Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

"Those cowardly lions have confined themselves in a cage of their own free will. Even though the lion is supposed to be the 'king of all beasts.'"

— Rize Kamishiro

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I've lived for a long time, and most of it I spent causing unreasonable chaos and destruction. It was simple, primal, and for the longest time, satisfying. I've seen enough of humanity—my frequent victims—to know how they work as a group.

At first, I saw only weakness in their persistence. I could never understand why my brother was so fascinated by them. They'd rebuild after every calamity, like ants reconstructing a trampled hill. But as centuries rolled by, I found myself curious.

These fleeting beings are full of contradictions. They wage devastating wars, then weep over a wilted flower. They build grand systems to impose order, yet their defining moments often sprout from chaos—revolution, inspiration, love.

I was puzzled.

Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to them—to their struggle against the entropy which I represent—even as I terrify them. They're as chaotic as I, in a sense. The irony isn't lost on me. After thousands of years of sowing discord, I find myself intrigued by the concept of purpose. Not the petty aims humans cling to, but something grander.

Without chaos, order stagnates.

Without destruction, creation loses its urgency.

~🐉~

Veldora versus all the lances plus Arthur Leywin and the royal children of the human kingdom. The standoff for such a battle of epic proportions was, suffice to say, very tense. The air was rigid yet electrifying, equal parts burning and heavy. It was the conflicting mana storm coming from the lances at work, but Veldora still had his own magicules suppressed.

Veldora's surroundings were still cratered aside from the perfect circular ground he stepped on. But then, he took a step in the empty ground. His enemies tensed at this, clutching their weapons even tighter. But Veldora never fell to the ground. He walked, step by step and one after another, on a clearly empty air.

"Every time someone is disadvantaged in the world, it is because of their lack of ability," says Veldora as he paced around the battlefield. He continued, "The weak are trampled. They are overrun. They are afflicted. So, tell me, humans, which of us is disadvantaged here?"

The lances tensed further, questioning just what kind of psychological move Veldora was on, but they can never point his words to any deeper reason other than to converse, or perhaps amuse himself. Moreover, his tone was still so casual and unhurried—as if he was unbothered by everything.

The lance Aya, in particular, gulped as she heard Veldora's words.

"Thinking I'm in a disadvantage because of this set-up is just ridiculous, is what I mean," he said, looking directly at the elven lance whose thoughts he voiced. The other lances looked at Aya, then back to Veldora. "And no," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "I haven't read your minds, it's just that your emotions are so susceptible that I might as well be able to hear it—smell it, even."

The lances and the council alike can never wrap their heads around Veldora. They spent a great deal of assets investigating his origins, but they can never find any trace. There was no record of him other than the time he suddenly showed up at Xyrus Academy, effortlessly intruded into the barrier, then slaughtered all the attackers. After making a show for himself, he registered as an adventurer like nothing happened.

It's like he didn't exist before that point in time, or that he came from somewhere totally beyond the council's authority. But then, something happened. Something unexpected.

Time stopped.

Arthur Leywin, using the second-phase of his beast will, rushed to Veldora as fast as possible. The young mage knew his grasp on Static Void was tenuous at best—a technique that allowed him to temporarily step outside the flow of time. With precious seconds ticking away in his mind, Arthur focused on delivering a devastating blow. He coalesced the two deviants of ice and lightning into his most powerful elemental blast.

But just as victory seemed within reach, the impossible happened.

A vice-like grip closed around Arthur's throat, freezing him in place more effectively than any magic could. In the soundless void of stopped time, a voice resounded—amused, impressed, and terrifyingly powerful.

"You're full of tricks, wizard," he heard Veldora's voice, defying the laws of this otherwise timeless world. "But I like that."

The sheer impossibility of it struck Arthur harder than any physical blow. Veldora wasn't just conscious within the Static Void—he was moving, speaking, existing as if the temporal stasis meant nothing to him.

