Episode 1 - Auron, The Entertainer
A brilliant blue sky.
Birds circle lazily above an enormous city.
The camera glides over towers, markets, bridges and magical lights before finally settling on a colossal stadium.
A structure so large it resembles a mountain carved by human hands.
The roar of tens of thousands of spectators shakes the air.
CROWD (roaring):
"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The camera dives through the stadium entrance.
Past cheering fans.
Past waving banners.
Past betting booths.
Past food vendors.
Into the arena itself.
A massive circular battlefield.
Cracked stone.
Burn marks.
Scorch marks.
Evidence of hundreds of battles.
Two figures stand opposite one another.
A young, male mage.
Wild crimson hair.
Open vest.
Fingerless gloves.
A grin that borders on insanity.
TITLE CARD:
ISKARION BLAZEHEART
'The Crimson Inferno'
The crowd erupts.
Across from him stands a far older man.
A flamboyant cape.
Decorated coat.
Feathered hat.
A silver cane.
His eyes hidden beneath the brim.
Completely relaxed.
TITLE CARD:
ISAAC BOUDELAIRE
'The Grand Maestro'
The crowd somehow cheers even louder.
JUDGE:
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
"The final round continues!"
"Can the challenger finally defeat the undefeated champion?!"
"Or will the Grand Maestro claim victory once again?!"
The crowd chants.
CROWD:
ISAAC!
ISAAC!
ISAAC!
ISAAC!
The young, wild mage sneers.
ISKARION:
"I’m getting sick of hearing your name!"
"The young mage slams a fist into his palm."
Flames explode around him.
WHOOOOOM!
TITLE CARD:
'FIRE MAGIC'
The arena temperature immediately rises.
Spectators shield their faces from the heat.
ISKARION:
"Let’s see them cheer when you’re flat on your ass!"
Isaac smiles.
Still hidden beneath his hat.
ISAAC:
"A wonderful opening line."
"Did you reharese that a lot in front of the mirror?"
The crowd laughs.
ISKARION:
"Quit talking!"
He vanishes.
BOOM!
The stone beneath his feet explodes.
A crater forms instantly.
He launches forward, fire enveloping his feet.
Making him shoot forward with explosive speed.
Like a cannonball.
Like a lunatic.
Flames spiral around his arm.
ISKARION:
"CRATER PUNCH!!!"
His fist collides with the arena floor.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!*
An explosion of fire erupts upward.
Stone shatters.
The arena floor caves inward.
The audience rises from their seats.
The attack is devastating.
The smoke clears.
Isaac is gone.
Gasps echo through the stadium.
Then...
A shadow passes overhead.
The camera tilts upward.
Isaac is twirling through the air.
His cape spinning around him like a dancer’s skirt.
The crowd explodes.
CROWD:
"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!"
ISAAC:
"Elegance..."
"Never underestimate the importance of elegance."
He lands lightly.
Barely disturbing a grain of dust.
ISKARION:
"Elegant?!"
"You call running away elegant?!"
ISAAC:
"Of course."
"The audience certainly enjoyed it."
The crowd cheers again.
ISKARION:
"You’re impossible!"
Isaac finally lifts his head.
For the first time.
His eyes are visible.
Sharp.
Focused.
Confident.
The eyes of a man who has stood on this stage a thousand times.
ISAAC:
"You’ll never defeat me."
ISKARION:
"Oh yeah?!"
"And why’s that?!"
Isaac raises one finger.
ISAAC:
"First."
"The power to control the crowd!"
He spins dramatically.
His cape billows.
The movement appears completely theatrical.
Meaningless.
Pointless.
Showmanship.
The audience cheers.
ISKARION:
"Pffft."
"Who cares about the crowd?!"
"I'm here to win!"
Isaac grins.
ISAAC:
"Exactly."
"That’s why you’ll lose."
He raises a second finger.
ISAAC:
"And secondly..."
"Timing..."
The crowd falls strangely silent.
Isaac’s smile widens.
ISAAC:
"Timing is everything."
ISKARION:
"What are yo..."
Then he freezes.
A shadow covers the battlefield.
The crowd collectively looks upward.
The camera slowly pans toward the sky.
Something enormous is falling.
Something impossible.
Something ridiculous.
An elephant.
A gigantic carnival elephant.
Decorated with banners.
Streamers.
Golden paint.
A smiling face.
It tumbles toward the arena from hundreds of meters above.
TITLE CARD:
'CREATION MAGIC'
ISAAC:
"COLOSSAL CARNIVAL!"
The audience loses its mind.
CROWD:
"WHAT?!"
"NO WAY!!"
"HE DIDN’T!!"
"HE DID!!"
ISKARION:
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"
The elephant descends.
Faster.
Faster.
The shadow over the arena growing bigger.
ISKARION:
"Fine!"
"FINE!"
"Let’s do this!"
Flames explode from both hands.
*WHOOOOOOOM!*
Massive pillars of fire lance skyward.
The elephant begins burning.
Chunks disappear.
Magic energy evaporates.
The beast continues falling.
ISKARION:
"COME ON!!"
"COME ON!!"
The flames intensify.
His veins bulge.
Sweat pours down his face.
The audience is standing.
Every single person.
Screaming.
Cheering.
The elephant is now only meters above him.
Five meters.
Three.
One.
ISKARION
"RAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The flames finally consume the summon.
The elephant disintegrates.
The entire arena disappears beneath smoke.
Silence.
A heartbeat passes.
Then another.
The dust begins to clear.
ISKARION (panting):
"Ha..."
"Ha..."
"Got it..."
Then his eyes widen.
Standing within the smoke.
Perfectly calm.
Perfectly composed.
Isaac.
Surrounded by dozens of glowing magic circles.
Layer upon layer.
A spell that has clearly taken time to prepare.
The audience realizes it at the same moment.
Collective gasp.
ISAAC:
"I warned you..."
"Timing."
ISKARION:
"Oh..."
"No..."
Isaac removes his hat.
Places it over his heart.
And bows.
ISAAC:
"Creation Magic."
'ASTREA STELLARIS'
DOZENS OF MAGIC SEALS ignite simultaneously.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
Everything turns white.
Columns of radiant light descend from the heavens.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
The entire battlefield erupts.
Shockwaves hammer the arena.
The audience shields their eyes.
The stadium shakes.
The light continues.
And continues.
And continues.
Until finally...
Silence.
Smoke drifts across the battlefield.
The Judge leaps onto his platform.
JUDGE:
"LADIIIIIIIES AND GENTLEMEEEEEEEN!!"
The crowd immediately roars.
JUDGE:
"HE’S DONE IT AGAIN!!"
"CAN HE NOT BE STOPPED?!"
The crowd grows louder.
JUDGE:
"THE WINNER OF THIS YEAR’S GRAND WIZARD TOURNAMENT IS..."
He points dramatically.
JUDGE:
"ISAAC BOUDELAIRE!!"
The stadium explodes.
CROWD:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Isaac smiles and waves.
The audience adores him.
Nearby.
Iskarion slowly climbs out of a crater.
Covered in soot.
Completely defeated.
He sheepishly scratches the back of his head.
The audience cheers for him too.
ISKARION:
"Yeah, yeah..."
"I’ll get you next year."
The crowd laughs.
The camera slowly pulls away from the battlefield.
Away from the crowd.
Away from the champions.
Toward a small figure sitting among thousands.
A little boy.
Six years old.
Messy dark hair.
Wide eyes.
Speechless.
The noise fades.
The crowd disappears.
The world disappears.
All he sees is the battlefield.
The lights.
The applause.
The performance.
The joy on Isaac’s face.
The wide, wild grin on Iskarion’s face.
Not enemies.
Performers.
For the first time in his life.
Something clicks.
A spark.
A dream.
His eyes begin to shine.
His mouth slowly opens into a grin.
Then a bigger grin.
Then the biggest grin imaginable.
Wonder.
Pure wonder.
CUT TO BLACK.
Late afternoon.
The golden glow of sunset stretches across the streets of Faerun.
Crowds pour from the Grand Arena.
Merchants shout.
Children run around pretending to cast spells.
Adults excitedly discuss the tournament’s final match.
The energy is infectious.
Among the crowd...
The small boy bounces from stone to stone along the roadside.
Still overflowing with excitement.
AURON:
"And then, and then, Iskarion did THIS!"
He throws a wild punch.
A completely imaginary explosion follows.
At least in his mind.
AURON:
"BOOOOOM!!"
He nearly trips over his own feet.
Recovers.
Keeps going.
AURON:
"And then Isaac jumped!"
He performs an overly dramatic spin.
Almost falls over again.
Somehow recovers.
AURON:
"And WHOOSH!!"
"And then the elephant!!"
His eyes become huge.
AURON:
"THE ELEPHANT WAS THIS BIG!!"
He stretches his arms as wide as possible.
Almost collides with a fishmonger on home from work.
