They walked ahead of me.
Not deliberately, I think. More like… instinctively. Two men who'd spent days flanking Leonhart like muscle memory suddenly didn't know where to place themselves around me.
So Kael took the left, Zeref the right, both a few steps forward, both pretending very hard that this was normal.
It was not normal.
I followed behind, trying to look dignified. Trying being the keyword.
My longsword swayed against my back with every step, the familiar weight still perfectly balanced stat-wise, but the fit?
Absolutely criminal.
The armor plates knocked softly against each other, not heavy, just… wrong. Like borrowing clothes from someone a foot taller and pretending tailoring was optional.
Note to self: armor does not magically resize for personal growth arcs.
We were almost at the church doors when it happened.
My boot caught on something. Or maybe the greave lagged. Or maybe the universe just hates me.
