The streets of the Flame Dominion were alive with merchants shouting, warriors training, and the scent of burning embers in the air. Among the bustling crowd, Valieon stood out—not because of his status, but because of his defiance. Clad in ragged clothes, with silver hair flowing down his back, he strode through the market, ignoring the whispers around him. He had grown used to them.
Notorious. Parentless. A troublemaker. These were the words people used for him.
But he didn't care.
As he walked, his eyes locked onto a group of elite warriors in black and crimson armor. Among them stood a man radiating sheer dominance. He was tall, his armor engraved with the emblem of the Flame Dominion's Elite Legion. His gaze was sharp, his presence overwhelming. General Kael Draven.
Valieon had heard of him—a warrior feared and respected throughout the realms. More than that, he was once the Fierce Warrior of his time—the strongest student in the Academy of Strength, a living legend.
Draven's eyes met Valieon's, and he frowned. Something felt… off. He extended his aura, trying to sense the boy's energy.
Nothing.
No elemental signature. No flames, no water, no earth, no light. Just a void.
Intrigued, Draven walked toward him. "You. Boy."
Valieon, leaning against a wooden stall, looked up lazily. "What?"
Draven studied him, then gestured with his head. "Come with me."
Valieon scoffed. "Yeah, no thanks."
Draven's expression didn't change. "Not a request."
Before Valieon could react, Draven grabbed his wrist. Valieon struggled, but the grip was unbreakable. He twisted, kicked—nothing worked. With effortless strength, Draven pulled him into a narrow alley and then into a secluded courtyard, away from the noise of the market. Only the flickering torches illuminated the stone walls.
Valieon wrenched his arm away and glared. "What the hell do you want?"
Draven crossed his arms. "Where are your parents?"
Valieon's jaw tightened. His usual arrogance faded slightly. "…Dead."
"Your home?"
Valieon looked away, voice quieter this time. "Nowhere."
Draven sighed, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "You live on the streets?"
A bitter chuckle escaped Valieon's lips. "What's it to you?"
Draven didn't flinch. "How long?"
Valieon shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Since I can remember. Not like anyone cares."
Draven studied him for a moment before speaking. "That's no way for a warrior to live."
Valieon scoffed, laughing hollowly. "Who said I was a warrior?"
Draven didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let silence settle between them before finally asking, "What is your dream?"
Valieon blinked. No one had ever asked him that seriously. The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, the cocky exterior cracked.
He hesitated, then smirked. "To become the Fierce Warrior."
Draven's eyebrows lifted slightly. The Fierce Warrior title was legendary—awarded only to the strongest student in every Academy of Strength across the realms. Those who earned it were given elite rankings in the army and privileges beyond imagination.
Draven crossed his arms. "A big dream for someone like you."
Valieon's smirk didn't fade. "And?"
Draven chuckled, his deep voice carrying weight. "I'll get you into the Academy. I'll cover your fees."
Silence.
Valieon stared at him, processing the words. Then, he laughed dryly. "You joking?"
Draven shook his head. "No."
Something in his voice… It wasn't pity. It wasn't mockery. It was conviction.
Valieon's smirk faltered. He swallowed hard. "Why?"
Draven's gaze was steady. "Because I see something in you."
Valieon's throat tightened. He wanted to say something cocky, something dismissive. But for the first time in a long time, he couldn't find the words.
He clenched his fists. "What if I fail?"
Draven's lips curled into a smirk. "Then you get back up. That's what warriors do."
Something inside Valieon cracked. His whole life, he had been alone. No parents. No help. No future. And now… someone believed in him.
His voice cracked. "You're serious?"
Draven smirked. "Completely."
Valieon clenched his fists, trying to stop the emotions from spilling over, but it was too late. His breath shuddered. His vision blurred.
Then, before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Draven.
"…Thanks, bro.