Once, in a certain land, there lived a man known as the Hero. A master of weapons of every kind, he charged into battlefield after battlefield, turning many hopeless battles to his land’s favor with his unyielding strength. He stood tall and proud till his final days, and thus did he inspire the people’s awe as they lauded him as their Hero.
Once, in a neighboring land, there lived a woman known as the Sage. She refined the art of magecraft into a new form called magic, overturning disadvantageous battles as she promulgated her skills across the nation. Her magical arts brought the land to new heights, and thus did she inspire the people’s admiration as they lauded her as their Sage.
Two geniuses with two sets of strengths were born in two different lands. Their relationship, however, could be aptly demonstrated with but one simple interaction:
“Hey. I had a feeling you’d show up.”
In the middle of the battlefield, Hero Raid Freeden hefted a broadsword far larger than his own stature over his shoulder. Normally, one would never stop to heed the enemy’s words, but the girl floating in the air quietly responded to him.
“Yeah. Since I heard you’d be here too.”
Her voice was but a wisp, yet it somehow carried clearly through the air and to his ears. The girl was perched comfortably atop her staff, her immaculate silver hair fluttering leisurely behind her. Then, when she trailed her eyes over the chaos that Raid had created all around him, her lips twisted into a scowl.
“Stop breaking stuff,” she whined.
“Huh? Well, what do you want me to do? If we let you secure your supply route, then our base over here’s good as gone, and you’ll all be free to waltz right past.”
“Yep. That’s the plan. So...” She trailed off, then mumbled, “I can’t just leave you be.” In the blink of an eye, countless sigils formed in the air around her—a manifestation of magic, the new art that Sage Eluria Caldwin had created herself. “I brought a big one today.”
“Sounds great. Maybe we’ll finally settle this during our hundred-somethingth battle?”
“Today will be...our 629th.”
“Already? Thanks for always keeping count.”
“Only because you always forget...” Eluria grumbled, frowning.
“What do you expect? I’m dumb, unlike you.” Raid shrugged as he pointed the tip of his broadsword toward the floating girl. “But,” he continued, “I can’t be looking too lame in front of those calling me their Hero.”
In the face of Raid’s wide and toothy grin, Eluria just silently nodded. “Yeah. As the Sage, I can’t lose either.”
The magic circles glowed brighter, and Raid pulled his broadsword back as he stood ready for battle. For three days and three nights, the two fought. They spared not a single second for rest yet showed no signs of slowing. Far from it, in fact—their movements only grew sharper as time passed, almost as if they were enjoying every moment of it.
However, as a true testament to their evenly matched strength, their clash here would meet no conclusion. It was only when the tides of battle shifted not for them, but for their respective armies, that their own bout came to an end with them swearing to settle things next time before rushing to the aid of their allies. Then, they would meet once more on the next battlefield, where sword and magic would collide yet again.
Such was the routine of the world’s strongest, the Hero and the Sage, each and every battle. For Raid, there was only one word that could describe their relationship:
Rivals.
The one and only person in the world he could fight with all his might and with the greatest joy from the bottom of his heart—that was what the Sage, Eluria Caldwin, meant to him.
However, that relationship could not last forever. Someday, they would settle once and for all which of them was truly the strongest. Death came equally to all, and even this enjoyable rivalry was bound to meet its own kind of end.
For these two, that end would come knocking on their doorsteps fifty years after their first meeting.
“The Sage is dead?” The wrinkles on Raid’s face deepened as he heard the soldier’s report. “Are you absolutely sure about that, Ryatt?”
“Y-Yes, sir...! This information was sent via an urgent report from the spy we sent into Vegalta, so we suspect it to be highly reliable!”
Raid scoffed, ruffling his bed of pure white hair. “Seriously? I always thought I’d kick the bucket first.”
Eluria Caldwin was not a human; she was an elf, a race that had a lifespan of several hundreds of years. Raid had every right to assume that he, with his human aging and stiffening joints, would eventually bring a natural end to their years-long rivalry with his loss and subsequent death. The end that actually stood before them left a terrible taste in his mouth.
“A-And with this news, you have been issued a decree from above, Your Excellency Freeden.”
“What? Are they done with a geezer like me now that the Sage is dead?”
“N-No...” The soldier’s expression twisted bitterly for a moment. “Our nation of Altane has ordered you...to take advantage of the chaos left by the Sage’s death, lead our entire army into Vegalta, and bring an end to this long-standing war.”
The order left Raid at a loss for words. The stifling silence was only torn when his anger turned palpable in the air. “Are you seriously saying that?” he growled.
The soldier flinched, freezing up in fear, but swiftly fixed his posture. “Your Excellency,” he began, his features heavy and burdened. “As your accompanying standard-bearer, I am keenly aware of the hopes that you and the Sage carry within your hearts each time you cross swords. That you fought to ensure the weak and powerless would not be senselessly caught in the cross fire, too, is something that any who have set foot upon the battlefield know well.”
Both nations saw unprecedentedly minuscule losses in troops throughout the war, something that should have been unthinkable with combatants as powerful as the Hero and the Sage wielding their power in the forefront. Raid, however, fought one-on-one with Eluria at every chance with precisely that goal in mind—one that Eluria herself likely shared.
Thus was born their routine of facing off at every battle, carrying upon themselves the lives of those behind them...and the hope that their warring nations would someday set their weapons down and look toward a peaceful future together. However, their wish never reached those in power. At the very least, the upper echelons of Raid’s homeland of Altane showed not a single morsel of sympathy.
“That is why I am exceedingly vexed!” the soldier continued, tears welling up in his eyes. “The esteemed Sage, who sought peace alongside you, has perished! I...cannot bring myself to use her death for war when I am still beside myself with grief!”
The wrinkles on Raid’s face deepened once more, this time from the upward curl of his lips. “You sure know just what to say to make this old man happy.”
The soldier must have spoken from the bottom of his heart, and it was safe to say that anyone who saw the Hero and the Sage’s battles up close would share those sentiments as well.
With that in mind, Raid slowly got to his feet. “I’ll need to pass those words on to her,” he said as he unequipped his armor, removed his gauntlets and gaiters, and tossed it all aside.
The soldier watched on pensively. “Your Excellency, what are you doing?”
“Hm? Just going for a little walk. All this equipment isn’t doing my poor ol’ back any favors.”
Raid’s gaze fell upon the broadsword leaning against the wall—his irreplaceable partner throughout all these years of fighting against the Sage. Then, he took it in his hands and stabbed it into the ground.
“I can’t go visiting my friend all dressed for war, now can I?”