Chapter 457: Choice
Veyr had never felt as helpless in his entire life as he did in this moment, standing across from Leo.
Almost every inch of his body throbbed with pain, each movement making it worse, especially the sudden ones to dodge or launch a counter attack, that sent sharp jolts shooting through his limbs.
’I can’t move my left arm at all. Everything from the shoulder down feels completely numb,’ he realized, gritting his teeth as he tried once more to lift it.
But with his shoulder, bicep, and tricep all severely damaged, the arm hung uselessly by his side.
The only thing he could manage to do with it was to wrap it around his gut, holding tight to keep more blood from spilling out.
’I’m on the cusp of losing this fight. I’m bleeding far too much, and if I don’t end this within the next two minutes, I’ll start blacking out from blood loss,’ Veyr calculated, sharp and clinical even as his body trembled.
As despite the agony, despite the odds, he didn’t lose his composure or his will to fight.
"You got some serious moves, Cuz... Guess you’re not just a coward after all," Veyr muttered with a faint smile as he pointed his sword at Leo, his legs shaky but his spirit unyielding.
"Well you’re not too bad yourself, cousin... but unfortunately for you, there can be only one winner here today, and that’s going to be me," Leo said, his voice calm but resolute, each word carrying the weight of finality, as he stepped forward yet again.
*Shuffle*
Veyr adjusted his footing, lifting his blade as best he could with just his right arm, the left still clutched tight to his torn gut, as Leo gave him no time to brace.
*CLANG*
A precise flick of the wrist knocked Veyr’s guard wide, as with his stomach sliced open, he failed to reposition himself in a good enough angle to completely avoid the next blow.
*SLASH*
A swift cut across his right forearm followed, that although not deep enough to sever the arm completely, was still sharp enough to rupture nerves.
"Gah–"
Veyr grunted and stumbled as the sword slipped slightly in his grip.
Leo advanced again, carving a diagonal strike that forced Veyr to lift his blade to defend, however, with his right forearm now hurting so bad, he couldn’t hold on against Leo’s strength.
*CRACK*
The collision sent shockwaves up Veyr’s right arm, as the blade tumbled from his hand and clattered onto the arena floor, leaving him completely disarmed and without any means to defend himself.
*SWOOSH*
Leo didn’t stop.
As despite Veyr being completely defenceless, he still went forwards and sliced cleanly behind Veyr’s knees, forcefully bringing him down.
*THUD*
Veyr collapsed, both legs buckling beneath him as he crashed to the ground, landing in a bloodied heap, his arms trembling and body quivering from exhaustion and defeat, while Leo stood over him with a complicated expression etched across his face.
"Do you yield?" Leo asked, his voice calm and firm, as he chose not to raise a dagger to his cousin’s throat, which would instantly end the fight under legal rules.
Instead, he offered the question plainly, as he gave Veyr a choice in a moment where no real choices remained.
*Spit*
Veyr spat a thick mouthful of bloodied saliva onto the ground as he glared up at him with bloodshot eyes that burned ablaze with defiance.
"Oh, fuck you, Cuz," he muttered, baring his crimson-stained teeth in a bitter grin, the barest shake of his head signaling his refusal.
"I was raised an orphan on the streets," he rasped, his voice frayed and hoarse. "And the day I clawed my way out, I swore something to myself. No matter what happens, I’ll never let myself down. Not ever. So even if I die right here, I won’t yield."
He drew in a painful breath, his entire body flinching at the motion.
"So go ahead. Kill me if you want, cuz. But I’d rather die on my feet than live with surrender."
Leo said nothing.
He just stood there, watching.
His hand hovered inches from the dagger at his waist. One move, one light tap against Veyr’s throat, and the match would be over.
Under Universal Circuit Rules, a clean gesture like that would count as complete incapacitation and seal the victory, as just a few meters away, Max the referee stood in silence, eyes fixed on him, as he waited for the final blow to come.
But Leo didn’t move.
He hesitated.
Because somewhere deep in his chest, something pulled at him.
Having achieved everything he set out to achieve in this fight, he now found himself facing the million MP question.
’Did he even wish to be Dragon?’
His gaze drifted, not to Max and not to Veyr, but to the edge of the battlefield. To the one man who had sat in unbroken silence throughout the entire match.
Soron.
The old god watched from his seat, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, observing the scene with an expression that was neither judgmental nor approving, only faintly amused.
His eyes met Leo’s, calm and piercing, as though he too was waiting to see what the boy would choose.
"Why are you even here to watch this fight?" Leo asked, his voice quiet, not loud enough for the audience but not whispered either, as he turned his eyes skyward, searching the heavens for answers to the conflict now stirring in his heart.
Because while he hated the idea of becoming this cult’s holy messiah— a title that would chain him to the will of the Elders Council like a puppet— he couldn’t deny what he had seen in the eyes of the people.
He couldn’t ignore the faith the commoners of the Cult placed in the Dragon.
It was, in its own twisted way, the closest thing to godhood without actually becoming divine.
And whether he liked it or not, the way those people looked at the Dragon was the same way they looked at Soron. With reverence. With devotion. With absolute belief.
And now, they were ready to look at him the same way.
He could become a God while being mortal.
All he needed to do was to point his weapon and choose.....