for lazy children who would do nothing but live off the name that their forefathers had carved with blood and tears. With power came responsibility — and Vincent had known that ever since he had first picked up a blade.

He had been crafted. Every single lesson, every single moment of his life, had been specifically created and curated to ensure that there would be no doubt whatsoever about his character and purpose. The Lionsheart family did not have any losers amongst its number, and he was the culmination of their efforts.

And for the past twenty-six years of his life, Vincent had lived up to the demands placed upon him. He had fought. He had grown stronger than even his own family had thought possible. And he had won. Repeatedly.

Sure, Vincent Lionsheart had lost battles. He had been defeated in sparring matches and been repeatedly pushed down and made painfully aware of his weakness.

But he would rise once more. He would train. Grow stronger.

And then he would try again.

And then he would win.

Perhaps not on the first try. Perhaps not even on the second. But he would, inevitably and invariably, win.

He had never once lost a battle and left it at that. That was simply who he was. He had a purpose. One far too great to allow for even the concept of failure against anything less. Every single aspect in his life had all led up to one single task.

Vincent Lionsheart existed to win the Tournament of Heaven’s Path.

He existed to put the name of the Lionshearts higher than it had ever been. To become the apprentice of the most powerful mage in the kingdom and reach heights never before seen, eventually surpassing even his soon-to-be master.

Vincent Lionsheart would accept nothing less of his life than becoming a god.

That was what his family demanded of him. That was what they had paid for with their blood and sweat and tears. Every single scrap of their hopes and dreams were behind him. And with a burden like that, he couldn’t stop winning now.

Even the universe itself seemed to acknowledge that fact.

When he had finally been called down to fight in the first round, he had been greeted with music.

The song had been haunting. Powerful. It set his hair on end and made his heart thump in his chest like an exited teen about to proposition to his first love. The melody filled him with such determination and excitement that he could barely even contain himself and wait for the timer far overhead to hit zero.

It was an ode — and though Vincent had no delusions that it was meant as an ode to him, he chose to take it as such. And such things had to be appreciated properly. As all the other mages formed into groups and prepared to fight, uneasily looking up to the numbers in the air overhead, Vincent simply listened.

The music seemed to fade in and out. At times, he thought it was gone entirely.

There were minutes when it came to a complete halt. Then it would resume, as if whoever were playing it had suddenly remembered that their work was not yet done.

It was enthralling.

He was almost disappointed when the timer overhead hit zero.

But Vincent had a duty.

The very instant Baun’s announcement rang through the air, Vincent was moving.

The flash and roar of magic rose up all around him as the entire arena descended into chaos in an instant. He paid it no mind. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Vincent could still hear the beautiful melody as it sliced through even the thunderous crash of colliding spells.

He darted past all the grouped mages. None of them were likely to be worth his time. Instead, his gaze locked on the nearest of the other lone mages — a young woman with tanned skin and long, black hair. Her sharp features marked her origin to likely be from the outskirts of the Empire.

Vincent blurred toward her. Sparks danced across the ground in his wake as his slender sword raised. He slammed to a halt several feet away, his weapon raised and pointed for her throat. She spun, but a moment too late. Vincent was quite certain he could have run her through in the time it had taken her to register his presence.

But that would no victory taken easily could be considered a victory at all.

“You stand alone,” Vincent said. “As do I. Shall we?”

“What, group?” The woman asked. She seemed distracted. As if her attention were elsewhere.

Vincent almost laughed. “No. Fight. I am not here to hide behind another.”

The woman’s gaze focused on him. Then she lowered her stance. “Sure. Politer than I thought. Didn’t think people would go around asking me if they were going to fight before they attacked. Why not?”

She drove a foot into the ground. A ring of spiked earth erupted around her with a loud crack.

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Vincent vaulted backward, narrowly keeping a jagged growth from impaling his chest. He ducked into a roll as a spinning disk of wind materialized mid-air behind him. A crackle of electricity raced across his limbs. He braced his feet against it and launched himself forward with a delighted laugh.

His body blurred as he accelerated. The woman spun to the side, her hair whipping all around her. She narrowly dodged out of the way in time. Vincent crashed down on the spot where she’d been standing, sending fragments of stone hurtling in every direction. Rivers of coursing magic arced down his body and into the ground.

He spun, his rapier darting out to bite the woman, but she knocked his arm aside with her hand as she spun, sending a vicious kick hurtling straight for his head. Vincent dodged under it, then thrust his free hand forward. A torrent of electric energy erupted out with a crackling hiss.

She leapt back, landing on the edge of the ring of spikes she’d summoned moments earlier before launching herself backward to create space.

Vincent didn’t let her. His body blurred, giving chase as electric power raced through his limbs.

The two of them danced through the arena. Pillars of glowing energy crashed down to swallow up the fallen mages all around them. They exchanged blow after blow, each seeking an opening in the other’s defenses and failing to find it.

“Who trained you?” Vincent called, sparks flying up from his sword as it shrieked against a stone spike. “You do not fight in a style I have seen before!”

The woman grabbed the spike launched herself forward, sending a kick crashing down for Vincent’s skull. He spun out of the way and her heel slammed into the ground with enough force to crack it.

“My father,” she replied, her hands raised before her as she followed his motion with wary eyes. “Far-sed. And you?”

“I have never heard of him. Perhaps I should have,” Vincent replied. “And I was trained by many. I am Vincent Lionsheart.”

Vincent accelerated. He appeared before the woman, driving his sword up for her chest. Something blurred toward him in the corner of his eye. He reacted instantly, summoning a howling disk of wind at his side an instant before a heavy stone slammed through it.

But the disk bought him just enough time to drop, letting the deadly rock hurtle overhead. Vincent rolled to the side as the woman drove a foot down on the ground where he’d been a moment before, then shot back to his feet.

