Thunderous cheers, like crashing waves, slammed against his eardrums, pulling Rober from a state of disoriented unconsciousness. He jolted his eyes open, but instead of the sight of Kalis Marry's soul struggling against dark chains, before him lay a completely unfamiliar scene, blazing under a harsh sun.
He stood in the middle of a vast courtyard, surrounded by a frenzied crowd, ceaselessly shouting, waving their arms, and stomping their feet, creating a boiling, tumultuous atmosphere like a festival.
Rober scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of the space. He was in an open area, situated directly before the main gate of a structure resembling a palace or an ancient fortress. The courtyard ground wasn't paved with elegant tiles or marble like at Viscount Calos's manor, but simply laid with large, uneven flagstones, cracked or sunken in places, likely scars left by the passage of time, by battles, or other upheavals that had occurred here.
The main gate of the palace, opposite Rober, was crafted from thick, heavy oak, reinforced with large, blackened iron bars. The gate looked sturdy, but not overly ornate or elaborate. Scorch marks, gouges, and cracks marred the wooden surface, silent testament to some recent chaos or fierce battle.
Around the courtyard stood low walls built from rough-hewn stone blocks, and simple wooden fences, decayed by time. A few ancient trees, with gnarled trunks and broad canopies, stood sentinel in several corners, like aged guards silently observing everything. Nearby, several simple stone statues depicted gods or legendary heroes, but they too were worn and chipped by sun and rain.
Dust billowed thickly under the feet of the cheering crowd and the two warriors standing in the arena. The smell of sweat, metal, leather, and dust mingled, creating the characteristic, tense aroma of battle.
Rober felt his body unusually heavy. He looked down and realized he was no longer wearing his familiar clothes. Instead, he was clad in something entirely different, the attire of a warrior.
He raised a hand to his face, feeling rough skin, weathered by wind and exposure. He looked down at his large, tanned, calloused hands, with their coarse knuckles and faint, old scars. This was clearly not his body!
Rober forced himself to remain calm, took a deep breath, and began to observe this new body more closely. It was sturdy and powerful, with rippling, firm muscles, the result of frequent training and combat. The skin was dark, as if accustomed to the harsh sun of a coastal region. Long black hair was tied back neatly, mostly hidden by a bronze helmet.
He wore a bronze cuirass, covering both chest and back. Its surface was polished to a shine, reflecting the sunlight, and etched with simple spiral or wave-like patterns. The shape was somewhat bell-like, fitting snugly around the upper body, feeling secure and robust. Beneath the bronze was a thick lining of coarse linen, likely for comfort and shock absorption.
Rober's legs were protected by bronze greaves, covering him from knee to ankle. He wore sturdy leather sandals, their straps wound high up his calves, securing the footwear and protecting his ankles.
In his left hand, Rober held a large, round wooden shield. Its outer surface was covered in thick leather for durability. In the center was painted a simple emblem, perhaps the symbol of a city-state or some military unit. The shield was held by a large central strap looped over the forearm and a smaller grip near the rim, allowing for flexible control and use.
His right hand gripped the hilt of a short sword. The blade was shaped like a leaf, with a pointed tip and two sharp edges, primarily designed for thrusting rather than slashing. The sword was likely carried in a leather scabbard, judging by the sturdy leather strap at his hip.
After thoroughly examining himself and his equipment, Rober looked across the courtyard. There, another warrior, similarly dressed and armed, stood rigidly, his face set with determination, ready for battle.
Rober took another deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.
Suddenly, from the cheering crowd, a man stepped forward. This man looked entirely different from the warriors and the surrounding common folk. His skin was lighter, probably due to less outdoor labor. His jet-black hair was carefully groomed and held in place by a bronze circlet.
His attire also indicated his high status. He wore a long tunic of fine, deep blue linen. The hem was decorated with intricate, yet understated, hand-embroidery. Over this, he wore a long cloak of equally fine fabric, dyed a rich crimson. He wore a leather belt with a bronze buckle and fine leather sandals adorned with small beads. On his finger was a bronze ring engraved with some symbol, resembling a coiled serpent.
Rober guessed this man was undoubtedly a nobleman or someone of high social standing, possessing greater power and influence than the warriors in the arena.
The nobleman stepped onto a small stone dais placed in the center of the courtyard, then raised his hand, signaling the crowd for silence. The roars and shouts gradually subsided.
He looked towards the warrior standing opposite Rober, his voice ringing out, full of authority:
"Alcon! Are you prepared?"
The warrior named Alcon puffed out his chest, raised his sword high, and shouted:
"Sir Phylas! Alcon is ready!"
Rober heard a strange language, completely different from the one he usually used. But, strangely enough, he could understand every single word they spoke as if it were his mother tongue.
Suddenly, the man called Phylas turned to look at Rober. His eyes were sharp and scrutinizing. He asked, in a tone similar to the one he used with Alcon:
"Linus! Are you ready?"
This question confirmed Rober's suspicion. In this dream, he was Linus, a warrior, and he was about to enter combat, a duel, with the warrior named Alcon.
Rober took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and adapt to the current situation. He knew he couldn't reveal any confusion or fear. He needed to play his part perfectly, to become Linus, at least until he could figure out how to end this dream.
First, Rober told himself, I need to overcome this challenge. I need to fight and win, or at least survive, the coming duel. After that, I can start investigating this dream further, learn about the girl bound to the stone, and uncover what lies behind all this.
Rober squared his shoulders, raised his round shield high, mimicking Alcon's earlier action, and shouted back, his voice clear and confident:
"Ready, Sir Phylas!"