ARENA OF HONOR - GOOD RESULT DESPITE THE CHAOS ...

On a gloomy afternoon, when the winds carried omens of battle and the distant echo of ancient wars whispered among the shadows, I made a decision that would seal the course of that day. With the stealth of a conspirator and the determination of a warrior without a banner, I wielded my maiden's bead and entered the Arena of Honor. There would be no trusted allies or pacts forged in fire and blood... only a team formed by chance and uncertainty. Playing meant adapting to their designs or silently forging my own path, deploying strategies hidden under the cloak of night, while the pieces of destiny began to move without their notice.

“We will build trading posts,” they proclaimed in unison, like a single army determined not to tempt fate. There would be no immediate glory or reckless charges, only patience and cold calculation. Understanding the pulse of the strategy, I adapted to the plan like a wolf watching from the shadows before attacking. While they fortified their posts, I focused my attention on the altars… especially those of the maiden, silent shrines that we must maintain under our banner. Three or more… that was the order. It wasn't simply a move: it was the invisible heartbeat that could tip the fate of the entire contest.

The construction phase ended and the team knew they had to go to the altars, so guessing what was going on, each of them reinforced, to at least secure one or two enemy attacks, and also to gain more first take and game points, until the time came to fight for the city of glory, at least thanks to the couple of reinforcements obtained we were able to defend ourselves from enemy attacks.

In the following round, the calm crumbled like a sandcastle under the tide. The enemy, cunning and patient, had watched our moves like a crow waiting for the precise moment to peck at an open wound. They saw their opportunity and seized it mercilessly. While we clung to the idea of ​​reinforcements, we forgot an essential principle: not all troops are equal in the heat of war. We sent units randomly, without considering their true purpose, and that recklessness was the silent poison that began to corrode our defenses. What had initially been a fortress... now became a fragile wall, ready to fall at the first well-landed blow.

That oversight was the final blow. While the enemy concentrated its forces, our own team had left the house unprotected, like an unguarded castle in the midst of a storm. That… was the consequence of playing trading posts: securing a small piece of land while losing the throne. At least, that's how I saw it.

For them, perhaps it was just another event. For me… it was a war that had to be won. I couldn't stand still. I decided to launch a direct attack on the house, even though a wall of cavalry awaited me, firm and brutal, crushing my infantry like steel against stone. My strength wasn't enough.

Determinedly, I organized a rally, raising the flag like someone summoning their brothers in arms… but no one responded. The silence was heavier than any enemy blow. Either they had surrendered… or they were lost in other battles. And so, under the shadow of that impenetrable wall, I realized that this fight was no longer just against the enemy… but against the indifference of my people.

Not all was lost… there were still those who hadn't laid down their swords. An infantryman, stronger and more seasoned than I, stood like a bulwark between ruin and hope. His rally was a roar amidst the chaos, and against all odds… we recaptured the clan castle. The flames of defeat flickered, but they didn't go out; there was still a spark that could ignite victory.

We had to hold out for barely two minutes. Two eternal minutes that could change the fate of the entire contest. One came… then the second… and finally the third. But darkness soon returned. The enemy cavalry returned like a foretold storm. They knew exactly what to strike with. They had defeated us before; they were only toying with us, prolonging the fight to give us a false illusion of dominance.

And so, like a sandcastle swept away by the tide, our flag fell once more. The clan castle… was theirs again. What could have been a rebirth ended up becoming another bitter echo of war.

This time it wasn't an NPC who challenged us but an enemy player Berrana, who is cavalry; we had already surrendered to him, since our strongest player had fallen, but at least, a ray of hope appeared before us, despite the chaos of the fight to recover our house, a beautiful third place was reserved... and that was because despite the chaos, we knew how to stay calm and defend everything we had previously obtained!