“A

Rex eagerly stared out the oval window of their small shuttle to see the planet as they approached it. This was the first time he’d ever been to the home world of the Legion of Heroes, and he could finally take the time to confirm the rumors about the extravagance of the place.

Rex immediately took notice of the odd white orbs floating in space. There were hundreds of these round space stations that were strewn along the orbital path, forming a white ring around Salhades. The space stations were armed to the teeth, having numerous gun placements. Rex was sure that there were also hundreds of space fighters tucked away in their docking bays, ready to be launched at any time. Then Rex turned his gaze toward the gallant white fleets that nearly blinded him with their reflection of the nearby star. These fleets consisted mostly of the Legion’s elegant Valorian cruisers, which were usually fitted with SKAR cannons in order to quickly disable hostile ships.

After seeing everything for himself, he could tell that the security, even before entering the planet itself, was nearly impenetrable, as he had heard it was. With such a large fleet and several protected checkpoints, it’d be impossible for unknown ships to drift toward the planet without being captured in seconds. Even the Federation, with the strongest fleet in the galaxy, would have a difficult time breaking through the defense.

But there was more to the security of Salhades than just the numerous defense forces in space; the planet also had a tough shell to crack. Massive dark-green shield generators hovered just above the uppermost region of the atmosphere. The whole planet was wrapped in several layers of some of the most advanced shields known to man. People, who were not among the highest-ranking Heroes, could only enter or leave the planet during certain hours. Whenever someone would request to go through the shields, only a small hole would be opened to prevent any possible large-scale invasion force from coming in. The Legion spared no expense when it came to the protection of their world and their glorified Overlord.

The city of Fallence, however, was completely different. While still magnificent, it was nothing he imagined it to be. He was used to industrial slums and the modern world of the Federation. However, walking through the city of Fallence was like a walk into the past. Much of the city was preserved from the start of the millennium. The buildings were antiquated and the roads were of stone. The city was like an ancient work of art. It remained true to its history.

While the Heroes were revered across the galaxy, it was here in their city of Fallence that they were most celebrated. Statues of stone, portraying the most venerated of Heroes, were situated at the steps of large temples that overlooked the countryside. Near the center of the city were coliseums where fierce tournaments were routinely held; they were so popular that citizens from all over the world would come to experience them once a year in their annual pilgrimage. It all looked amazing. Rex’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect of sightseeing.

The place where they were going to meet the Overlord was a ziggurat in the middle of the city known as the Sanctuary. The roads that led into the temple were paved in gold. The temple itself was constructed with fine cedar and adorned in gold. Even in a city that prided itself on its pleasing architecture, the temple’s majestic appearance stood out like a sore thumb.

When they walked up to the front gate, several guards stopped them from proceeding. The guards, clothed in silver armor, carried long spears.

