Pain.
Everything hurt.
His ribs screamed with every breath, his legs barely obeyed, and his vision swam in a haze of blood and smoke. Somewhere above him, the sky rumbled, a storm of magic and flame devouring the heavens.
And beneath it all — the voice.
Pathetic.
The katana pulsed faintly at his side, a sinister crimson glow coiling from the cracked scabbard like mist.
Look at you. Hero? Is that what they called you? You're nothing.
Leon gritted his teeth, pushing a beam off his chest with a strangled groan. Dust filled his throat. His body protested every movement, but he forced himself upright, one trembling hand on his blade.
"Why…?" he rasped.
Why was he here?
Why was he dragged into this world?
To bleed for kings and cowards, to be thrown at monsters like a disposable weapon?
Since the moment he arrived — one battle after another, death at every corner.
For what?
Their stupid, bloody war.
You're weak because you've chosen to be, the katana whispered.
And maybe it was right.
He'd been clinging to some hollow idea of a hero. But heroes didn't survive here. Only monsters did.
The voice laughed, cruel and knowing.
"Weak…" Leon muttered to himself, eyes narrowing. "That's right. I'm weak. Always been weak. Nearly dead more times than I can count."
He staggered to his feet, every nerve in his body protesting. "And for what? For them?"
His voice was a venom-laced snarl now.
Then — a noise.
A flash of movement ahead.
Leon limped forward, dragging his battered body through the rubble, forcing his eyes to focus on the square beyond.
And he saw it.
The Blood Herald — still alive, still monstrous.
In a single blurred blitz, it reached Velis first.
A clawed hand slammed down, smashing her into the ground, a crater blooming beneath her small frame. Blood sprayed from her mouth, her body barely twitching.
"VELIS!" Lyra's voice tore through the chaos, raw with horror.
She darted forward — too late.
A savage knee met her gut, driving the breath from her lungs. Blood burst from her lips. The Herald grabbed a fistful of her hair and hurled her like a ragdoll through the air.
Leon followed her trajectory with his eyes, heart cracking as she smashed into the building where Iris was desperately tending Darius.
Then Sylva.
Faster than thought, the assassin launched herself at the Herald.
It caught her throat mid-air.
Impaled her through the stomach with its claw.
The breath left Sylva's lips in a sharp gasp. Her daggers slipped from bloodied fingers.
Then it flung her aside like discarded meat, her body bouncing near Velis's broken frame.
Leon watched as the Herald lifted its foot, stomping down onto Velis again.
The small girl let out a strangled cry before falling silent, her silver eyes fluttering closed.
And something inside Leon snapped.
A sound tore from his throat — part roar, part sob, pure and broken.
"NO!"
His katana howled in response.
A wave of crimson aura burst from him, the ground cracking at his feet. The blade's sinister voice was no longer mocking.
It was eager.
Yes… that's it. Show me. Show me Leon. Become something more.
The world blurred.
He didn't care about the war.
About titles.
About prophecies or kingdoms.
He cared about them.
And that thing — it was going to die.
Here. Now.
What do you want?
The katana's voice wasn't a whisper anymore.
It was a command — a demand.
And for once, Leon didn't hesitate.
"I want to kill it," he snarled, his voice cold, venomous, the words dripping with hate.
As the last syllable left his lips, the very air around him changed.
It thickened — like a storm had torn open in the heart of the city square. Magic flared wildly, an oppressive weight pressing down on everyone.
The adventurers faltered.
Iris gasped, clutching her chest as a suffocating heaviness filled the world.
Selene's spell died on her lips.
Kieran took a cautious step back.
And even the Blood Herald stilled, its single remaining eye shifting toward the epicenter of the surge.
At its heart — stood Leon.
Bathed in a writhing crimson aura, the glow so intense it made the air shimmer around him. The ground cracked beneath his feet, fissures spiderwebbing through the blood-soaked stone.
The katana's glow exploded, the once polished steel now a gleaming, deep blood-red.
His black hair bleached to pure, snowy white in an instant, the strands lifting like they were caught in an invisible wind.
And his golden eyes — the warmth in them gone — replaced by a cold, hazel gleam, sharp and inhuman.
Velis, barely conscious, saw it through bleary eyes.
Her smile was weak, knowing.
"Finally broke, huh… big guy…"
Then he moved.
Not a step.
Not a sprint.
One moment he was standing still — the next, he was simply there, in front of the Blood Herald.
No sound.
No warning.
His katana came down in a flash of crimson light.
The Herald managed to raise an arm to block — and the blade sliced clean through it.
A roar of pain and fury shook the city.
Leon didn't stop.
Strike after strike, his blade moved like liquid death, faster than the eye could follow, each blow heavier than the last. Sparks and blood flew with every clash. His body hummed with unnatural power, Reinforcement Magic fused with something ancient and malevolent.
The Herald was forced back.
It struck, claws swiping — and Leon vanished again, reappearing at its side.
A deep gash opened across its ribs.
Another at its leg.
Then a slash to the throat.
The Blood Herald's scales, once impervious, peeled away like paper under Leon's assault.
It howled.
Desperate.
And lunged with its remaining arm.
Leon's katana cleaved through it at the elbow — the severed limb crashing to the ground.
The boy didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
Didn't blink.
He drove his boot into the Herald's chest, sending the massive creature sprawling through the wreckage, cracking walls as it slammed into the far side of the square.
Silence.
The crimson aura around Leon settled — a low, dangerous hum.
Iris trembled, never having felt a magic presence so oppressive.
Kieran's grin faltered. "Okay… that's… new."
