The Aura That Shook Their Hearts
Thick silence squeezed the wooden walls of the council room, as if even the air was not brave enough to intrude. Golden lamplight danced across armored faces, shadows spreading along the borders of the circular table where Leon’s captains and advisors sat. Their breathing was even, but their hearts pounded; every man there knew it—the change, the burden of something so much larger than before.
"My Lord," Ronan’s voice cut the quiet. Low, firm, laced with uncertainty. His scarred brow creased, shadows accentuating the jagged lines of his weathered face. "Excuse me if I trespass... but tell me—have you penetrated in cultivation?"
The question hung suspended like a knife poised in midair.
In an instant, all eyes were on Leon. Soldiers who moments before appeared so assured now leaned in, their knuckles clasped white on the table top, all breath drawn in. Even Black, normally unflappable, shifted slightly, his eyes darkening, as if preparing himself for an unveiling that could transform all they knew.
Ronan’s words continued, more level now, with awe and skepticism. "I can sense it. The aura about you—it is familiar, yes, like last time... the aura of a Grandmaster. But this—" his eyes scrunched up further, "—this is not alike. It is sharper. More distinct. Stronger."
His words elicited whispers, the men around the table looking at one another like surprised wolves caught a whiff of something unfamiliar.
Leon remained still.
Golden eyes shone dimly in the gentle lamplight, smooth as unmoving water, but with a depth that caused each man to stumble when their eyes encountered his. He didn’t hurry to reply. Rather, he leaned back a little, one arm draped casually on the ornamented chair’s armrest, the other drumming lazily on the smooth wood of the table. A slow, teasing smile creased his lips.
"Ah," Leon said finally, voice riding with effortless authority, smooth but unyielding, "I’m afraid I haven’t reached the next level."
The words hit the men like a hammer blow.
A palpable slump of expression coursed over the table. Shoulders dropped, brows furrowed, and an unvoiced sigh of dismay rolled like a single wave through the halls. Weeks they had whispered and speculated that their lord’s departure had led him to new heights. To be told otherwise weighed heavy in their chests.
Even Ronan’s scar appeared to sag with his scowling brow. "So... you stay at Grandmaster domain, my Lord?" he said quietly, as if not wanting to believe it.
Leon’s smile did not waver. He made their disappointment last only a beat before his voice cut through it, warm and firm. "But do not look so gloomy." Now, he leaned forward, gold eyes catching the glow of the flame, his body taking up the room like the relentless building of a storm. "It is true, I have not broken through... but I have grown stronger than ever."
The words froze them.
Eyebrows raised, breaths suspended. Doubt lingered momentarily—before being driven under the force that rippled through the room.
Suddenly, gentle waves of mana rolled around Leon’s form. They radiated outward in concentric circles on water, caressing each man within the room.
Gasps erupted as each soldier bristled.
Their own spiritual senses—refined through decades of war—extended instinctively. Mana threads touched Leon’s aura, testing, probing, almost desperate. They didn’t dare strike or probe too hard, but curiosity, awe, and reverence pushed them to touch it for themselves.
Leon did not struggle. He remained seated, allowing the current of checks to slide over him quietly, unmoved. He was fully aware of what they were doing, and he let them, not out of weakness but as tacit testament.
Their eyes opened, one after another.
Ronan’s jaw clenched, his scar tugging sharply as his face paled. Black’s usual iron mask cracked, disbelief flashing in his dark eyes. Johnny, who rarely lost posure, leaned forward, his hands trembling on the table’s edge.
"Yes..." one soldier whispered, voice dry. "He’s still at Grandmaster realm... but—" His words faltered, throat dry.
"But this aura..." another muttered. "It isn’t like any Grandmaster I’ve felt. It’s—"
"—like standing before the King of Moonstone himself," Ronan concluded harshly, sweat glistening on his forehead.
Shock immobilized them. The presence Leon exuded was not only more powerful; it was elegant, awesomely enormous, the kind of presence that belonged not only to a man who wielded power but one who was power itself. The difference was as different as steel in parison to a heavenly sword crafted to kill gods.
Leon observed their faces contort in shock and wonder, and his grin grew even wider. "So," he continued tranquilly, "drop the issue of cultivation. Don’t bother yourselves with realms and titles. Understand only this—" he leaned forward, his voice cutting and unyielding, "—I am powerful enough now to face even a Monarch-level cultivator. That is all that counts."
The words crashed the table like thunder.
Shocked gasps filled the chamber. The soldiers exchanged glances, lips parting, hearts hammering at the claim. None dared voice doubt—not after what they had just felt.
Black’s chair screeched faintly against the floor as he leaned forward, hands clenched into fists. His voice was low, intense. "Then, my Lord... if you’ve returned stronger than even before—can we proceed with your plan?"
The room hushed again.
Each man’s eyes turned, focused, burning with a new edge of expectation. The initial awe coiled now into something else—hunger, intent, the tension of wolves smelling blood.
Leon sensed it. The change in the atmosphere, the heat in their gazes. His smile died, his golden eyes narrowing, face being formal, edged.
"Yes," Leon finally said, his tone calm, slicing through the tension like a knife. "I am back. And I do mean to go through with my plan." He paused, letting the silence hang just long enough for their hopes to lift. Then he added, colder, harder: "But this plan is for me only. Not all of you."
The tension snapped tight.
For the first time, Black’s facade cracked. He leapt to his feet, fist punching the table with a loud crack that caused the lamps to flicker. "My Lord, pardon my temerity—but I will not let you go alone! " His own voice shook with determination, his dark eyes burning with conviction. "Even if you are more powerful now, the enemy realms are not stones to be overturned. Dangers lie all around.". If you step into danger, I follow.
As will every loyal subject in this room!"undefined"Yes!"
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