The golden sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm glow across the majestic city of Veridia. The streets were bustling with nobles in chariots, children chasing each other in alleys, and merchants closing their stalls for the night. In the heart of the city stood the magnificent palace of King Malik — a sprawling marvel of architecture, gleaming with ivory towers and banners dancing in the evening breeze.
Inside the palace, a grand feast was in full swing. Dazzling chandeliers illuminated the great hall where the kingdom's elite gathered. Long tables were adorned with roasted lamb, spiced rice, golden goblets of wine, and fruits that shimmered like jewels. Servants in silk uniforms moved gracefully through the crowd, refilling cups and delivering trays. Laughter echoed, music played, and the scent of luxury clung to every corner.
It was an event to celebrate the prosperity of Veridia, and King Malik, seated beside his elegant queen on an elevated golden throne, looked over the assembly with pride.
Then, the hall doors creaked open.
All heads turned.
A lone man entered, dust on his boots, a dark cloak over his shoulders, and the confidence of a lion in his stride. His eyes were sharp, his beard thick and untamed. He did not pause to announce himself or seek permission. He walked directly to the center of the hall and sat across from the king — bold, fearless.
King Malik's brow furrowed. He leaned forward and asked, "You enter without invitation and sit before me like an equal. Tell me, stranger, who are you? From which land do you hail?"
Adam's eyes narrowed. A spark of irritation flared within him. That Malik — that same man who had once pleaded for his help against the beast Oblivion — now failed to recognize him? He clenched his fists under the table, insulted.
"Malik," he said, his voice steady but sharp. "You ask who I am? Do you invite beggars to sit at your table or speak to you with such boldness? I am Adam — the very man who defeated the terror of your kingdom, Oblivion. Have you truly forgotten?"
The room fell silent. Goblets paused mid-air, forks froze inches from mouths. The warriors lining the hall stiffened.
A heavily built knight at the king's left slammed his cup down. "You dare speak to His Majesty with such arrogance? Know your place!"
King Malik gestured, and six palace guards stepped forward, gripping their swords. "Remove this man," he ordered.
They charged.
But Adam was faster.
In the blink of an eye, he moved. One guard went flying through the air. Another slumped to the floor, knocked out cold. Within seconds, all six lay unconscious, groaning.
Gasps filled the room. Panic erupted. Nobles scrambled from their seats, flipping tables. Some screamed, others ran. Dishes shattered, and servants ducked for cover.
The king rose in disbelief, watching his finest men fall.
"More!" he barked. "Ten more warriors!"
Steel clashed, boots thundered, but Adam stood unmoved. Like a whirlwind of fury, he deflected, struck, and spun with brutal precision. One by one, the warriors dropped, some clutching broken limbs, others too dazed to rise.
By the time the dust settled, the grand hall was in ruins. The laughter was gone. The music silenced. All that remained was Adam, his cloak flowing behind him as he walked out of the palace like a storm leaving behind destruction.
Outside, he mounted his steed, Maximus, and galloped into the city's heart — the marketplace.
There, he halted at the central square, dismounted, and called out, "Food! Bring all the food you have!"
Vendors, trembling, obeyed. Piles of bread, roasted meats, fruits, and wine appeared before him.
Adam raised his voice. "People of Veridia! Come and eat! This is your city, not Malik's. Let no man rule you through fear or favor!"
The townsfolk hesitated at first, casting nervous glances at the palace. But hunger conquered fear. Slowly, they approached. Then in droves, they came. Laughter returned, and the marketplace transformed into a celebration under the stars.
Back at the palace, King Malik sat stunned. His guards defeated. His banquet destroyed. His pride shattered.
A minister leaned toward him and whispered, "Your Majesty... that man was Adam. The same warrior who saved our city from Oblivion."
Realization hit the king like a punch to the chest. He exhaled sharply. "Of course... Only Adam could have done this."
"Shall I summon him back?" the minister asked cautiously.
"No one would dare," the king muttered.
But one man, trembling yet brave, volunteered. He approached Adam in the marketplace, bowed low, and whispered, "The king requests your presence."
Adam glanced at him, amused. But before he could reply, the messenger bolted in fear.
Chuckling, Adam turned to the crowd. "Very well," he said, raising his voice. "I will return to the palace. But only after King Malik declares a feast in my honor — one for the people! Let all food vendors be paid. Let everyone eat — rich or poor."
The next morning, Malik made the announcement.
A grander feast was prepared — this time across the entire palace courtyard. Adam took charge, seating the king and queen at a humble table near the edge while he sat at the center, surrounded by the people.
Music played once more. Wine flowed freely. Adam toasted to freedom, to bravery, to the spirit of the people. King Malik, forced to smile, stood and declared, "This is Adam's feast! And tomorrow, I shall host another in his honor!"
And so, the next day came. A third banquet was arranged — more luxurious than any before. Adam sat beside the king and queen now, a guest of honor, draped in royal colors. He said little, drank modestly, and kept his gaze distant.
By nightfall, as laughter and drunkenness overtook the guests, Adam slipped away.
He changed into rags, smeared ash on his face, and vanished into the quiet night.
In a nearby village, he found a tavern tucked between crooked alleys. Lanterns flickered, and laughter drifted from within. He entered, hunched and silent.
The tavern keeper scowled at his appearance. "No beggars here. Get out before I throw you into the mud."
Adam said nothing. Instead, he collapsed to the floor.
Villagers rushed to him in alarm. "He's dying!" someone cried. A jug of wine was fetched, and as it touched his lips, Adam "miraculously" came back to life. He laughed loudly, took the jug, and drank like a man reborn.
The tavern keeper stood stunned. "You tricked us!"
But Adam kept laughing.
The tavern doors slammed shut for the night, but Adam remained inside. Before dawn, he rose, stretched, and with one mighty push, smashed the wooden doors off their hinges.
He rolled out three barrels of the finest wine.
In the streets, he cried, "Drink! Let none thirst tonight! This is for the people!"
Men and women gathered, cups in hand, cheering.
The tavern keeper chased after him with a mob, but Adam was too fast, too clever. He paid for the barrels in gold and left the crowd in uproarious celebration.
When word reached the palace again, King Malik groaned. "Only Adam... Always Adam."
Later that night, as peace returned, the king summoned Adam privately.
"There is something I must ask of you," he said solemnly. "A warlord named Alexandra plagues our borders. She is ruthless, cunning, and unstoppable. She raids our towns, destroys our farms, and has killed many of my soldiers. We've tried everything. I need your help."
Adam stroked his beard, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"A worthy foe at last," he said. "I accept. But give me six of your best warriors. I want to see if your kingdom still breeds courage."
King Malik nodded. "They will be ready at dawn."