Darkness.
Thick, endless, suffocating.
Leon floated in it, weightless but trapped — a prisoner in his own mind.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Could only watch.
The battle played out again before him — but not from his own eyes.
A detached, cruel angle.
Third person.
Like some spectator in a twisted theatre.
He saw them.
Sylva. Velis. Lyra.
Fighting with everything they had. Wounded. Bleeding. Desperate.
And losing.
Then there was him.
A figure cloaked in rage, hair turned white, eyes devoid of mercy, katana ablaze in a hateful crimson aura.
Leon stared at his other self — that monster he'd become — and felt a cold sickness settle in his stomach.
And then the voice came.
The one that had given him that power.
It sounded like countless voices layered into one — familiar, yet unrecognizable. Male, female, old, young. A thousand echoes speaking as one.
"Look at you."
Leon's breath caught.
"All that fury. All that grief. And yet… still weak. You let yourself be saved. By a girl you swore to protect."
The voice slithered through him, belittling, mocking, cruel.
And yet — Leon knew it wasn't lying.
Everything it said was true.
And it hurt worse because of it.
He wanted to shout back, to fight, to deny it.
But his throat was sealed.
He was a silent witness to his own failure.
He needed Sylva.
It wasn't the power that saved him.
It wasn't Leon's will.
It was her.
He watched the scene unfold — the moment his blade nearly took her life.
The moment she smiled.
The moment she spoke his name.
The moment she reached for him.
And Leon laughed.
A dry, bitter thing.
Was this the price?
To hold that much power in his hands, only to risk killing the one person who meant anything to him in this cursed world?
He craved that strength. He wanted it. The rush, the control, the terrible beauty of it.
And yet the price was too high.
"Sylva…" he whispered, his voice finally returning.
"I swore to make you feel something again. I promised to make you see yourself as human."
The voice snickered.
"And yet you nearly turned her to ash."
Leon clenched his fists, nails digging into phantom flesh.
"I won't break. Not for you. Not for them. Not yet."
But deep down — a part of him feared he already had.
"You disappoint me, little hero."
The words dripped with venom, mocking and cold.
"You say you won't break… yet your voice trembles like a dying leaf in the wind."
Leon tried to speak, to deny it, but his throat felt tight.
When words finally came, they were weak, wavering.
"I-I won't…"
The voice laughed.
A hollow, cruel sound that echoed in the emptiness of his mind.
"Pathetic."
"As you are now, you'll never free her. You won't even survive the next two years before the war."
"You'll shatter long before that. And when you do… oh, the things I'll make you do."
Leon gritted his teeth, his fists clenching in the dark.
"No… I won't."
But it sounded hollow even to his own ears.
The voice chuckled again, that awful sound sinking beneath his skin.
"The weak die soon, Leon."
A final, parting whisper.
"And you… are still weak."
And then — it was gone.
The crushing darkness faded.
Leon bolted upright, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart pounded against his ribs, breath ragged and uneven.
He wasn't in a battlefield.
He wasn't in a crater or bloodied alley.
He was in a room.
A lavish chamber, the kind reserved for nobles or royalty. Velvet drapes, polished floors, the scent of herbs and faint incense in the air. The bed he lay on was absurdly large, his body covered in clean bandages.
And beside him…
Sylva.
She was asleep, slumped in a chair pulled up next to his bed. Bandages wrapped around her arms and torso, dried blood staining the fabric. Yet her face was peaceful in sleep, her brown hair falling over her eyes.
Leon's chest tightened.
He remembered what he did.
How close he came to destroying her with his own hands.
His throat felt thick as he stared at her.
And then… she stirred.
Slowly, her eyes opened.
That familiar pale brown gaze met his.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Just silence. Heavy, fragile silence.
Until finally, Leon found his voice.
"I'm sorry."
It came out rough.
"For what I almost… for what I did. I—"
Sylva lifted a hand, palm facing him, silencing him without a word.
Her voice was quiet.
"I don't blame you."
Leon's brow furrowed, confused.
She hesitated, then spoke again.
"But… it hurt. Not the wounds. I've had worse."
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
"Seeing you like that… it hurt more than anything else."
Leon clenched the sheets in his fists.
"Sylva…"
She looked back up, meeting his eyes.
"I don't want to feel that again. I don't want you to go through that again. Not for me."
Leon swallowed hard.
The words caught in his throat.
All he could say was:
"Thank you."
It was enough.
For now.
A moment passed between them — quiet, heavy, meaningful.
And then, the door burst open with a loud crash.
"Well well, look who's finally awake."
Velis.
Bandages everywhere, but walking like nothing had happened. A smug grin plastered across her face, silver eyes gleaming with unholy amusement.
"Geez, you two look like you crawled out of a graveyard. Oh wait — we kind of did, didn't we?"
Leon blinked in disbelief at how casual she was acting, given how torn up she'd been hours ago.
"Velis," Sylva sighed.
"Glad to see you haven't lost your terrifying sense of humor," Leon muttered.
Velis gave him a mocking bow.
"It's a gift."
And just like that — the suffocating weight in the room eased, if only slightly.
* * * * *
The tension in the room had lessened, though the air still carried the scent of herbs, salves, and smoke from Cindralis's still-smoldering streets. Bandages lined nearly every visible surface, and faint rays of morning light filtered through the tall windows.
