Leon’s POV
Shredica lay sprawled across the stone floor, her body unnaturally still.
One glance was enough to tell that sothing was very wrong with her arm. It bent at an angle that no arm was ever ant to bend, twisted in a way that made even hardened fighters flinch. It wasn’t just injured. It looked like the bone itself had snapped clean through.
The fight was over.
There was no doubt about that.
And I had won.
That fact settled heavily in my chest, not with triumph, but with a quiet finality. I stood there, weapon lowered, breathing steady, watching the aftermath unfold.
And then, impossibly, she moved.
Despite everything, Shredica pushed herself upright.
For a brief mont, I honestly wondered if she was too stubborn to accept reality. Or maybe she was just insane. Either way, my eyes narrowed as I focused on her movents.
Was she regenerating?
The answer ca imdiately.
Her broken arm jerked, bone shifting beneath the skin with a sickening sound. Then, right before my eyes, it straightened. The damage reversed itself as if ti had been forced to rewind, flesh and bone snapping back into place like nothing had ever happened.
It was unsettling.
No—disturbing was the better word.
Even so, it wasn’t perfect. Whatever ability she had, it didn’t seem instant, or at least not complete. Her body wavered, her balance giving out. She took a single unsteady step forward before collapsing, face-first, onto the platform with a dull, heavy thud.
That was it.
She wasn’t getting back up again.
Even if she sohow could, it didn’t matter anymore. The fight had already reached its conclusion.
The umpire’s voice rang out, declaring the verdict.
I was the victor.
Which ant I was moving on to the finals.
Almost imdiately, the arena erupted.
Cheers, shouts, screams.
It was an ocean of sound crashing down all at once. The spectators were on their feet, roaring with approval, fueled by adrenaline and bloodlust. They had gotten what they ca for.
A real fight.
The kind that made hearts race and pulses spike. The kind that made people lean forward in their seats, hungry for more.
I gave them that.
We gave them that.
But as loud and excited as they were, I knew the truth.
What they had seen was only the surface.
Just a glimpse.
I hadn’t even scratched the deeper layers of what I could really do. If anything, this was just the opening act. A teaser. The real performance hadn’t even started yet.
My gaze drifted upward, toward the elevated platform overlooking the arena.
That was where the real observers sat.
Myrcella.
The Queen.
The King of Bethlan.
The Commander.
And Veronica.
My eyes lingered on her.
She was looking down at , her face devoid of emotion. There was no approval and even no disappointnt. No reaction at all. Just that sa unreadable, cold stare she always wore.
Honestly, it was almost impressive how uninterested she looked.
It wasn’t hard to guess why. She could probably tell that I hadn’t gone all out against Shredica. Soone like Veronica wouldn’t miss sothing like that. And if she was disappointed, then so be it.
I wasn’t here to put on a show for her.
Shredica wasn’t my real target.
I had never planned to fight her at full power. There was no reason to. If anything, pushing her too far would have been a waste.
Veronica, on the other hand...
She was different.
She was the one opponent in this entire tournant who could truly keep up. The only one who might actually catch my attacks instead of crumpling under them. The only one worth unleashing everything against.
If I was going to go all out, truly all out, it would be against her.
Tomorrow.
The finals.
A best-of-five match.
First to three victories would be crowned the champion.
Simple rules. Clean structure.
But nothing about the fight itself would be simple.
That was for tomorrow.
***
Shredica’s POV
When consciousness returned, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling.
White and smooth. It was pretty much unremarkable.
For a mont, I just stared at it, letting the haze in my head clear. Then awareness slowly crept back into my body.
I turned my head slightly and noticed a healer standing beside my bed, hands glowing faintly as they worked through layers of magic and technique. They moved with practiced ease, calm and thodical, as if repairing shattered bodies was just another routine task.
Strangely enough, I didn’t feel any pain.
That alone was enough to make uneasy. Considering how broken my body had been earlier, this level of recovery felt unnatural—even for .
"You’re awake."
The voice was calm, composed, and unmistakable.
Vice Commander Veronica Eclair stepped into the room.
The healer imdiately straightened, bowing deeply to her, then to , before quietly excusing herself and slipping out. The room suddenly felt colder without the warmth of healing magic lingering in the air.
Veronica approached the bed and stopped at my side, her sharp eyes scanning as if I were a report rather than a person.
"How does your body feel?" she asked.
I took a mont to assess myself before answering.
"I don’t think there’s anything wrong," I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "Even after using the Cursed Sword?"
"I still don’t feel anything off," I replied. "Even with that."
The truth was, the Cursed Sword had drained an absurd amount of mana from . Normally, that kind of strain would leave soone bedridden for months—years, even.
And yet, here I was.
I was completely fine.
"That’s interesting..." Veronica murmured.
For just a brief second, sothing flickered across her face.
Interest.
It was subtle—so subtle that most people would’ve missed it—but I noticed. It was the first ti I’d ever seen that expression directed at .
"I lost, didn’t I?" I asked quietly.
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "And badly. You didn’t stand a chance."
Her words were blunt, but they weren’t wrong.
I had been overwheld.
Easily.
Effortlessly.
By Leon.
That realization sat heavily in my chest. I had known he was strong. But this was different. This wasn’t just strength.
This was sothing deeper.
"Who is he, really?" I muttered, more to myself than to her.
Now that I’d experienced the full weight of his power, it felt like I’d been fighting a stranger all along. Soone I thought I knew, but never truly understood.
There were too many things about Leon that didn’t add up.
And sohow, I knew I’d never get all the answers.
***
Veronica’s POV
Shredica’s recovery was faster than I expected.
Much faster.
I had always known she was stubborn, but I assud the loss would hit her harder. She was the type who hated defeat, I think, and soone who carried losses like scars, letting them fester.
Yet here she was.
She was calm and accepting.
Perhaps it had sothing to do with her academy days alongside Leon. Shared history had a way of dulling the sting of defeat. Sympathy, familiarity—whatever the reason, it was clear she wasn’t breaking over this.
One thing was undeniable.
She was special.
Very few could wield the Cursed Sword without being consud by it. Even fewer could walk away afterward without consequence.
But even that wasn’t enough.
Even with the sword, she was no match for Leon.
Leon was dangerous.
And the Princess’s plan was unfolding exactly as intended.
Bit by bit, it was becoming reality.
There was only one way to stop it now.
Before it went too far.
Leon had to be defeated.
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