Chapter 3: New Challengers Emerge

The morning sun rose over Zenith's spires like a beacon, ushering in a new day's revelations. As Bera stepped into the courtyard, warriors stretching in the glow eyed him thoughtfully, weighing his prowess. But his focus lay elsewhere.

Across stone tiles Sylvi moved through fluid drills, yet tension creased her visage. Since the stranger's warnings, an invisible shadow seemed to dog her footsteps. When Bera approached, she sheathed bright steel with a sigh. "Dark whispers haunt my sleep. Our path grows clearer, yet far more perilous."

Before he could reply, Ibis arrived bearing summons. All contenders must gather in the Plaza, where officials would address unrest's roots and restore honor to the Games. Together Bera and Sylvi followed the flow of champions toward awaiting answers.

Emerging onto polished marble, gasps rose from the packed stands. For upon the central spire, armored figures stood watch with ornate weapons, emblazoned shields declaring a coat Bera did not know. Their ostentation clashed with Zenith's customs, hinting at ambition beyond sporting spirit.

All fell silent as a horn bellowed. Through tall archways strode robed dignitaries flanked by more foreign guards, jewel-toned silks billowing grandly. Halting at the spire's foot, their presumed leader raised gloved hands. "Champions of Zenith, we come bearing grave news. Your faithless rulers have fallen to corruption, usurped by factions poisoning glory for profit and power."

Murmurs swelled like a growing tide. The official persisted. "By divine right, we of Vindicta have ascended Zenith's throne to restore order. Plotters have been exiled, and further conspirators' fates will be just. Henceforth, the Galactic Games shall uplift morality and discipline, fostering strength of spirit above all else."

He gestured, and two armored giants hauled forth a prisoner in golden chains - a slumped, familiar form hidden behind ornate plates. As they forced the captive to its knees, plumed helm was wrenched free, revealing smooth alien features drained of life. Gasps shook the stands anew.

It was Bregor, Zenith's champion, hollow eyes staring unseeing at his usurped throne. Sylvi grasped Bera's arm, whispers swelling frantically. "There is foul sorcery afoot here! Beware what realities they twist to serve ambition."

Before the elf could expound further, a herald called the morning's first match - between Bera and the slumped prisoner newly stripped of might and mystery. Steel glinted in the stranger's palms as he hauled Bregor to unsteady feet, already weakened from unknown tortures. Yet defiant still, the fallen contender slowly raised his gaze, locking stubbornly on Bera's own. A flicker of fire remained.

Bera roared his challenge, fists clenching in rage at the dishonorable spectacle. This would not stand - he and Sylvi would uncover truth, whatever price must be paid. His mighty blade snapped free of its sheath as officials proclaimed the duel's commencement. And with thunderous cheers, the first stand against tyranny began...,