MERCHANT:
"Watch it, kid!"
AURON:
"Sorry!"
He immediately continues.
AURON:
"And then it went WHOOSH!"
Auron points upward.
AURON:
"And then..."
He points downward.
AURON:
"And then..."
Both hands explode outward.
AURON:
"KABOOOOM!!"
Nearby, his mother laughs.
A warm laugh.
The kind only a parent can manage after hearing the same story six times in ten minutes.
Her face remains hidden.
Only her smile is visible beneath the setting sun.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Did you have fun, dear?"
Auron immediately stops.
A look of disbelief crosses his face.
As if the answer should be obvious.
AURON:
"FUN?!"
He practically jumps into the air.
AURON:
"That was amazing!"
His arms fly wildly.
AURON:
"Did you SEE Iskarion?!"
"And then Isaac?!"
"And then the elephant?!"
"And then..."
AURON’S MOTHER:
"The elephant?"
AURON:
"THE ELEPHANT!!"
She laughs again.
AURON, now acting like Isac, cool and calm:
"Nobody ever expects an elephant!"
AURON’S MOTHER:
"I did not expect an elephant."
Auron nods seriously.
AURON:
"Exactly."
They continue walking.
The excitement slowly settles.
For the first time.
Auron becomes quiet.
Not because he’s tired.
Because he’s thinking.
The camera follows his gaze.
Ahead of them.
The Grand Arena rises above the city.
Magnificent.
A monument to magic.
To spectacle.
To dreams.
Auron remembers.
Isaac standing before thousands.
The audience roaring.
The lights.
The cheers.
The smile.
The feeling.
Something warm settles in his chest.
He doesn’t have words for it yet.
Not at six years old.
But he knows.
That feeling.
That’s what he wants.
More than anything.
He stops...
Turns toward his mother.
AURON:
"Mom?"
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Yes?"
AURON:
"Do you think..."
His voice grows quieter.
For perhaps the first time all day.
AURON:
"Do you think I could become a Battle Mage someday?"
His mother pauses.
Only for a moment.
A small moment.
One most children would never notice.
But we notice.
Because she knows something Auron doesn’t.
Battle mages usually inherit powerful bloodline magic.
Dragon magic.
Storm magic.
Fire magic.
Lightning magic.
Power that dominates battlefields.
Not...
Whatshe has...
Not the humble magic passed down through generations of seamstresses.
Not the magic sitting dormant inside her son.
For the briefest moment...
A shadow crosses her expression.
Then it disappears.
Replaced by a smile.
Warm.
Gentle.
Certain.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"If you work hard, dear..."
She reaches down.
Ruffles his hair.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"You can become anything you want."
Auron’s eyes widen.
The answer instantly becomes fact.
No doubt.
No hesitation.
His mother said it.
Therefore it must be true.
A huge grin erupts across his face.
AURON:
"Then I’ll do it!"
He suddenly leaps onto a nearby bench.
Startling several pedestrians.
PEDESTRIAN:
"What the..."
AURON:
"Hear me, Faeria!!"
His tiny voice echoes dramatically.
Most people ignore him.
A few chuckle.
AURON points toward the sky.
AURON:
"I’ll become the greatest Battle Mage in the entire world!!"
Several pigeons take flight.
An old man chuckles nearby.
The crowd barely reacts.
To them.
He’s just another dreaming child.
But to Auron...
This is a declaration.
A promise.
A vow.
His mother places both hands on her hips.
The universal posture of every mother in existence.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Of course you will, dear."
Auron beams.
Then she points at the ground.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Now get down from there."
AURON:
"Yeah..."
He hops down.
They continue walking.
The sun slowly sinks below the horizon.
Their silhouettes stretch longer and longer across the road.
The city begins lighting magical lanterns.
One by one.
Like stars.
A peaceful silence settles between them.
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Oh."
"And you’ll only become the greatest Battle Mage in the world if you eat your broccoli tonight."
Auron freezes.
The color drains from his face.
AURON:
"...What?"
AURON’S MOTHER:
"You heard me."
AURON:
"That’s not fair!"
AURON’S MOTHER:
"I don't make the rules dear."
AURON:
"But Mom!"
AURON’S MOTHER:
"Bet you Isace eats his broccoli..."
AURON
"Moooooom!!"
They disappear into the golden sunset.
Their laughter fades with them.
FADE TO BLACK.
Years pass...
Blue ocean.
Seagulls cry overhead.
A dozen merchant vessels travel across glittering waters.
The morning sun reflects across the sea like liquid gold.
Then...
The horizon changes.
A city emerges.
Massive.
Impossible.
Magnificent.
ASTRALUNA.
The Capital of Stars.
Towering white walls.
Gigantic harbors packed with hundreds of ships.
Magical lighthouses emitting beams of blue crystal light.
Bridges connecting districts suspended above the water.
Floating cargo platforms lifted by magic.
Mage towers rising into the clouds.
Airships drifting lazily between spires.
Crowds.
Markets.
Magic.
Life.
A city built at the center of civilization.
A city where dreams are made.
A city where dreams are crushed.
A seagull flies...
Past the harbor.
Past the docks.
Past the city gates.
Until it settles upon a small merchant vessel approaching the harbor.
The vessel rocks gently upon the waves.
At the very front of the ship...
A single figure stands dramatically.
Foot planted upon the bow.
Arms crossed.
Black hair slicked backwards.
Stylish black shirt.
Stylish trousers.
Stylish sunglasses.
The sort of outfit worn by a man desperately trying to look cooler than he actually is.
A burlap sack hangs over one shoulder.
The wind dramatically blows his hair.
TITLE CARD:
'AURON MEADOWLOOM'
Age: 25
'Future Greatest Battle Mage'
He inhales deeply.
The city reflected in his sunglasses.
AURON:
"I can’t believe it..."
The camera slowly zooms in.
AURON:
"I’m finally here."
A grin begins forming.
AURON:
"I can almost reach it."
The grin grows wider.
AURON:
"My dream..."
Wider.
AURON:
"My destiny..."
Wider.
AURON:
"MY!..."
Nearby sailors immediately sigh.
SAILOR #1:
"He’s starting again..."
SAILOR #2:
"Please tell me he’s not."
SAILOR #3
"We've been dealing with this for 3 days now..."
Auron throws both hands toward the heavens.
AURON:
"I CAN ALMOST TASTE IT!!"
The sailors groan.
Auron completely ignores them.
AURON:
"And to think..."
A dramatic shadow falls across his face.
AURON:
"That I couldn’t simply become a Battle Mage right away..."
FLASHBACK:
A small guild office.
Several years earlier.
Auron stands before a reception desk.
A younger version.
Full of confidence.
The receptionist sits opposite him.
Middle-aged.
Exhausted.
Chubby.
Dead inside.
The kind of woman who has answered the same question five thousand times.
She points toward a sign.
RECEPTIONIST:
"..."
Just pointing.
Auron slowly turns.
Reads the sign.
'WE ONLY ACCEPT CERTIFIED GUILD MAGES FOR APPROVAL TESTING'
Silence.
Auron’s jaw drops.
His eyes widen.
His soul visibly leaves his body.
CUT BACK TO PRESENT:
Auron clutches his chest dramatically.
Fake tears explode from his eyes like waterfalls.
AURON:
"AAAHHHHHHH!!"
"The cruelty!"
"The injustice!"
"The betrayal!"
Nearby sailors stare.
AURON:
"To think!"
"TO THINK!"
"That I must first become a Guild Mage before I can become a Battle Mag"e!!
He collapses onto one knee.
A hand dramatically over his heart.
AURON:
"What a cruel world!!"
A beat.
The tears immediately stop.
His face becomes serious.
Then determined.
Then borderline psychotic.
A grin slowly spreads across his face.
AURON:
"But no matter!"
He springs back to his feet.
AURON:
"This is merely a minor obstacle!"
"A tiny bump!"
"A pebble on the road of greatness!"
"A stepping stone toward destiny!"
The sailors slowly stop working.
One by one.
Not because they’re interested.
Because they physically cannot be bothered by this mans antics anymore.
AURON:
"I SHALL OVERCOME IT!"
He points dramatically toward Astraluna.
AURON:
"I SHALL BECOME A GUILD MAGE!"
His finger rises higher.
AURON:
"THEN A BATTLE MAGE!"
Higher.
AURON:
"THEN THE GREATEST BATTLE MAGE IN HISTORY!!"
His pose becomes increasingly absurd.
AURON:
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
The sailors stare.
The seagulls stare...
Long silence.
AURON:
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Still silence.
Auron slowly notices.
His laughter dies.
He turns.
Every sailor aboard is staring directly at him.
No one says anything.
The ship itself feels embarrassed.
Auron clears his throat.
AURON:
"..."
"Excuse me."
He bows politely.
The sailors nod.
Then...
Auron immediately spins around.
Plants his foot back onto the bow.
Throws his cape...
