The Forgotten Boy Who Drew the Sacred Blade and Shattered a Tyrant's Legacy

The Awakening of Ignis

The moment Arthur’s fingers closed around the worn leather hilt, a powerful shockwave of golden light erupted from the stone, rippling outward and forcing the warriors to shield their eyes. The laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating silence. The earth beneath their feet began to tremble, and the deep cracks in the ancient boulder glowed with an intense, warm radiance. With a smooth, effortless motion, Arthur pulled. The legendary blade slid from the stone as if it were nothing more than a sword being drawn from a velvet sheath.

A collective gasp echoed through the gorge as the soldiers fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the sudden aura of authority radiating from the young man. Lord Borin’s face drained of color, his smug expression twisting into a mask of pure rage and disbelief.

This is impossible!

Borin roared, drawing his own heavy iron broadsword.

A filthy stable boy cannot be the chosen one! This is dark magic, a trick to deceive us all!

As Borin advanced, the dirt and grime on the blade began to dissolve, revealing a brilliant, glowing inscription. It was the royal crest of the Pendragon dynasty—the rightful rulers who had been betrayed and slaughtered fifteen years ago. Borin froze, staring at the glowing crest. His mind raced as he remembered the night of the massacre, a night where he had personally led the betrayal to secure his own rise to power. He had believed the entire royal bloodline was extinguished, but looking at the young man holding the sacred blade, the truth became terrifyingly clear. Arthur was the lost prince, the sole survivor of the royal massacre.

Realizing his entire life of lies was about to crumble, Borin pointed his sword at Arthur and screamed to his men.

Kill him! Do not let him leave this gorge alive! He is a fraud and a threat to the realm!

The soldiers hesitated, torn between their fear of the legendary blade and their obedience to their brutal commander.