“I am Seleth,” the woman replied.

Then she brought her hands down. A platform of earth jerked up beneath Vincent, launching him into the air. His eyes widened momentarily as she sent a sharp spike of stone hurtling up for him. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

He drew on his magic and pushed off the air, throwing himself back to the ground and hitting it in a roll of sparks. The music was playing again. It was closer, this time, coming from just off to their side. But the proximity wasn’t the only change.

Vincent’s eyes widened slightly. He was slowing. It was as if his body was being forced to listen.

He rose from his roll, but the attack he’d been planning never manifested. He simply stopped a foot away from Seleth and snuck a glance in the direction of the song.

Beyond a small group of battling mages, a masked man stood. He was clad in robes of black inlaid with gossamer silver webs. A beautiful string instrument rested against his chin, the source of the haunting melody flooding through the battlefield with increased intensity. Confusion mixed with awe in Vincent’s mind.

I didn’t notice him there at all. Where did he come from? It doesn’t look like he moved, but I definitely would have noticed someone like that.

The pause was only an instant long. It nearly got Vincent killed. He narrowly jerked his head out of the way of one of Seleth’s attacks. It seemed like she was distracted as well — but she hadn’t seen the masked man. He was behind her. His music alone had been enough to distract them both.

And that pause was enough for the tides to shift.

Something blurred through the air. Not Vincent, but a streak of black, headed right for the side of Seleth’s head. It had come from a mage in one of the groups surrounding them.

Seleth didn’t know. She was still focused on sending an attack his way. It was the music. Something about it demanded so much attention that Vincent knew for a fact that he himself wouldn’t have seen the attack coming if it had been his head that it was directed toward.

He lunged forward.

A stone spike sliced past his shoulder, carving a thin line into his flesh as it managed to scraped past his outstretched arm. Seleth twisted out of the way of his hand, but he hadn’t been aiming for her in the first place. A disk of twisting air formed at his hands, crackling with angry yellow electricity.

The bolt slammed into his magic and shattered into spinning fragments of shadowy energy.

Vincent drew on his magic, bracing himself. His move had left him badly open to a counterattack from Seleth, who was only inches away from him.

But no blow came. His foot hit the ground and he spun back toward Seleth. She stood exactly where she’d been a moment before, only a foot away from him. A confused look warped her features.

“Did you just… block an attack for me?”

“It was interfering in our fight,” Vincent replied in disgust. “I despise melee battles. No sense of decorum whatsoever. A victory won off the back of another’s shoulders is no victory at all.”

The corners of Seleth’s mouth twitched. “Ridiculous. But I suppose I should say thank you. I… uh, do we keep fighting?”

“Of course,” Vincent said. He grinned and held a closed fist out. “Have you fenced before?”

“A fist touch?” Seleth blinked. Then she laughed and reached out to bump her fist against his to resume their fight. But, before her hand could reach his, her eyes went wide.“Behind you!”

Vincent spun — only to find a short man an inch away from them, crackles of Spatial Magic still spinning off his body. A savage grin had already played across the man’s features, and a long blade of black energy in his hands was already carving toward both him and Seleth.

He drew on his magic to form a protective shield of storm energy. But it was too late. The blade was moving too fast, and it was already too close to him. He’d been having too much fun and had let his guard down. Vincent’s teeth gritted.

Then there was a wet thunk.

The world went silent.

Vincent stiffened. But there was no pain.

The blade in the man’s hand sputtered out. His eyes went wide as saucers, lips parting in disbelief. Then a thin red line cut across his shoulder.

His hand dropped, hitting the ground with a wet thud. A scream tore out of the man’s lips and he spun, only for his other arm to drop away from his body and land to join the first. The man slipped on his own blood, falling on his ass and staring up in horror.

It struck Vincent in that a moment wasn’t silence at all.

The music had just stopped again.

Standing before them all was the masked man. He held the bow of his instrument in his hand in a loose, easy grip that betrayed the droplet of blood rolling down its thread. A droplet of sweat rolled down the back of Vincent’s neck.

An oppressive aura rolled out from the masked man, so thick that it threatened to choke him on the spot.

He… saved me?

The masked man looked down at the fallen mage.

“I surrender!” The mage screamed, his senses returning to him.

A pillar of light crashed down and swallowed him whole. Then he was gone, and Vincent stood face-to face with the musician.

I didn’t even see him move. Did he even move? How is he here?

The oppressive aura beat against his mind like an army laying siege to his thoughts. There was something wrong with the man before him. Something deeply wrong.

“Seleth,” Vincent said uneasily. “I have changed my mind. Would you like to team up? Just momentarily, of course.”

Seleth didn’t respond. Her gaze was locked on the man, horror crossing her features.

“No point,” Seleth whispered. Her eyes were locked on the man in disbelief. “We’re dead.”

“Seleth, was it?” the man said. His voice sounded distant and ancient behind his mask, as if he were some ancient specter rather than a mere man. Something about his clothes must have been changing his voice. “I didn’t realize you were here. How fortunate. You’ll do.”

Then he vanished.

Blood thumped in Vincent’s head. He spun, searching for the man or his music, but there was no sign of either. There wasn’t even any sign of his passing. The man had just… vanished.

His eyes flicked back to Seleth. Her features were pale.

“You know him?” Vincent asked. His heart was pounding in his chest. Any thoughts of resuming his fight with her were gone. “Was that your ally?”

“No,” Seleth said, still staring at the space where the masked man had been. “I don’t think he’s anyone’s ally.”

“Then why did he save us?” Vincent asked. “And what did he mean by You’ll do?”

Seleth shook her head. Then she swallowed.

“I don’t know.”