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Karlos stood a few steps behind Velsun, his normally stoic face unreadable to anyone else—but inside, a storm raged. Every heartbeat thumped like a drum in his chest, every breath was a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Lord Velsun… of all the daemons in the Black Lineage, how did I get this fortune? How did hell itself allow me to serve someone like him?"
He remembered himself before Velsun: a mere archdaemon, bound by ambition, curiosity, and greed. Nothing more. Yet here he was now—transformed. "I went from a mere archdaemon… to the first of my kind… a Daemon Emperor… and now… a Demon Lord. The first in history… and I didn't even know this power could exist!"
His fists clenched, white-knuckled, as he watched Velsun's back bathed in the golden glow of the forge. Every movement was precise, deliberate, flawless—a dance of a being who had never known error, whose mind seemed to touch infinity itself. The heat of the forge reflected in Velsun's aura, and Karlos could feel it in his bones: the raw, overwhelming authority of someone who could bend the world to his will.
"And now… now he's doing what only the Creator God has ever done. Forging a weapon… a weapon no one else can ever wield. No one!" Karlos' chest tightened. His vision blurred slightly—not from smoke or fire, but from the weight of what he was witnessing. The gravity of this moment, the sheer impossibility of it, made his heart pound like a war drum.
A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped slightly closer, though he remained perfectly silent. "Lord Velsun… you keep pushing limits that no one else could even dream of. You always keep things… exciting… terrifying… glorious… and I… I am lucky beyond measure to be here. To follow you. To witness this."
He swallowed hard. His body shook, not with fear, but with a raw, primal excitement that threatened to burst out of him. "Lord… I would follow you through fire, through hell, through the end of existence itself. If you asked, I would give everything I have. I would burn worlds for you, create worlds for you… I would die for you… and I would rise again, if only to serve you once more."
And yet, outwardly, Karlos remained calm. Stoic. Unmoving. But his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—burned with something far stronger than loyalty. Worship. Devotion. Fanaticism. Everything that made him Karlos, the first of the Black Lineage, had been reshaped by Velsun, molded into a perfect reflection of awe and allegiance.
He remained there, silent, staring at Velsun's back, feeling the heat of the forge, the power of the sun's essence swirling around the future weapon, and the weight of history itself pressing down. Every fiber of his being hummed with reverence, exhilaration, and the terrifying knowledge that he was witnessing something eternal—a power that could reshape reality, and a master whose shadow would forever eclipse all others.
Veldora's eyes never left Velsun's back. For once, he wasn't joking, wasn't playful—his expression carried a seriousness that was almost foreign to him. "Aniki is working so hard for this… I've never seen him like this before," he thought, his fists clenched unconsciously.
Memories flashed through his mind. "I don't know why, but I remember when I was first born… I was reckless, wild, causing trouble everywhere. And you… you came to see me. You and Elder Brother Veldanava. While our sisters didn't even bother. I don't mind them, really… but you… you cared."
A warmth spread in his chest. "I don't know why, but because of you, Aniki… I've avoided so many painful parts of my life. Because of you, I've been able to grow strong, to have good people around me, people I can trust. And… for that, I'm really thankful. Arigato, Aniki."
He shifted slightly, still keeping his eyes on Velsun, the forge's glow reflecting in them. The little dragon felt a deep sense of gratitude, a rare quietness settling over him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced often, not in this life or the last. And yet, here it was—rooted in admiration, in respect, and in a bond that went beyond words.
Veldora's gaze lingered, not with envy, not with longing, but with unwavering trust. "Aniki… I'll always follow you. Wherever you go, whatever you do… I've got your back."
Even as Velsun's arms moved, weaving sunfire essence and the rare materials into the beginnings of his weapon, Veldora felt that this moment—watching, learning, and silently supporting—was something he would carry with him for eternity.
But those two werent the only one who were thinking of Velsun
Zalario's eyes lingered on Velsun's back, the radiant glow of his aura flickering against the forge's heat. For someone like Zalario, who had walked through countless centuries without ever allowing his heart to soften, the sight was… strange. And yet, it stirred something in him.