In that moment, Arthur's concentration shattered. The immense strain of maintaining Realmheart—the technique that amplified his magical abilities to godlike levels—finally took its toll. Reality reasserted itself with a rush of sound and motion as time lurched back into its normal flow.

The gathered lances blinked, unaware that anything had transpired in that imperceptible fraction of a second. To them, Arthur had simply appeared in Veldora's grasp, the young mage's face a mask of shock and awe.

"Stand down," a new voice, old but authoritative, pierced the stiff battlefield. Veldora turned his head and found an old elf man. He was old, yes, but he carried himself with pride and confidence. But in terms of power, Veldora really can't compare him to the lances. He's too far below them.

Veldora threw Arthur Leywin away.

"Would you please stand down?" The man said, directly addressing Veldora. "I know of a way where we both get what we want. Would you consider hearing me out?"

~🐉~

"I know of a way where we both get what we want. Would you consider hearing me out?"

The old elf's tone was informal yet seemingly mindful. How interesting, I thought. Just when this little game was growing dull—only lightened up by the semi-time stop earlier—a new player enters the field. I decided to humor him—after all, what harm could it do? This old elf's courage was more worth than his age tripled.

It seemed even my ambushers are confused to see this old man here, so he must be a pretty big shot. It's all but certain that his presence here is unannounced.

"Well, well," I said, amused. "Unexpected, but very well, old coot. You have my attention—for now. Speak, and it better be worth my time." Claiming to know what I want and even claiming to have the ability to give it—that's not something I'll just allow anyone to say to my face. I'd erase him if he's all talk.

"I appreciate your willingness to listen, Veldora," the old elf began. A bold move, addressing me so directly. "You see, I've been around long enough to recognize a kindred spirit when I see one. You're not here merely for destruction, are you? No, you crave something more… stimulating."

My eyes narrowed, intrigued despite myself. "Go on," I replied.

He continued as he maintained a steady tone. "Our continent, Dicathen, stands on the brink of invasion from Alacrya. They seek to conquer and subjugate us. But what if… what if we could offer you a stimuli worthy of your power?"

Interesting. I shifted slightly as I put my fingers in my chin. "And that is?"

"The Alacryans," Virion said, spreading his arms wide like he was offering me a gift. "They're yours to deal with as you see fit. Their armies, their mages, even their continent itself—all at your disposal for whatever entertainment you desire. Crush them, outwit them, toy with them—it's entirely up to you. You'll be Dicathen's warlord. The only condition is that you leave Dicathen out of your… fun."

Warlord? I couldn't help but let out a booming laugh, the kind that shakes the earth itself. "And why should I limit myself to just one playground when I could have two?"

The elf didn't flinch. Impressive. There was steel will in his eyes. "Because, Veldora, if you truly wanted mindless destruction, you wouldn't have bothered registering as an adventurer. You wouldn't have taken the time to blend in with humans. No, you're after something more sophisticated, aren't you?"

That made me pause. The old coot was more astute than I gave him credit for. I was silent, mulling over his words. I'm sure everyone else was holding their breath, waiting to see if I'd simply crush him where he stood.

Sensing the shift, Virion pressed on, clearly aware he had struck a chord. "I'm offering you freedom, Veldora. Complete autonomy in how you deal with our enemies. You won't be bound by our laws or answerable to any authority. You'd stand beside the council, not beneath it."

Freedom. Autonomy. I know how it felt like. Afterall, I was born to be free. I've never been one to bow to authority, but to have it explicitly granted? That's something different. Something intriguing. One worthy for my great adventure.

Still, I wasn't about to let him off that easily. "And what do you get out of this arrangement, old coot?"

He smiled, cunning and desperation mixing in his expression. "Protection for my people, of course. And the chance to witness the birth of a legend. So, what say you, Veldora? Shall we embark on this adventure together?"

...…

...

…

The wind rushed past my face as I soared over the Beast Glades. It had been mere hours since my interesting conversation with those self-important Lances, that peculiar Arthur boy, and the royal brats. Oh, and that crafty old elf, Virion.