...Which he does not have....
Auron freezes.
Auron looks behind him.
AURON:
"I should buy a cape."
SAILOR #2:
"Please don’t."
AURON:
"You're right good man..."
"A red one would look good..."
SAILOR #2:
"That’s not what I..."
AURON:
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
The sailors collectively groan.
The camera slowly rises.
Astraluna fills the horizon.
Larger.
Closer.
More magnificent than ever.
A city of opportunity.
A city of legends.
A city waiting to change Auron’s life.
AURON:
"Wait for me, Astraluna!"
"I’m coming!!"
The ship sails onward.
Toward destiny.
The merchant vessel finally reaches port.
Ropes are thrown.
Dock workers begin securing the ship.
Passengers gather their belongings.
Excitement fills the air.
At the very front of the vessel...
Auron remains posed dramatically.
The wind catches his shirt.
The city looms before him.
AURON:
"Astraluna..."
The city glitters.
AURON:
"The first step toward greatness."
He takes a deep breath.
AURON:
"The first step toward destiny."
Another breath.
AURON:
"The first step toward!..."
SAILOR #1:
"Just go already!"
Auron freezes.
The dramatic atmosphere immediately dies.
AURON:
"Right."
He leaps.
*WHUMP.*
Lands on the dock.
Then immediately throws both arms wide.
AURON:
"HUZZAH!!"
Several nearby dock workers stare.
One child points.
A mother quickly ushers the child away.
AURON:
"At last!"
"The Capital of Stars welcomes!"
Auron pauses.
Clears his throat.
Straightens himself.
Turns around.
Then bows deeply toward the ship.
AURON:
"Captain."
"Crew."
"Thank you for the journey."
"I wish you calm seas and favorable winds."
The sailors blink.
The sudden sincerity catches them off guard.
CAPTAIN:
"...You’re welcome, kid."
SAILOR #2:
"And we wish you slightly less talking."
The crew laughs.
Auron laughs too.
AURON:
"No promises!"
The captain shakes his head.
CAPTAIN:
"Go chase that dream of yours kiddo..."
Auron’s grin softens.
A genuine grin.
AURON:
"I will."
The captain nods.
Auron shoulders his burlap sack.
Turns.
And disappears into the city.
The streets are alive.
Crowded.
Vibrant.
Magnificent.
The camera follows Auron as he walks through the capital.
His head constantly swivels.
AURON:
"Whoa..."
A floating crystal carriage drifts overhead.
AURON:
"WHOA."
A magical fountain projects glowing fish made entirely of water.
AURON:
"WHOOOA."
A nearby street performer creates dancing butterflies from light.
AURON:
"WHOOOOOOOA!"
Several pedestrians slowly move around him.
PEDESTRIAN
"First time in the capital?"
AURON
"Is it that obvious?"
PEDESTRIAN:
"Very."
The journey continues.
Auron passes guild halls.
Markets.
Mage shops.
Training facilities.
Everything larger than life.
Everything magical.
Everything exciting.
Then he notices a small bakery.
An elderly woman stands outside arranging flowers.
Auron immediately approaches.
His theatrical persona vanishes.
AURON:
"Excuse me, ma’am."
The old woman looks up.
OLD WOMAN:
Hmm?
AURON:
"Could you please tell me where the Guild Tryouts are being held?"
The woman smiles warmly.
OLD WOMAN:
"A polite young man?"
"Now that’s rare."
Auron scratches the back of his head.
AURON:
"My mother would kill me if I wasn’t."
OLD WOMAN:
"A wise woman."
She points toward the distant skyline.
OLD WOMAN:
"See that arena?"
Auron follows her finger.
Far in the distance.
A massive structure dominates the city.
A colossal arena.
A monument to magical combat.
AURON:
"..."
His eyes slowly widen.
OLD WOMAN:
"You can’t miss it."
AURON:
"Wow, you really can’t."
OLD WOMAN:
"Just follow the crowds."
AURON:
"Thank you very much, ma’am."
The old woman smiles.
OLD WOMAN:
"Good luck."
Auron turns.
Begins walking.
Then...
He begins walking faster.
Then jogging.
Then sprinting.
AURON:
"GOOD LUCK?!"
"THEY'RE THE ONES WHO'RE GONNA NEED LUCK!!"
The old woman laughs as he vanishes into the crowd.
Fade to black...
The Grand Arena.
The Guild Recruitment Tournament.
The building is enormous.
hundreds and hundreds of aspiring mages gather outside.
Banners wave overhead.
Guild emblems decorate the walls.
Vendors sell food.
Bookmakers take bets.
Excitement hangs in the air.
Auron stops.
Looks up.
And up.
And up.
AURON:
"..."
A grin slowly appears.
AURON:
"Beautiful."
Then he charges forward.
The registration hall is full of people.
Chaos.
Absolute chaos.
Hundreds of hopeful mages.
Arguments.
Boasting.
Last-minute preparations.
Nervous breakdowns.
The line for registration stretches across the room.
Auron joins it.
Several minutes later...
He finally reaches the front desk.
Behind it sits a balding middle-aged man.
Dark circles beneath his eyes.
An expression suggesting life defeated him years ago.
RECEPTIONIST:
"Name?"
Auron immediately straightens.
Showtime.
AURON:
"My good man!"
"I have traveled far and wide in pursuit of a dream!"
"A dream born beneath the dazzling lights of..."
The receptionist sighs...
RECEPTIONIST:
"Look."
The man doesn’t even look up.
RECEPTIONIST:
"I’m not interested in your life’s story."
Auron stops mid-pose.
RECEPTIONIST:
"I need your name."
"Your age."
"Where you’re from."
"Your magic."
"Write it down."
"And hurry up."
"You’re holding up the line."
Auron blinks.
Turns around.
A massive line has formed behind him.
Dozens of impatient mages stare.
MAGE #1:
"Come on!"
MAGE #2:
"Some of us have fights today!"
MAGE #3:
"Move already!"
Auron immediately bows.
AURON:
"Ah!"
"S-sorry!"
He hurriedly grabs the form.
Begins writing.
The receptionist takes it.
Reads.
His tired eyes move down the page.
Then pause.
One eyebrow rises slightly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The look of a man who has seen this before.
Many times.
RECEPTIONIST:
"..."
Auron smiles.
The receptionist looks at him.
Looks at the paper.
Looks back at him.
RECEPTIONIST:
"Look here, buddy."
AURON:
"Hm?"
RECEPTIONIST:
"You sure about this?"
Auron tilts his head.
Genuinely confused.
AURON:
"Sure about... what?"
RECEPTIONIST:
"The arena doesn’t take responsibility for injuries."
"We have healers."
"But still."
"People get hurt."
"Sometimes badly."
Auron blinks.
Then smiles.
AURON:
"Yeah."
"No problem!"
The receptionist studies him.
The confidence appears genuine.
Which somehow worries him more.
RECEPTIONIST:
"..."
He stamps the paper.
*THUNK!*
RECEPTIONIST:
"Go right in."
"Your funeral."
Auron beams.
AURON:
"Thank you!"
The receptionist already regrets it.
Auron walks through the entrance.
The doors open.
And suddenly...
The arena reveals itself.
Massive.
Magnificent.
Thousands of seats.
Dozens of battle platforms.
Hundreds of mages preparing for competition.
Fire.
Lightning.
Ice.
Summons.
Weapons.
Magic everywhere.
Auron freezes.
His mouth slowly falls open.
A child seeing magic for the first time.
Just like eighteen years ago.
AURON:
"..."
The wonder slowly transforms.
Into excitement.
Into determination.
Into a grin.
The grin.
The same grin.
The one from the arena all those years ago.
AURON:
"Let’s do this!"
The enormous arena floor.
Hundreds of aspiring mages gather around the various combat platforms.
Nervous conversations.
Boasting.
Stretching.
Last-minute spell practice.
Magic fills the air.
Auron slowly turns in a circle.
Taking everything in.
AURON:
"This is incredible..."
All of a sudden.
*GONNNNNNNNNNG!!!*
A gigantic bell echoes throughout the arena.
The crowd quiets.
Conversations stop.
Heads turn.
A platform rises from the center of the arena.
Standing atop it is a surprisingly small man.
Curled mustache.
Fancy suit.
Polished shoes.
Decorative cane.
The sort of man who looks like he introduces circus acts for a living.
A few nearby mages snicker.
MAGE #1:
"Who’s this guy?"
MAGE #2:
"He’s tiny."
MAGE #3:
"I could throw him."
The man adjusts his cuffs.
Completely unbothered.
Then raises two fingers to his throat.
MAN:
"..."
"Ahem."
The arena explodes.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
A visible shockwave erupts from his mouth.
The air itself vibrates.
Hair whips backwards.
Flags snap violently.
Several competitors immediately cover their ears.
MAGE #1:
"AAAGH!!"
MAGE #2:
"MY EARS!!"
