Leon hadn’t known that showing interest in those books would provoke such an outrageous reaction. He’d thought that since he already had to fight for his life next, nothing could possibly be worse, as those were just books.
But I was proven so wrong. That wasn’t a fight. That was going to be an execution.
And he’d survived it solely because of her intervention.
She threw herself between and that monster. Literally.
Leon couldn’t help but feel genuinely touched as Crimson finally got up from on top of him, breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell fast, and she kept glancing back at the tent like she expected the man to appear again at any second.
Leon pushed himself upright, palms scraping against dirt. His hands shook—small tremors he couldn’t control.
Leon stood up slowly, still shaken from the near-death experience. Using his hands, he repeatedly gestured frantically at Crimson, trying desperately to thank her for saving his life just monts ago.
How do I communicate gratitude? Thank you? She literally saved !
He put his hands together, bowed slightly, pointed at her, then at himself, then made a protective gesture—anything to convey his appreciation.
Crimson just waved her hand dismissively as if it was absolutely not a big deal at all, like she’d simply helped him avoid stepping in a puddle rather than preventing his execution.
Not a big deal? She’s insane. Brave, but insane.
Her voice-less dismissal felt louder than words—like a slap of confidence that made Leon realize how normal death must be in her world.
After that brief exchange, Leon found himself being led sowhere deeper inside the city by her, following her guidance through the winding paths.
Before leaving the separated area where the supposedly higher-class people of their race lived—the elite district with its refined tents and powerful residents—Crimson had stopped to talk with several individuals standing near the guarded entrance.
She spoke rapidly and gestured occasionally toward Leon during these conversations.
Whatever she’d said to them, the atmosphere changed dramatically and imdiately afterward.
Now crowds and crowds of people were actively following him and Crimson through the streets, their numbers growing with each passing minute.
Leon felt their attention like heat on his neck—hundreds of eyes, weighing him the way predators weigh prey.
MURMUR... CHATTER... FOOTSTEPS...
The noise wasn’t just sound—it vibrated through the stone under Leon’s boots, a living rumble that made his pulse sync with it.
So were talking excitedly among themselves, many were openly staring at him and eyeing him up and down with undisguised curiosity or assessnt.
Word spreads fast here. Very fast.
Leon was doing the sa in return—scanning the crowd carefully, because one of these people surrounding him might very well be his unknown opponent.
Never know who I’ll be facing. Better gather intelligence now.
He was actively using his system interface to check as many stats as possible on the people nearby. Whenever he could glean any useful information about their abilities, levels, or affinities, he was reading and morizing them quickly.
[Pyrrhan Warrior - Level 34 - Ascendant Rank] [Pyrrhan Scout - Level 28 - Master Rank] [Pyrrhan Elite Warrior- Level 41 - Ascendant Rank]
Everyone is strong. This whole civilization is built on power.
He really wanted desperately to check the stats of that terrifying man from before—the one who’d nearly killed him—but fearing that soone of that caliber might sohow detect his system’s probing, Leon never attempted it.
Better safe than dead. That man is clearly on another level entirely.
And he felt genuinely relieved that he’d trusted that instinct and hadn’t tried.
That man was absolutely crazy for trying to kill just for looking at so books. What kind of psychotic reaction was that?
They eventually arrived back at the place where Crimson had originally left her flying companion earlier—a large, open field where nurous other beasts were also present, resting or being tended to by their handlers.
SCREECH! CHIRP! GROWL!
The sounds of various creatures filled the air.
Leon climbed onto the creature’s back just like before when Crimson gestured for him to mount up. She positioned herself behind him, and they took off smoothly into the red sky.
WHOOSH! FLAP! FLAP!
This ti, she didn’t have to instruct him on how to sit properly—he’d learned from experience and leaned forward into the riding position imdiately.
At least I know what I’m doing now.
The only real difference during this flight compared to before was that now there were dozens of other flying creatures—so small, so impressively large, so completely different species, others bearing slight similarities—all flying in formation just behind them.
SCREECH! FLAP! WHOOOOSH!
An escort. Or an audience. Probably both.
Not that her soft chest wasn’t still being felt distinctly against his back during this flight. It was exactly the sa distracting sensation as before, the pressure constant and impossible to ignore.
Focus on survival. Focus on the fight ahead. Stop being distracted.
Leon still didn’t fully understand why she sat so close and pressed against him like this when there was clearly more room.
I’m a man, after all. This is... distracting.
The thought briefly entered his mind that maybe she was genuinely interested in him romantically—given how much she’d helped him and literally risked her life for him—but that speculation didn’t stay in his thoughts for long.
Later. Think about that later. Right now, focus on the unknown fight ahead.
