The attacker's movements slowed abruptly, his sword arm faltering mid-thrust.
The world spun, not the dizzy whirl of a whipped head, but a sickening inversion where down became up and left became right.
One moment, steel flashing towards the golden figure. The next, empty air swallowed his thrust, the tip of his blade kissing only fading motes of light.
For a split second, within his spiraling vision, he caught a glimpse of the boy, encased in lightning, now standing behind him. Impossible.
No, not impossible, *incomprehensible*. Because for a fraction of a second, he saw *himself*.
His own back, still lunging forward, sword extended toward empty space where LeoNova had been a breath ago.
His cloak billowed mid-motion, frozen in time as if painted onto reality itself.
Then, nothing. No pain. No sound. Just a sudden *lightness*, the world tilting sideways in a slow, graceful arc.
The attacker's vision fractured into jagged shards of fading twilight, his consciousness unraveling like frayed silk.
'Ah... so this is death,' the attacker thought distantly, his neurons firing their final signal.
Darkness swallowed him into its cold embrace, thick, suffocating, yet somehow, comforting.
A dull *thud* reverberated through the alleyway, wet, heavy, final.
The attacker's head struck the cobblestones with a grotesque bounce, rolling twice before settling in a growing pool of his own blood.
His body remained upright for another heartbeat, knees locked in rigor, before crumpling like a puppet with severed strings.
The metallic tang of fresh blood bloomed in the air, mixing with the ozone crackle of LeoNova's lightning.
The detached head came to rest facing upward, lips slightly parted.
The dead man's pupils were blown wide, capturing the final image they'd ever see.
LeoNova's silhouette was bathed in crackling gold sparks, dazzling arcs of golden lightning dancing around his form.
For a split second, he looked like a Deity cast in thunder.
But then... "Ba-dum". His heart lept sharply.
LeoNova fell forward, his knees struck the alley's damp cobblestones with a muffled thud.
The thunderous energy crackling around him receded like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving him hollowed out, gasping.
Sparks fizzled from his fingertips, his dagger clattering to the ground beside him, its glow dimming to a dull ember.
"Grah!" A deep growl escaped his throat.
LeoNova clutched his skull as if it might split apart. His head buzzed with pain, as if a thousand hornets were nesting behind his eyes.
Each heartbeat hammered against his temples, his vision swimming between clarity and fractured darkness.
LeoNova gasped, lungs screaming, ribs expanding sharply as he gulped down air thick with the scent of charred ozone and copper.
His fingers trembled against his temples, as arcs of residual electricity danced between his fingertips like dying fireflies.
The pain crested, a white-hot tsunami crashing through his skull.
A cool sensation swiftly flooded his system, his enhanced healing was working in overdrive, slowly fracturing the pain into manageable fragments.
His healing worked in jagged bursts: nerves stitching themselves back together beneath his skin, muscle fibers reconstructing in overlapping waves.
His vision cleared in increments, the tremor in his hands stilled as his body slowly remembered how to function.
LeoNova inhaled through his nose, slow, deliberate, counting the seconds as the air filled the hollow spaces between his ribs.
He held it there for a few seconds, before exhaling through parted lips. The rhythm became a mantra: in through the nose, out through the mouth, the world narrowing to the expansion of his lungs.
His fingers twitched, still humming with the aftershocks of whatever power had surged through him.
The attacker's decapitated head lay cradled in its own pooling blood. LeoNova's gaze traced the clean sever—no jagged edges, no ragged flesh. Just a single, precise cut smoother than any blade could achieve.
The severed head seemed to stare at him, its gaze accusatory even in death.
The alleyway's shadows stretched longer as twilight deepened.
He didn't want to stick around any longer.
That was the first coherent thought to pierce the fog, sharp and urgent.
The dagger lay dull beside him, its glow extinguished. He snatched it up, the metal warm against his palm, before forcing himself to stand.
His legs held, barely. His knees protested as he levered himself upward, his hand resting on a wall for support.
His muscles trembled like a newborn foal finding its legs.
He had barely regained his bearings when footsteps echoed from the mouth of the alley.
He didn't look back. The spilled blood was already whispering his name to the stones, and Orario's streets had ears everywhere.
Adrenaline kicked in instantly. He vaulted over a discarded crate, his boots scraping against wet cobblestones as he bolted into the labyrinth of backstreets.
Three turns left, two right, he darted through the maze-like alleyways until he was sure that he was far enough to lose pursuit.
he finally slowed in the shadowed alcove of a crumbling tenement.
Pressing his back against the damp bricks, he slowly slid down to the ground.