"Velsun… you truly are something else. Always pushing forward. Always clawing at the edges of your own limits, as if the word 'impossible' was just a challenge you were born to tear apart. Watching you… it's infuriating sometimes, and yet, it fills me with awe."
He remembered that day clearly—stepping into Lord Veldanava's palace for the first time after Velsun had defeated Velzard. The atmosphere had been heavy with shock, with respect, with whispers that an impossible feat had been achieved. Zalario had felt something then, a quiet voice inside him he had dismissed. "I remember telling myself… 'this one, this younger sibling of the Dragon God, has the potential to surpass even Lord Veldanava.' I didn't know why I believed it. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe fate. But now… now I see it. That spark wasn't a lie."
A rare warmth spread through his chest, though he kept his face composed, only his thoughts betraying him. "You've changed me, Velsun. More than I can ever say out loud. I thought I was unshakable, untouchable. I never imagined I'd stand beside a daemon and a high human and call them comrades. I never imagined I'd laugh, that I'd feel what it meant to have companions again. But you… you made me see it. You reminded me of what I had forgotten long ago."
The memories came like a flood—Karlos' booming laughter, Reinhart's calm wisdom, Veldora's reckless but genuine spirit. And Velsun, always at the center, the sun they all orbited around without even realizing it. "Because of you, I've met people who pulled me out of my solitude. People I can fight beside without hesitation. People I can trust. Karlos, Veldora, Reinhart… and yes, even you, Velsun. Especially you."
His throat felt tight, though he would never admit it aloud. "For someone like me… who thought freedom meant being alone… to realize that freedom is sweeter when shared… it's because of you. Thank you, Velsun. Not just as a warrior, not just as a leader… but as my friend. My only true friend."
For the first time in what felt like centuries, Zalario's chest ached—not with battle wounds, not with curses, but with something he had thought long dead. Gratitude.
Reinhart stood a little behind, arms crossed, but he wasn't thinking about posture or discipline now. His silver eyes were fixed on the spectacle before him—Velsun, his lord, quietly shaping something that seemed almost divine. A GENESIS grade weapon, something beyond even Reinhart's own silver blade, now gleaming in his imagination even before it took form.
"Lord Velsun… you truly are the greatest being I've ever known," Reinhart thought, his mind racing to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what was unfolding. The weapon wasn't just a tool of battle—it was proof of the man himself, a reflection of his power, his intellect, and his unwavering will.
He remembered the day Velsun had set foot in their lives. The memories hit him sharply, one after the other, like pages of history flipping in his mind. "Before Velsun arrived, Solara was nothing but two divided kingdoms—Bermud and Glora, constantly clashing, on the brink of destruction. We would have torn each other apart with our own hands… or perished from outside threats. But then he came. Alone, yet unmatched. He united them, single-handedly, under the banner of Solara."
Reinhart's grip tightened slightly around his sword's hilt, though he knew he wouldn't need it now. "And me… I became his general, a true hero, because of him. If it weren't for Lord Velsun, I don't even want to imagine what would have become of us. The people, the soldiers, the innocents… we might have fallen apart entirely. And Karlos… a terrifying archdaemon summoned to fight me and my army… we barely held our ground, but now he fights beside us. Because of Velsun, even the impossible becomes possible."
A quiet awe filled Reinhart's chest, one that went beyond respect—it was deep gratitude, loyalty, and genuine admiration.
"And yet… he doesn't stop there. He looks after Solara as if it were his own child. The miracles he's performed, the lives he's saved… it's more than any leader could do. And now… now he's doing something that only our creator, Lord Veldanava, has done before. Creating a GENESIS grade weapon. A weapon that bends reality to its will… made by his own essence. Truly unbelievable."
Reinhart felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in centuries—a mix of pride, awe, and resolve.
"In my eyes, there is no one greater than Lord Velsun. No one. And to serve under him, to witness him, to fight for him… it is an honor I will carry for the rest of my life. I am proud. Proud that my life, my skills, my existence, are all devoted to him."
He shifted slightly, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, knowing that this moment was sacred.
"Lord Velsun… I swear, whatever comes, whatever challenges arise, I will stand beside you. Not just as a soldier, not just as a true hero… but as someone whose life is indebted to yours, forever."
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