MAGE #3:
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
Auron’s sunglasses nearly fly off.
AURON:
"Whooooa."
His eyes sparkle.
AURON:
"That’s awesome!"
"Is that sound magic?!"
He says with an almost childlike twinkle in his eyes.
The small man winces.
MAN:
"Ah..."
"My apologies."
The soundwave immediately softens.
MAN:
"Still working on the volume."
Several irritated competitors glare at him.
The man ignores them.
Completely.
MAN:
"Welcome!"
Mages from near and far!
His voice now carries effortlessly across the arena.
Every word perfectly clear.
MAN:
"To the Guild Tryouts of Avalon!"
Cheers erupt.
The atmosphere immediately rises.
MAN:
"As always..."
"We have an absurd number of applicants."
The camera sweeps across the arena.
Hundreds.
Possibly more than a thousand mages.
MAN:
"As such, competitors have been divided into separate brackets."
"The tournament format remains unchanged."
"A standard elimination tournament."
"Win your match."
"Advance."
"Lose your match."
"Go home...Simple."
Several mages nod confidently.
Others look nervous.
One appears to be hyperventilating.
MAN:
"Now then..."
"Many of you are undoubtedly wondering about the prize."
The crowd leans in.
MAN:
"As always..."
"The winner of the entire tournament shall receive a substantial reward."
Cheers.
Applause.
Excitement.
MAN:
"However!"
The crowd quiets.
MAN:
"No one."
His voice grows firmer.
MAN:
"Not a single person in this arena..."
"Is guaranteed guild recruitment."
The crowd murmurs.
Auron tilts his head.
MAN:
"That decision belongs to them."
He turns.
And gestures behind him.
The camera follows.
A raised viewing platform overlooks the arena.
Around ten figures sit there.
Each more unusual than the last.
An armored giant.
A woman covered in jewelry.
An old man sleeping.
An old woman smoking from an absurdly long pipe.
A man with six swords.
A woman with glowing eyes.
None look normal.
All look dangerous.
MAN:
"Guild Masters."
"Avalon’s finest!"
A murmur sweeps through the competitors.
The guild representatives remain mostly expressionless.
Watching.
Judging.
Evaluating.
Predators observing prey.
MAN:
"If they like what they see..."
"They may recruit you."
"If they do not..."
"You may go home empty-handed."
"Regardless of how well you do in the tournament..."
Several nervous competitors swallow.
MAN:
"So my advice is simple."
He smiles.
MAN:
"Put on a show!"
Auron freezes.
The world goes silent.
The phrase echoes.
Put on a show...
Put on a show...
Put on a show...
The camera zooms slowly toward his face.
A grin forms.
Steam practically erupts from his nose.
AURON:
"...Oh, I like this place."
The host continues.
MAN:
"For those unfamiliar with me..."
"I am Cornelius Haddoc."
TITLE CARD:
'CORNELIUS HADDOCK'
'Arena Moderator'
'User of Sound Magic'
Cornelius flourishes dramatically.
CORNELIUS:
"Moderator."
"Announcer."
"Master of Ceremonies."
"And occasionally therapist..."
Several competitors laugh.
CORNELIUS:
"I shall oversee today’s proceedings."
"Now then..."
"The tournament shall begin in thirty minutes."
"It will be divided into four separate brackets."
"Due to the fact that none of us wish to remain here for three consecutive weeks."
A few competitors laugh.
Others don’t.
CORNELIUS:
"The participants of each bracket are listed..."
"HERE!"
He waves a hand.
A dozen mages immediately groan.
MAGE #4:
"Oh no..."
ANOTHER MAGE:
"Not again..."
Four gigantic magical billboards erupt from the ground.
*BOOOOM!*
Mages are throw to the side from the erupting magic.
Massive glowing displays tower over each arena.
Names begin rapidly appearing.
Rows.
Columns.
Hundreds of competitors.
The crowd surges forward.
Instant chaos.
MAGE #5:
"MOVE!"
MAGE #6:
"I CAN’T SEE!"
MAGE #7:
"GET OFF MY FOOT!"
Auron however is already sitting up high on a nearby stone pillar.
Nobody even saw him get up, or how.
AURON:
"Whoa!"
The giant boards reflect in his sunglasses.
Nearby competitors whisper.
MAGE #8:
"Cornelius is such a showoff."
MAGE #9
"That's not new... He’s always been a showoff."
MAGE #10
"Yeah but it’s kinda cool."
MAGE #9
"The billboards?... Eh... Last year they summoned a flying dragon made of fire..."
Auron begins moving toward one of the displays.
Suddenly...
*THUD.*
A large shoulder slams into him from behind.
Auron stumbles.
A massive man walks past.
Broad.
Muscular.
Confident.
Not even looking back.
AURON:
"Oh!"
"Sorry!"
The man doesn’t react.
Doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even acknowledge him.
He simply continues walking.
Auron blinks.
AURON:
"...You're the one that bumped into me..."
Several nearby competitors stare at the man as he walks past.
MAGE #11:
"Holy shit, that’s Gérard Smasher!"
MAGE #12:
"Isn't he the favorite this year?"
MAGE #13:
"And last year... I heard he’s already received three guild offers."
MAGE #11:
"Wouldn’t surprise me."
Auron doesn’t hear any of it.
Too busy looking at the tournament board.
His eyes scan downward.
Rows of names.
Rows of opponents.
Then.
There.
AURON:
"Found it."
A finger traces over a name on the floating, giant billboard.
Auron.
Bracket Three.
First Round.
A grin forms.
Then his eyes drift upward.
One match above his.
A familiar name.
Gérard Smasher.
Auron stares for a moment.
AURON:
"Who?..."
The camera slowly zooms out.
The arena.
The competitors.
The giant boards.
The guild representatives.
The tournament.
Everything waiting to begin.
AURON:
"Looks like this is going to be fun."
His face keeps the same cocky, childlike grin.
The Guild Tryouts are underway.
The arena has transformed into organized chaos.
Four separate combat fields.
Matches occurring simultaneously.
Magic colliding.
Crowds cheering.
Judges shouting.
Healers rushing around.
The atmosphere is electric.
*BOOM!*
Somewhere a fire spell detonates.
*CRACK!*
Ice shatters.
*WHOOOSH!*
Wind magic sends one unlucky contestant flying into a barrier.
The audience erupts with laughter.
Above it all...
The Guild Masters’ Platform.
High above the arena.
The best seats in Avalon right now.
From here, every battlefield can be observed.
Guild leaders watch.
Evaluate.
Judge.
Recruit.
Or... Ignore...
A beautifully dressed woman draped in jewels lounges comfortably in her chair.
TITLE CARD:
'LADY VIVIENNE ROSENHEART'
'Guild Master of Golden Mirage'
Vivienne swirls a glass of wine.
VIVIENNE:
"Like always, Cornelius..."
She smiles.
VIVIENNE:
"You put on a lavish show for us, my dear."
Cornelius immediately straightens.
CORNELIUS:
"Lady Vivienne!"
"Please."
"You’ll embarrass me."
VIVIENNE:
"Good.... Your look wouldn't benefit from cocky..."
CORNELIUS
"...That’s fair."
Several guild masters chuckle.
Cornelius laughs sheepishly.
Despite his confidence and charisma...
These are Guild Masters.
The people who stand at the top of Avalon’s magical world.
Even he gets nervous around them.
CORNELIUS:
"Thank you."
"I always look forward to this time of year."
Nearby...
A woman with glowing silver eyes watches the arena below.
TITLE CARD:
'MYSTIA XIAN'
'Guild Master of Moonveil'
Mystia sighs dramatically.
MYSTIA:
"Mmmm."
"Boring..."
Cornelius freezes.
CORNELIUS:
"B-boring?"
MYSTIA:
"Boring."
She gestures lazily toward the combat fields.
MYSTIA:
"Fire magic."
"Ice magic."
"Sword magic."
"Punch magic."
"Kick magic."
"Punch harder magic."
"Kick harder magic."
VIVIENNE laughs into her drink.
MYSTIA:
"Where is the pizzazz?"
"The flair?"
"Where is the tragedy?"
"The drama?"
"I want to se some beautiful idiots..."
She places a hand dramatically against her forehead.
MYSTIA:
"Nobody appreciates art anymore."
From nearby...
A raspy chuckle emerges.
"HE-HE-HE-HE-HE..."
The source is a tiny old woman.
Barely larger than a child.
Wrapped in layered robes.
A long pipe clenched between her teeth.
Wrinkles like a basset hound...
But her eyes gleam with mischief.
TITLE CARD:
'GRANDMA THORN'
'Guild Master of Black Briar'
GRANDMA THORN:
"Hehehe..."
"Young people nowadays."
"No respect for magic."
"No respect for tradition."
"No respect for their elders."
She takes a puff.
A cloud of green smoke emerges.
GRANDMA THORN:
"Don’t you agree, Albruzzius?"
