Chapter 501: Time To Look Past
(Planet Vorthas, Just Outside the Training Arena, Dupravel’s POV)
Perched silently atop a weathered boulder, Dupravel sat with his back straight and hands folded over his knees, his presence utterly still as if he too was a part of that stone.
The afternoon sun was high in the sky, painting it in a light blue color, which matched nicely with his new Gray and Blue robes, and his white mask.
For anyone that was used to seeing the Black Serpents Guildmaster in all blacks all their life, this change made them less suspicious about his real identity, however, Valterri wasn’t one of those that was easily fooled.
Sitting beneath the shade of a large tree not too far away, Valterri watched the masked man carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing with suspicion that had only grown with time.
There was something deeply off about this so-called new guard named ‘Viper’.
He didn’t behave like a personal guard. Not even remotely.
He walked like a phantom, each footstep too light, too silent, far more akin to an assassin stalking prey than a loyal protector on duty.
He never checked the perimeter when they arrived at new locations, never studied the exits, never positioned himself between his master and potential threats.
He didn’t pat down visitors for hidden weapons, didn’t question unfamiliar faces approaching Leo, and made no effort to shield his master from stray gazes, probing glances, or opportunistic challengers.
He didn’t flinch when Leo was vulnerable, didn’t scan for sniper lines, didn’t even feign tension in high-risk moments.
The man had no instincts of a protector. Only that of a predator biding his time.
And it pissed Valterri off.
“You catch the execution of that scum Dupravel recently, Viper?” Valterri called out casually, voice laced with a kind of forced ease that masked the venom underneath.
“The bastard died like the dog he was. Praise be to Lord Shadow Dragon for bringing him to justice.
Though, truth be told… I almost wish he hadn’t.” Valterri chuckled darkly, watching for any reaction.
“I wish I’d been the one to take him down. That bastard took my father from me, you know.”
Dupravel slowly shifted his gaze downward from the clouds, locking eyes with him without a word.
“I had a score to settle with him. And now that he’s gone, I’ll never get the chance to tear out his heart myself.
Everyone else at the execution cheered like idiots. But me? I wasn’t happy. I was hollow.
Because no amount of staged justice can replace the satisfaction of killing your enemy with your own hands.”
Valterri leaned forward slightly, scanning Dupravel’s posture, his eyes, his breath.
But there was no response.
The masked man was silent, his demeanor unreadable.
“I heard they released his son,” Valterri added, voice lowering to a threat. “Nobody knows where, but if I ever get my hands on him… well, let’s just say that would be an interesting conversation.”
He made a gesture of wringing a neck, his smile full of cruel intent.
And that’s when Dupravel finally responded.
“I’d hope for your own sake that you never meet him.”
His tone was calm. Cold. Filled with the kind of authority you only gained after being a king for too long.
“For unlike your mongrel blood, that boy carries the potential of a Monarch.
And if he turns out to be even half the serpent his father was, you’ll die as pitifully as your father did… choking on regret.”
Valterri’s nostrils flared as he scoffed, though a sliver of unease slipped into his expression.
“Takes more than bloodlines for one to become a real warrior.” He argued before looking away, as “Sure,” Dupravel replied, the smile behind his mask practically audible.
“Keep telling yourself that. When here you are, serving a boy half your age, simply because of the blood that runs in his veins.
If bloodline doesn’t matter, then why haven’t you tried to become the Dragon?”
He let the words linger, each syllable slicing deeper.
“Or what… can’t do it?”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Valterri opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Dupravel had exposed the core truth of this hierarchy, and there was nothing Valterri could say to refute it.
“Why do you even care so much about these criminals?” Valterri finally asked, voice quieter now, with less venom. “You speak like you know them. With passion, even. One might assume the boy was your own son.”
Dupravel met his gaze one final time, then scoffed and looked away toward the sky.
“You’re right, Shield of the Dragon. It takes more than bloodlines to become great.
It takes vision. It takes discipline. It takes knowing where your strength is best spent.
And the current you… the current you has none of that.
You can’t see past your own petty vengeance. You think in inches while others think in kingdoms.
This conversation has been a waste of breath.”
He stood slowly, the wind catching the edges of his robes as he turned.
“So I suggest… until the day you learn to think like a man and not a hound, stay out of my way.”
Valterri sat in silence long after Dupravel turned away, his hands clenched into fists against his thighs as he stared at the dirt.
Bitter. That was the only word that fit the taste left in his mouth.
Because no matter how much he hated it, the masked bastard was right.
He was serving a boy half his age.
He had spent years chasing the ghost of a man who no longer existed.
And he had wasted his strength on hatred that led nowhere.
Dupravel was dead.
He’d watched it happen with his own eyes. Heard the snap of bone. Saw the light leave that devil’s gaze.
It was over.
Maybe it was finally time to look past it.
Gritting his teeth, Valterri tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting the heat of the Vorthas sun burn into his face as if it could scorch away the weight of everything he had just said.
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