ARENA OF HONOR - TRIO ADVENTURES

It was a gloomy dawn, where, helplessly and almost as if I were sleepwalking, I was awakened by the call of war. It wasn't a roar or a distant clamor, but something more subtle: two messages. Latrasil and MegatroN, my lance brothers, wrote to me almost simultaneously. Their words were firm but kind, with the urgency of those who already know that the battlefield doesn't wait. They wanted to form a trio for the Arena of Honor. And I, even with my eyelids heavy with sleep, knew I couldn't refuse.

We already had a strategy. It was forged not in the heat of battle, but in long nights filled with calculations, mistakes made, and lessons learned. Only infantry and lancers. Cavalry, though powerful, would be discarded. Its unpredictability and vulnerability in certain scenarios made it a luxury we couldn't afford. Riders would only be accepted if they proved to be exceptional. We weren't looking for speed or spectacle. We wanted endurance, coordination... seamless. Our purpose was clear: to always have troops available, ready to cover flanks, to reinforce positions, to leave no one behind.

As captain of the group, the responsibility of registering for the Arena fell upon me. I did so solemnly, almost like someone signing a blood oath. It was not a mere formality. It was the act that sealed our pact. Three warriors. One mind. One goal: to survive, dominate, and leave our mark.

The Arena of Honor is not a simple battlefield. It is a colossus of stone and magic, where thousands of invisible eyes watch from the shadows. Where ancient gods of war murmur among themselves as the gates slowly open with a creaking sound that seems to rise from the very belly of the earth.

The news that HankHill and DeathBunny were registered in the same Arena spread like wildfire. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that those two could dismantle entire armies if faced unprepared. They had obliterated entire formations, broken alliances, and silenced even the loudest names on the circuit. In any other setting, challenging them would have been an act of suicidal pride.

And we weren't suicidal. We were strategists.

We knew we couldn't face them head-on without risking an early defeat. Our team was built for coordination, not for duels of the titans. So we devised a more ambitious, more demanding plan: to set up offensive camps.

But it wasn't enough to set up offensive camps, we had to win some altars to make sure we won the first takeover and keep it at bay until the end, so I, being one of the strongest and at the same time the captain of the group... decided to take the Altar of the Unknown, and immediately called for reinforcements, because I was aware that HankHill or DeathBunny would attack.

It wasn't 1, 2, or 3 attacks, it was 5, where I had defeated 4 members of HankHill's faction, until they sent information telling him that I was infantry, and he, being my counter, decides to go without thinking, with the new commander Brienne, he tests his damage against me, annihilating me... with no chance to come back, he wins the first round of altars...

That defeat initiated the strategy: whatever altar we attempted to take, we shouldn't fight the Lannisters. Instead, we should seek out the weakest faction to fight for their buildings and defeat them, while the camps did their thing. So we decided to attack the Targaryens using the same method: reinforce ourselves fully and disband as soon as we occupied the building.

They were also going to resist, but unlike the Lannisters, they didn't have players like HankHill or DeathBunny.

Little by little we gained influence in the Altars, always keeping the score, until the City of Glory was taken by HankHill, so we decided to retake the minor buildings, and there our objective was to fight for the second place on the podium, because there were many stronger players compared to us, so we always had to support each other...

Now fate falls on the mineshafts, where all the main rally leaders took one, some won others lost, because the competition was very tough, the Greyjoy faction was very close to us, so we decided to send a few troops to their altars, to distract and recover that time by draining the mineshafts, which worked, since we won 4 buildings compared to the other houses that had 1 or 2 each...

When the dust cleared, the tower still stood. The flag flew untouched. And our names, once ignored, now echoed throughout the Arena.

Latrasil. MegatroN. And me.

A trio that didn't need cavalry. Only strategy, discipline... and confidence.

And although we didn't conquer the top of the leaderboard, we remained in an honorable position, above many who underestimated us. Not because of strength, but because we knew our limits, our strengths, and—above all—how to move as one. Each of us understood our role, and the troop distribution was impeccable: there was never any disarray, never a lance out of place. Victory lay not only in numbers, but in the way we had endured, built, and overcome every obstacle without betraying our essence.

Our opponents, even the most formidable, recognized us. And we, far from ego or pride, finished the battle happy. We had come far. We had left our mark.

And as we gathered the last supplies from the camps, with the sun slowly setting behind the Arena walls, the three of us shared a silent glance.

Nothing needed to be said.

We knew it wouldn't be the last time.

That day we weren't just a team...

We were a dynamic trio, forged in strategy and brotherhood.

And the Arena of Honor... had only just begun to learn our name.