The camera pans.
An elderly man sits beside her.
Fast asleep.
TITLE CARD:
'ALBRUZZIUS THE ETERNAL'
'Guild Master of Evergreen Crest'
A loud snore escapes.
"SNORRRRRRRT."
Silence...
GRANDMA THORN:
"..."
Everyone stares.
"SNORRRRRRRT."
GRANDMA THORN
"..."
The pipe twitches.
"SNORRRRRRRT."
GRANDMA THORN:
"DON’T IGNORE ME YA OLD BASTARD!!"
*WHACK!*
She smashes him across the face with her pipe.
The impact echoes.
The chair tips backward.
Albruzzius falls.
*THUD!*
Completely unconscious.
Silence.
The guild masters stare.
CORNELIUS:
"..."
VIVIENNE:
"..."
MYSTIA:
"..."
GRANDMA THORN:
"..."
GRANDMA THORN:
"Well..."
"Now he’s sleeping harder."
Mystia pinches the bridge of her nose.
MYSTIA:
One day he's not gonna wake up again from that you knwo...
GRANDMA THORN:
"Bah."
"He’s survived worse."
Nobody asks what that means.
Nobody wants to know.
Mystia slowly turns.
Looking toward a figure seated further back.
Unlike the others.
He sits alone.
His face hidden in shadow.
Watching the arena.
Silent.
Still.
The atmosphere around him feels strangely heavy.
MYSTIA:
"How about you?"
No response...
MYSTIA:
"Going to recruit somebody this year?"
Still nothing.
MYSTIA:
"Or are you going to sit there and mope like usual?"
Silence.
The figure doesn’t even move.
Mystia sighs.
A small smile appearing.
MYSTIA:
"Like usual then."
Nearby.
A man wearing a massive turban leans forward.
Six swords rest across his back.
His grin is sharp.
Predatory.
TITLE CARD:
'RAJAH KHAN'
'Guild Master of Crimson Sands'
RAJAH:
"Hmmm..."
Mystia glances toward him.
RAJAH:
"I don’t know."
"There are some I rather like."
His grin widens.
RAJAH:
"A few have potential."
Below.
The battles continue.
RAJAH:
"Most are trash."
"But a few..."
His eyes narrow.
RAJAH:
"A few are interesting."
Down below:
Battlefield Three.
A match is already ending.
A terrified contestant stumbles backward.
Bruised.
Panting.
Desperate.
Across from him stands a massive man.
Arms crossed.
Barely even moved a step since the match started.
TITLE CARD:
'GÉRARD SMASHER'
The contestant charges.
A last desperate attack.
The crowd leans forward.
GÉRARD:
"Pathetic..."
The challenger swings.
"Gérard throws one punch."
Not magical.
Not flashy.
Just a punch.
*BOOM!*
The challenger disappears.
Not literally.
But almost.
The poor man cartwheels across the battlefield.
Crashes into the barrier.
And immediately loses consciousness.
Silence.
JUDGE:
"W-WINNER!..."
The Judge glances between the unconscious contestant and Gérard.
JUDGE:
"Gérard Smasher!"
Cheers erupt.
Gérard snorts.
Not impressed.
Not excited.
Just annoyed.
GÉRARD:
"Weaklings like you aren’t even worth my magic."
Several contestants nearby visibly swallow.
A few look terrified.
Above....
Now on a spectator platform overlooking Battlefield Three.
Auron watches.
Arms resting on the railing.
The breeze catches his hair.
He lets out a whistle.
AURON:
"Whooooo..."
The grin slowly returns.
AURON:
"Nice right hook..."
His eyes sparkle.
Not fear.
Excitement.
Pure excitement.
The kind a mountain climber feels seeing a taller mountain.
The kind a performer feels seeing a bigger stage.
AURON:
"This is gonna be fun."
A corridor beneath Battlefield Three.
The distant sounds of combat echo overhead.
Explosions.
Cheers.
Magic.
The tournament continues.
Auron stands alone near the arena entrance.
Pacing.
Muttering.
Gesturing dramatically.
Completely inside his own head.
AURON:
"Alright..."
"This is it."
"The first step."
"The beginning of the legend."
He points dramatically at an imaginary audience.
AURON:
"People of Faeria!"
"Witness the birth of greatness!"
He half whispers, half shouts, reharsing for his first stage.
He turns.
Points at an imaginary rival.
AURON:
"You may challenge me!"
"But you shall never surpass me!"
He spins.
Cape flourish.
Except he still doesn’t own a cape.
His hand performs the flourish anyway.
AURON:
"One day they shall tell stories..."
JUDGE:
"Next match!"
Auron doesn’t hear him.
AURON:
"Stories sung throughout the ages!..."
JUDGE:
"Derek Faln!"
"Versus..."
"Auron Meadowloom!"
Auron continues pacing.
AURON:
"The crowd shall weep!"
"No..:"
"The crowd shall cheer!"
JUDGE:
"Mr. Meadowloom?"
Nothing.
AURON:
"The crowd shall!"
JUDGE:
"Mr. Meadowloom!"
"You’re up!"
Auron freezes.
AURON:
"Oh!"
He immediately snaps back into reality.
And shuffles around the stone pillar sheepishly.
AURON:
"Sorry!"
"Yes!"
"I’m here!"
He awkwardly jogs through the entrance.
The crowd watches.
Auron emerges.
Slightly embarrassed.
Slightly flustered.
Very much not the cool entrance he had imagined.
AURON:
"Heh..."
"Nailed it."
The crowd remains silent...
Across the arena stands his opponent.
A completely average-looking man.
Brown hair.
Plain clothing.
No distinguishing features whatsoever.
Auron waves politely.
AURON:
"Hello!"
The man doesn’t answer.
He’s shaking.
Auron tilts his head.
AURON:
"Is... everything alright?"
The man slowly looks up.
His face is pale.
Terrified.
THE MAN KNOWN AS DEREK:
"I-if I win..."
AURON:
"Hm?"
DEREK:
"I have to fight Gérard next."
Auron blinks.
DEREK:
"I..."
His voice cracks.
DEREK:
"I..."
The poor man begins sweating.
DEREK:
"I CAN’T!!!"
He turns.
And runs.
Immediately.
The crowd watches him flee.
DEREK:
"I’M SORRY MOM!!"
The man disappears through the exit tunnel.
Gone.
Auron raises a hand.
AURON
"Ah..."
"Wait..."
But he’s already vanished.
AURON:
"Who's Gérard?..."
Silence.
The arena goes quiet.
The Judge stares.
The crowd stares.
Auron stares.
Several seconds pass.
JUDGE:
"..."
The Judge checks his notes.
JUDGE:
"Winner..."
More silence.
JUDGE:
"Auron Meadowloom..."
One person politely claps.
People stare...
He stops.
Auron pouts.
AURON:
"Aww..."
His shoulders slump.
AURON:
"I didn’t even get to do anything."
*BOOOOOOOM!!!*
The battlefield shakes.
Dust explodes upward.
The crowd gasps.
Something lands between Auron and the Judge.
Heavy.
Massive.
The dust slowly settles.
A giant silhouette stands there.
Broad shoulders.
Folded arms.
Absolute confidence.
Gérard.
The crowd erupts.
"GÉRARD!"
"GÉRARD!"
"GÉRARD!"
Gérard slowly opens his eyes.
Looks down at Auron.
AURON:
"Oh."
"It’s you."
GÉRARD:
"How about we get our match over with?"
"I don't like waiting..."
The Judge nearly falls off his chair.
JUDGE:
"M-Mr. Smasher!"
You can’t simpl...
Gérard turns his head.
Slowly.
Looks at him.
The Judge immediately forgets how to speak.
JUDGE:
"..."
GÉRARD:
"..."
JUDGE:
"Continue."
Auron’s face lights up.
AURON:
"Really?!"
GÉRARD:
"Hm?"
AURON:
"That’s great!"
A huge grin appears.
AURON:
"I was hoping to show off a little!"
Gérard raises an eyebrow.
The crowd murmurs.
Above them...
Cornelius watches from the Guild Master platform.
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
CORNELIUS:
"Of course..."
Mystia grins.
MYSTIA:
"Finally, some drama."
Rajah leans forward.
RAJAH:
"Ooh, that big guy is fighting again...?"
Cornelius sighs.
Then nods towards the poor judge at battlefield three.
CORNELIUS:
"Approved."
The Judge immediately straightens.
JUDGE:
"T-The switch has been approved!"
The crowd erupts.
JUDGE:
"We will proceed directly to the second-round match!"
"AURON MEADOWLOOM!"
"VERSUS!"
"GÉRARD SMASHER!"
Thunderous applause.
The fighters move toward opposite ends of the battlefield.
Gérard cracks his neck.
Auron stretches dramatically.
The Judge raises his flag.
JUDGE:
"Fighters ready?!"
Gérard says nothing.
