Only I Am The Strongest

An Ancient Deal

Kieran rubbed his scalp and glared up at the older physician.

The dull ache from the strike grounded him. The sting cut through the lingering haze of supernatural adrenaline that still clouded his thoughts. Kieran rested his elbows on his knees and took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

"Why did you hit me?" Kieran asked.

He looked at his own hands again. The sword shards had faded into his pores, leaving only skin and old scars from the slums. 

"I hit you because you almost signed your own death warrant." Garry remained standing by the locked oak door. The physician did not move toward the cot. He stared at Kieran with unmasked terror. "I need you awake. I need you anchored to reality. Tell me exactly what happened in the grand hall."

Kieran swallowed hard. 

"I do not know." Kieran admitted. He kept his voice low so the sound would not carry past the thick wooden door. "When Alaric ordered his guards to kill me, the pain in my broken ribs stopped. I suddenly felt a pressure in my chest. It felt like…like…burning coal."

Garry ran a hand over his tired face. "And your eyes? Do you know your eyes changed color?"

"No, I could not see my own face." Kieran tightened his grip on his knees. "But I heard them. It was not just my own anger driving me. The moment the guard raised his sword, whispers flooded my mind. Dozens of them. They spoke over each other in a language I do not understand, yet I felt their intent."

Kieran paused as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Processing the memory made his stomach twist with deep nausea.

"It was an overwhelming urge to slaughter." Kieran continued. "I did not want to just disarm the guard. The voices demanded that I tear Alaric apart for the disrespect. They wanted me to rip his throat out. I felt like a passenger inside my own flesh. When you grabbed my hand, the whispers finally went quiet."

“I fear this will happen” Garry turned pale. The older man walked over to the small iron stove in the corner of the room. He grabbed an iron poker and stirred the dying embers, needing something to do with his trembling hands.

"The power you felt was not demonic sorcery." Garry spoke with his back turned to Kieran. "Alaric is a fool, and the high mages are blind. They see overwhelming strength and immediately assume it belongs to the Abyssal rot. They do not recognize the ancient majesty of the blood they betrayed."

"What are you talking about?" Kieran asked. "If it is not demonic magic, then what is inside me?"

Garry dropped the iron poker. The metal clanged loudly against the stone hearth. He turned around and fixed his gaze on Kieran.

"It is the aura of the lost Dragon Emperors." Garry stated.

The medical chamber fell into silence. Kieran stared at the physician, waiting for the punchline of a cruel joke. He grew up scavenging for rotten food in the ash wastes. The idea that royal blood flowed through his veins sounded like a child's fairy tale.

"You are losing your mind, old man." Kieran shook his head. "I am a slum orphan. My mother died of swamp fever before I could walk. I have no crest."

"You possess a crest older than the Citadel itself." Garry stepped closer to the wooden cot. "The history they teach in the royal academies is a fabricated lie. The scholars claim the current King conquered the wild lands and built this kingdom from nothing. That is a falsehood. The Dragon Tamers were the original rulers of this continent."

Kieran frowned. He had heard drunken tavern tales about men who rode beasts of fire, but the Vanguard commanders always punished anyone caught spreading such myths.

"The current King is a usurper." Garry lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Decades ago, he was nothing but a minor warlord serving the Dragon Emperors. He grew envious of their absolute power. Dragon tamers were feared above all other living creatures. A single emperor bonded to a mature dragon could decimate an entire army of elemental mages. The King knew he could never defeat them in open combat."

"So he betrayed them." Kieran guessed.

"He organized a rebellion, the biggest one ever." Garry nodded. "He allied with the corrupt high mages and used forbidden dark sorcery to poison the taming bonds. They slaughtered the Dragon Emperors in their sleep. They massacred the royal bloodline and ordered the scholars to erase their legacy from the archives. Anyone caught speaking the old titles was hanged for treason."

Kieran processed the information. The historical betrayal mirrored his own miserable existence in the lower wards. The strong exploited the innocent, and the corrupt rewrote the rules to justify their cruelty.

"The voices in my head." Kieran placed a hand over his chest. "You are telling me the dead emperors are residing in my bloodline."

