*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
After the battle with the Mind Demon, Leon's consciousness was swallowed whole.
For the readers: Leon was not dead. His soul still clung to existence, but his awareness had been dragged into the demon's inner abyss. His body in the real world still breathed, yet it was no more than an empty shell—a vessel without a driver, unable to move so much as a finger until Leon's will clawed its way back to the surface. There was no fixed time limit, no guaranteed rescue. The longer his consciousness remained sealed, the easier it would be for the Mind Demon's influence to seep into his body and twist it—but for now, even the demon could not seize that body by force.
***
The Mind Demon sat alone in the crumbling darkness of Leon's inner world, one leg casually crossed over the other. His crimson eyes, usually playful and mocking, were narrowed in rare seriousness.
"…Annoying," he muttered. "Even after swallowing the brat's consciousness, I still can't fully take his body."
He tapped a clawed finger against his knee, thinking. Some unseen law wrapped around Leon's flesh, a stubborn boundary that refused to recognize the demon as its rightful owner. He could corrupt, he could whisper, he could poison dreams—but direct control eluded him.
Then a thin smile curled his lips.
"Now that I think about it… that damn brat has a battle ahead of him, doesn't he?"
He tilted his head, as if listening to distant ripples of fate.
"I wonder who his opponent is going to be." His smile sharpened. "Not that I'm even a little interested, of course… but I *would* enjoy watching Leon die to some unknown power."
His expression shifted to bored contempt.
"Well, it's confirmed. I can't take his body… yet. So I'll just rest." He stretched lazily, as if settling in to watch a show. "Someone will come close to that helpless body sooner or later. A blade, a spell, a monster—anything will do. And the brat won't even be able to save himself."
He chuckled, the sound echoing through the broken black world.
"Well then… let's see what happens, kekekeke."
***
While the Mind Demon laughed and waited for Leon's death, Leon's consciousness drifted in a place that wasn't light, shadow, or even true darkness. There was no sky, no ground, no horizon—just endless, suffocating black space.
Leon floated with his eyes closed, weightless and numb.
"How can this be…?" he mumbled. "Was all my training… a waste of time?"
The memories of sleepless nights, blood‑stained hands, and desperate struggles flickered at the edge of his awareness, then faded like smoke.
"How did I lose to a mere demon?" His voice cracked with bitterness. "I thought I would win if I went all out… but I was wrong. So this is how it ends, huh?"
A hollow laugh escaped him.
"I'm going to die by the hands of a parasite hiding in my own head… a mere demon…"
The emptiness pressed closer, inviting him to sink and vanish.
Suddenly, Leon's eyes snapped open.
"I refuse," he whispered. The word shook the stillness.
"I *refuse* to believe I'll die such a pathetic death!"
Rage boiled up from somewhere deep inside him, burning through the numbness.
"I… will… not… die!" His shout tore through the void. "I'm going to survive, no matter what! A mere demon cannot kill me—I refuse to accept it!"
His fingers curled into fists.
"I will become the strongest. That damned demon is nothing more than a stepping stone on my path."
***
Invisible chains coiled around his limbs, his chest, his throat—restrictions left by the Mind Demon to keep him submerged. Every attempt to move felt like pushing against the weight of an ocean. Still, Leon struggled.
He shut his eyes again, not in surrender but in concentration, and forced himself to remember.
The rough feel of his own calloused palms.
The rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears.
The weight of his weapon.
The cold floor beneath his feet.
"That body," he whispered, "is mine."
Threads of pale light slowly appeared in the black space, stretching out into infinity—some bright and taut, others frayed and nearly broken. Instinct told him what they were: his connections to the outside world. His senses. His memories. His emotions.
Leon reached out and grabbed one.
Agony lanced through his mind, as if rusted hooks were tearing at his very soul. The chains tightened, trying to rip his arms off, but he clenched his teeth and refused to let go.
"I don't care how many times I have to pull," he hissed. "I'll drag myself back into that body… even if I have to rip you out by the roots, Mind Demon."
Far away, in the physical world, a single finger on Leon's unmoving hand twitched. It was a tiny, almost invisible motion—far too small for anyone to notice—but it proved one thing: his will had not been devoured.
The Mind Demon might have swallowed his consciousness, but his will refused to be caged.
***
While Leon fought in the unseen depths, the Empire waited under a heavy, breathless sky.
The air above the capital felt wrong. Torches burned lower than they should, as if strangled by invisible hands. Birds refused to fly over the palace. Soldiers on the walls shifted uneasily, fingers tightening around their weapons without knowing why.
Then, without warning, a soundless flash split the heavens. No clouds, no rain—just a spear of white‑blue light that carved a jagged scar across the sky. All the torches in the city flickered at once.
"L‑Lightning?" a guard stammered. "But there's no storm…"
The second flash came with crushing pressure. The sky trembled. Knees buckled as a presence descended—vast, suffocating, divine.
The clouds tore open like shattered glass, and from the wound stepped a figure wrapped in roaring lightning. Bolts coiled around his body like living serpents, each step leaving burning symbols in the air before fading away.
Metal hummed throughout the capital. Spears crackled with stray sparks. Armor plates vibrated, dancing with thin arcs of electricity. The air smelled of ozone and distant rain.
"T‑That aura…" an old archmage whispered, pupils shrinking.
"God of Lightning," a priestess breathed, half‑kneeling, voice torn between awe and terror.
Last time, the Empire had only brushed against a distant projection of this being—a fragment of will, a shadow tossed down from on high. But the presence pressing down on them now carried true **weight**. Every living creature felt it in their bones: this was not an avatar, not a mirage, but the god's main body walking the mortal sky.
For a single heartbeat, silence consumed the Empire. One shared, instinctive thought crossed countless minds:
*If he wished it, our city would vanish in a single bolt.*
High above, the God of Lightning's gaze slowly shifted, turning toward a distant point—toward the place where Leon's unconscious body lay. Lightning swirled in his eyes like twin storms.
"So," he murmured, his voice like distant thunder rolling over the land, "the boy has already fallen this far."
Deep inside the black space, Leon's grip on the glowing thread tightened until it bit into his spectral palm.
I will stand again, he swore in the silence. No god, no demon, no fate will decide my end but me.
***
**Author's Note:**
Leon just lost his first real battle against himself—his consciousness is swallowed, his body is a helpless shell, and even a god is now walking the sky above him. Do you think he'll break under what the Mind Demon said… or turn that hatred into fuel and climb back anyway?
If you made it this far, drop "I will stand again" in the comments, or write one brutal line you'd want the Mind Demon to whisper in Leon's ear next time. Your ideas and reactions really help shape how this whole inner‑demon arc evolves.