Velis smirked from where she lay, bloodied and bruised. "Atta boy."
Leon stood alone in the aftermath, his hair stark white in the crimson light, katana in hand, ready to end it.
And he wasn't done yet.
The Blood Herald burst from the rubble with a howl that cracked the heavens.
Lightning split the sky in answer, bolts of black fire lashing down into the ruins around them. Its body, scorched and broken, shuddered as new flesh knit itself together. Arms regrew, jagged bone forcing its way through regenerating muscle.
It didn't hesitate.
A blur of speed.
It was on Leon in an instant — clawed hands slashing, fangs bared.
But Leon moved like a phantom.
Every strike met steel.
His crimson katana, now seething with unnatural light, caught every blow. Sparks erupted with each clash. The Blood Herald struck again and again, faster than mortal eyes could track, but it might as well have been moving through water.
And then Leon caught it.
A single, brutal hand around the creature's throat.
The Herald's eyes widened, panic flickering where arrogance had been.
Leon's katana plunged into its abdomen, piercing flesh and bone with a wet crunch.
A roar tore from the creature's throat — but Leon didn't stop.
He drove his fist into the Herald's face.
Again.
And again.
Breaking bone. Shattering fangs. Splintering its mask of superiority.
Then — Leon stomped it into the earth.
The ground cratered beneath the force.
A deep, resounding crack echoed through the ruined city.
"You… should've stayed dead."
His voice was a low, venomous snarl, laced with malice so thick it made the world seem colder.
Iris froze where she stood, her Divine Magic flickering.
Selene's fire dimmed in her hands.
Even Darius, barely conscious, felt a chill crawl through his battered body.
Kieran's grin slipped.
"That… ain't normal."
The Blood Herald groaned beneath Leon's foot, raising a trembling arm.
Leon grabbed it.
And ripped it free from the socket.
A fountain of blood sprayed the ground, and the Herald's scream filled the night.
"What's the matter?" Leon hissed, his hazel gaze hollow and cruel. "Missing a hand?"
Another scream.
He grabbed the remaining arm.
Pulled it off like rotten cloth.
The Blood Herald wailed — a pitiful, broken thing now, but Leon wasn't done.
"Not so high and mighty anymore, are you?"
He raised his foot and pressed it against the katana still buried in its gut. Blood hissed and sizzled against the blade.
And then — he drove it deeper.
The Herald's scream rose to a deafening pitch.
Leon crouched low, his voice a venomous whisper. "You shouldn't have touched them. Especially her."
He wrenched the katana free and tossed it aside.
His hand plunged into the Herald's chest — just as the creature had done to Sylva.
Fingers curled around a still-beating heart.
The Blood Herald's lone eye met his.
And Leon saw the fear there.
He grinned.
"Die knowing you lost."
And then he crushed the heart in his fist.
A final, strangled gasp left the Herald's throat.
Its body went limp.
Leon tossed the broken corpse aside like garbage.
Silence reclaimed the square.
The air was heavy with smoke, blood, and magic.
No one spoke.
No one dared move.
Leon stood in the center, bathed in crimson light, his white hair billowing in the unnatural wind.
A king of corpses.
And something inside him knew — this was only the beginning.
* * * * *
Pain.
A dull, gnawing, unrelenting ache radiated through every nerve in Sylva's body. She could barely move, her limbs heavy as stone. Her stomach felt like it was on fire where the Herald's claw had pierced her.
But then — warmth.
A faint, unfamiliar warmth in her chest.
Her vision blurred, but she forced her eyes open.
Through the haze of smoke and blood, she saw him.
Leon.
Standing over the Herald's broken, mutilated corpse. His hair, once black, now a snowy white, his katana bathed in crimson light. The battlefield was silent, save for the wind and the crackle of dying flames.
And his face…
Angry.
And… sad.
A storm of emotion written in every line of his expression — grief, fury, despair.
Why?
Why was he making that face?
Was it… because of her?
Sylva's chest tightened. She hated it. Hated seeing him like that. That pain in his eyes — it clawed at something buried inside her.
She'd seen countless expressions in her life.
Fear. Rage. Hate. Greed.
But that face… was one she didn't know how to name.
And then — a voice.
Mocking, playful, and familiar.
"Oi, Sylvaaa~"
Sylva flinched at the sound.
She turned her head with effort and saw Velis, lying in a crater beside her, blood streaking her pale skin, black hair matted with grime. Yet her eyes still held that amused gleam.
"Seriously," Velis grinned weakly, "what is this? Third time almost dying tonight? You trying to make me look bad?"
Despite the ache, Sylva managed a faint scoff.
"Shut up, idiot."
Velis let out a ragged, soft laugh.
For a moment, in that blood-soaked ruin, there was a shard of something close to normal.
Then Velis's expression turned more serious — though the grin didn't fully leave.
"You need to go."
Sylva blinked. "Go…?"
"Him." Velis's gaze slid toward Leon, still motionless in the square, crimson light swirling around him like a storm barely restrained.
"He's losing himself. You're the only one who can bring him back."
Sylva's breath caught.
"Why me?"
Velis smiled, softer this time.
"Because you're the only one he cares about. Idiot."
And then Velis let her head fall back into the crater, exhaustion claiming her.
Sylva swallowed hard.
Her whole body screamed in protest, but she pushed herself up on shaking legs. Every step toward Leon felt like it might be her last, but she moved anyway.
Because for the first time in her life — someone's sadness hurt more than her own pain.
And that was something she refused to ignore.
She reached out, her voice soft, barely audible.
"Leon…"
But he didn't notice.
Lost in his storm.
And so she took another step.
And another.