"They are." Garry confirmed. "The bloodline is not just a trait. It is a spiritual vessel. The ancient rulers were murdered by the very nobility that now rules this city. Their ghosts are trapped within your body, and they are furious."

Kieran remembered the primal rage that eclipsed his mind in the grand hall. It was a boundless, ancient fury that demanded the destruction of House Vayne.

"They want revenge." Kieran realized.

"They demand blood." Garry warned him. The physician stepped forward and placed his hands on Kieran's shoulders. His grip was tight and desperate. "You must understand the changes occurring within your body. Every time you exact vengeance on the corrupt nobility, you appease those angry ghosts. In return, the emperors grant you a fraction of their sealed draconic strength. That is why your skin broke blade."

Kieran looked at his unbroken hands. The concept terrified him, yet a dark thrill ignited in his gut. The power offered a way to survive the brutal Knight trials. It offered a way to crush men like Alaric.

"The more I feed the anger, the stronger I get." Kieran spoke the thought aloud.

"It is an addiction that will kill you." Garry shook him slightly. "You must restrict the power. If you let the rage consume you, your body will begin to change. Your eyes turned radiant gold, and then they shifted to blood red. That is the undeniable mark of an awakening tamer."

Garry released his shoulders and took a step back, pointing a stern finger at Kieran's face.

"You must never let your eyes change color in front of the King's inquisitors." Garry ordered. "The King lives in fear of a prophecy that the dragonemperors will be back. He employs a lot of spies to hunt down any surviving remnants of the true bloodline. If a high mage or an inquisitor senses the aura of the ancient tamers within you, they will bypass a trial. The King will have you executed on the spot, and he will burn the entire lower ward to ashes just to ensure the bloodline ends."

Kieran understood the stakes. The world remained a slaughterhouse, but now he held a weapon. He simply had to hide the blade until the time was right.

"I will leash the ghosts." Kieran nodded. He met the physician's terrified gaze with absolute resolve. "I will not let the fire reach my eyes again. If I have to fight the nobles in the recruitment trials, I will use only the enhancements I have now. I will keep the aura sealed deep inside."

"You must exercise restraint." Garry let out a shaky breath of relief. "The Knight trials are designed to kill commoners. Alaric will use every resource his father owns to sabotage your matches. You will have to endure their humiliation without summoning the ancient heat."

"I survived the slums for eighteen years." Kieran tightened his jaw. "I know how to take a beating. When the time comes to strike back, I will break them with my bare hands."

Thump! Thump!! Thump!!!

Sounds from boots broke the quiet atmosphere of the medical chamber.

The synchronized marching echoed down the secluded stone corridor outside. The footsteps possessed a metallic sound that distinguished them from regular Citadel guards. Garry froze. The physician turned his head toward the locked door.

A series of knocks rattled the wood in its frame.

"Open the door in the name of the Crown." A gruff voice shouted from the hallway.

Garry rushed toward the exit. He reached out to slide the thick iron bolt out of the latch, intending to comply with the royal order.

The door burst open before his fingers could touch the metal.

The force of the forced entry splintered the door frame. The iron bolt tore free from the stone wall and clattered across the floor. The door swung inward, narrowly missing Garry's face.

Three men stepped into the cramped medical chamber.

They wore pristine armor forged from dark steel. A golden sun emblem rested over their breastplates, marking them not as knights recruits or standard Citadel watchmen, but as the King's elite Royal Guards. Their faces were hidden behind their helmets. 

Garry stumbled backward to put distance between himself and the intruders. "This is a private medical sanctuary. You have no right to breach my doors."

The lead guard ignored the physician completely. The man stepped past Garry, his boots crunching the splintered wood scattered across the floor. He stopped in front of the wooden cot and stared directly at Kieran through the slit in his dark visor.

Kieran did not stand up. He remained seated on the edge of the cot, keeping his hands resting calmly on his knees. He forced his heart rate to slow down. He focused all his willpower on suppressing the heat in his chest, ensuring his eyes remained their natural, dull color.

"We are not here for an inspection." The lead guard spoke. His voice was a flat, emotionless drone.

The guard rested his armored hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"The King requests the presence of the physician and the applicant." The lead guard delivered the royal summons. "Immediately."