For sixty relentless days, Veyr was paraded across more than a hundred Righteous Faction worlds, dragged through their capital streets like a captured beast, while crowds lined up to spit, curse, and hurl whatever they could find at his broken body.
From the shimring towers of Voralis to the ash-covered slums of Myraxis, the story was always the sa: a chained Dragon displayed as a trophy, a fallen ssiah mocked by those who once trembled at his na.
By the end of the sixtieth day, when even the novelty of his humiliation began to fade, the Righteous Faction announced sothing far darker than any parade.
"Exactly sixty days from now," the ssage declared, its words echoing across holo-screens and transmission towers from one end of the universe to the other, "the execution of the Evil Dragon, Aegon Veyr, will take place within The Pit, sacred ho of the Great God Helmuth. His death shall be witnessed by all, broadcast live across every world under heaven, marking the final end of the era in which the Evil Cult and its people terrorized the universe."
The announcent was repeated endlessly by every dia channel and GalaxyNet posts, until even those who were far disconnected from civilization received the ssage.
And until then, it was decided that he would be held securely in an undisclosed location, so that the Cult supporters could not co and save him even if they tried.
—-------------
(The Eternal Garden, Veyr’s POV)
To his extre surprise, at the end of his humiliation tour, instead of being returned to another foul dungeon, the Righteous soldiers escorted him into what could only be described as the recreation of heaven itself.
The Eternal Garden stretched endlessly before his weary eyes, bathed in a golden mist that shimred faintly beneath a sky of silver light.
The air was thick with fragrance, not of incense or perfu, but of sothing older and purer... of rain, of spring, of life untainted.
Gentle ocean winds drifted in from the nearby cliffs, carrying the soft rhythm of waves brushing against stone, their sound calm and soothing, as if the sea itself whispered lullabies to the land.
The ground beneath his feet was warm and smooth, covered in flowers that glead in the hues of gold and silver, their petals glowing faintly with mana so dense that it seed to breathe.
He had seen the grand halls of the Cult and the mansions of rich rchants, but nothing compared to this place.
Every leaf here glistened with morning dew that never dried, every gust of wind humd with dense mana, and even the sunlight felt alive, cascading through the translucent branches of the world-trees like ribbons of divine silk.
For a mont, Veyr almost forgot that he was a prisoner.
Then the air shifted.
It did not grow heavier, nor did it tremble. It simply... changed, as if all of creation had paused to bow before a single presence.
And then he saw him.
Kaelith, the Eternal Sovereign, erging from a veil of golden light at the far edge of the garden, his steps soundless, his gaze steady, his existence itself too refined to belong to any plane Veyr had known.
He was dressed in garnts woven from special threads that bent light itself around them, yet the first thing that caught Veyr’s attention was not the dignity of the God, but the silence that surrounded him, the kind of silence that demanded reverence without effort.
In that instant, the fog of sedatives that had dulled his mind for weeks began to burn away.
His pulse quickened, his limbs grew light, his senses sharpened until every sound, scent, and shimr of light returned with unnatural clarity.
It felt as though the God’s re presence had restored his consciousness to its full strength, and with it, returned his desire to fight back.
"Do not bother trying to attack , child," Kaelith said, his voice soft and lodic, yet carrying the weight of galaxies. "It would be of no use."
Veyr’s eyes narrowed, his instincts screaming to fight, but his reason reminding him of the futility of such an action.
For even without Kaelith radiating any hostility, he could feel that if the Eternal Sovereign so much as breathed differently, he would be crushed into dust.
Hence, after a long pause, he exhaled and lowered his head slightly, not in reverence, but in acceptance.
"I suppose it would," he muttered.
There was not a single trace of malice radiating from Kaelith’s body. His aura, calm yet absolute, did not press down on Veyr at all, for he did not see him as an opponent, rely as sothing too insignificant to warrant suppression.
"Can I at least have so clothes?" Veyr asked finally, his voice rough but composed, his eyes unwavering.
Kaelith tilted his head, then flicked his fingers gently.
The air shimred.
In an instant, Veyr’s body was cleansed of gri and blood, the stench of pain washed away as fresh robes of deep crimson and silver thread materialized around him, draping his figure with the dignity of a prince rather than a prisoner.
His wounds closed, his skin healed, and for the first ti in many months, he felt his breath co freely again.
He looked down at himself in disbelief, then back at Kaelith, whose expression remained unreadable.
"I apologize for the inhumane treatnt you have endured," the God said quietly, his gaze distant, as though the cruelty of mortals no longer interested him. "It is not my style to humiliate those who have already fallen. But Mauriss... he finds such degradation amusing. It pleases his ego."
Veyr gave a short, humorless laugh, the sound sharp and bitter in the tranquil air. "How noble of you to distance yourself from it," he said, his tone dripping with restrained contempt. "A pity that nobility did not stop you from murdering your father."
The words hung between them like poison in perfu.
Kaelith’s eyes flickered briefly, not with anger, but with sothing colder, sothing dangerously unreadable, before returning to calm.
The sound of the sea filled the silence once more, gentle and unending, as the God and the fallen Dragon stood face to face beneath the tranquil sky of the Eternal Garden.
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