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"Anthony, stop daydreaming. This is your first time seeing His Majesty; you need to make the most of this opportunity and leave a good impression."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Lord Fried."

The young boy called "Anthony" looked a bit flustered, quickly hurrying to catch up with the group.

He seemed about fourteen or fifteen years old, with a delicate face and a slightly thin frame clad in simple clothing.

Just moments earlier, Anthony had been staring up at the grand palace gate, which stood dozens of meters high, until Fried's reminder snapped him back to reality.

"Whatever happens, remember the manners I taught you."

He paused.

"And also, His Majesty appreciates bravery. Make sure you don't faint in the throne room."

Fried's gaze clearly fell on Anthony, making sweat break out on his forehead.

Anthony nodded quickly, then silently walked along, unable to suppress the tension and excitement inside him. His heart pounded in his chest.

The distance from the palace gate to the main hall was nearly a kilometer—a mere trifle during training, but now Anthony felt it was endless. He couldn't help but recall his tragic past, right up until he joined the "Dragon-Oath Hall."

From a dark, cramped, filthy basement to this magnificent palace.

The massive dragon carvings on the gate were vivid and majestic, seemingly scrutinizing every approaching visitor.

Slowly, the gates opened, releasing a heavy sound.

"This is... unbelievable."

Anthony couldn't help thinking this.

The wyverns standing guard atop the pillars on either side of the path lifted their heads in unison, letting out a loud roar. The sound made Anthony even more anxious about meeting the King.

After all, this grand palace was already beyond what Anthony, born into poverty, could imagine. What sort of presence would the so-called "Hellish calamity," the "Ember King," the Dragon Lord who destroyed tens of thousands of troops single-handedly, exude? Though he had glimpsed him from afar, he had never been this close, let alone been granted an audience.

The other eleven boys were about the same age as Anthony. The tension and amazement on their young faces were hard to hide. These twelve, including Anthony, were the first candidates selected by Fried for the "Dragon-Oath Paladin."

They were mostly from respectable backgrounds and had received the kingdom's blessings. After multiple rounds of rigorous selection and grueling training, they were finally brought before the Red Dragon for a blessing. Fried, once a Black Lion Knight, was more than adept at this kind of work.

As they walked along the wide path, Fried turned his head and whispered instructions.

"Ah..."

The stark contrast of it all made Anthony wonder if he was living a magnificent dream, but he knew that he could never have imagined such a sight.

Anthony's father was an ordinary farmer, or more precisely, a "serf" bound to an estate, one of hundreds under Baron Soli's rule.

His father was fortunate enough to find a wife, which allowed Anthony to be born in a stable. Originally, Anthony had no name, just a nickname that meant "grain of wheat."

Under normal circumstances, he would have become a lowly serf, living a brief life filled with toil and hunger—much like his grandfather, who had starved to death in his thirties.

However, as Anthony grew, the steward managing the estate noticed with surprise that, unlike the typical "gray livestock," Anthony wasn't sallow, gaunt, or sickly but had a rather delicate appearance.

So, the steward bought Anthony from his father for three sacks of yellow beans.

According to the steward, Anthony was being "sent to the city to serve the noble lords." Maybe it was the allure of the precious grain, maybe his father genuinely hoped his son would have a better life, or maybe he had no choice at all. His father accepted, and at that time, Anthony was only eight.

The steward sent him by carriage to the bustling Northwind Fortress, to the opulent baronial mansion.

Young Anthony still didn't understand what it all meant.

And so, the nightmare began.

Baron Soli greeted Anthony warmly and then took him to the basement, where darkness surrounded him.

That was the beginning.

The baron finally shed his facade of noble grace, revealing his devilish nature.

Anthony was locked in the damp, dark basement, praying every day for the guards to throw down some leftover scraps for him. He constantly hoped to regain his freedom and escape this hellish existence, but that hope never came true.

He often wished that the "gods" from the estate's chapel would save him, but there was never an answer. Perhaps it made sense; a god who protected a devil like Baron Soli would never respond to the pleas of someone like Anthony.

Baron Soli would often wear a clean white robe and chat cheerfully with the church priests, yet the gods never cast down judgment.

This went on from when Anthony was eight until he was thirteen.

Gradually, Anthony became numb, even accustomed to this kind of life.

Until that day—the earth suddenly shook, and even in the basement, he could hear the sounds of cannon fire.

Finally, he was rescued from the basement by the Ember Kingdom's tiefling troops. To Anthony, despite their demonic appearances, these tieflings were far better than the baron, who outwardly seemed gentle but hid a monstrous heart.

When he first saw the light of day after five long years, he wasn't accustomed to it. He had to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight, but even through his fingers, the sight before him was unforgettable—a massive Red Dragon standing atop the city walls, wings spread wide as if to cover the sky.

The dragon raised its head slightly and let out a resounding roar that echoed through the heavens. That roar seemed like the death knell of the old order and the beginning of something new.

That moment etched itself deeply in his mind, like a divine miracle.

It gave him new life.

Later, having no status or standing in the city, Anthony was personally chosen by Fried of the Dragon-Oath Hall, becoming a candidate for the Dragon-Oath Paladins. Fried even gave him the name "Anthony," meaning "the brave one."

Fried had bluntly told them that the great Red Dragon had changed their fates. There was no place for them in the old Northern noble order. Their only choice was to join the Ember Kingdom's new regime, receive the power of the Dragon-Oath, and become part of a greater vision.

Anthony, tasting white bread for the first time in his life, swallowed hard, his eyes filled with determination.

And so, he underwent grueling training and passed rigorous selections, finally arriving at the palace, on the brink of becoming a Dragon-Oath Paladin—a position of supreme honor, wielding immense power.