Chapter 17: The Hero's Defiance
Three days before the final trial, a decree echoed through Caedros:
"No champion shall leave the Upper Ward. Until the Final Trial, all are to remain within palace bounds. By order of the King."
Most obeyed.
Andrew didn't.
It started with a scream.
Not in the city—but beneath it. A mining tunnel had collapsed in the Underway, trapping dozens of workers beneath rock and unstable mana veins. The Crown refused to act—calling it "too risky" and "outside jurisdiction."
So Andrew went alone.
He said nothing.
Told no one.
Just vanished into the shadows.
He arrived in moments.
The tunnel was cracked and bleeding blue light. Raw mana poured like steam from broken stones, warping reality in bursts.
Inside, voices cried out. Children. Parents. Elders.
He didn't wait.
Ashren burned with dark light, but Andrew's heart burned brighter.
He moved faster than the collapsing stones, his shadow forming bridges and braces, his sword carving safe paths through quaking earth. One by one, he pulled them out—shielded them from shrapnel, calmed them when the walls began to scream from mana distortion.
He bled. But he didn't stop.
By the time the Crown Guard arrived, he had already saved thirty-two people.
And was still dragging another on his back.
They tried to stop him.
He walked past them.
That night, the Council summoned him. The King himself waited on the throne.
"You disobeyed a royal decree," the King said. "You endangered yourself. You endangered the tournament."
Andrew met his gaze, eyes steady.
"I saved them."
"That's not your role."
Andrew's hand went to Ashren's hilt—but not in threat.
"I don't care what role you gave me. I care who I choose to be."
The throne room went silent.
The King rose slowly, studying him.
"You're not the Endblade."
Andrew turned away.
"No. I'm Andrew. And I won't be your weapon."
He expected punishment.
But none came.
Not yet.
Instead, as he walked out of the hall, dozens of servants, guards, and even some nobles looked at him not with fear—
—but with respect.
And that night, as he stood atop the training tower, Kaelira joined him.
"You know you might've just made an enemy of the crown," she said.
Andrew didn't flinch.
"If being a hero means breaking the rules… then I'll break every damn one."
In the shadows below, Lysara smiled faintly.
And far, far away—in temples of ancient stone—the gods began to stir.
Not to destroy him.
But to test him.
Because the world doesn't fear heroes.
It needs them.