A Knot Untied Beneath the Falling Dust
The charming figure had already arrived on the arena with a single step.
The ruined stage still trembled from the aftermath of battle. Dust drifted through fractured sunlight. Cracked stone groaned beneath lingering sword intent. The air smelled faintly of blood, scorched Mana, and broken pride.
Leon stood amidst it all, midnight robes touched by amethyst threads stirring softly in the wind, long black hair moving over his shoulders. His purple eyes rested on Shera and Shan.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Yet those who knew him well sensed something beneath that composure.
He was thinking.
Leon looked at him and thought for a moment. Suddenly, he had an idea that was more fun than mocking him.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Not ridicule.
Something sharper.
Something far more devastating to old grudges than insults.
Shera had already braced himself for humiliation.
For mockery.
For the bitter repayment of years.
Instead—