His concentration had to be entirely on surviving whatever combat awaited him. He could contemplate Crimson’s motivations and feelings later, after he erged victorious from this fight and finally learned their language properly.
Priorities. Survival first. Everything else second.
Whenever and wherever this fight was going to happen, everyone in this civilization seed extrely interested in it, based on the growing crowds.
It must be because I’m so different from them physically. Or it could be sothing else entirely that I don’t understand yet.
After a substantial while of travel, Leon could clearly see how the structures below beca progressively more advanced and sophisticated as they flew. It beca obvious he’d only been at the outskirts of their true civilization before.
This is their real city. What I saw before was just the edge.
There were very few primitive tents now. Most houses and buildings were impressively made from carved rock, integrated directly into the rocky, mountainous terrain itself.
The deliberate use of color throughout the city below actually made it quite beautiful, despite the harsh environnt—white, blue, red, black, and very rarely golden accents were the primary colors used in decorations and paint.
Sophisticated. Artistic. These people have a genuine culture.
And Leon was fairly certain he knew exactly where they were heading now. The destination seed painfully obvious.
A massive, giant arena stood ahead, constructed from enormous red rock formations, creating monuntal steps that rose toward the sky.
Of course. An arena. Where else would a forced fight happen?
Leon just prayed desperately that he wouldn’t face so absurdly powerful opponent far beyond his capabilities.
If that’s the case, I’ll have to escape into my ti dinsion sohow, sowhere during the chaos.
But he didn’t have a foolproof escape plan formulated yet. He’d just have to fight his absolute best and sohow defeat whatever opponent they put in front of him.
No other choice. Win or die.
As they were descending and landing almost directly outside the arena’s main entrance, Leon’s enhanced eyes spotted soone who made him tremble involuntarily.
The sa terrifying man from before—the one who’d nearly executed him—was standing prominently on the highest step of the arena, positioned where everyone could see him. And his burning eyes were tracking Leon’s approach.
He’s watching. Of course, he’s watching.
Leon felt extrely lucky he hadn’t tried to escape at any point during this journey, because he was clearly being monitored the entire ti.
It was just a faint intuition telling not to run, and I trusted it. Good call.
After landing just outside the arena proper, the entire atmosphere was absolutely buzzing with energy and anticipation.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each удар-like beat punched into Leon’s ribs from the inside, vibrating his bones as if the arena was trying to sync him to its rhythm.
He could hear loud ceremonial drums coming from inside the arena, their rhythm primal and driving. Along with enthusiastic shouts in the language he couldn’t understand yet, echoing from within.
"KRESH! MANDOR! VEL!"
Leon walked inside the arena entrance, his heart pounding. The seating areas weren’t fully filled yet initially—there were actually multiple fights already happening simultaneously in different sections, but the combatants appeared to be young people, probably training matches or preliminaries.
However, extrely quickly right before his eyes, the entire massive arena started being filled completely full of spectators.
They’re all here for this. For .
All the stone steps were rapidly occupied by thousands of people, and up in the sky above the arena, it beca densely packed with flying beasts carrying even more observers on their backs.
SCREECH! FLAP! MURMUR!
The fights with the young people ended abruptly, and the arena floor was rapidly cleared out. This seed to be due to loud announcents happening from just below the top stairs by so kind of official announcer.
"VEL’KRESH MANDOR SIKARA TOR KALA VEL MANDOR!"
Leon had tried multiple tis during their journey to ask Crimson, through desperate hand signals, who exactly his opponent would be.
Who? Point! Gesture! Anything!
But her sa reply every single ti—that helpless shrug and shake of her head—told him that she genuinely had absolutely no idea either.
Great. Walking in blind.
Just then, the surrounding drums beca dramatically louder, their rhythm accelerating.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Along with another siren-like instrunt—really loud and piercing—that happened simultaneously.
WAAAAAAIL!
And then Leon felt a solid slap on his back. It was Crimson trying to get his attention one final ti.
He turned to look at her. She was staring intensely at the central fighting arena in the middle, then back at him.
It’s ti.
Leon understood imdiately. This was the mont.
Before he walked into the arena proper, Crimson held up her clenched fist directly in front of her own face, her eyes burning with intensity and determination—as if trying desperately to tell him to win, to survive, to overco.
She believes I can do this. Or at least, she wants to believe it.
Leon imitated her gesture, raising his own fist and eting her eyes with as much confidence as he could project, despite the fear churning in his gut.
Then he turned away from her and walked forward alone, entering the rock-solid red circular combat area without looking back, his epic sword materializing in his hand.
SHIMR...
The crowd’s roar was deafening.
"KRESH! KRESH! KRESH!"
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