[Last Episode: WraithLord: Shall we begin, then?]
Chapter 133, Episode 133
[Leo stepped through his own tear in the air and found himself standing in the middle of a bustling market street, the smell of roasted skewers and something sweet and unidentifiable hitting him immediately]
[He forgot, for a moment, that he was supposed to be doing anything important at all]
Leo: Oh, that smells incredible.
[He wandered toward a nearby stall without any particular urgency, eyeing a tray of glazed, spiral-cut meat with the specific, undisguised delight of someone who had spent the last several weeks eating almost nothing but battlefield rations.]
Chloe: First time in the Heart Star, stranger?
Leo: That obvious?
Chloer: You've got the look. Everyone gets it their first time smelling the skewer stalls.
Leo: I'll take four.
[He ate as he walked, genuinely, thoroughly enjoying himself, taking in the strange, contradictory rhythm of the world around him — vendors haggling cheerfully one moment, then two of them nearly coming to blows over a disputed sale the next, only for both to end up laughing and sharing a drink five minutes later.]
[Leo, quietly to himself, mouth full]
Leo: This place is insane. I love it.
[He wandered further, past a wall plastered with wanted posters that doubled, apparently, as bounty-hunter recruitment boards, past a group of children play-dueling with wooden swords while their parents cheered them on with genuine, competitive intensity, past an arena entrance where the roar of a crowd inside was audible even from the street.]
Leo: Everyone here is either about to fight or just finished fighting.
[He said it with clear approval.]
[A crowd was gathering near the center of the city, streaming toward a wide plaza with tiered stone seating arranged around a central dais, and Leo, still finishing his last skewer, drifted along with the current out of pure curiosity]
[He caught the arm of a passerby, a young man in simple traveling clothes]
Leo: Hey, what's going on today?
Viro: You don't know? The King's holding the Generals' Conference.
Leo: The what?
Viro: "The 8 Generals. Strongest fighters in the whole Heart Star. King Julian holds this every so often — has them demonstrate, gets updated on their standing, that sort of thing. Whole kingdom turns out for it.
Leo: Huh. Neat.
Viro: Ohh forgot to introduce myself, My name is Viro, a former captain..
Leo: Former captain???.... intresting nice to meet you.. my name is Leo
Viro: Same to you Leo.
Leo: Thanks!!
[He said it with the exact tone of someone who had, until roughly four seconds ago, had no idea any of this existed and had already decided he was staying to watch anyway.]
Viro: You're new here.
Leo: Very.
Viro: Well, you picked a good day to arrive.
[Leo grinned, tucked his hands into his pockets, and let himself be carried along with the crowd toward the plaza.]
[The Conference]
[The tiered seating filled quickly, a genuine sea of people packed shoulder to shoulder, all facing the raised dais where a throne sat empty, flanked by two smaller seats]
[Leo found a spot near the back, settling in comfortably, hands still in his pockets, watching the crowd with the specific quiet interest of someone cataloguing everything without appearing to pay much attention at all]
[A horn sounded]
[King Julian emerged first — older, silver-haired, carrying himself with the easy, battle-worn confidence of a man who had earned every inch of his authority personally, the hilt of a sheathed sword visible at his hip even from this distance]
[Beside him, two young women took their seats — one with sharp, confident posture and hair that shimmered faintly like banked embers, the other smaller, quieter, dressed in soft greens that seemed to shift like living leaves]
[The crowd murmured]
「Nearby spectator」
「That's Kira. And Maya beside her」
「Kira's Phoenix magic saved half the eastern district last season. Maya's tree magic rebuilt what was left.」
[Leo, quietly, to himself]
Leo: Interesting family.
[Then the Generals arrived]
[Eight of them, filing onto the dais in order, and the crowd's murmuring swelled into open cheering — genuine, adoring noise, several people near Leo actually standing to get a better look]
[Nearby spectator, practically swooning]
『Spectator』
"Fenris looks incredible today"
『Spectator』
"Michael always does."
