Chapter 422: Cocky Arrogance
(A couple days later, Charles’s POV)
Charles was informed about the public match just one day before the official announcement was scheduled to go out.
The news didn’t come through a message or courier, but from the First Elder himself, who made the journey to planet Juxta in person to deliver Lord Soron’s verdict.
Charles burst into laughter the moment he heard what had unfolded inside the council room.
"Hahahaha..."
It sounded loud and genuine at first, but the rage bubbling beneath his skin was impossible to miss. His expression twisted with disgust as he spat onto the floor, the glob landing right beside the First Elder’s feet.
"You lot never fail to impress me with how low you can sink," Charles growled, his eyes narrowing. "You’re lucky Soron still thinks you’re essential to the Cult’s peace and prosperity, because if it were up to me, I would’ve strangled the lot of you myself."
His killing intent surged with every word, blanketing the air around them as he took a step closer and stared the First Elder directly in the eye.
"And now you want me to force the boy to break through to the transcendent realm within two months? When he’s not even ready?"
He scoffed.
"No. Absolutely not. I’m not ruining his future over some council-made disaster."
"We don’t have another option," the First Elder replied, trying to stay composed. "A Grandmaster cannot defeat a Transcendent in an open arena. This isn’t an ambush or stealth mission. There will be no tricks. No advantages. This is public combat... and if Leo’s not at the same tier, he won’t last ten seconds."
He tried to reason, however Charles had none of it.
"If he can’t, then so be it," Charles snapped. "Let him lose. Let him step down. He can live his life as Vice Sect Master under my guidance. But I’ll be damned if I compromise his foundation just because you failed to secure his appointment the proper way."
*Spit*
He spat again, this time even closer to Mavern’s shoe.
"Do you even understand how gifted this kid is?"
Charles’s voice shifted, softening slightly with awe.
"He’s passed eight prison-break simulations in the last eleven days.
Eight fucking simulations in eleven fucking days, Mavern! EIGHT!
Even my best Transcendent-tier operatives couldn’t manage that with six months of preparation.
The boy is a monster in the making. A real prodigy. There’s no doubt in my mind."
Mavern stood in stunned silence. Praise like that, coming from Charles of all people, was almost unbelievable.
He had known Charles for decades, and never once had he heard him speak of someone this highly.
"He’ll grow the right way," Charles continued. "Even if it means losing this match. Even if it means being humiliated in front of the Cult. I don’t care. In the long run, this boy will be one of the cornerstones of the Cult, and I’ll make damn sure of that."
He made it clear that Mavern would not be allowed to meet Leo, nor would there be any forced breakthrough.
The discussion, as far as Charles was concerned, was over.
But just before Charles turned to leave, Mavern’s voice cracked through the air, softer this time.
"At least train him properly... give him real combat drills. Not just those prison break missions. If he’s going to lose, at least let him lose with dignity. That much, you owe me... old friend."
Charles stopped, then exhaled deeply.
"That much I can do," he said with a sigh, before shaking his head and taking off, vanishing into the sky.
Mavern remained behind, alone with his thoughts, wondering if perhaps, just perhaps, Charles’s combat training would prove to be enough for him to upset the odds.
"No.... What am I even thinking? A Grandmaster can’t beat a Transcendent in open combat..... if Charles won’t push him for a breakthrough, then this fight is as good as doomed," Mavern said to himself in a low voice, as he began to mentally lose hope of any victory.
—---------------
(Meanwhile, Aegon Veyr’s POV)
Probably the only person who found genuine satisfaction in the announcement of the public bout was Aegon Veyr himself, as this was exactly the kind of outcome he had been hoping for all along.
He stood inside the Fourth Elder’s private training ground, his arms folded loosely across his chest as he looked down at the written message that had just come through via the messenger, as a slow smile crept across his face.
"Heh... I was waiting for this regardless," Veyr muttered, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Old man Soron has done me a favor here."
He tilted his head back and chuckled, the sound rising from his throat like it couldn’t be helped.
"Now I get to be named Dragon, and finally put that arrogant little brat in his place.
He’s been roaming as the little circuits champion for long enough, but it’s time to shrink him down to size!"
His fingers twitched at his side, the thrill of battle already coursing through his veins as he imagined the smug expression on Leo Skyshard’s face twisting in confusion, then fear, then defeat when they eventually met in battle.
"Hahaha... this is perfect," Veyr laughed to himself, louder this time, his voice carried by the wind.
"There won’t be any politicians deciding our future, just a single fight.
One that I’m going to win so convincingly, it’ll leave no room for doubt. I’ll drag him through the dirt and make sure everyone knows who the true deserving candidate to become Dragon is."
He could already see it— the crowd roaring his name, the ceremonial robes of the Dragon being wrapped around his shoulders, and Leo lying at his feet, broken and humiliated.
"A Grandmaster versus a Transcendent? Tch. This won’t even be a fight."
He turned away from the training ground, the grin still plastered on his face as he walked back toward his resting room.
"Train hard, Leo," he whispered, barely loud enough for the messenger behind him to hear.
"Make it interesting, so when I crush you, there’s at least something worth remembering."
And with that, Aegon Veyr began his preparations for the bout, confident that the outcome had already been decided.