I'd come here to ponder my next move. The promise of toying with invaders from Alacrya held some appeal, I'll admit. But was it enough? I am Veldora, after all, and my entertainment measures very high. As I pondered, I caught sight of a small clearing below. Curiosity piqued—or perhaps it was mere boredom—I decided to descend.

No sooner had my feet touched the ground than I heard the unmistakable sounds of combat. I strode toward the noise and emerged into another clearing. I was greeted by a sight that was... unexpectedly intriguing.

Five individuals stood back-to-back, surrounded by a pack of mana beasts. Their coordination was impeccable, I had to admit. Each seemed to know exactly where the others were, moving in perfect synchronization.

A lean man swung a spear, puncturing beasts with each blow. "Adam, on your left!" a lithe woman with black red hair called out, even as she nocked another arrow to her bow.

The man—Adam, I presumed—pivoted smoothly, his spear connecting with a leaping beast mid-air. "Thanks, Helen!" he called back.

A younger-looking woman wielding twin short swords danced between two larger beasts, her blades a blur. "Jasmine, switch!" a voluptuous woman with blonde hair called out. Without missing a beat, the swordswoman rolled backwards as the blonde woman stepped forward, her hands glowing with mana.

The fifth member of their group, a statuesque brute, stood slightly apart with his eyes closed in concentration. The very earth seemed to respond to his will, erupting in spikes to impale approaching beasts.

I watched, mildly entertained, as they dispatched the last of their foes. It was only then that they noticed my presence.

"Hey there, friend!" the lean one—Adam—called out, lowering his spear. "Didn't see you arrive. Are you alright?"

Friend? I almost laughed at the absurdity. "I need neither help nor concern," I replied, my tone dripping with arrogance.

To my surprise, they seemed more amused than offended. The black-haired archer—Helen—approached with a warm smile on her face. "Well, whether you need help or not, you're welcome to join us. We were just about to set up camp for the night."

I opened my mouth to decline, to remind them of their worth in the face of my greatness. But something stopped me. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe just the novelty of the situation.

"Kuahahahaha! Very well," I found myself saying. "I shall grace you with my presence for a time."

As we moved to a more defensible position to make camp, I observed their interactions. The easy banter, the inside jokes, the casual touches that spoke of deep familiarity. It was... perplexing.

"I'm Adam Krensh," the lean one said as we sat around the freshly made fire. "This is Angela Rose. That's Durden Walker, Jasmine Flamesworth, and Helen Shard. Together, we're known as the Twin Horns. And you are?"

I considered for a moment. "You may call me Veldora," I said finally.

"Well met, Veldora." Durden exclaimed, raising a waterskin in toast. "Any friend of the glades is a friend of ours!"

There was that word again. Friend. Such a quaint, mortal concept. And yet...

As the night wore on and stories were shared, I found myself... not entirely displeased with the company. Their tales of adventure, while paltry compared to my own experiences, held a certain charm—the charm of ephemerality that, as I found myself realizing, brought more meaning and joy to the smallest of things. Their laughter was infectious.

I did not join in their merriment, of course. I am Veldora the Storm Dragon, after all.

But neither did I leave.

I gazed into the dancing flames, listening to the chatter around me, and a strange thought occurred to me. Perhaps this, too, was a form of adventure. Not the grand, destructive kind I was accustomed to, but something... different. Something worth exploring, if only for a moment.

But such thoughts were beneath me, surely. I pushed them aside, focusing instead on the task ahead. The Alacryan invaders awaited, and they brought with them the promise of chaos and entertainment. Before I knew it, everyone was sound asleep, with me as the only one remaining awake.

What's this tingling in my stomach? I thought, confused on how to feel with these humans sleeping so soundly and vulnerably beside me. Bah. Probably just indigestion from that questionable stew they'd shared. Yes, that must be it.