[Leo watched the reactions with quiet amusement, munching on the last bite of his skewer.]
[Leo, internally: Local celebrities]
Leo: Got it.
[The eight of them took their positions — Storm and Guinn near the front, Doherty and Morris beside them, Fenris and Emily flanking further out, Violet and Michael completing the formation — and King Julian raised a hand for silence.]
King Julian: People of the Heart Star!
[The crowd quieted, though the energy in the plaza stayed electric.]
King Julian: Once again, we gather to honor the strength that protects this realm. The 8 Generals continue to stand as the pillars of everything we've built — through arena, through shadow, through every trial this world has thrown at them.
[Applause, warm and genuine.]
King Julian: Storm. Guinn. Doherty. Morris. Fenris. Emily. Violet. Michael. Step forward.
[They did, and the crowd's cheering redoubled.]
King Julian: Today, as always, we'll see a demonstration of the strength that keeps this kingdom standing. And as always—I expect to be impressed.
[Fenris, at the front of the group, smirked, arms crossed.]
Fenris: You're always impressed, Your Majesty.
King Julian: Because you always deserve it.
[Kira, seated beside her father, leaned toward Maya with a small, fond smile.]
Kira: Michael's going to show off the light constructs again. Watch.
Maya: He does that every time.
Kira: And it works every time.
[Leo, still seated near the back, watched all of it unfold with genuine, relaxed interest — right up until the moment he shifted his weight slightly, adjusting how he sat]
[That was all it took]
[The dais went silent]
[Every one of the eight Generals turned at once, expressions shifting from practiced confidence into something far less composed — genuine, visible alarm[
Storm: What—
[Fenris, going rigid]
Fenris: What is that.
Michael: That presence—
[King Julian's hand had gone, instinctively, to the hilt of the Night Sword at his hip, his easy confidence replaced entirely by something sharp and wary.]
King Julian: Everyone. Something just entered this plaza.
[Guinn, scanning the crowd, unable to pinpoint it]
Guinn: I can't— where is it coming from—
[Violet, her Divination magic straining visibly]
Violet: I can't read it. I can't read anything about it. That's never happened before.
[Kira and Maya had both gone very still, the easy warmth of a moment ago replaced by genuine unease.]
[Doherty, quiet, almost to herself]
Doherty: It feels like— it feels like something above all of this. Above the Fundamental Laws themselves. That's not possible. Nothing here should feel like that.
[The crowd, sensing the shift in the Generals' mood, had gone uneasy too, murmuring rising into a low, worried buzz.]
[Leo, in the middle of it all, simply sat with his hands in his pockets, expression carefully arranged into something blank and a little confused, doing his absolute best impression of a man who had no idea what any of this was about]
[Leo, internally]
Leo: Whoops.
[He shifted his weight back, deliberately, carefully, and the pressure in the plaza eased almost instantly — the Generals visibly relaxing, the crowd's uneasy murmur settling back into curious chatter.]
[Michael, still shaken]
Michael: It's gone.
Fenris: It was here for two seconds and it's already gone.
[King Julian, slowly lowering his hand from the sword hilt, exhaling]
King Julian: Whatever that was... let's hope it doesn't come back.
[He straightened, forcing his composure back into place, and raised his voice to address the crowd again.]
King Julian: Apologies. Let us continue. Generals — demonstrate your strength.
[The plaza's energy gradually rebuilt itself, cheering returning as Michael stepped forward first, light already gathering at his fingertips.]
[Leo, meanwhile, sank a little further into his seat, hands still in his pockets, the picture of a perfectly ordinary, perfectly harmless spectator.]
[Leo, internally, watching Michael's light constructs begin to form]
Leo: Okay. Definitely staying for this. I'll be more careful next time.
