Heroes of Etheron

In the heart of the Kingdom of Mirdia, nestled within the fortified walls of the royal castle, silence reigned like a patient king.

Inside a spacious chamber decorated with crystalline chandeliers, polished white marble floors, and walls draped in velvet banners, a man with silver hair sat alone, sipping tea.

His long legs crossed neatly, his elegant black-and-gold suit shimmering with the light of morning sun that poured in through tall stained-glass windows. His gaze was calm but piercing, and his green eyes glinted with something cold—calculated, dangerous.

On his wrist, a status bracelet glowed faintly. The number on it: 65. He made no attempt to hide it.

This was Vanhil Mirdia, the second prince of the kingdom. A hero among heroes.

A knock broke the stillness.

"You're early," Vanhil said without looking up.

The doors opened and Valtheas entered, tall and imposing, his long blonde hair slightly wet from the ride through the early mist. His dark cape fluttered before settling behind him as he approached.

"I thought you'd appreciate the news in person," Valtheas said as he bowed slightly. "May I?"

Vanhil gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit. Have tea."

A servant quickly stepped in and poured fresh jasmine tea into Valtheas's cup. The two men sat, quiet for a moment.

"So," Vanhil finally asked, "what of Theodor?"

Valtheas took a measured sip. "The entire royal family is gone. Killed by a group of rogue heroes. Their capital is in chaos."

Vanhil's lips curled upward—not quite a smile, more like satisfaction. "Good."

He set his cup down. "Without leadership, Theodor will fall into the hands of generals. They'll fight among themselves, and we'll have time to rebuild and prepare."

Valtheas nodded. "What will you do next?"

"Stretch my legs," Vanhil said as he stood and adjusted his sleeves. "Care to join me? I feel like hunting something dangerous."

Valtheas rose without hesitation. "Of course."

Without another word, they strode through the hall, two of the most powerful beings in the realm, walking side by side as the servants and guards instinctively bowed out of their way.

---

Meanwhile, far from the gleaming halls of royalty, in the quiet town of Veilden, Arriel and Lira stood in the sunny garden courtyard of Townlord Hashiel's estate.

Their current mission: mentor a seven-year-old hero.

"Alright, Ismel," Lira said, holding a small leather-bound book in one hand and a chalkboard in the other. "What does it mean if someone is level 2?"

Ismel, a short boy with bright brown eyes and messy hair, raised a hand eagerly. "It means I'm twice as strong, fast, and healthy than a normal person!"

"Correct!" Lira smiled and scribbled another question. "And level 3?"

"Three times stronger than normal!"

"Good. But what does that mean for your responsibility?"

Ismel blinked. "Umm… I have to be careful not to hurt people?"

Lira nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Power means restraint. Heroes don't use strength to show off."

Ismel puffed up proudly, eager to impress. "Yes, ma'am!"

Nearby, Arriel was setting up a row of wooden poles with soft padding for practice. "Okay, come here, Ismel," he called. "Let's go over your stance."

Ismel ran over and gripped the practice sword Arriel handed him. Arriel corrected his grip gently, shifting his hands, adjusting his feet.

"You've got good reflexes," Arriel said. "We'll work on balance today."

He stepped behind the boy, guiding him through a basic forward strike. Lira watched quietly, amused by how serious Arriel looked during instruction.

After a few rounds of drills, Ismel was panting but smiling.

Hashiel, watching from the shaded porch, clapped. "You two are amazing with him. If only the royal court were as patient."

Arriel smiled sheepishly. "We're doing our best."

Hashiel handed them a pouch. "Your payment for the week."

---

Later that day, Arriel and Lira strolled through Veilden's market, the golden light of afternoon casting soft shadows between the stalls.

Lira examined a table of apples while Arriel haggled over a cut of meat. Their bags slowly filled with groceries, their pace relaxed.

"I still can't believe that little guy has Hero potential," Arriel said.

"He's a sponge," Lira replied. "He soaks up everything."

"Think we were like that at his age?"

"I was more reserved. You probably would've run face-first into a monster."

Arriel laughed. "Fair."

Back at home, they unloaded their things. The simple routine—the normalcy—was a welcome calm.

As evening settled in, Arriel stood by the window, glancing out at the sky.

Far away, in the royal palace, the gears of power turned. But for now, in their corner of Etheron, the world was peaceful.

Tomorrow might bring new quests. Or danger.

But for tonight, they rested.

Together.