Chapter 458: Decision
(Juxta Military Base, Planet Juxta, Charles’s POV)
Charles watched the near-victorious Leo standing over his defenseless opponent with a barely contained smile, unable to help himself as a wide grin stretched across his face.
"You really did it... you pulled off a breakthrough mid-battle... What a crazy little bastard! Hahaha," he laughed softly to himself, while the mess hall around him erupted in absolute celebration.
"Holy shit! He’s gonna win!"
"I don’t know how the commander trained him to beat a Transcendent warrior while still being a Grandmaster, but somehow he did it!"
"So is he really going to become the next Dragon? Are we seriously going to see the Dragon training right here on our military base? Surely we can’t be so blessed, right?"
The soldiers cheered wildly, their supposed neutrality forgotten in the face of pride and excitement, as they couldn’t help but root for the candidate that was personally trained by their commander.
"But why isn’t he ending it? What’s the delay?"
"Yeah... Aegon Veyr already said he won’t surrender, so he should just end it now..."
The murmurs turned into questions, voices tinted with growing impatience as Leo remained still.
Despite half a minute having passed, he had yet to move, still looking toward the sky, then toward Soron, then down at Veyr at his feet— his expression unreadable, his posture tense with thought, as if wrestling with a decision heavier than any blade.
"What’s going on, Commander? Why’s he not ending the fight? Doesn’t the match conclude when a fighter points his weapon at an incapacitated opponent?" one of the soldiers asked, turning to Charles.
To which Charles responded with a booming, hearty laugh.
"Hahaha!"
"Well, son, I don’t know the boy well enough to tell you exactly what’s going through his mind," Charles said, amusement fading into something more thoughtful as he leaned forward, "but I’ve got a rough idea..."
The room quieted. All eyes turned from the screen toward the Monarch.
"The boy is wondering right now whether or not he even wants to be the Dragon. Whether he’s worthy enough to carry that title on his shoulders... or whether Aegon Veyr might be the better one to bear it...."
His voice was calm, but each word landed like a slow, heavy drumbeat.
"Being the Dragon isn’t just about being the best fighter out there. The Dragon is the hope of our people. And that’s a weight not everyone can carry..."
A hush fell over the mess hall as the implications began to set in.
For the first time, the soldiers realized that the prize for winning this match was far more than glory or gear: it was the right, and the burden, to carry the title of Dragon.
"Imagine having your every move broadcasted to the masses daily. Imagine being in a foul mood and talking sharply to a commoner.
If you or I do it, nobody cares. But if the Dragon does it... the one on the receiving end of the lashing might break down completely. Maybe even take their own life. Maybe get shunned by society forever."
He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle in.
"The Dragon needs to live his life like a Saint. Not just in the open, but also behind closed doors, with the spotlight always on him. And that’s not as easy as it sounds..."
He looked out at the crowd of wide-eyed soldiers.
"Having the bloodline of the Timeless Assassin means nothing in that role. That blood doesn’t turn a man into a Saint. It doesn’t cleanse his sins or purify his soul. Dragons are still human. They have emotions, doubts, regrets. But they’re treated like Gods who can do no wrong."
He folded his arms, nodding slowly.
"So naturally, like any good Dragon would... The boy is wondering if he’s ready to take on that challenge. Or whether deep down, he finds himself too lacking to bear it."
A long silence followed his words, as the weight of what Leo was grappling with sank deep into the bones of every man in the room.
It wasn’t a small choice.
Not when the title came with the power to change the Cult... and the responsibility to carry it without breaking.
Not when, in the depths of one’s soul, you weren’t sure you were the right one for the job.
—--------
(Back inside the Lewis Hamilton Arena)
A full minute had passed since Leo had asked Veyr to surrender, and in that time, he had not moved an inch.
"What are you waiting for? Still debating whether to kill me or spare me? Let me make that choice easy for you... You’d better kill me, Cuz, because you know I’m coming for that rematch otherwise, and next time, I won’t show you the same mercy," Veyr growled, his voice hoarse but unyielding, even as his body refused to obey his commands, limbs twitching with effort but devoid of strength.
Yet Leo said nothing.
He remained quiet, staring up at the sky, his chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.
*Murmurs*
*Ruckus*
The crowd stirred with impatience, growing restless with every second that passed. The longer Leo delayed, the more the commoners fidgeted in their seats, unable to hold back their desire to see the next Dragon being crowned.
But despite the growing wave of pressure from the thousands watching, Leo did not rush. He stayed still, taking his time to be certain— to make a decision he could live with.
"You can end the fight just by pointing your weapon at Veyr’s neck. There’s no need to kill him if that’s what’s holding you back," Max offered gently, stepping a little closer as his tone tried to nudge Leo toward resolution.
Leo turned to face him and smiled, calm and clear, then gave a soft shake of his head.
"Ref... I think I’ve made my choice," he said quietly, as the haze of uncertainty in his gaze disappeared, replaced by the sharp, unwavering glint that usually accompanied him.
*Thud*
*Thud*
The sound echoed loudly through the chaotic arena as Leo let both daggers slip from his hands, the twin blades clattering against the arena floor beneath him.
Then, with both arms raised high toward the sky, he spoke.
"I surrender."
His voice rang out, firm and resolute.
And for a moment, the entire arena froze, locked in absolute disbelief at what they were witnessing.
Thousands of voices stilled, eyes widened, mouths hung open— none able to process what had just unfolded.
A Grandmaster had just defeated a Transcendent, clawed his way to an impossible victory, stood at the doorstep of becoming Dragon... and had then chosen to walk away.
Not out of fear.
Not out of doubt.
But out of choice.
Out of clarity.
Out of rebellion against a destiny he refused to be shackled by.
As his decision stunned everyone.
"I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly.... What did you say?" Max asked, as both him and Veyr looked at Leo with their eyes wide in disbelief.
And once again, Leo let out a long sigh, this time making eye contact with Soron, as he said....
"I surrender, Aegon Veyr is the winner of this fight,"