[The man beside Leo had been watching the dais with the specific, reverent intensity of a lifelong fan, and when he noticed Leo staring blankly at King Julian's hip, he leaned over, apparently thrilled to have someone new to explain things to]
Matthew: First time seeing the Night Sword up close?
Leo: That's the sword's name? The Night Sword?
Matthew: You really are new. That blade's been in the royal family for generations. Family name and everything — the sword is the Julian bloodline, near enough. Cuts through anything. Not exaggerating. Anything. Physical matter, magic, doesn't matter what kind — it just goes through it like it was never there.
Leo: Negates magic too?
Matthew: Negates it, nullifies it, doesn't matter what flavor of magic you're talking about. And that's not even the scary part.
Leo: There's a scarier part?
Matthew: The blade wants to fight. That's not a figure of speech — people who've stood against Julian when he draws it say the whole air around him gets heavy, like something's staring at you and deciding whether you're worth killing slowly. Paralyzes people. Actual, physical paralysis, just from the aura of the thing being drawn.
Leo: That's a lot of sword.
Matthew: That's not even the whole of it. The second it leaves the sheath, Julian's own speed and instincts and durability go through the roof. Superhuman levels. People say his movements get unreadable — like trying to track lightning with your bare eyes. And every swing, every single one, tears the actual flow of reality around it. Doesn't matter what you block with. It doesn't matter what defense you've got. If that blade swings at you, it's landing.
[Leo, quietly, genuinely a little impressed despite himself]
Leo: Huh.
[He was filing it away — not out of concern, exactly, more the same curiosity he'd have toward any well-made tool. The Night Sword was, by every account, an extraordinary weapon in the hands of an ordinary man. He liked that combination. It felt honest.]
Leo: So who are the eight up there? All of them, I mean. Names, powers, all of it.
Matthew: You really don't know anything, huh.
Leo: Just got here.
Matthew: Alright, alright. Lucky for you, I know all of it.
[King Julian's voice carried across the plaza as the eight took their formal positions, and Matthew narrated along with him, clearly delighted to have an audience of his own]
King Julian: Storm. Wind magic. Level 89.
Matthew: Fast as anything you've ever seen. Girls love him, by the way.
King Julian: Guinn. Chaos magic. Level 90.
Matthew: Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. Her spells don't follow patterns — you genuinely can't predict what's coming.
King Julian: Doherty. Elemental magic. Level 68.
Matthew: Lowest of the eight, but don't let that fool you. Versatility beats raw power more often than people think.
King Julian: Morris. Void magic. Level 95.
Matthew: Creepy guy. Good fighter, though.
King Julian: Fenris. Time magic. Level 98.
Matthew: Second strongest of the group. Every girl in the eastern district has a portrait of him somewhere, I'd bet money on it.
King Julian: Emily. Star magic. Level 50.
Matthew: Sweet, honestly. Doesn't get talked about as much as the others, but her control is incredible.
King Julian: Violet. Divination magic. Level 85.
Matthew: Best information broker in the kingdom, technically. Knows things before they happen.
King Julian: And Michael. Light magic. Level 97.
Matthew: The strongest. Officially. Everyone loves him — king, both daughters included, half the kingdom, probably.
[Leo nodded along, watching each of them in turn with the same mild, easy interest.]
Leo: And the daughters?
Matthew: Kira — the older one — Phoenix magic, level 50. Maya, the younger, World Tree magic, level 45. Not generals, technically, but strong enough that nobody really argues the distinction matters much.
[Matthew studied Leo for a moment, then, with the specific bluntness of someone who'd been dying to ask since they sat down, leaned in]
Matthew: So what's your rank, anyway?
[Leo felt the flicker of Satanael's presence stir faintly in his chest.]
[Satanael]
「Your rank is irrelevant here, Leo. Your power scales above anything this world's level system was built to measure. You know this.」
[Leo, internally]
Leo: Yeah, I know. That's exactly why I'm not saying it.... it's going to blow my cover...
