Valeryon the Second

"I. Am. Valeryon." She declared, the words slicing abruptly through the silence. The harshness of her tone reverberated in her ears, and she grimaced at the unwelcome sound. Maybe a softer tone would be more fitting.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "You may call me Valeryon," she offered, her voice carefully measured. The words fell into the stillness around her like stones dropped into a well, sinking swiftly and leaving only ripples of her unease.

A deep furrow etched itself into her brow as her lips curled downward. "Greetings, I am…" she began, but the words faltered, crumbling to dust before they could take shape. Clenching her jaw, her dark red lips pressed into a thin line. "No, that's not it either," she muttered.

She reached for the water dispenser, cupping her hands under the spout. The cool liquid flowed into her palms, providing a welcome respite from the relentless heat that clung to her skin, a side effect of her accelerated metabolism from her healing abilities.

Water droplets, sparkling like scattered jewels, traced gleaming paths down her dark skin, catching the harsh light overhead. After experiencing the oppressive darkness of the Challenge of Darkness—the final and most gruelling of the Eight Death Challenges—the brightness still felt almost blinding. Each ray pierced her retinas like a thousand needles, relentless in their intensity.

Today was her Name Day, marking her coming of age and official acceptance into the clan after her graduation from the Trial Grounds.

On the surface, the Trial Grounds seemed prestigious—a revered place where young Valeryons refined their healing abilities. Beneath this facade lay the Death Challenge Atrium, a nightmarish arena where the Eight Death Challenges took place. These trials tested the "Will to Live," a unique power of the Orcus Galaxy. With death ever-present, only a relentless will could escape its grasp. A single lapse could sever the soul's ties to the mortal realm forever.

The Eight Death Challenges were a rite of passage for the nameless Valeryon children, initially identified only by numbers. She herself had been designated Zero-Nine, the ninth child of her generation. Traditionally, Valeryon children faced all eight challenges, a practice that had historically decimated generations and weakened the clan. Six centuries ago, the elders, led by King Varic Valeryon—who had survived by abandoning the Challenges after his third—reduced the requirement to just three challenges for clan membership. So, those who lived to adulthood without completing all the challenges received "auspicious" names based on the letters they earned.

She felt conflicted about this change. The original rules had been established for a reason. The Trial Grounds were a crucible—a hellish forge meant to burn away weakness and leave only the strongest. This harsh selection process was intended to eliminate frailty from the Valeryon bloodline, preparing them for the harsh realities of their galaxy, particularly with the looming threat of Void beasts.

A millennium ago, a Void portal had opened in their galaxy, and signs suggested it was entering its second phase, raising the risk of more dangerous creatures emerging—beasts far worse than the Floaters that had invaded during the first phase. The thought of their galaxy facing a fate like the Nihilim Galaxy, where a Void portal in its third phase had decimated over 90% of its human population, drove many in the Orcus Galaxy to flee to neighboring galaxies for safety. Yet, as a member of the ruling clan, escape was not an option for her—especially given all she had achieved.

Having survived and conquered all eight Death Challenges, she was now Crown Princess Valeryon the Second, the first official heir in recorded history. This should have been a crown of glory, but instead, it felt like a noose tightening around her neck. The burden of her title weighed heavily on her. According to clan law, those who failed to complete all eight challenges were considered interim heirs—mere placeholders until a true heir emerged. Even Queen Valeryon the Third, who had completed the highest number of challenges at six, was seen as an interim heir. This foundational law, cemented by a magical oath upon joining the clan, was unchangeable—even by the most powerful, including the Founder himself, without risking death.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, sharp and jagged like broken glass. Crown Princess? What a joke. It was absurd to expect a girl raised in isolation to lead, inspire, and embody the hopes of a clan that had forged her into an obedient follower—especially when her ascension would displace a democratically elected leader with exceptional public approval. If she ever did ascend to the throne, it would likely lead the clan to ruin.

As the hour of her Naming Ceremony approached, anxiety twisted in her stomach like a serpent tightening its grip. "What could possibly go wrong?" she muttered to herself, her mind conjuring images of her stumbling in front of the Orcus galaxy's most formidable figures—the monarchs of the ten clans, the elders, the celebrated warriors, and the influential scholars.

No pressure. None at all.

Her hand rested on her abdomen as she closed her eyes, channeling her healing ability to ease the persistent discomfort. Memories from the previous night flickered through her mind like a faulty hologram—the surgical procedure that had removed her reproductive organs. Her healing power had awakened her from a coma just in time to witness the healer extracting her organs, encased in glowing green cubes. She could only be grateful when she was promptly knocked out again. Nothing quite says "welcome to adulthood" like watching your organs being harvested by the first human you have ever met.

The procedure aimed to protect the sanctity of the Valeryon bloodline, placing control of reproduction in the hands of the clan's leaders. The harvested organs were stored in the Reproductive Archive, intended to ensure that only the strongest bloodlines would continue. This fact made her question her very existence. Inter-clan matches were forbidden by the Decennial Council Accords—a law designed to maintain the delicate power dynamics among the ten ruling clans of the Orcus Galaxy. Wars had erupted over such matters before, and she would not be surprised if they flared up again at the slightest hint of discord.

So, what purpose did she serve?

Her vibrant, glowing eyes—one peridot green and the other cerise pink—told a story that defied the Decennial Council Accords. The green marked her as a Valeryon, the revered Keepers of the Graves, while the pink signified the Florians, the reclusive Keepers of the Gardens known for their mastery over nature. How her clan had managed to interact with the Florians long enough to obtain genetic material remained a mystery. The Florians rarely left their territory except for Decennial Council meetings, and even then they were notorious for keeping to themselves beyond the formalities.

