Chapter 433: A Concerned Kaelith
(The Eternal Garden, Kaelith’s Domain)
Kaelith strolled through the soft silver grass of the Eternal Garden, his bare feet gliding across the ground as though gravity held no sway over him, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his expression calm and composed as always, while the sky above shimmered with layers of eternal twilight that never changed and never ended.
To anyone else, the moment would have felt tranquil, even serene, but for Kaelith, it was simply routine.
*KABOOM*
Suddenly, without a single warning, a bolt of lightning struck the ground behind him, splitting the space apart for less than a heartbeat, before a man appeared in its wake, kneeling down on one knee as the light faded around him.
"You called for me? Father?" the man asked, his voice deep, steady, and clear.
Kaelith turned around slowly, a faint smile rising on his lips as his golden eyes met the familiar features of his son.
"You don’t have to bow before me, Raymond. I’m your father, remember?" Kaelith said gently, as he reminded his son to not bow before him as if he were a subordinate.
Raymond rose without a word, his posture respectful but not weak, his eyes locking onto Kaelith’s with quiet caution, because although the god before him looked harmless right now, Raymond knew better than to be deceived by that facade.
Having witnessed firsthand what his father was truly capable of in battle when his patience wore thin, Raymond knew better than to ever get on his wrong side.
"I have called for you today, because there’s some new development within the Cult that needs monitoring.
My sources say that the Cult of Ascension is on the verge of naming another Dragon," Kaelith began, as his gaze slowly drifted across the sky, a visible crease forming between his brows for the first time in centuries.
"I want you to begin preparations to eliminate him as soon as possible," he added, his voice still calm, but something sharp had crept into the tone beneath it.
"It will be done, Father," Raymond replied immediately, lowering his head once more before raising it again, only this time he didn’t turn to leave.
Kaelith noticed the hesitation in his stance and waited.
"What is it?" he asked, already sensing the question forming in his son’s mind.
Raymond looked straight at him now, his voice quieter than before.
"The Cult names Dragons all the time. Some of them live for a few years, some of them die immediately. However, none of them have ever mattered. Why is this one different? Why are you deploying me personally?"
Kaelith closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled as though the question itself had dug out something buried deep, something he had been hoping not to say aloud.
"Because this time, I see something I haven’t seen in over two thousand years," he said, opening his eyes again and looking past the clouds above, as if searching the fabric of the universe itself.
"Usually, in a planet filled with billions of mortals, you might find one or two with a single thread of fate connecting them to the wider flow of the universe. That’s rare. That’s manageable. But the amount of fate threads spiraling through Cult territory right now is something else entirely."
He paused for a second, his jaw tightening.
"I see clusters of fate. Webs being spun. Patterns forming across star systems. And they’re all converging toward something. Or someone."
Raymond’s breath caught, his mind trying to process the magnitude of what his father had just said.
Kaelith continued, his voice lower now.
"I haven’t seen this many fate threads spinning out of the Cult territory since the time of my father. And if that pattern is returning... then it means this new Dragon is different. This one wasn’t chosen by the Cult. He was chosen by the universe. And that means he needs to be eliminated before the pattern is complete."
Raymond gave a slow nod, no longer questioning it, his eyes narrowing as he accepted the weight of the mission.
Kaelith didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.
The garden returned to silence, but the mood had shifted.
Because if Kaelith was right, then this wasn’t just another target.
This was the beginning of something far more dangerous. Something that could not be allowed to take root.
Something that reeked of the past.
*KABOOM*
Raymond left the Eternal Garden the same way he had entered, leaving Kaelith alone with his thoughts once more.
"The Timeless Assassin must not be allowed to roam between the seconds ever again.
Even the very possibility of it needs to be removed from the start." Kaelith muttered to himself, as he strongly hoped that his son Raymond would not fail him on this mission.
—---------------
(Meanwhile, Aegon Veyr)
Although Veyr felt extremely confident in his odds to take down Leo Skyshard in their upcoming battle, especially given the tier gap that currently existed between them, he knew better than to treat the fight as a foregone conclusion.
Leo’s reputation in the circuits was nothing short of monstrous, and while Aegon had just ascended to the Transcendent realm, he was well aware that two months was more than enough time for Leo to close the gap and possibly even surpass it.
And that was something Veyr simply couldn’t allow.
Which was why, even now, he stood shirtless in the open-air arena, blades drawn, sweat cascading down his tattooed frame, as he locked horns with the Fourth Elder in a sparring session that had long since surpassed the line of routine drills.
*Clang*
Their weapons clashed again, metal kissing metal with a ringing violence that echoed across the training yard, as the elder’s twin daggers curved through the air like fangs searching for flesh, while Veyr’s dual longswords responded with parries and counterstrikes executed so cleanly, they barely left room for correction.
The pace was brutal.
Not a moment of pause. Not a breath to spare.
Each exchange felt like a real attempt to kill and not merely a test to push one another.
And the fact that Aegon, barely days into the Transcendent realm, could hold his own so fluidly against a man who had been at this level for over four decades, spoke volumes of the young warrior’s frightening potential.
"You’re still not stepping in deep enough with your right heel when you pivot on a dual block," the Fourth Elder pointed out between swings, his instruction meant to help Veyr overcome his flaws.
"And you’re still exposing your center when you flip into southpaw," Veyr replied, parrying a downward stab and twisting into a shoulder push that nearly broke the elder’s balance.
For a moment, there was a flash of genuine amusement in the older man’s eyes.
"You’re learning fast," he muttered, before vanishing into a blur of movement again.
Veyr followed without hesitation, the wind trailing behind both as their silhouettes became little more than streaks of flickering afterimages.
Strike, block, faint, twist, sidestep.
The rhythm was relentless.
And yet through it all, Veyr’s expression remained composed, his breath controlled, his eyes sharp.
He wasn’t just fighting anymore.
He was observing. Adapting. Sharpening edges that were already pretty refined.
He knew that Leo’s style wasn’t brute-force based.
He had seen his circuit match tapes and he knew that Leo was unpredictable and that his fighting style was layered with illusion and misdirection.
A unique style built not just on power or precision, but on manipulation and perception.
And so Veyr tried to come up with such tricks of his own, while also coming up with defensive maneuvers to thwart any unexpected strategy.
He knew that he needed to become an absolute wall of technical perfection, an opponent so flawless in structure that illusion itself would collapse against him, for that was the only sure shot way to win against a man like Leo.
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Thrust*
*Pivot*
*Crack*
Another exchange ended in a mutual step-back, both men breathing heavily, though neither truly exhausted.
"You’re getting better," the Fourth Elder finally said, lowering his daggers slightly as he rolled his shoulder with a grimace.
"Four days ago, I would’ve finished you in twenty moves. Today, I’m not sure I can even take you down in one hundred."
Veyr didn’t respond immediately.
He sheathed one sword slowly, then turned to face the horizon, where twin moons hung low in the distance.
"I can’t afford to underestimate him," he said quietly, his voice lacking bravado, but rich in conviction. "He might not be as good as me, but he’s not as bad as you blokes either."
The Fourth Elder chuckled, nodding slightly as he placed a hand on Veyr’s shoulder.
"Yeah, don’t underestimate him, but don’t give him too much credit either. In the end, nobody is as talented as you—"