[Leo, out loud, entirely casual]
Leo: Level 14.
[Matthew blinked, then burst out laughing — loud enough that a couple nearby spectators glanced over.]
Matthew: Fourteen?! You're joking.
Leo: Nope.
Matthew: That's — that's practically nothing! I'm level 30, for reference, and even I don't brag about that around here.
Leo: Congratulations.
Matthew: You're taking that awfully well for someone who just got laughed at.
Leo: I'm happy for you. Genuinely.
[Matthew squinted at him, unsure whether he was being made fun of, decided he wasn't, and grinned instead.]
Matthew: You're a strange one. I like you.
Leo: Most people say that eventually.
[The Announcement]
[King Julian raised both hands, and the plaza's noise dropped away]
King Julian: As tradition holds, today we also open the floor to any who wish to challenge for standing among the Second Generals — the tier that feeds our future Eighth. Any who believe themselves worthy may step forward and enter the arena.
[A ripple of excitement swept the crowd, several people already rising from their seats.]
[Matthew shot to his feet immediately, grinning]
Matthew: That's me. I'm going.
Leo: Good luck.
Matthew: You're not entering?
Leo: Might as well try
[Matthew laughed again, delighted.]
Matthew: You? Level fourteen? I'll crush you if we end up matched.
Leo: Sure... looking forward to it..
[Internally, Leo was already sinking into the quiet, private amusement of someone who had just fought and defeated the King of the Multiverse three days ago, currently sitting in a crowd being threatened by a man whose strongest attack wouldn't register on any scale Leo actually operated on.]
[Leo, internally: ]
Leo: He seems nice. I'll try not to break anything important.
[The Arena]
[The plaza reshaped itself with practiced ease — tiered seating rotating to face a sunken ring at its center, sixteen numbered platforms arranged around the perimeter for contestants awaiting their turn]
King Julian: Sixteen contestants. Eight matches in the first round. Winners advance to the quarterfinals — four matches, four winners. Semifinals after that — two matches, two finalists. And finally, the championship match.
[He gestured toward the ring.]
King Julian: Before each match, contestants will declare their level and demonstrate their magic. Let us see what this generation has to offer.
[The sixteen names were called in sequence, and Leo watched them file toward the platforms — a broad mix of eager young fighters, each announced with their level and school of magic as they stepped up.]
[The referee, a stout man with a booming voice, called them one by one]
Referee: Dorian Vask! Level 34! Stone magic!
Referee: Selvie Marchetti! Level 41! Wind current manipulation!
Referee: Bram Oakhollow! Level 38! Beast-bond magic!
Referee: Thessaly Voss! Level 45! Frost lattice magic!
Referee: Corvin Idryss! Level 29! Blood-thread magic!
Referee: Yuna Halvard! Level 47! Solar flare magic!
Referee: Petro Ganel! Level 33! Iron-forge magic!
Referee: Isadora Wren! Level 40! Silk-thread illusion magic!
Referee: Matthew Cray! Level 30! Kinetic burst magic!
[Matthew flexed dramatically as his name was called, drawing a laugh from the crowd, and Leo clapped politely along with everyone else.]
[The referee continued down the list, name after name, level after level, until finally reaching the last platform]
Referee: And finally — Leo. Level..... What the....14.
[The plaza went quiet.]
[Then, slowly, laughter started.]
[A nearby contestant, Bram, shaking his head]
Bram: Fourteen? He's going to get folded in half.
[Another, Thessaly, smirking]
Thessaly: Poor kid. Someone should've told him this tier isn't for beginners.
[King Julian's eyebrows rose from the dais, exchanging a startled glance with Kira and Maya.]
Kira: Level fourteen. In the Second General trials.
Maya: That's not even close to the usual floor.
[Michael, from among the Generals, leaned toward Fenris with a low, amused murmur.]
Michael: Is he here to joke around?
