SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 487: The God of War [II]

The moment they sat, even before their weight fully pressed into the chairs, the dwarf arrived with beverages for the lot of them.

Even Trafalgar gave the fellow a brief glance.

Without a word, the old man arranged the drinks one by one. Beer, water, beer, water. It was clear he lacked clarity on their preferences and deemed this scattershot approach safer than initiating a conversation.

He then retreated as abruptly as he had appeared.

A thick silence settled over the table.

Vivienne took a seat next to Dravok without hesitation. Rhosyn occupied the space beside Trafalgar, remaining mute for the time being. Caelvyrn leaned back, radiating his habitual easy charm, though the depths of his eyes had shifted entirely. Trafalgar sat positioned across from the scarred man.

Now that the distance was closed, he could study him properly.

Grey-streaked chestnut hair. Pale green eyes. He wore a beige shirt with sleeves folded back to reveal arms marked with old, jagged scars—not unlike the map of lines etched across his neck and cheek. He carried the aura of someone who had survived far too many conflicts to still value the opinions of others.

The man fixed his gaze on Trafalgar and took the initiative.

"You bear a striking resemblance to your mother."

The declaration arrived out of the blue.

Trafalgar held his stare. "I'll take that as a compliment. I never had the chance to know her."

The older man scrutinized him briefly, then gave a sharp, fractional nod.

"I am aware." A pause followed. "I am called Dravok."

That was the extent of his introduction. From that opening remark, it was readily apparent that Dravok possessed intimate knowledge of Trafalgar's identity.

Caelvyrn was the next to break the stillness.

Draping an arm over the back of his chair, he regarded Dravok with that characteristic, polished poise, though his violet eyes held an entirely different intensity now.

"So, it is truly you." A thin smirk appeared on his lips. "I had long since presumed you were among the dead."

Dravok exhaled a low, rough sound through his nostrils, stopping short of a laugh. "Many shared that opinion."

"I was definitely under that assumption myself." Caelvyrn leaned back slightly. "Centuries have slipped by, your name has been erased from history, and now you decide to resurface in the middle of a conflict." His gaze flickered toward Vivienne before returning to Dravok. "And you've taken on a disciple." His smirk widened faintly. "That, I must admit, was entirely unexpected."

Vivienne remained poised at his side, though her eyes darted briefly toward Dravok.

Dravok retrieved the glass the dwarf had deposited and took a measured sip before replying. "Events take their toll."

Caelvyrn observed him in a heavy silence.

Dravok set his glass down. "And following recent developments, my motivation for hiding diminished." His eyes flicked to Trafalgar for a heartbeat before settling back on Caelvyrn. "I never imagined I would see that woman's son breathing. Or the lineage of Magnus du Morgain, for that matter."

Caelvyrn’s expression remained rigid, though the amusement in his gaze faltered. "You frame it as if you’ve spent an eternity dwelling upon phantoms."

A faint, crooked smile touched Dravok’s lips. "When enough centuries pass, that is all that remains of the great names."

Rhosyn stayed silent, her eyes darting between them as she absorbed the exchange.

Caelvyrn tapped a solitary finger against the wooden surface of the table. "You certainly perfected the art of disappearing. Even I had abandoned hope of hearing your name again." His eyes drifted down to the scarred arms before moving back to the man's face. "Looking at you now, it seems life treated you with little kindness."

Dravok let out a sharp scoff this time. "You speak as if fortune was ever benevolent to any of our kind."

"A fair point." Caelvyrn hoisted his glass but did not partake. "Still, I expected that if you survived, you would be conquering battlefields, occupying stolen royal palaces, or finding some other grand, insufferable way to be a nuisance."

Vivienne looked his way. So did Rhosyn.

Dravok looked almost amused. "And yet, here I am."

"In a dilapidated tavern in the south of Velkaris," Caelvyrn observed. "Your standards have clearly plummeted."

"Circumstances demanded it."

The reply was blunt, yet carried a gravity that stifled any immediate rebuttal from Caelvyrn.