Leon sat propped up in bed, still aching but more awake now — though his mind reeled at everything that had happened.
Velis, grinning like a smug little demon, sidled up next to Sylva's chair.
"Well, well, look at you, Sylva."
She poked her on the shoulder with a teasing smirk.
"Finally speaking in complete sentences to the boy. Never thought I'd see the day."
Sylva glared at her, but there was no real venom behind it.
Leon blinked. "Wait… what do you mean finally?"
Velis ignored him and turned her attention to Leon with an exaggerated sigh.
"And you — planning on staying dead for a year or what?"
Leon furrowed his brow. "What're you talking about?"
Velis shrugged, looking positively entertained.
"You've been unconscious for a week, genius."
"A week?!" Leon sat up a little too fast, his ribs protesting the motion.
"Yup. You missed all the fun. Well, most of it."
Before he could process that, the door burst open, and Lyra stormed in.
"Velis! How many times do I have to tell you not to move around with those injuries?"
Velis waved it off with a grin.
"Iris patched me up. I'm basically immortal."
"That's not how healing magic works." Lyra's voice softened when her gaze landed on Leon.
"You're awake."
He gave her a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah… apparently."
And then, one by one, the rest of the Crimson Vow entered.
Darius, pale and stiff, still leaning on a cane, gave a respectful nod.
Selene offered a rare, quiet smile.
Iris practically glowed with relief.
Gaius let out a whistle.
And, of course, Kieran strolled in last, somehow entirely unscathed, holding an apple and grinning like a fox.
"Look who crawled out of the abyss," Kieran teased.
Then his eyes squinted, leaning in.
"Wait… hey, hey, what's up with your hair, Hero boy?"
Leon blinked. "What?"
Kieran pointed.
"Your hair's gone two-tone. Black up top, white at the ends. Pretty dramatic. Is this your edgy phase?"
Velis cackled instantly.
"Oh, gods, he's gone full brooding protagonist. All he needs now is a tragic monologue and a rainstorm."
"I give it a week before he starts reciting poetry to the moon," Kieran fired back.
Leon scowled. "Hey—"
But the two of them were already on a roll, tossing barbs back and forth in perfect sync.
The rest of the group couldn't hold back. Even Selene chuckled, and Darius cracked a faint grin.
But it was Sylva's quiet, delicate laugh — soft and unexpected — that made Leon pause.
He turned, watching her.
Not the usual indifferent stare. Not the cold assassin mask.
A genuine laugh.
And it made him forget every insult and bruise in that moment.
Leon grinned. "Traitor," he muttered to her.
Sylva met his gaze, still smiling faintly. "You looked like you needed it."
And maybe he did.
* * * * *
The mood in the room had shifted.
Not quite light — but lighter.
The tension of battle wounds and trauma hung in the air like old smoke, but laughter cracked through it now and again.
And at the center of it… was poor Leon.
Velis and Kieran were relentless.
"Honestly," Velis smirked, lounging on a window ledge despite Lyra's protests. "I think the white tips suit you. It screams 'tragic antihero who stares at the moon and writes poetry about betrayal.'"
Kieran added, munching on an apple he'd swiped from somewhere. "Right? Next thing you know, he's gonna start brooding on rooftops while rain dramatically hits his face."
The group snickered. Even Selene let out a soft snort.
Leon rubbed his face. "Alright, alright—enough already. You two are relentless."
But that only seemed to fuel them.
"Oho?" Kieran grinned. "Look at that, Velis. He's trying to fight back. Should we give him a chance?"
Velis sat up straighter, her eyes gleaming like a predator catching scent of fresh prey.
"Absolutely not. But let's make it fair. I propose a game."
"Oh gods no." Lyra groaned.
"Game show time," Kieran announced dramatically, raising his hands like a ringleader. "Welcome to 'How Edgy Is Our Hero?' I'll be your host, Kieran the Great, and tonight's contestant — the one, the only, Velis the Silver Smile!"
Velis threw her hands up, playing along. "I'd like to thank the academy and my big sister for making this possible."
Leon buried his face in his hands. "Please. Stop."
"First question!" Kieran grinned. "Velis, tell the audience: what's your review of Leon's edgelord phase during his rampage?"
Velis crossed her arms, pretending to think deeply.
"Hmm… I'd give it a solid eight out of ten. Points for dramatic flair, shirtless rage, and tragic flashbacks. Docked a couple for almost killing a pretty girl. Rookie mistake."
The room burst into laughter.
Leon groaned. "I hate both of you."
"Next question!" Kieran announced, undeterred.
"Velis, in your expert opinion, how likely is it that Leon's gonna brood dramatically again within the next month?"
Velis grinned wide.
"One hundred percent. The hair's already half-white. He's one 'why was I summoned to this cruel world' monologue away from full edgelord status."
Kieran dramatically wiped an invisible tear. "Beautiful. Truly insightful commentary. Velis, you win this round."
Even Darius chuckled, and Iris actually laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach.
Leon raised his hands in defeat, standing up with exaggerated theatrics.
"I give up. I quit. You win, both of you. I bow to the court jesters of this company."
He held his arms wide, head thrown back.
The room erupted with cheers and mock applause.
And for the first time in a long while… it felt good.