The cheers and shock of the crowd filled the afternoon air. The audience slid to the edge of their seats to see the decisive moments of the combat, cheering for the last three men standing in the arena. The Holy Ice, from the Glacier that Never Melts, stood in the center, encompassed in a glass dome.

The challenge was simple, reach the final circle and steal the glass dome with the ice. The three competitors relied on three different skills to fulfill the task.

The youth in gold wielded a great longsword and moved nimbly delivering fast but powerful blows. Yet, his opponents were nothing short of formidable. The one in blue fired sharp and swift arrows from his bow, and barely missed a target. His never-ending quiver offered a bunch every time he needed one, never running short. The other youth in black did not carry any weapon; his weapon were his chants, soundless to human ears. Those chants then created ripples in thin air that crystalized into arms, sharp enough to subdue his opponents.

The young princess, who had offered her hand at stake in this Swayamvar ceremony, looked out pensively at the remaining three bachelors. There were moments during the enthralling contest that she would almost forget that those three warriors were dueling for her hand in marriage. She had preferences at the beginning, but they had to be abandoned soon, due to the early departure of her favorites.

At present, the fate of the contest was swinging like a three-way pendulum, tipping this way then the other. Earlier, the court ladies who accompanied the princess were chattering ceaselessly, seeking to draw support for their favorites. But now, they were rendered speechless by the extraordinary display of might and agility.

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Suryadev narrowly missed the arrow that grazed his right cheek. He glanced at his fellow competitor with mock disdain. The unexpected ferocity from Prince Indranil was more than he had promised. Surya's agreement to help Indra win over Princess Na'arvi relied on Surya not looking like an absolute clown at the end of the contest. So far, Indra was NOT upholding his end of the bargain. He acted in the manner of a love-struck puppy that would go to any length to impress his maiden. Surya decided to have a word with his friend. Flipping twice in air, he swiftly closed the distance.

As he brushed past his friend, he grumbled, "Are you not forgetting something?"

"No. But I delight in your fury." Indra smirked, but that smirk did not last long.

A sharp air dagger came flying at him and tore through his armor, singeing his copper brown skin. The two warriors turned to the direction it came from.

A tall slender youth was standing still on the other side of the arena, with feet firmly planted to the ground. He did not seem to be in a hurry to reach his opponents. Yet, his eyes had a chilling look, as if winning the contest mattered little if he could hurt them. He did not wield a weapon, but his Tantric air blast more than made up for it. Indra's enchanted armor was impervious to a strike from a physical weapon, but it was powerless against weapons forged from spells.

The black-clad youth held out his arms to his sides, still facing them, as if inviting them to a challenge. Behind him, the evening sun was setting, causing his long curly hair to form a dark silhouette around him.

Little by little, particles in the air started to congeal and form what looked like five different weapons, all encircling him. The two friends had to forego their mutual squabble due to more serious matters at hand. Both turned to their common enemy with their own weapons ready and it was only moments before all five of their enemy's weapons charged at them full force.

Surya acted swiftly. "Let me take care of the air weapons. You focus on restraining him." Indra nodded and immediately reached back to his quiver to grab five arrows. He secured them on his bow and pulled the bowstring as he charged spinning up in the air. The arrows left the bow taking a curved path, dodging the air weapons, heading straight for the sorcerer. But the black-clad youth did not shift from his place.

Instead, his attention was focused solely on the Prince wrapped in gold armor, who was shattering his air weapons with extreme dexterity.

He whispered to himself, "Your nemesis awaits you, Prince Surya," and raced towards the glass dome that carried the perpetual ice.

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