A few moments later, he spoke in a diminished tone. "It has been far too long."

"Yes," Dravok conceded. "It has."

Trafalgar listened intently. He understood the subtext now; this was no casual acquaintance unearthed from a distant, fuzzy past. There existed a deep-rooted history, seasoned and weathered into both men to the point where they no longer needed bravado to signal their connection.

Caelvyrn observed him for another heartbeat, then murmured, "We clashed with blade, fang, and claw beyond counting, and to this day, I cannot determine if I truly enjoyed battling you or loathed every second of it."

A spark of vitality lit Dravok’s eyes. "You enjoyed every moment."

Caelvyrn smiled. "I did."

"And you suffered enough defeats to remember them clearly."

Rhosyn leaned forward, casting a curious glance at Caelvyrn.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning injury. "A cruel accusation to make with an audience present."

"You were always insufferably arrogant."

"And you, perpetually surly."

"Yet you returned to the fray time and time again."

Caelvyrn’s grin returned in full force. "Naturally. There were precious few worthy of my effort."

That statement hung in the air for a second before Dravok shifted his attention.

His eyes locked onto Rhosyn.

He scrutinized her, his tone shifting as he addressed her.

"You were always by that woman's side," he remarked. "I recall you. You have matured quite a bit."

Rhosyn blinked, plainly caught off guard. "You know who I am?"

Dravok maintained his steady gaze. "It is unlikely you retain memories of me."

Rhosyn’s brow furrowed slightly. She searched his features with deliberation, as if attempting to exhume something buried in the past, yet finding only fragmented echoes.

Dravok eased the burden.

"I served as a general. I led the clan, the Primordials themselves, though that title is nothing but a relic of a bygone age now."

Rhosyn went deathly still. Once more, she scanned his face, seeking to pull a phantom of her memory into the light, but the pieces refused to settle. "I don't remember you."

"I am not surprised," Dravok answered. "You were just a child, and an ocean of events followed. Sufficient to bury names, identities, and stations alike..."

Rhosyn refused to avert her gaze. "If you were truly our general, how are you reduced to this? Why did you vanish?"

Dravok took his time with the drink before answering. "Because the world we inhabited shattered, and with its collapse, so did the souls within it. Some perished. Others fled. Many concealed themselves. I belonged to the exodus." His eyes dropped momentarily to his glass before fixing on hers once more. "So, yes, if any of our kin still harbor my memory, I doubt it is with fondness. To some, I am the general who surrendered to silence. To others? A coward. A traitor."

The table fell into a profound silence.

Rhosyn’s expression underwent a transformation; astonishment was there, but it was eclipsed by a heavier sorrow. "Are they incorrect?"

Dravok’s mouth pulled tight, though his expression remained devoid of levity. "No. Not entirely."

The blunt admission carried an immense weight.

"I bore our banner once," he continued. "I commanded our ranks. Men and women followed my decree into slaughter, and many never emerged from the fields of fire I sent them to. When the final collapse began, I chose my own preservation over meeting the end in the center of the ruin. Labels exist for men such as me. Many are far harsher than those you’ve listed. I have heard them all."

Dravok fell quiet, eventually turning his focus to Trafalgar.

"I only grasped the gravity of the current age recently," he stated. "Because of you."

Trafalgar held his ground. "Elucidate."

"Your existence. The fallout from the war. The chain reactions triggered by your presence." Dravok’s digits rested against the cold glass. "That was sufficient to stir the ancient ashes. Enough to force me to peer into corners I had long ago abandoned."

Silence stretched thin across the table.

"And what did you discover?" Trafalgar pressed.

Dravok’s expression stayed impassive. "That the bloodline failed to rebound. What remains is fragmented, hidden, and in a state far more dire than it ought to be."

Rhosyn offered no word, though a flicker of hardness entered her gaze.

Trafalgar leaned back, his posture loose yet watchful. "Do you know where the survivors reside?"

Dravok met his eyes unwaveringly.

"I do."