Chapter 461: The New Most Wanted Criminal
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, Warm-up Room, Post-Match)
A doctor quietly tended to Leo’s injuries while, somewhere above, the grand ceremony to crown the next Dragon unfolded beneath blinding lights and roaring applause.
Inside the warm-up room, however, there was only silence.
Neither Leo nor Dumpy uttered a word.
Despite accomplishing everything he had set out to do—delivering a jaw-dropping performance and achieving a monumental breakthrough—Leo found himself adrift in quiet confusion.
Soron’s final decree had left him with far more questions than answers.
On one hand, he couldn’t deny the value of what lay ahead. The Cult’s secret techniques, as Charles once said, were peerless when mastered as a complete set. Learning them would undoubtedly elevate his power to unmatched heights.
But on the other hand, he could not ignore the weight of the title Soron had unofficially placed upon him.
The Shadow Dragon.
A stand-in. A substitute. The one who would take the mantle if the real Dragon were to fall.
*Sigh*
Letting out a deep sigh, Leo leaned back against the cold metal bench, his gaze fixed on the floor as the faint echo of fireworks and fanfare from the arena stage filtered through the concrete walls.
He couldn’t stop the unease building in his chest.
The title of Shadow Dragon was not a burden he had asked for, nor one he knew how to carry.
It wasn’t just the pressure of stepping in should Veyr fall.... it was everything that came with it.
The scrutiny, the whispers, the political games that had already begun unfolding around him. He could feel the storm brewing before it had even touched down.
’What kind of relationship am I supposed to have with the Elder’s Council now?’ he thought, eyes narrowing.
Technically, none of them held power over him. His training would still be overseen by Charles, and Soron had given no authority to the Elders to dictate his path.
But that didn’t mean they’d keep their distance.
They would still be present. Still be involved. Still be assigned to educate and shape him alongside Veyr, and Leo had no doubt their personal grievances would bleed into those lessons.
And why wouldn’t they?
By walking away from the title of Dragon in front of the entire Cult, he hadn’t just disrespected the First and Twelfth Elders, but had spat on the faith of everyone who had placed their hopes in him.
Whatever backing he had in the Council was gone now. The First Elder’s camp, furious at his refusal. The Twelfth Elder, surely humiliated by the public fallout.
And Veyr’s side?
There was no place for him there either. As they were not his allies before today and they were not going to be his allies after today.
*Sigh*
Leo sighed again, pressing a hand to his face as the reality settled in like ash.
He had burned both bridges, cutting off the support of those who had once championed him, and alienating the faction that had opposed him.
Now, he stood in the center of it all. Alone.
Neither friend nor enemy. Neither their new Dragon nor a common civilian.
Just a substitute.
Trapped in a role no one would envy, and few would forgive.
—--------------
(Meanwhile, at the center of the Arena)
Despite being bloodied and bruised, Aegon was quickly draped in ceremonial white robes and made to stand tall for the audience, as his official coronation ceremony began.
An ancient hat carved from dragonbone was brought forward by one of the Cult’s ceremonial priests, as it glistened under the golden floodlights, its ivory surface smooth and circular, with twelve thin slots carved into its band to hold the sacred feathers that signified the Dragon’s bond to the Elders’ Council.
The audience remained respectfully silent, watching with bated breath as the First Elder stepped forward from his booth, clutching a long feather dyed in brilliant white and traced with faint silver, as he raised it before the crowd and uttered a brief prayer, before gently slotting it into the crown and retreating back to his position.
The second elder followed not long after, moving with slow grace and carrying a feather stained in deep ocean blue, a color reserved for wisdom and measured authority, as he inserted it beside the first and gave Aegon a small nod, while the crowd remained still, caught in the gravity of the moment.
One by one, each of the twelve elders came forth with their offerings, feathers dyed in red, green, gold, ash-grey and other sacred hues, each representing a core virtue the Dragon was expected to uphold, such as resolve, duty, sacrifice, strength, humility, and foresight, as with each feather added, the crown grew not in weight, but in meaning, while Aegon remained still as stone, his eyes fixed forward, blood still dried across his cheek.
When the final elder, Lord Twelfth, placed the last feather into the center slot, the arena seemed to hold its breath, as the ivory crown shimmered faintly under the light, the feathers softly rustling from an unseen wind, as if awakened by the moment.
Aegon slowly lowered his head then, as the priest stepped up and gently placed the crown onto it, adjusting the fit before stepping away with a respectful bow.
And finally, Dana’s voice echoed across the arena, loud and clear, as his words cut through the silence like thunder across the valley.
"By the will of the Elders’ Council, and under the divine gaze of the Great God Soron... The Cult Of Ascension declares Aegon Veyr as the Dragon of this generation. May his wings never falter. May his fire never fade..... and may he bring glory to the Cult, just as all those before him did."
Only then did the crowd erupt into thunderous applause, cheers ringing out from every corner of the Lewis Hamilton Arena, as petals fell from the upper tiers and the arena lights blazed brighter than ever before.
Aegon stood beneath it all, his crown gleaming, his fists clenched, and his face a canvas of emotion he refused to reveal, as the press camera’s shuttered, and a photo of the new number one most wanted criminal in the universe was born.
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End Of Volume 4.
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