According to clan law, all members of her clan were expected to be veiled in public at all times. If this tradition had not originated from the Founder's time long before the Accords were established, she might have suspected a conspiracy to dominate the galaxy through incorporating the unique abilities of other clans. However, with such measures in place, she could at least be thankful that the secret was likely to remain hidden—as long as she was careful.

As healers, the official members of the Valeryon clan were bound by their Healer's Oaths, which forbade them from causing deliberate harm to any sentient being—an irony considering the premise of the Death Challenges. How they managed to uphold such a tradition without backlash was perhaps the greatest mystery of all. Regardless, with such an oath in place, her existence could not have stemmed from nefarious intentions. Could it?

Valeryon was jolted from her thoughts by a gentle, rhythmic pulse emanating from her wrist. The pale marble stone embedded there—the Celestial Receiver—glowed with a soft blue light, signalling the commencement of the Inter-Galactic Origin Training. This program, crafted by the brightest minds of the Sapientia Galaxy in collaboration with the Celestial of Genesis and the Celestial of Time, aimed to strengthen the younger generations of Origin-Dwellers in preparation for the looming existential threat posed by the Void Beasts.

Celestials, omnipotent beings from another dimension, were known to interact with mortals who achieved extraordinary feats, exchanging power for their eternal loyalty. Originally a communication tool for the Celestials and researchers, the Celestial Receiver had become an integral part of every Origin-Dweller's existence, as each resident was now born with one for the sake of convenience in training. The pervasive influence of this tool, revealing only a fraction of a Celestial's true power, made one wonder about the extent of their capabilities.

The Inter-Galactic Origin Training.

She had anticipated this day, yet the timing felt especially cruel. While the dread of her Name Day had fuelled her survival against all odds, she longed to put it behind her. Now, with the start of the Origin Training, it would hang over her like a dark cloud until her return. The Celestial of Time had adjusted the time ratio between the Origin and the Training, ensuring they would not miss a moment of their lives in the Origin. When it was all over, she would find herself back in this very moment.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, and back into the frying pan.

With a deep breath, Valeryon dragged a glowing hand through her long black hair, siphoning the moisture away and depositing it into the sink with practiced ease. Liquid manipulation, initially a healing skill that she had adapted to more mundane use, had become second nature after years of practice.

Stepping back into her room, her gaze fell upon the outfit laid out on her bed for the Name Day. The iridescent black silk gown shimmered like moonlit water as she slipped into it. The high collar and long sleeves enveloped her entirely, each stitch woven with her own hands, solidified magic crafted into the garment's very fabric. The lifelike multicoloured roses embroidered along the hemline were a testament to the ruthless magical precision she had honed over the years. This skill, taught to all Valeryon children from a young age, had been what inspired her to explore the uses of her magic beyond mere healing.

She finished her look with matching gloves, sturdy ankle-length leather boots, and a shoulder-length black veil. The veil, made of iridescent silk, shimmered as she secured it with a plain gold circlet. It created an impenetrable barrier against prying eyes from the outside, while remaining as clear as glass from within.

Taking one last look in the mirror, Valeryon found strange comfort in the weight of the gown and veil. They anchored her in a reality that often felt too vast to grasp.

She tapped the Receiver, and a swirling blue portal materialised before her, rippling like disturbed water. Her heart raced as she stepped through, bracing for the disorientation she had read about from others who had traveled by portal for the first time. The transition felt like a chaotic blend of falling and spinning, until her feet finally landed on solid ground with a sharp clack.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The hall pulsed with energy—real, living beings around her, not holograms or bots. Their vibrant life forces resonated in the air, causing her magic to instinctively reach out and sense the vitality surrounding her.

More portals flickered to life, releasing a steady stream of travellers into the already bustling space. Before she could fully take in her surroundings, someone stumbled out of the portal beside her. Instinctively, she reached out to steady them.

"Are you alright?"

The figure—a broad-shouldered man—looked down at her with wide, startled eyes. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks."

He towered over even her own considerable height of 190 cm. His striking amethyst eyes scanned over her veiled face briefly before accurately locking onto hers, and a smile spread across his face, revealing dimples in his freckled golden-hued cheeks. Honey-coloured hair, almost as long as hers even when tied back, framed his face with soft strands that brushed against his forehead.

Valeryon blinked, momentarily taken aback by the contrast between his imposing figure and his warm demeanour.

The crowd surged around them, pressing them closer together and highlighting the disparity in their sizes; the top of Valeryon's head barely reached the bottom of his chest. Taking a slight step back, the man glanced down at her, his smile apologetic. "We should probably move. This is the portal drop zone—it's going to get crowded fast."

"That... that sounds like a good idea," she stammered. He led the way, his imposing frame parting the crowd with ease. Valeryon followed, her heart pounding. The noise, the smells, and the crush of bodies were more intense than she had ever imagined. As they wove through the throng, she began to take in her surroundings.

The grand hall was filled with an eerie, ethereal glow. Massive columns supported an expansive ceiling adorned with intricate designs that pulsed with a life of their own. The predominant hue is a deep, luminescent blue. Circular portals, their edges shimmering with energy, hovered in mid-air, suspended by an unseen force and emitting a soft, inviting hum. Each portal offered glimpses into different universes, with faint images and scenes flickering within their depths.

The floor gleamed with a mirror-like polish, reflecting the blue glow of the portals and the dim ambient lighting. It was more magnificent than she had ever imagined. This had to be the Outer World Library—an inter-dimensional hub, a gateway to countless realities. Before she could fully absorb the magnitude of it all, a large holographic projection flickered to life overhead. A woman with a manic smile and strange lilac hair appeared before them, her golden eyes sparkling with excitement as she waved at the crowd.

"Welcome Trainees to the 200th Round of Inter-Galactic Origin Training!"