LeoNova sat there for a good few minutes, motionless, listening to the distant shouts fading into Orario's nocturnal hum.
His legs trembled when he finally pushed himself up, one hand bracing against the alley wall.
He trudged forward, heading towards an opening that filtered onto the main road.
LeoNova emerged onto Orario's streets like a ghost slipping between realities. The transition assaulted his senses: torchlight stabbing his dilated pupils, laughter and haggling voices crashing against his eardrums.
He moved mechanically through the crowd's currents, his mind still stranded in that blood-slicked alley.
A drunk adventurer staggered into his path, ale sloshing from an overturned tankard.
LeoNova snapped back to reality, sidestepping without breaking stride.
The man's slurred curses dissolving behind him like smoke.
Lantern light pooled between buildings in irregular patches, painting the cobblestones in shifting gold and shadow.
He kept to the darker stretches where the crowd thinned.
Amidst the bustle, a sound caught his ear. The distant rhythm of a bard's lute from a tavern's open window.
The sign swung gently above the arched doorway, its wrought-iron crescent moon catching intermittent torchlight.
*Silver Moon Inn*. The letters below were weather-worn but legible, carved into aged oak darkened by decades of Orario's smog and rain.
Through the leaded glass windows, warm firelight spilled across floorboards polished smooth by generations of boots.
From inside, came the muted hum of quiet conversation and clinking tableware.
LeoNova went over, pushing the door open.
The air inside hit him like a physical force, thick with the scent of rosemary-rubbed roasted lamb and the underlying tang of mulled wine.
The room went oddly silent.
A serving girl carrying a tray of steaming tankards froze mid-step, her amber eyes widening.
A grizzled merchant at the corner table choked on his ale, the liquid dripping down his beard.
The innkeeper's polishing rag stilled against a pewter goblet, its surface reflecting the unnatural gold of LeoNova's irises.
The boy didn't just enter, he almost *materialized*, his silhouette backlit by the street's torchlight for a heartbeat before the door swung shut behind him.
Blood streaked his clothes, still glistening where it hadn't yet dried.
LeoNova moved toward the counter with slow strides. His footsteps made no sound, yet the inn's patrons instinctively shifted away, ale mugs lifted halfway to lips forgotten mid-sip.
The serving girl stepped back sharply, her tray rattled, sending foam sloshing over tankard rims.
The innkeeper's knuckles whitened around the pewter goblet he'd been polishing. His gaze flicked to the blood-crusted clothes, then back to the boy's face, where golden eyes burned with an intensity that made his throat constrict.
The usual welcome died on his tongue, replaced by a dry swallow.
LeoNova's footsteps were silent, but the weight of them pressed against the inn's creaky floorboards like lead. Each step traced an invisible path through the hushed patrons, their conversations stuttering mid-sentence as he passed.
When he reached the counter, he didn't speak, not at first. His fingers twitched once, curling against the polished wood, leaving smears of half-dried blood in their wake.
The innkeeper's gaze flicked between the stains and the boy's unnaturally bright eyes, his throat bobbing as he set down the pewter goblet with deliberate care.
"A room for the night." LeoNova said, or rather, his voice rasped it out, each syllable scraping against his throat like broken glass. The words hung between them, heavy and jagged.
The innkeeper hesitated, his eyes darting to his bloodied sleeve, the unnaturally bright eyes, the way the boy's fingers twitched slightly against the counter.
He swallowed. "Valis first," he managed, though his voice lacked its usual bark.
LeoNova reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the pouch of valis he'd received from exchanging the goblin magic stones.
He pulled it out, pouring the contents onto the counter. The coins clattered, rolling in uneven circles before settling. The innkeeper didn't move to count them. The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on.
"Upstairs," the innkeeper muttered, shoving a rusted key across the counter. "Third door on the left. Don't—"
LeoNova's fingers closed around the key. Not giving him a chance to finish his sentence.
The metal was cold, grounding. He turned without another word, his boots leaving faint crimson smears on the floorboards as he ascended the narrow staircase.
Behind him, the inn's collective breath released in a staggered wave of whispers.
The door's lock clicked open with a reluctance that matched the innkeeper's expression. The room beyond was a slit of shadow, stale air laced with dust and old silt.
A single shuttered window leaked thin moonlight across a straw-stuffed mattress, its linen yellowed with age. LeoNova shut the door with his shoulder.
His knees buckled the moment the door latched. LeoNova caught himself against the room's lone chair, before collapsing onto the mattress.
Sleep didn't come so much as ambush him. One moment he was staring at the water-stained ceiling, the next, darkness swallowed him whole.
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A/N: Any thoughts on the fanfic so far anyone?
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