Fenris: Must be. Nobody serious enters at fourteen.
[Leo, standing on his platform, hands still tucked into his pockets, simply smiled, entirely unbothered.]
[Leo, internally]
Leo: Sure. Let's go with that.
[His actual presence in that moment — if he'd let even a fraction of it show — would have erased the arena, the plaza, and a fair portion of the surrounding city from existence without any real effort. He knew that. He'd known it the second he stepped through the dimensional tear into this world. But that wasn't why he'd come, and he had absolutely no intention of letting today be the day anyone here found that out.]
Referee: Contestant Leo — please demonstrate your magic for the crowd.
[Leo blinked, looking genuinely, convincingly puzzled.]
Leo: I don't have magic.
[The silence that followed was total.]
Referee: ...I'm sorry?
Leo: No magic. Never had it.
[The crowd erupted — not in laughter this time, but in outright confusion, several contestants openly staring, Matthew's jaw actually dropping.]
Matthew: You entered the Second General trials with no magic?!... what kind of idiot are you..
Leo: I've got a sword.
[He drew Shatter Nebula, and even held back, even dimmed to the barest fraction of a fraction of what it actually was, the blade's light still carried a quiet, understated weight that made several nearby contestants instinctively take half a step back.]
[King Julian, from the dais, studying the sword with genuine, professional interest despite everything:]
King Julian: That's... an interesting weapon.. I must say
[Leo sheathed it again before anyone could look too closely.]
Leo: It does the job... that's the least I could say
[The referee cleared his throat, clearly unsure how to categorize any of this, and moved on down the roster, and the crowd's confusion slowly folded back into anticipation as the first-round matchups were drawn.]
[Leo settled back onto his platform, waiting his turn, entirely at ease, holding back — deliberately, carefully, completely — the single most overwhelming amount of restrained power the Heart Star had ever unknowingly hosted within its arena walls.]
[The referee raised his hand, and the crowd's noise dropped into anticipation]
Referee: First match! Dorian Vask, stone magic, versus Selvie Marchetti, wind current manipulation!
[The two stepped into the ring, and Leo, still seated on his platform, watched with quiet, focused attention — not the mild curiosity of a spectator, but something closer to a professional reading a diagram.]
[He'd already worked it out before either of them moved. Dorian's stone constructs were slow to form, methodical, built for defense first. Selvie's wind currents were fast, aggressive, designed to punish exactly that kind of slow setup.]
[Leo, internally]
Leo: Selvie wins this in under a minute.
[Dorian slammed both palms into the ground, raising a wall of jagged stone between himself and his opponent, and Selvie didn't wait for it to finish forming — she was already airborne, current spiraling around her legs, closing the distance before the wall reached full height.]
[She cleared it in a single leap, wind-blade trailing behind her, and Dorian barely got a second construct up in time to block the first strike. It shattered under the pressure. The second strike didn't miss]
Referee: Selvie Marchetti advances!
[Leo nodded slightly to himself, unbothered, entirely unsurprised.]
[Leo, internally]
Leo: Called it.
[Matthew, seated a few platforms down, glanced over and caught the small, satisfied smile on Leo's face.]
Matthew: You look like you already knew that was going to happen.
Leo: Lucky guess.
Matthew: Nobody guesses match outcomes that confidently.
Leo: I've got good instincts.
[The matches continued in quick succession — Bram Oakhollow's beast-bond magic overwhelming Thessaly Voss's frost lattice through sheer aggression before she could fully lock her defenses in place; Corvin Idryss's blood-thread magic snaring Yuna Halvard mid-cast, ending her solar flare before it fully ignited; Petro Ganel's iron-forge constructs proving too slow against Isadora Wren's illusion work, Isadora winning through pure misdirection rather than raw power]
[Each fight, Leo watched with the same quiet, analytical calm — and each time, the outcome landed exactly where he'd already placed it in his head before the fighters had finished their opening stances]
[By the seventh match, Matthew had stopped questioning it and started, quietly, taking mental notes of his own]
Matthew: You've called every single one.