“Do you have an appointment?” asked one of the guards. “Yes,” replied Dionus. “The three of us are scheduled to have an audience with the Overlord. We are ambassadors of the United Federation.”
The guards nodded. “We’ve been expecting you.” They led Dionus, Rex and Layne into the main hall. It was wide open and spacious, with lion-faced fountains along the walls. Images of past heroes and their feats were painted along the ceiling and walls comprising one large mural that seemed to tell the history of the Legion. Rex looked over the mural, trying to see if he could make connections between the pictures and the history books he had read.
Most of it was familiar to him, such as the first Overlord, Ellik, who was portrayed in golden armor, wielding the sword of victory, Quezectur. However, there was something he couldn’t recognize no matter how long he stared at it. He couldn’t recognize the strange creature that Ellik was fighting. The early days of the Legion were filled with wars against human factions. Encounters with monsters were rare, but the Heroes did deal with them, and when they did, it would always end up being written down as a legend for years to come. Yet in this picture, Ellik was attacking a two-headed shark, and it was nothing that Rex had ever read about. Surely something like this, concerning the first Overlord himself, would be a famous legend.
“Excuse me,” said Rex. “May I ask a question?”
“Go ahead,” grunted the captain of the guard.
Rex pointed. “What is that monster? I don’t remember that legend.”
“Sorry, I don’t know,” the guard said. “The one who painted that picture long ago never made a record of it. It is a forgotten legend, most likely nothing important.”
“Nothing important?” Dionus set his eyes on the beast that Rex was talking about and, breaking into a smile, turned his gaze away.
As they approached the end of the hall they were presented with three large wooden doors. All doors were painted black and each one had a different sign above them.
Rex read the signs out loud, “Birth…Life…Death? What’s this for?”
“The trials.” The guard cleared his throat. “Anyone who wishes to speak with the Overlord must pass one of the trials. So each one of you must complete a trial.”
“What’s the difference?” asked Rex. “Or are they all the same?”
“The first door leads to the trial of Birth. It is also known as the trial of the Mind and of the Past. It is the longest trial, but also the simplest. An examiner will examine your mind and intentions and see if you are fit to meet the Overlord. The second is the trial of Life. It is also known as the trial of the Body and of the Present. It is a test of a physical skill. For this trial you will fight one of our greatest warriors. The final door leads to the trial of Death. It is also known as the trial of Spirit and of the Future. It is a test of will. It is the shortest trial and will only take a few seconds. But beware of this trial, for you may lose your life quite easily. This is the trial for those who cannot chose among the other trials. Now choose a door. May you succeed and may all the Heroes of the past guide you toward your success. If you fail…you’ll never set foot in this place again.”
Rex groaned, “I did not sign up for this.” After pondering about it, he asked the guard, “Can we all take the same door?”
“You can, ” replied the guard. “But you’d have to take turns. You cannot take it all at once. We may need to prepare the trial every time.”
“Let’s just each take a door,” said Layne. “That’s the fastest way. I’ll take the trial of Death. I can’t allow Dionus to take—”
“No,” said Dionus curtly, “this is my choice. I’ll take the trial of Death.”
“But—”
“No. I will do it. End of discussion.”
Furrowing her brow, Layne agreed. “Fine, then I’ll take the trial of Life. Since Rex is the youngest, let him have the trial of Birth. It suits him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” grumbled Rex.
“Do you have something to say?” questioned Layne.
“Not at all.” Rex shook his head. “Let’s get this over with.”
Rex walked into the first door not knowing what awaited him. The door slammed shut behind him and he followed along a narrow lit path into a small room. It was an ordinary room with a creepy little old man who sat on a cushion with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. A little candle was situated in the center of the room, in front of the old man.
“Welcome,” said the man, “to the trial of Birth. My name is Walter Rollworth. I am a G-Rank Hero, Psionic class. I will be your examiner. Please take a seat here with me.”
Rex silently sat in front of the candle. The light from the small flame created spooky shadows that pranced about the walls, even though there was nothing else in the room with them.
“Close your eyes and clear your mind,” instructed Walter. “I will do the rest.”
The instant he closed his eyes, he could feel a tingling sensation in his head. At first he only saw the darkness, but soon a small light came into the center of his vision. The light erupted into a deafening explosion that tore a nearby city asunder. Hundreds of these massive explosions lit up the night sky, overlapping into the cries and howls of weeping children. Suddenly Rex heard many voices—familiar voices.
“Stop the child from crying or else they’ll hear him!”
“It’s too late! Just hide the child!”
“They’re coming! Open fire! Don’t let them get inside!”
Gunshots pierced the walls of buildings and blood flowed into the streets. Soldiers hiding among the trees opened fire blindly; it was too hard to see what they firing at, but at the same time, they didn’t want to see.
Sitting up from his bed, Rex screamed. Sweat and tears were smeared all over his face. A young Darek ran into the room and laughed at Rex.
“Pull yourself together,” said Darek. “It’s already noon.”
Surprised to see Darek around, Rex gawked at him and then he looked at his clothes; he was no longer in his uniform. His hands and feet looked smaller than normal. He was no longer at the Sanctuary, but was now inside his shabby old bedroom.
“Come on.” Darek grinned. “It’s almost time for lunch.”
“This is…the past?” Dumbfounded, Rex stood up and said, “How old am I? Why am I back in this orphanage? Why am I at Whardhime? What is going on here?”
Darek ignored him and left the room. “Must’ve had a pretty bad nightmare.”
From that point forward, Rex relived the moments of that day in his past, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was real or not. Was this a part of his memory? Or could it have been actual time travel? If it was time travel, then maybe he could change the event—the event that changed his life forever.
“Hey Rex,” said Slade. “Want to see who can make the best paper airplane?”
“You’re on.” Rex beamed. He couldn’t best Slade in sports, but when it came to making things, they were on equal ground.
That afternoon, Rex designed many prototypes in order to see which one would fly the farthest. He didn’t really think too much about it, all he did was try different things until he made twenty different kinds. After they were all made, he ran to the backyard. One by one, he threw the paper airplanes; one by one, they fell across the field. Some of them were no good and fell backwards. Most of them were decent, making their way near the center of the field. But he wanted one that would shock Slade, one that would totally blow him away. After nineteen tries, he nearly gave up on that idea. None of these paper airplanes were going to impress anybody.
The last paper airplane rested in his hands. After taking a deep sigh and muttering a few prayers, he tossed it into the air. It soared higher than any other plane and was caught up by the wind, taking flight high into the sky. Happy with its performance, Rex ran under it and followed it all the way across the field. This was it. This was the plane that would help him win.
But as it floated down, Rex looked stunned. His look of joy turned to horror. Beyond their backyard was a steep cliff, and his plane had drifted over the cliff and into the valley below. The valley was a place they often had to roam through because it was not unusual for things, like a ball they were playing with, to fall in. However, they were only allowed to go there when the sun was high. But now, the sun was nearly setting.
Slade ran out of the house. “All right, let’s fly our planes now or we’ll be late for dinner.”
“Wait,” said Rex. “My plane fell down there.”
“Oh, come on,” Slade said. “Stop making excuses. I see your planes are all over.”
“It’s not just any plane! My best plane really went all the way down!” Rex pouted.
Slade sighed. “Don’t get all teary on me. I’ll give you time to make a new one.”
“It’s not the same,” said Rex. “That plane was really amazing!”
“That’s what I’m saying. You can make it again.”
“I don’t know how I made it,” admitted Rex. “I don’t remember. I have to see it again.”
“Look, do you want to have this contest or not?”
“I do! Just let me go down to get it first.”
“Dinner in ten minutes boys!” Miss Kurt shouted from the window of the house.
“We have ten minutes,” said Slade. “Let’s find it quick.”
The two of them ran down a slope into the valley and searched as fast as they could for the airplane. With their sticks they prodded tree branches, hoping the plane would fall out from somewhere. But no matter how much they looked, they couldn’t find it.
“Let’s go back,” said Slade. “It’s getting late. Miss Kurt is waiting for us.”
“But I know I can find it,” said Rex. “Just a few more minutes.”
“You said that several times already. We can come back tomorrow.”
“But what if it gets blown away? It might be gone tomorrow!”
“You can make a new one,” said Slade.
“I keep telling you it’s not the same! It has to be that one! That one really flew!”
Slade looked Rex in the eye and saw a small tear. “We’ll come back tomorrow. If it’s not here, then we can call the whole thing off. It’s just a game.”
Rex nodded. But to him it wasn’t just a game. He wanted to prove his worth. He wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn’t just a good-for-nothing crybaby; that it was not a mistake for him to be born. This was now a lost opportunity, just one of many. But to him every single one mattered.
Seems to me you have a lot of guilt, said a voice in his mind.
“Who’s there?” asked Rex.
Don’t be afraid. It’s just me, your examiner.
“Oh, so this is a dream—one that you conjured from my past.”
Yes, said Walter, this is the trial of Birth. This trial is the simplest because all I want for you to do is face the ghosts of your past. From what I can tell, you blame the death of your parents on yourself.
“If I didn’t cry, my parents might still be alive. The soldiers wouldn’t have found them.”
But you were only an infant. What could you do?
“That doesn’t change the fact that I was at fault. I am lucky to have lived, but I was better off not being born! My family was sacrificed that day. Yet, I still don’t think it was worth it. They shouldn’t have—”
Whether it was worth it or not, is not for you to say. Let us continue.
“No.” said Rex. “Not anymore…please…I don’t want to see what happens next.”
You’ve been hiding it all along. You have forgotten or rather, you have chosen to forget. But don’t worry, after this, you will have passed the trial.

