A slow twist of the blade in Towan’s shoulder—muscle and tendon grinding against steel. "The key is broken. And you opened it anyway." His pupils dilated, black swallowing iris. "That shouldn’t be possible."
Elliot lurched up on one elbow—
—Sereth’s free hand flicked up, a third blade poised between his fingers. "You don’t have to talk." The edge caught the dying firelight. "Your screams are just as instructive."
Towan choked, blood bubbling at his lips. "We don’t... know. We didn’t even—!"
The blade descended—
BOOM.
The wall imploded.
Wood splinters beca shrapnel. The hearth’s embers erupted into a firestorm. And through the smoke—
—a silhouette, backlit by lightning, one arm outstretched.
A voice shook the foundations:
"Get.Away.From.My.Students
The pressure wave detonated.
Glass shattered into diamond dust. Floorboards warped upward like a petrified tide. The very air snapped into absolute silence—
—for one suspended heartbeat.
Then, through the settling debris:
Leon.
His cloak hung in tatters, his right arm a ruin of blackened flesh and crackling Essentia burns. No aura. No flare. Just density—the kind of quiet that lives between lightning and thunder.
His presence wasn’t blazing—it was controlled. Condensed. Furious. And for the first ti since they t him... he looked truly angry.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit for the authentic version.
And his eyes—
—locked onto Sereth with the precision of a hurricane sighting landfall.
Velica stumbled back, her corrupted gauntlets sputtering. "That’s him."
Morn’s frostbreath stalled in his throat. "They said to be careful—"
Leon moved.
A single swipe of his hand—
—and the world split.
A blade of condensed wind sheared through the room, carving a perfect trench in the floor before catching Velica square in the chest. Her gauntlets shattered midair, crystals exploding like grenade shrapnel as her body rocketed backward—
—CRACK—
—the oak tree she hit splintered down the middle, her limp form embedded six inches into the trunk.
Sereth hadn’t blinked.
Leon took a step forward.
Morn roared, his fist a teor descending—
—Leon flowed under it, the dodge so seamless his tattered cloak barely stirred.
The counterstrike was elegant in its simplicity: one lightning-wrapped fist driving upward into the brute’s sternum.
CRACK—
Blue-white veins exploded across Morn’s mountain of muscle. His scream died as his body locked, every tendon rigid, frost lting off his skin in weeping rivulets.
He toppled forward—a felled redwood—hitting the floor with a thud that shook the inn.
Smoke curled from his frozen lips.
Silence.
Sereth stood alone now, his needle-blades glinting. For the first ti, his eyes—narrow as knife-cuts—flickered toward the ruined wall.
A beat.
Two.
Leon exhaled, lightning dancing between his knuckles.
"Last chance," he murmured.
Sereth’s blades didn’t tremble, but his shadow did. "So... you’re the one they called Rheon." The title slithered out like a curse. "Master of the elents."
Towan’s breath stalled.
"Rheon?"
Elliot’s vision blurred—mories of childhood tales crashing against the man before them. "The Essentia Warrior…? That’s… him?"
Leon—
(—no—)
Rheon didn’t flinch. His voice rolled through the room like distant thunder, the kind that vibrates in your ribs before you hear it:
"Nas an nothing. Not here."
The lanterns dimd. The dust hovered.
"All that matters..." His seared arm crackled to life, Essentia spiraling up to his shoulder in jagged ribbons. "...is that you’re not walking out."
Flash.
The world blinked.
Towan and Elliot didn’t see—
—only felt:
And in that silence, the air scread.
Morn’s massive form twitched in unconscious ruin. Velica had fled like smoke through the shattered wall.
Only Sereth remained—blades steady, breath unnervingly even.
And Rheon.
Residual lightning crawled along his seared arm, but his face was a mask of glacial focus. No rage. No pride. Just the absolute certainty of a landslide about to fall.
Sereth took a step forward, his knives weeping that sa oil-slick shimr that had poisoned Elliot’s Essentia.
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