Leo: Have I?
Matthew: Don't play dumb. Six for six.
Leo: I told you. Good instincts.
[The eighth match finished — Matthew himself, kinetic burst magic overwhelming his opponent in a fast, decisive exchange that left the crowd cheering — and the referee called the round to a close.]
Referee: First round complete! Quarterfinal matchups will now be drawn!
[The Second Round — Leo's Turn]
[The names came up on the board, and Leo's platform lit alongside another]
Referee: Quarterfinal match! Leo, level fourteen, no registered magic — versus Corvin Idryss, level twenty-nine, blood-thread magic!
[A ripple of laughter moved through the surrounding contestants.]
[Corvin, stepping into the ring across from him, sized Leo up with open, easy contempt]
Corvin: Level fourteen. No magic. You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking.
Leo: Nope.
Corvin: How did you even get past the entry screening?
Leo: I walked up and signed my name. Nobody stopped me.
[Corvin laughed, shaking his head, blood-thread magic already curling faint red around his fingers.]
Corvin: This is going to be embarrassing for you. I want you to know that going in. I'm not going to hold back just because you're clearly out of your depth.
Leo: I wouldn't want you to.
Corvin: You've got some nerve, at least. I'll give you that before I put you down.
[Leo drew Shatter Nebula, still dimmed to the barest sliver of what it actually was, and settled into a loose, unbothered stance.]
Leo: Whenever you're ready.
[Corvin moved first — threads of crimson magic lashing out fast, aiming to snare Leo's limbs before he could react — and Leo simply stepped through the gaps between them, unhurried, letting the threads pass within inches without ever actually connecting]
Corvin: Hold still—
Leo: I am holding still. Mostly.
[He tapped the flat of Shatter Nebula against one incoming thread, and it simply unraveled — not cut, not burned, just quietly stopped being a coherent spell, the magic dissolving back into ambient nothing.]
[Corvin stared at his own hand]
Corvin: What did you just do?
Leo: Negated it.
Corvin: You can't just — that's not — nobody 'negates' blood-thread magic, it doesn't work that way—
Leo: It just did, though.
[He crossed the distance in two unhurried steps and tapped Corvin lightly on the shoulder with the flat of the blade — not a strike, barely more than a touch — and Corvin's remaining spellwork simply came apart around him, threads dissolving mid-formation.]
[Referee, blinking, checking twice before calling it:]
Referee: M— match to Leo!
[The crowd went dead silent.]
[Up on the dais, Michael leaned toward Fenris, brow furrowed[
Michael: what....He didn't even use magic. He just... touched him.
Fenris: And whatever Corvin was casting just stopped.
Guinn: That's not normal negation. Negation magic still costs something to use. That looked like it cost him nothing at all.
[King Julian, watching closely now, studying Leo with genuine, sharpened interest]
King Julian: Who exactly is this.
Kira: Level fourteen shouldn't be able to do that.
Maya: Level fourteen shouldn't be able to do any of that.
[Leo, sheathing Shatter Nebula, gave the stunned crowd a small, apologetic shrug and returned to his platform, entirely unbothered by the silence he'd left behind.]
[The Quarterfinals — Continuing]
[The remaining quarterfinal matches played out — Selvie's wind currents narrowly overtaking Bram's beast-bond in a long, grinding fight full of near misses on both sides; Isadora's illusions finally failing against Matthew's kinetic bursts, his raw physical force simply too direct for misdirection to fully contain]
[By the end of the round, four remained: Selvie, Matthew, Leo, and a quiet, sharp-eyed fighter named Isolde Renn, whose gravity-warping magic had made short, efficient work of her own opponent]
Referee: Semifinal matchups! Selvie Marchetti versus Isolde Renn! And—
[He glanced at the board, then at Leo, with an expression that had shifted somewhere between disbelief and genuine curiosity.]