Layne entered the second door to take her test. What awaited her was a stone bridge that was suspended over a deep pool of water. A well-dressed woman was situated on a high platform that overlooked the bridge.

The woman replied, “I am Wyra Avins, a G-Rank Hero and a master of archery. I will only be the judge for this match. The one you are to fight is this man before you.”

A man walked out onto the bridge and faced Layne, glaring at her. His body was covered in padded armor that bore the colors of the Hero: white, yellow and blue. He wielded a two-handed sword with a blade that was a head’s width. He strapped on a chromeplated helmet that covered his face and had a slit for his eyes to see.

“His name is Harry Grimstone, W-Rank Hero. He is the grand champion of the fall tournament. He will be your test. Killing is not allowed. Anyone who kills will be disqualified. If you fall off the bridge and into the water, you are disqualified. If you wish to forfeit, you may do so by saying, ‘I give up.’ Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I have one question,” said Layne smugly. “What if I kill him accidentally? I’ll try my best to hold back, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“A kill is a kill,” replied Wyra, her eyes narrowing. “You’ll be punished. Is that all?”
Layne was disappointed, but she nodded in reply.
“Very well,” said Wyra, “you may begin.”
Layne drew forth her blade. A ghoulish-white glimmer flashed from its surface. As she waved her sword around, tiny white wisps fled from her sword in the image of skulls.
Wyra looked astonished when she saw Layne’s sword. “Is that a legendary sword?” she mumbled to herself, “I’ve never seen anything like it…”
“Try not to die,” Layne said to the warrior with a vicious smile. Her hair still covered her left eye, but her right eye glared back at him. “I cannot fail Dionus.”
Layne sprinted across the bridge, dragging her sword behind her. With a leap, she launched several slashes down at the Hero. The Hero confidently parried each attack with his sword. After she had slashed fifteen times, she turned her back on the Hero. The Hero looked at her curiously, wondering why she had given up so soon.
“I’ve got you now!” he shouted, aiming to strike her in the back.
But before he could lift up his sword, he felt weak and knelt on the ground. He watched his hands as blood dripped down his elbows. Then he looked at his armor and blood flowed through fifteen new cracks on his chest. His face was distorted with confusion, and from the shock, he passed out on the ground.
Even Wyra, who was carefully watching the match so that there wouldn’t be any cheating, didn’t understand it. With her hawk-like vision, she had a clear view of the fight, yet her mind could not comprehend what had happened. The swordsman, Harry, had clearly blocked every attack, yet surely enough, her blade had cut his armor. There was nothing she could hold against Layne. There was no trick, or if there was, Wyra couldn’t see it.

