Chapter 469: The Guard
(Planet Tithia, A couple days after Aegon Veyr was crowned Dragon)
As per tradition, once a new Dragon was crowned, a tournament was held among the most reputed warriors within the Cult who were not already pledged to the military.
The sole purpose of this tournament was to select the one who would serve as the Dragon’s personal guard.
The title given to this warrior was ’Shield of the Dragon’—a name that carried with it both immense prestige and a painful legacy, as historically, the Shield almost always died before the Dragon did.
They were tasked from the moment of selection to put themselves in harm’s way, to block spells and take blades meant for another, to leap in front of death itself and die with a smile, as long as it meant that the Dragon would live to fight another day.
It was an honor that only the strongest, most loyal, and most selfless warriors could dream of attaining.
And this time around, the competition to earn it had been nothing short of brutal, as every young prodigy who saw themselves worthy stepped forward, desperate to stake their claim and offer their life in service of the Cult’s new messiah.
However, despite the flood of young bloods who came roaring into the arena, each one faster, stronger, or flashier than the last, there was only one middle aged man who fought with purpose, not pride.
Valterri. A 42-year-old warrior, built more like a fortress than a man, who stepped into the ring not to prove anything to the world, but to fulfill a legacy that had been left incomplete.
He wasn’t the fastest, nor the most technically gifted. There were at least five others who could outpace him in a straight duel, and perhaps even more who had mastered rare martial arts passed down from ancient bloodlines.
But Valterri had something they didn’t.
Resolve.
A kind of unwavering, soul-deep conviction that couldn’t be taught or mimicked.
He fought with patience when others fought with fire.
He guarded when others tried to impress.
And he endured, strike after strike, bout after bout, until his final opponent— a thirty-one-year-old prodigy with lightning reflexes, collapsed from sheer exhaustion, unable to break through the wall of willpower that Valterri had become.
The decision was unanimous.
The next Shield of the Dragon had been found.
And just like his old man before him, the same man who once served Noah Ashburn, and died holding the line during the infamous ambush by the Black Serpents, Valterri too now pledged to take up the mantle of protector.
—------------------
(32 years ago, on an unknown battlefield)
"Remember Valterri... the elders council is not what it seems. We have been set up. Someone has betrayed Lord Noah—" James said, as he placed a stealth amulet on his son, Valterri, who was but 10 at the time.
"But why Father? Why would someone within the Cult betray the Dragon? Aren’t we on the same side? Aren’t the monsters within the Righteous Faction?" Valterri asked, tears streaming down his face, as even at that tender age, he knew that this was goodbye.
"We are all monsters, Valterri.
Some of us are just better at hiding it.
The Elders speak of virtue, yet crave power.
They condemn Evil, yet justify their own Sins.
When you grow up, remember that the greatest crimes are not committed by villains,
but by those who believe themselves righteous.
A man convinced of his own virtue will justify any cruelty and betrayal.
And so, he is far more dangerous than the one who knows what he truly is.
Nothing is easier than to denounce the evil doer.
But there is nothing more difficult than to understand him.
The line between good or evil doesn’t run between factions or classes—
it runs through every human heart.
Do not trust the man who boasts of his goodness.
Trust the one who knows his own darkness and masters it." James said, as he affectionately rubbed the head of his son one last time, before turning to leave.
"Grow up to become big and strong Valterri.... And when the next Dragon is crowned, protect him better than I did—" James said before he left, as Valterri ran to hide behind a tree.
———
(Present day, Planet Tithia)
Valterri stood alone in the dimly lit chamber, hands braced against the cold basin, as droplets of water slid down his face and dripped quietly into the sink.
The mirror before him was scratched and dull, stained with time, but it still reflected enough for him to see the man he had become.
Or rather, the man he hoped to become today.
He blinked, stared into his own eyes, and saw nothing extraordinary. No glow of life. No trace of his father’s fierceness. Just a boy who had grown tall in the shadow of a legend he never had the chance to bury.
His knuckles whitened as he gripped the basin tighter.
Today was the day.
The day he finally stepped into something greater than himself.
The day he was no longer just "Valterri, son of James."
Today, he became the Shield of the Dragon.
*Sigh*
He exhaled once, slowly, then reached for the clasp of his ceremonial breastplate. It was freshly forged, carved with the sigil of the Cult Of Ascension, still unscuffed, still perfect.
However, he knew that he would stain it soon.
He was sure of that.
"I will not falter," he whispered to his reflection, voice low, steady. "I will not fail."
His fingers brushed the edge of the amulet tucked beneath his tunic—a worn scrap of iron, blackened by fire, which was all that remained of his father’s sword hilt after the Black Serpents’ ambush years ago.
They had never found the body.
But they found enough to bury.
And ever since that day, Valterri had trained with one goal in mind—not for vengeance, not for recognition, but to do what his father could not.
To stand.
To endure.
To protect.
No matter what happened to him, the Dragon would not fall.... not on his watch.
Not while his heart still beat.
*Splash*
He rinsed his face one last time, straightened, then turned from the mirror without hesitation.
The corridor beyond awaited.
So did the Dragon, Aegon Veyr.
And Valterri Valtanen was finally ready to serve.