Auron raises a thumbs up.
AURON:
"Yep!"
JUDGE:
"Then..."
The flag drops.
JUDGE:
"FIGHT!!"
The crowd roars.
Gérard smirks.
GÉRARD:
"You said you wanted to show off."
Auron grins.
GÉRARD:
"Go ahead."
The giant folds his arms.
GÉRARD:
"I’ll let you have one for free."
The crowd murmurs.
"Cocky."
"That's Gérard for you..."
Gérard’s grin widens.
GÉRARD:
"Show me what you’ve got."
Auron’s smile somehow grows even bigger.
AURON:
"I was hoping you’d say that!"
The crowd leans forward.
Guild Masters watch.
Judges watch.
Competitors watch.
The music begins rising.
Auron spreads his arms dramatically.
AURON:
"Now then!"
"PREPARE YOURSELF!!"
The arena collectively braces.
Several competitors stand.
Mystia narrows her eyes.
Rajah grins.
Even Gérard finally enters a proper fighting stance.
The tension builds.
The music rises.
Higher.
Higher.
Then...
*POOF!*
A tiny stuffed elephant appears between Auron’s hands.
Made entirely of thread.
Cute.
Harmless.
Adorable.
It wiggles slightly as Auron manipulates a thread stuck to it...
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The wind blows.
A bird chirps somewhere in the distance.
The elephant waves.
Nobody reacts.
AURON:
"..."
The elephant waves again.
Nothing.
Auron raises an eyebrow.
AURON:
"Huh?"
Still silence.
AURON:
"It's cute... Right?..."
Nobody answers.
AURON:
"Not bad, huh?"
Across the arena.
Judge.
Speechless.
Cornelius.
Speechless.
Rajah.
Speechless.
Mystia.
Speechless.
Gérard.
Speechless.
Random audience member.
Speechless.
AURON:
"Guys?..."
Still nothing.
AURON:
"It’s an elephant."
TITLE CARD:
'AURON MEADOWLOOM'
'User of Thread Magic...'
'Future Greatest Battle Mage...?'
The title card itself seems uncertain.
Battlefield Three.
Silence hangs over the arena.
Auron stands proudly.
Arms spread.
A tiny thread elephant resting in his palms.
The elephant waves.
Nobody reacts.
AURON:
"..."
"He makes the elephant wave again."
Nothing.
AURON:
"Tough crowd..."
The little elephant droops sadly.
Auron nods sympathetically.
AURON:
"I know, buddy, no respectt at all..."
He gently tosses it toward the audience.
The tiny elephant sails through the air.
*BOINK.*
It bounces off the forehead of an unimpressed spectator.
The spectator doesn’t even blink.
The elephant falls into his lap.
SPECTATOR:
"..."
Auron smiles and points at him...
SPECTATOR:
"..."
Then the spectator casually tosses it aside.
AURON:
"JIM! NOOO!"
The crowd remains unconvinced.
Auron rubs his chin.
Thinking.
AURON:
"Hmm."
How about...
He twirls his fingers together.
Like a stage magician preparing his next trick.
Threads gather.
Weave.
Twist.
*POOF!*
AURON:
"A giraffe inste..."
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
A beam of yellow energy explodes across the battlefield.
The attack slams directly into Auron.
The arena floor cracks.
The shockwave echoes through the stadium.
The audience gasps.
Auron vanishes into a cloud of dust.
The impact launches him through the air.
Straight into a stone pillar.
*CRAAAAASH!!*
Chunks of rock explode everywhere.
The camera slowly pans.
Toward Gérard.
His fists glow with yellow energy.
Crackling.
Violent.
Unstable.
Like compressed explosions waiting to happen.
TITLE CARD:
'GÉRARD SMASHER'
'Shockwave Magic'
Gérard lowers his arm.
His expression dark.
Irritated.
GÉRARD:
"I..."
Crackling energy dances around his knuckles.
GÉRARD:
"Hate..."
The energy intensifies.
GÉRARD:
"Weaklings."
The crowd murmurs.
Several competitors visibly shrink back.
The man is terrifying.
The camera returns to the shattered pillar.
Dust slowly settles.
A silhouette stands within.
Still standing.
Gérard’s eyebrow twitches.
For the first time.
A reaction.
Did he survive that?
The dust clears.
Auron emerges.
Perfectly unharmed.
Kneeling beside something.
A severed giraffe head made of thread.
Its tiny stitched smile remains.
Auron trembles.
His shoulders shake.
Tears stream down his face.
AURON:
"No..."
The crowd blinks.
AURON:
"NOOOOOOO!!"
He grabs the tiny giraffe dramatically.
AURON:
"GIRAFFITY!!"
The audience collectively pauses.
AURON:
"YOU WERE SO YOUNG!!"
The giraffe’s stitched smile remains unchanged.
AURON:
"WE HAD SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!!"
Several audience members begin snickering.
AURON:
"WHY?!"
"WHY MUST THE GOOD DIE YOUNG?!"
Gérard snorts.
GÉRARD:
"Must have missed..."
Obviously.
Auron stands.
Still holding the severed giraffe head.
AURON:
"Don’t worry, Girafitty."
He raises it dramatically toward the sky.
AURON:
"I shall avenge you!"
The crowd begins laughing.
A few competitors too.
Even some judges.
Nearby...
A vein visibly bulges on Gérard’s forehead.
He slowly turns.
Looks toward the audience.
The laughter immediately dies.
Instantly.
CROWD:
"..."
GÉRARD:
"..."
The crowd suddenly finds the floor very interesting.
Gérard turns back.
His fists glow once more.
Auron casually wipes away his fake tears.
AURON:
"Good."
Now we’re getting somewhere.
With a flourish of his hand.
*POOF!*
Three more dolls appear.
A rabbit.
A bear.
A fox.
All adorable.
All stitched.
All waving enthusiastically.
Auron gestures toward them.
AURON:
Now then.
He grins.
AURON:
Which one shall you play with next?
Something inside Gérard snaps.
GÉRARD:
"YOU!"
The arena shakes.
Shockwave energy erupts around him.
The ground cracks beneath his feet.
GÉRARD:
"ANNOY ME!!"
He thrusts both fists forward.
GÉRARD:
"SHOCK BURST!"
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
A massive blast of compressed force erupts forward.
The attack tears across the battlefield.
Stone shatters.
Dust explodes.
Auron's face drops.
"Oh..."
The dolls vanish instantly.
The audience shields their faces.
The entire arena disappears behind smoke.
Silence.
Dust.
Nothing visible.
Then.
A shadow moves overhead.
Fast.
Graceful.
Spinning.
The camera tilts upward.
A figure flips through the air.
The exact same flourish.
Same theatrical movement.
Same style.
As Isaac Boudelaire.
Auron lands behind Gérard.
Lightly.
Elegantly.
Almost dancing.
AURON:
"Not bad!"
Gérard spins.
AURON:
"You’ve got strength!"
The crowd leans forward.
AURON:
"But strength isn’t everything!"
The audience begins murmuring.
Auron spreads his arms dramatically.
AURON:
"A battle is more than strength..."
The crowd laughs.
Not everyone.
But enough.
Gérard blinks.
Confused.
A few guild masters laugh too.
Mystia covers her mouth.
Rajah nearly falls out of his chair.
Even Cornelius looks impressed.
Gérard slowly looks down.
Silence.
He’s wearing a sweater.
A soft.
Fluffy.
Hand-stitched sweater.
With a smiling bunny embroidered across the chest.
Sticking out from the sweater itself...
Auron flicks a finger, thread attached to it.
The bunny waves.
The audience loses control.
CROWD:
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
"NO WAY!!"
"WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!"
"LOOK AT HIM!!"
From the Guildmasters view.
Mystia slams the armrest.
MYSTIA:
"HA HA HA THAT’S AMAZING!!"
Rajah wipes tears from his eyes.
RAJAH:
"I like him. Funny guy."
Cornelius coughs into his fist.
Trying not to laugh.
Failing.
Gérard stands completely frozen.
The bunny embroided on the sweater is making a mockery of his very being...
Auron strikes a dramatic pose.
A finger pointed skyward.
A grin on his face.
AURON:
"Ha-ha!"
The crowd continues laughing.
AURON:
"You see?!"
"Power isn’t everything!"
He points dramatically toward Gérard.
AURON:
"You forget about elegance!"
The audience cheers.
Not because it was powerful.
Because it was funny.
Because it was entertaining.
Exactly as Auron intended.
Gérard’s eye twitches.
He slowly grips the sweater.
The fabric stretches.
His hands shake.
His jaw clenches.
The arena grows quiet.
Everyone senses it.
The anger.
The fury.
The murderous intent.
GÉRARD:
"..."
*RRRRRRIP!!*
The sweater tears into scraps.
The crowd immediately stops laughing.
Auron slowly lowers his hand.
AURON:
"..."
A moment of silence.