Dionus had walked through his door at the same time as everyone else. A middle-aged man greeted him at the other side.
“My name is Ruwan—”
“Spare the small talk,” Dionus interrupted. “Just tell me what I have to do.”
“How rude,” Ruwan whispered to himself. He said, “Then stand in the room behind me.”
Dionus stood in the room as instructed. The floor of the room was painted with black ink in the form of a strange glowing seal, complete with foreign markings and inscriptions.
“This is a summon seal,” remarked Dionus. “Are you a Summoner?”
“I am,” replied Ruwan, surprised. “You are familiar with these arts?”
Dionus nodded. “I’ve seen them before. A manifestation of the spirit in a beastly form.”
Ruwan smiled proudly. “Well, this is one you’ve never seen before. The Heroes of long ago poured out their spirit to create this summon…the lord of all summons!”
Ruwan placed his hands on the floor and the seal shined with intense light. The seal came to life, tore itself from the floor and became three-dimensional; like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the parts of the seal folded and fit together, forming an odd, mythical creature.
The creature had the head of a lion, the body of a bear, the wings of an eagle and the legs of a leopard. It was clothed with fire and the flames engulfed the room. Its eyes were proud and overbearing, demanding absolute attention and respect.
“I am the great spirit Arthrun,” the beast bellowed. “I shall give you the trial of Death.”
Scratching his head, Dionus stood before the beast undaunted and unimpressed.
“This is a trial of sacrifice,” said Arthrun. “Tell me what you wish to sacrifice and if it seems right to me, I shall take it from you without fail. If your sacrifice is lacking, I shall take more from you than necessary. Now tell me, what is it that you wish to sacrifice?”
“I will sacrifice my left arm,” replied Dionus flatly. “I have no use for it anyway.” He lifted his left arm, presenting it to the beast.
“Your left arm?” The beast scoffed. “You will not sacrifice your ambitions, goals or dreams?”
“Of course not. Those are my life’s purpose. If you take those away, you might as well take my life.”
“Then what of love? Will you not sacrifice that and live a life of loneliness? Or how about your joy? I can take away your joy and leave you bitter for the rest of your life. And what of peace? Peace would be small price to pay. You can stay worried and in fear. Are those not wonderful choices for your sacrifice?”
“No,” said Dionus, his eyes fixed on Arthrun’s. “My left arm is all I will give and that is all you will accept.”
“Your left arm is not enough,” Arthrun thundered. “What a foolish man you are! You have insulted my gracious offer. For that, I shall not only take your left arm, but I shall take your right arm, your vision, your hearing and your tongue as well! Then I shall strip away your love, peace and joy! You will no longer have ambitions, goals and dreams! I SHALL TAKE IT ALL!”
Dionus stretched forth his left arm and Arthrun chomped down on it, the serrated teeth sank all the way into the bone. Dionus said, “My left arm is worth more than your existence. Eat it and perish.”
“It can’t be,” whimpered Arthrun, as he tasted his flesh.
While chewing on Dionus’s arm, the flames around Arthrun were blown away into a billow of smoke. Swiftly, Dionus released his sword from its scabbard and thrust it between the beast’s eyes, piercing straight through its skull. Arthrun roared in anguish and pulled away from Dionus, ripping off his left arm in the process. Arthrun squirmed and writhed on the floor for a while. Then, without a sound, it burst into bits of black paint, disintegrating into nothing.
Ruwan was paralyzed in horror. Arthrun was supposedly invincible; it was the greatest creation and symbol of power given by the great Heroes from past generations. But it was now reduced to nothing more than chips of paint.
“Am I done here?” Dionus picked his sword up and slid it back into its scabbard.
Ruwan trembled. “Yes, the Overlord will see you now.”
After Dionus left the room, Ruwan fell to the ground and said, “How could the immortal Arthrun be defeated? When the Overlord finds out about this, I’ll be exiled—or worse yet, I’ll be killed! He will strip away the Fate that was given me! This is my end…” CHAPTER 18 Celebration