"Is that all you've got, you chickens?"
Leon's voice was laced with a mocking, provocative edge as he looked down at the group of n before him. Only about ten soldiers remained on their feet, panting heavily, their bodies slick with sweat and gri. Dozens of others lay scattered across the cracked and battered earth of the training grounds. So were completely unconscious from sheer exhaustion and pain, while others remained awake but writhed in agony, covered in bruises. A low moaning filled the air.
The ten n still standing looked at Leon with raw, undisguised fear. Their eyes were wide, and their limbs trembled. Not a single one dared to make a move. The blue-haired youth stood before them in total composure. He wasn't even sweating; his breathing was perfectly steady, as if he hadn't exerted himself at all—despite having just fought fifty soldiers at once, defeating them continuously for four straight hours.
"Since you don't even have the courage to charge ," Leon said, his voice rising slightly with derision, "I'll take the initiative."
Then, without warning, he struck the ground beneath his right foot with imnse force. It was no ordinary kick; it was a strike infused with a massive concentration of Chakra.
Boom!
The ground beneath his heel literally exploded. A powerful wave of compressed energy surged toward the ten remaining soldiers. The shockwave hit them with devastating force, launching them dozens of ters backward like light-weight dolls. They went airborne, screaming, before crashing hard onto the distant earth. Every single one of them lost consciousness instantly from the impact.
Simultaneously, the kick carved deep, wide fissures directly under Leon's feet—cracks that stretched ten ters in every direction, deep enough to reveal the jagged bedrock beneath the soil. It was pure destruction. A terrifying display of power.
Leon stood up casually, acting as though nothing had happened. He looked over the bodies strewn everywhere—fifty soldiers, all defeated, all helpless.
"Boring," he muttered, his voice heavy with boredom and distaste. "Truly boring." He paused, then added in a condemnatory tone, "Is this the level of soldiers supposed to defend their country and their King?"
He shook his head in visible disappointnt. Then, he turned and began to walk calmly back toward the large military barracks nearby—the two-story wooden structure that served as the army headquarters in the capital.
Inside the main hall, Lord Ayato was waiting for him in silence. He had been standing by a second-story window, watching everything that transpired on the training grounds below from his elevated vantage point. He had seen it all: the one-sided slaughter, the crushing defeat of his n, and the monstrous strength displayed by this youth. His heart was a tangle of emotions—admiration, fear, and a profound relief that this power was on his side rather than against him.
As Leon entered, Ayato imdiately bowed with clear respect. "Lord Dragon—"
Leon cut him off quickly, sounding slightly annoyed. "I told you before: do not call 'Dragon' in public." He shot him a sharp look.
Ayato corrected himself instantly, offering an apologetic bow. "Yes, my apologies. Lord Ryukoga."
The decision to use the new na "Ryukoga" was a recent decree from Dan. He had decided that the family should use this na in the outside world instead of "Walt." His reasoning was simple: it was far more appropriate for the Japanese-inspired culture dominant in this world. "Walt" was an overtly Western na—it would draw unwanted attention, spark questions, and seem foreign. But "Ryukoga"—a natural Japanese na—blended in easily and didn't invite scrutiny.
Dan's choice of this specific na was also intentional. Its aning, "Ancient Dragon's Fang," evoked the feeling of an ancient clan with a rich history and a touch of mystery. Of course, this did not an he had abandoned his original surna, "Walt." On the contrary, that na represented his roots, his true identity, and his legacy from his previous life in his original world. "Ryukoga" was rely for the outside world—a mask, a cover, and a safe public identity. Among themselves—inside the family base—they would always and forever be the "Walts." Two identities: one public, one private.
Leon turned to Ayato with a serious, firm tone. "The level of your soldiers is pathetic. Shafully weak." He looked him in the eye. "With such ager strength, they cannot protect your kingdom from any real threat." He paused briefly before adding, "Any army of average strength could overrun you with ease."
Harsh words, but Leon felt they were entirely accurate. Ayato remained silent, his expression neutral. Internally, he thought bitterly: It's only because your level is so unfairly high! You are a monster; you aren't a fair benchmark! But he kept those thoughts to himself. By the standards of this era, his soldiers weren't weak; they were average to good. However, comparing them to the "Dragon" before him—or any mber of the Ryukoga family—was like comparing toddlers to legendary warriors. It was aningless.
Then Leon spoke again, his tone decisive as if announcing a decree. "I have decided: I will establish an intensive training program for the soldiers from now on." He looked at Ayato. "Make sure to gather the strongest and most talented among them for daily training with . I will teach them how to fight properly. How to use Chakra efficiently. How to beco stronger." He stopped. "They won't be as strong as , of course. But at least they will beco far better than they are now."
Ayato responded with clear and honest joy. "Truly? Thank you so much, Lord Ryukoga!" He bowed deeply. This was more than he had dared to hope for! One of the mbers of that mysterious, powerful family would personally train his troops? This would elevate the standard of his army exponentially! He would beco the strongest in the entire region—perhaps in several neighboring regions. A massive military advantage. True power.
Then, without another word of farewell, Leon vanished instantly. Ayato was left standing alone in the hall, a wide smile on his face. Things were going well—better than he had anticipated. Serving the "Dragons"—the Ryukoga family—was yielding imnse benefits. Protection. Power. Resources. Training. Everything his state needed at its current stage. As long as he remained loyal and obedient, his future—and the future of his lineage—was secure.
Elsewhere, inside the large border manor, Sato sat reading a detailed report on the region's economy. Beside him, Kai ditated in silence, his eyes closed.
Three brothers. Three personalities. Three different ways of interacting with the world. Leon—the warrior, the trainer, the direct engager. Sato—the observer, the analyst, the political student. Kai—the recluse, the ditator, the one focused solely on training. Each in his own way.
(Leon walt pic is available to everyone on my Patreon page even if u r not mber)
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