AURON:
"That was handmade."
The vein on Gérard’s forehead looks ready to explode.
Barely a minute later.
Battlefield Three.
Gérard’s Shock Bursts continue tearing across the arena.
*BOOOOOOM!!*
A section of stone explodes.
*BOOOOOM!!*
Another blast shatters the ground.
AURON:
"Whoa!"
Auron twists sideways.
The yellow beam narrowly misses his face.
AURON:
"Close one!"
Another blast.
Auron jumps.
Another.
He spins.
Another.
He cartwheels.
The audience follows him back and forth across the battlefield.
AURON:
"Come on, big guy!"
He lands atop a broken stone pillar.
AURON:
"You gotta aim better than that!"
Gérard’s eye twitches.
GÉRARD:
"SHUT UP!!"
Another Shock Burst.
*BOOOOOOM!!*
The pillar explodes.
The audience gasps.
The dust settles.
Auron is gone.
Gérard growls.
Then...
A whistle.
AURON:
"Yo-hooo."
Gérard turns.
Auron stands behind him.
Hands in his pockets.
Smiling.
GÉRARD:
"YOU LITTLE!"
A backhand swings.
*WHOOOOOSH!*
Air explodes, roaring up a dustcloud.
Auron is already gone.
The strike hits nothing.
Again.
A whistle.
Gérard freezes.
Slowly turns.
Auron stands several meters away.
Another sweater has somehow appeared on Gérard.
This one has a smiling duck stitched into the front.
The duck wears a tiny crown.
The audience starts laughing again.
The vein on Gérard’s forehead becomes visible.
The duck smiles.
Gérard does not.
AURON:
"I think this one suits you better."
The audience laughs harder.
Gérard’s face darkens.
His eyes almost disappear beneath the shadow cast by his brow.
AURON:
"No?"
Maybe something with more color.
Auron twirls his hands.
Thread spills from his fingertips.
Dozens of strands.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
They weave together.
Constructing.
Stitching.
Creating.
A giant structure erupts from the battlefield.
A colorful castle.
Made entirely from thread.
Towers.
Walls.
Flags.
Stuffed animals.
Decorations.
Ridiculous.
Magnificent.
The crowd collectively stares.
AURON:
"String Magic!"
The castle finishes forming.
AURON:
"DOLLHOUSE SUPREME!!"
The audience erupts.
Mostly because they have no idea what’s happening anymore.
Stuffed dolls hang from strings.
Auron manipulates them like a puppeteer.
They dance.
Bow.
Wave.
One trips over another.
Auron grins.
AURON:
"Now then!"
He points dramatically.
AURON:
"You’re going to lose because of two reasons!"
Several Guild Masters twitch.
Mystia immediately recognizes the pose.
RAJAH:
"Wait..."
MYSTIA:
"Is that?..."
AURON:
"FIRST!"
He points toward the audience.
AURON:
"You don’t know how to work the crowd!"
The crowd cheers.
Mostly because they’re involved now.
AURON:
"AND SECOND!"
He raises another finger.
AURON:
"TIM.."
GÉRARD:
"ENOUGH!!!"
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
A shockwave erupts from Gérard.
Not a beam.
Not a projectile.
An explosion.
Pure force.
Radiating outward.
The castle tears apart.
The dolls disintegrate.
The duck sweater explodes.
Everything made of thread is shredded instantly.
The audience shields their faces.
Dust fills the battlefield.
Auron lands several meters away.
AURON:
"That’s rude."
Gérard’s patience finally snaps.
GÉRARD:
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!"
The arena falls silent.
GÉRARD:
"YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?!"
Auron blinks.
GÉRARD:
"FIGHT ME!!"
AURON:
"..."
Auron tilts his head.
Genuinely confused.
AURON:
"But..."
A beat.
AURON:
"I am?..."
The crowd murmurs.
On the Guild Master platform.
Rajah suddenly stands.
One foot resting atop the wooden railing.
RAJAH:
"He’s not wrong, kiddo."
Auron looks up.
RAJAH:
"It was funny."
"I’ll give you that."
His grin softens into a near snarl.
RAJAH:
"But we’re not looking for carnival workers."
The words hit harder than intended.
Auron freezes.
MYSTIA stands as well.
MYSTIA:
"He’s right."
Her tone isn’t cruel.
Just honest.
MYSTIA:
"If you become a guild mage you’ll face monsters."
"Criminals."
"Dark mages."
"Things that will kill you."
"Or others..."
Her glowing eyes narrow.
MYSTIA:
"We have no need for jesters."
"We need someone that can take this seriously..."
Auron’s smile falters.
Just slight:ly.
AURON:
"B-but..."
He glances around.
No one is laughing anymore...
AURON:
"I’m just..."
AURON
"I just wanted to..."
The words fail him.
MYSTIA:
"You need to be able to fight."
AURON:
"But..."
AURON:
"I was just trying to fight like a Battle Mage..."
Silence.
Gérard raises an eyebrow.
GÉRARD:
"Battle... Mage?"
The audience starts laughing.
A few competitors too.
The laughter spreads.
"A battle mage?"
"Seriously?"
AURON:
"W-what?"
GÉRARD:
"You mean those fake arena performers?"
More laughter.
Auron turns.
Looking around.
Confused.
Desperate.
AURON:
"No.":
"They’re..."
Gérard erupts into a mocking laughter.
Showing emotion besides anger for the first time in a long time.
GÉRARD
"This is the real world, punk."
His voice cuts through the arena.
GÉRARD:
"Either fight."
"Or get the hell out!"
Auron slowly turns toward the Guild Masters.
Looking for support.
Looking for someone.
Anyone.
To find what he does fun, entertaining...
No smiles.
No applause.
Just evaluation.
Judgment.
Practicality.
Reality.
The performance finally dies.
Auron lowers his head.
AURON:
"..."
The audience continues chuckling.
Auron takes a step.
Then another.
Walking toward the exit.
The arena barely notices.
The laughter continues.
GÉRARD:
"Yeah."
"Walk away."
More laughter.
GÉRARD:
"Go back to theater school, you faker."
Auron keeps walking.
GÉRARD:
"Not like those Battle Mages are real wizards anyway."
Auron stops.
The arena doesn’t notice.
GÉRARD:
"Bunch of second-rate morons pretending to be..."
AURON:
"What..."
Silence.
The laughter dies.
Auron hasn’t turned around.
AURON:
"...was that?"
The words are quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
Auron slowly turns.
One eye visible beneath his hair.
Cold.
Gérard smirks.
GÉRARD:
"You heard me."
AURON:
"..."
GÉRARD:
"Battle Mages are useless!"
The crowd watches.
GÉRARD:
"Nothing but fake..."
The ground explodes.
*CRAAAAACK!*
Stone shatters beneath Auron’s feet.
The audience gasps.
For the first time.
No performance.
No acting.
No showmanship.
Just movement.
Auron vanishes.
Appearing right in front of Gérard.
Gérard’s eyes widen.
Too late.
A giant arm erupts beside Auron’s own.
Pure white thread.
Compressed.
Layered.
Woven so densely it resembles steel.
Five times larger than his body.
The arena freezes.
AURON:
"THREAD MAGIC!!"
The giant fist clenches.
AURON:
"TITAN-"
Gérard can’t react.
There's no time.
The punch lands squarely against his face.
AURON:
"-KNUCKLEEEE!!"
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
The sound shakes the arena.
Gérard disappears.
Launched.
Like a ragdoll.
Straight into one of the colossal, stone support pillars.
*BOOOOOOOOOM!!!"
The pillar explodes.
Stone collapses.
Dust fills the arena.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Nobody moves.
Nobody breathes.
The dust settles.
Gérard lies among the rubble.
Unconscious.
Broken teeth scattered nearby.
Completely defeated.
Auron stands.
Breathing heavily.
A vein bulging in his forehead.
Genuinely angry.
AURON:
"Speak bad about Battle Mages?!"
A beat.
AURON:
"Fuck you!"
Silence.
Then...
He turns.
And starts walking away again.
The crowd parts instinctively.
Nobody stops him.
Nobody knows what to say.
Above.
Guild Master Platform.
Chaos.
RAJAH:
"I want him!"
MYSTIA:
"No! I want him."
VIVIENNE:
"Absolutely not, He's mine! I saw him first!"
RAJAH:
"That’s not how that works."
MYSTIA:
"It’s exactly how it works."
"And I saw him first!"
GRANDMA THORN:
"I’ll take him if you youngsters can't agree..:"
Everyone ignores her.
GRANDMA THORN:
"..."
*SMACK!*
She smacks Rajah with her pipe.
GRANDMA THORN:
"DON'T IGNORE ME YA BRATS!"
The argument continues.
Louder.
More heated.
More ridiculous.
Except for two people.
Albruzzius...
Still on the floor
And the silent figure in the back...
The shadowed Guild Master slowly stands.
