The cold wind of dawn whispered through the dense trees as Adam and his warriors remained hidden in silence, their breaths barely audible. The stillness of the forest was shattered by the thunderous approach of a lone figure. Charging through the underbrush like a wild beast, his presence warped the air around him.
It was Alexandra.
A warlord feared across kingdoms. Every step he took cracked the ground beneath him. His aura was thick with menace. Oblivious to the eyes watching him from the shadows, he marched on—his towering frame shrouded in power.
Adam turned toward his companions, his voice sharp and calm.
"Who among you dares follow him to discover his destination? And if fate allows—who among you will face him in battle?"
No one moved.
Their faces, once proud and fearless, were now pale with dread. The silence spoke louder than words. No one volunteered.
Adam's eyes landed on the eldest warrior. "You," he said coldly. "Go."
The man hesitated but nodded, knowing there was no refusing Adam. He mounted his horse, his heartbeat thundering as he rode after the warlord. Fear clung to him like a shadow, for he knew if Alexandra spotted him—there would be no escape.
After a long, tense pursuit, he saw him.
Alexandra had stopped near a clearing, inspecting his weapons with a smirk, sharpening his blades with deliberate precision. Suddenly, he hurled his spear into the sky, caught it mid-air, and let out a deep, echoing roar:
"Today, I shall face Adam in battle! Today, I will measure my strength against the legend!"
Hearing Adam's name stirred something in the old warrior. Pride overcame fear.
"Alexandra!" he cried out, "Your arrogance will be your end. If you cross Adam's path, it will be your last fight!"
Alexandra's eyes snapped in the direction of the voice. Fury ignited in them like wildfire. His roar shook the forest. The river nearby churned, trees trembled, and smoke curled from his nostrils. Then—he charged.
The warrior fled, panic driving his every movement. His horse stumbled in the chaos, but he clung on, escaping by a hair's breadth. When he returned to camp, gasping for breath, Adam listened quietly.
Then he smiled, drawing patterns in the dirt with his foot.
"The fire has left our blood," he said quietly. "And there are no heirs to carry it."
Without another word, Adam approached Maximus—his warhorse, the beast that had stood beside him through wars untold. He placed a hand on Maximus's neck.
"My partner in countless battles. Only you can carry me into this fight."
Maximus neighed, stomping the ground, ready for war.
Adam strapped on his armor, secured his sword, and mounted Maximus. With the legendary blade Wargaji at his side, he rode straight toward Alexandra.
As he drew near, his voice rang through the air:
"You arrogant fool! Who gave you the right to cross into our land?"
Alexandra let out a cry of fury and surged forward.
They collided like hurricanes.
Their weapons clashed with thunderous force. Sparks lit the air. The ground quaked. Forests bent beneath their fury, and the heavens seemed to darken in awe of their battle.
Sword to sword, shield to spear—they fought from sunrise to sunset.
Three days.
Three nights.
On the final night, Alexandra saw an opening. He lifted Adam into the air and slammed him to the earth, sending shockwaves across the battlefield. He raised his axe—aimed for Adam's heart.
But Adam was faster.
He twisted out of the way—the axe cleaved the ground in half. Adam caught Alexandra's arms, wrestled him down, and snarled,
"You dare challenge a true warrior?"
Alexandra writhed in Adam's iron grip—but he was no match.
"Where do you come from? Who are your parents?" Adam demanded.
Alexandra gritted his teeth. "That's none of your concern, old man!"
Adam's patience snapped. With a roar, he hurled Alexandra into the ground with the weight of a falling mountain.
"Answer me!" he shouted.
Bloodied and beaten, Alexandra finally said:
"My mother is a queen. My father—a warrior of legends. He died in battle. She warned me... if I ever met a warrior named Adam the Mighty—I should turn and run, for only he could defeat me."
Adam's breath caught.
His arms fell to his sides.
"Your mother… was she the Queen of Veridia?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Alexandra looked confused. "Yes. Why?"
Adam took a step back. His heart thundered as truth unfolded before him.
"You are my son."
A long silence.
Alexandra's world shifted. He stared at Adam, seeking a lie—but found only sorrow.
"You were taken from me before birth," Adam whispered. "Your mother never told you. I spent a lifetime at war… not knowing I had a son."
Alexandra stood frozen.
Then—Adam embraced him. "My son. Let us not be enemies."
Alexandra's hands trembled. Tears welled in his eyes, but his heart raged.
"You were a warrior. She told me… you were a king."
He turned away.
"I need time."
Adam nodded. "Go to her. Ask the truth. If fate wills it, we shall meet again."
Alexandra mounted his horse and galloped home, emotions clashing like storms inside him.
But when he arrived—the storm turned to fury.
He burst into the palace. "You lied to me! You told me my father was a king! But he was just a warrior!"
Lucia, the queen, fell to her knees. "I did it to protect you..."
But rage blinded him.
With a single strike, he killed her.
And even then—he was not satisfied.
"I will kill Adam too."
He rode through the night, following the trail back to the forest. There, he found Adam—sleeping beside Maximus. Quietly, he approached, raising his axe.
He struck.
The sound of metal rang out—Adam had worn a plate of iron beneath his chest.
In a flash, Adam was awake.
He grabbed Alexandra, hurled him against the stone wall.
The impact ended it.
Alexandra—the lost son—died not knowing peace, consumed by hate, unaware he had come full circle.
Adam stood over his son's body, his heart shattered. The people, ignorant of the truth, cheered his victory.
But Adam did not celebrate.
For him—it was no triumph.
It was tragedy.