Referee: Leo versus Matthew Cray!
[Matthew stepped into the ring, grinning wide, cracking his knuckles[
Matthew: Told you I'd crush you if we ended up matched.
Leo: You did say that.
Matthew: I saw what you did to Corvin. Impressive trick. Doesn't matter, though — kinetic burst isn't a spell you can just 'unravel' from a distance. I hit hard, and I hit fast.
Leo: I believe you.
Matthew: You're taking this awfully calmly for a level fourteen.
Leo: I told you. Good instincts.
[Matthew laughed, settling into a ready stance, genuine excitement in his eyes rather than the earlier mockery.]
Matthew: Alright. No hard feelings either way. Let's see what you've actually got.
Leo: Let's.
[He drew Shatter Nebula again, and this time, almost as an afterthought, reached to his side and let the Kaos star sword materialize alongside it, the second blade glowing faint gold at his hip.]
[The crowd murmured at the sight of a second weapon appearing from nowhere.]
Matthew: Two swords now?
Leo: Figured I'd make it fair.
[Matthew struck first — a burst of kinetic force compressed into a single, blunt punch, air itself cracking with the force behind it — and Leo caught it on Shatter Nebula's flat edge, absorbing the impact without so much as sliding back an inch]
Matthew: You didn't even move.
Leo: It's a good sword.
[He tapped Matthew lightly with the Kaos star sword's edge — the barest fraction of its actual heat, dialed down so far it was closer to warm sunlight than anything resembling its true output — and Matthew stumbled back, staring at his own arm where the light had touched him.]
Matthew: That's — what kind of sword is that?
Leo: Kaos star sword. Generates stars, technically. Can revert death back to life, if you push it hard enough. I'm not pushing it hard right now, obviously.
[He said it lightly, almost apologetically, the way you'd downplay a party trick rather than describe a weapon capable of ending a small planet.]
Matthew: You're— that's not— obviously?! You just said it can revert death.
Leo: I'm using the weakest setting.
Matthew: There's a weakest setting for reverting death?!
[Leo just smiled, and Matthew, despite the growing disbelief on his face, gathered himself and came in again — faster this time, a full combination of kinetic strikes aimed to overwhelm through sheer volume.]
[Leo let three of them land, deliberately, absorbing each one without visible effort, and on the fourth exchange simply reached out and touched two fingers to Matthew's chest]
[The kinetic energy Matthew had been building for his next strike simply stopped existing]
Matthew: —what—
Leo: Negated it again. Sorry.
[Matthew stared down at his own hands, then up at Leo, something between awe and genuine bewilderment crossing his face.]
Matthew: Who are you.
Leo: Level fourteen. No magic. Told you.
Matthew: That is very clearly not true.
Leo: Debatable.
[The referee, watching the exchange with visible hesitation, finally raised a hand.]
Referee: M— match to Leo!
[Up on the dais, the eight Generals had gone entirely silent, watching Leo return to his platform with an expression that gave away nothing at all]
Fenris: He negated Matthew's kinetic burst with two fingers.
Michael: And that second sword. What was that.
[Violet, Divination magic straining hard, brow furrowed in genuine frustration]
Violet: I still can't read him. Nothing. It's like trying to divine the weather inside a closed fist.
Guinn: Level fourteen doesn't do this. Level ninety-eight doesn't do this.
[King Julian, quiet, watching Leo with narrowed, thoughtful eyes]
King Julian: Whoever he is... he's not here by accident.
[Kira leaned toward her father, voice low.]
Kira: Should we be worried?
King Julian: I don't know yet.
[He watched Leo settle back onto his platform, hands tucked back into his pockets, the picture of easy, harmless calm, and felt, despite everything he'd just witnessed, a very specific, very old instinct telling him this was only the beginning of whatever Leo actually was.]
To be continued...