The others don’t notice.
Too busy arguing.
The figure begins walking away.
Albruzzius opens one eye.
Then the other.
No trace of sleepiness remains.
His gaze is sharp.
Ancient.
Dangerous.
ALBRUZZIUS:
"Found something you like?"
The shadowed figure pauses.
Turns slightly.
Only a grin becomes visible.
A wide grin.
The grin of a man who just discovered buried treasure.
Albruzzius chuckles.
ALBRUZZIUS:
"Heh."
A beat.
ALBRUZZIUS:
"First one in a while, huh?"
The grin widens.
ALBRUZZIUS:
"Enjoy..."
The figure continues walking.
The others never notice.
Still arguing.
Fighting over the newest prize.
Outside the Grand Arena.
The cheers of the crowd are distant now.
Muted.
The tournament continues behind stone walls.
But out here...
It’s quiet.
The afternoon sun hangs low.
Long shadows stretch across the stairways leading away from the arena.
Auron walks alone.
Hands in pockets.
Head lowered.
His earlier anger still simmers.
AURON:
"Stupid guild masters..."
"Stupid tournament..."
Step.
AURON:
"Stupid Leopard..."
he stops
AURON:
"Was it Leopard?..."
Auron struggles to remember the name of that rude man..
He shrugs and keeps walking.
Someone stands ahead.
At the bottom of the staircase.
Waiting.
A man.
Early fifties.
Greyer hair than he should have.
Strong posture.
Five o’clock shadow.
Black shirt.
Dress pants.
Polished shoes.
A cigarette hangs from his mouth.
And despite his age...
He somehow looks dangerous.
Not loud dangerous.
Not flashy dangerous.
Comfor:tably dangerous.
Like a beast taking a nap in the distance.
The man grins.
Wide.
Almost vicious.
MAN:
"Good job in there."
Auron barely glances at him.
Then continues walking.
The man sighs.
MAN:
"Come on now."
"That was a compliment."
Still nothing.
Auron walks past.
The man takes a slow drag from his cigarette.
MAN:
"That was Isaac you were imitating, wasn’t it?"
Auron stops.
The man finally has his attention.
MAN:
"Isaac Boudelaire?"
"The Battle Mage+"
Auron slowly turns.
MAN:
"Not bad."
"You even copied his mannerisms."
"The poses, the timing thing..."
The man strikes a silly pointing pose and laughs.
MAN:
"Ridiculous."
"The way you were hopping around in there."
Auron narrows his eyes.
AURON:
"You've come to make fun of me too?"
The man raises an eyebrow.
AURON:
"Because I’ll warn you."
"I’m in a really shitty mood."
The man laughs.
Not mocking.
Genuinely amused.
MAN:
"Hardly."
"I’ve come to recruit you."
Silence.
Auron stares.
Then shrugs.
AURON:
"No thanks."
The man freezes.
MAN:
"...Huh?"
AURON:
"Not! Interested."
MAN:
"What?..."
AURON"
"I don’t join people who don’t understand or have any respect for what I’m doing."
The man takes another drag of his cigarette.
Curious now.
MAN:
"Oh?"
"And what exactly are you doing?"
Auron looks him straight in the eye.
No jokes.
No performance.
The happy theatric persona gone with his mood...
AURON:
"I’m gonna become the world’s greatest Battle Mage."
Silence.
The two stare at each other.
Neither looks away.
Then Auron turns.
Starts walking.
AURON:
"Since all you people care about is fighting..."
"I’ve got nothing to do here."
The man exhales smoke.
MAN:
"Figures."
"Typical Battle Mage."
Auron stops.
AURON:
"..."
MAN:
"Running away the moment something real happens."
Auron slowly turns.
The anger returns.
AURON:
"I’m warning you."
MAN:
"Hm?"
AURON:
"I’m in a really shitty mood."
"So you better stop it..:"
The man’s grin widens.
MAN:
"Or what?"
"It’s not like Battle Mages can do anything real anyway."
The stone staircase explodes.
Auron jumps towards the man in a blur.
A giant arm of woven thread erupts beside him.
AURON:
"TITAN KNUCKLE!!"
The fist descends.
The man doesn’t move.
Doesn’t even flinch.
Instead...
He speaks.
Quietly.
Clearly.
MAN:
"Unravel!..."
The giant fist instantly comes apart.
Threads separate.
Unweaves, disassembles.
The attack simply ceases to exist.
Like a ball of yarn tore apart.
Auron’s eyes widen.
AURON:
"Wha...?!"
His fist strikes empty air.
The man tilts his head.
MAN:
"Weren’t you gonna hit me?"
Auron lands.
Immediately prepares another attack.
Spins around, one hand on the ground leg readying a kick
The man sighs.
MAN:
"Honestly?..."
"Crush!..."
The very atmosphere bends.
*BOOOOOOOM!!!*
Auron slams into the ground.
The staircase caves inward.
Stone fractures.
A crater forms instantly.
Auron coughs blood.
Pinned beneath impossible pressure.
As though a mountain has been dropped onto him.
The man walks forward casually.
Hands in pockets.
MAN:
"Come on, kiddo."
The pressure increases.
"Did you really think you could fight a Guild Master?"
TITLE CARD:
'ORION BLACKCREST'
'Guildmaster of Nova Crest'
'User of Dominion Magic'
Auron struggles.
He grits his teeth, his body trembles.
Every muscle screaming.
AURON:
"What..."
He coughs.
"Do..."
"You..."
Blood trickles down from his nose and mouth.
"Want?!..."
Orion grins, kneels down and whistles.
ORION:
"You're sturdy... I knew it as soon as I saw you tank that shockwave straight to the face earlier..."
Auron doesn’t reply, he just stares angrily from beneath the invisible boulder of pressure.
ORION:
"Join my guild."
AURON:
"Fuck... Off!"
ORION
"Boooo."
"You’re boring."
Auron glares at him.
The crushing pressure cracks the very stone beneath him.
AURON:
"You think... I’d join your guild?"
ORION:
"Maybe."
AURON:
"You don’t... Care about... My dream at all!"
Orion’s grin fades.
For the first time.
ORION:
"That’s where you’re wrong."
He snaps his fingers.
The pressure vanishes.
Auron gasps.
Air rushes back into his lungs.
He slowly rises.
One knee is all: he can muster for now.
His vision still slightly blurred
Orion takes a drag.
Looks toward the horizon.
ORION:
"You know why Battle Mages can afford to act like you tried to back there?"
Auron freezes.
ORION:
"The spinning? The posing? The crowd work..."
Auron looks up at him.
Expecting another insult.
Another joke, another dismissal of his dream.
ORION:
"You wanna know why?"
Auron lunges.
A normal punch.
No magic.
Just frustration, and anger.
Eighteen years of being mocked.
The fist flies toward Orion.
ORION:
"Because they’re strong..."
The world stops.
*CRAAAAAAACK!*
Black energy erupts around Orion.
The stone beneath his feet shatters.
The stone beneath them fractures into spiderweb patterns that spread in every direction.
Auron freezes.
His fist stops inches from Orion’s face.
His entire body locked.
Pure instinct.
Every cell in his body screams.
Run.
You'll die...
For one brief second...
Auron sees it.
Not Orion.
Something behind him.
That feels like death itself.
A shadow.
His pure magical power eminating from him feels like it could tear him apart just by being close...
Auron shakes.
His mouth trembles.
He’s never felt power like this.
Not even close.
ORION:
"You think THE Isaac Boudelaire could perform like that if he wasn’t actually strong?"
The pressure disappears.
The vision vanishes.
Orion is smiling normally again.
As though nothing happened.
Auron falls backward.
Breathing heavily.
Shaking.
ORION:
"Battle Mages are strong, kid."
Silence.
ORION:
"It’s a good dream."
Auron freezes.
A flash.
His childhood.
Children laughing.
Another flash.
Teenagers mocking him.
Another.
Adults rolling their eyes.
Whispering.
Smirking.
Laughing.
Then...
His mother.
“If you work hard, dear... you can become anything you want.”
Back to the present.
ORION:
"But don’t mistake the destination for the journey."
Auron looks up.
ORION:
"Those Battle Mages took the hard road too."
ORION
"They became strong first."
"That's how they earned the right to perform."
Orion extends a hand.
ORION:
"Join my guild."
Auron stares at it.
ORION:
"Become the strongest!"
His grin returns.
"And if you’re the strongest..."
"Then you’ll become the best too."
Silence.
A long silence.
Then...
Auron reaches out.
Grabs Orion’s hand.
The Guildmaster laughs.
Auron smirks.
And in the distance...
The sun begins to set over the city of stars...
END OF EPISODE 1.
I suggest that u put them on one paragraph, add some quotation to know it was dialogue from character and not from narrator. So far the story is good yet kinda confusing cuz "why are they fighting for? ”thought. it's like u started on the climax of story. that's only my suggestions.