The city fell quiet again.
The orc corpses were gone—dragged away by Shadow, dissolved into blood and shadow until only dark stains remained. The power from the warlord still lingered in my veins, heavy and slow.
Mara broke the silence.
"You didn't warn me," she said.
I glanced at her. "About the orcs?"
"No," she said. "About you."
I turned fully this time.
She wasn't angry. Not afraid either. Just tense—like someone standing too close to a cliff they hadn't noticed before.
"You drank him," she said quietly. "That wasn't normal System behavior."
I shrugged. "It worked."
"That's not what I mean," she snapped—then caught herself. "I've seen blood skills before. Vampiric traits. Even cursed contracts. None of them felt like that."
I stepped closer. She didn't retreat, but her hand tightened around her dagger.
"You enjoyed it," she said.
I didn't deny it.
"…You're changing," she continued. "And I need to know how much."
The System pulsed faintly, amused.
"Enough to survive," I said.
Her eyes searched my face, looking for something—hesitation, guilt, instability.
She found nothing.
"You're choosing this path," she said slowly. "Whatever it turns you into."
"Yes."
She exhaled, rubbing her temples. "I agreed to protection. Not to standing next to something that scares even the System."
I met her gaze. "You're alive."
"That's not reassurance," she replied.
Silence stretched.
Then she asked the real question.
"If heroes come," she said, "and they decide you're a problem… what happens to the people near you?"
I answered without pause.
"Anyone standing too close chose that risk."
She flinched—not physically, but internally. I could feel it.
The System chimed softly.
"…You're dangerous," she said at last.
I nodded once. "Yes."
She studied me for a long moment.
"Then I'm staying," she said. "For now."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because if someone like you is going to exist," she said quietly, "I want to understand how."
A reasonable answer.
"As long as you remember," I said, turning away, "understanding doesn't mean control."
She followed anyway.
Shadow tightened in my shadow, pleased.
She didn't know about the man yet.
That was fine.
Some truths were better revealed when they could no longer be undone.
The pressure hit before I saw him.
Not killing intent. Not bloodlust.
Conviction.
The air felt heavier, like the world itself was leaning in his favor. Even Shadow stiffened in my shadow, instincts screaming.
Mara stopped walking.
"…He's here," she whispered.
I didn't need to ask who.
A figure stepped into the open street ahead of us.
White and gold armor, unmarred by blood or dirt. A long spear rested casually in his hand, its tip glowing with soft, radiant light. His presence was calm—too calm—like the eye of a storm that had never known doubt.
The Paragon.
His eyes locked onto mine instantly.
"So," he said, voice warm and steady. "You're the disturbance."
Mara sucked in a breath. "Paragon—wait—"
He raised a hand gently. "Step back, citizen. This doesn't concern you."
I smiled faintly.
He didn't look at her again.
That told me everything.
"You're wrong," I said. "It concerns anyone who still believes in you."
His gaze sharpened. "You've been killing monsters without restraint. Corrupting the System. Twisting power meant to protect humanity."
I tilted my head. "And you've been cleaning up the mess after heroes fail."
A murmur ran through the air—approval from the System itself.
The Paragon sighed. "You don't have to do this."
I drew my sword.
"I already am."
He moved first.
Not fast—inevitable.
The spear struck like judgment itself, forcing me back three steps as light exploded on impact. My arms screamed. My feet dug trenches into the asphalt.
Strong.
Very strong.
I countered, slashing low. He blocked effortlessly, spinning the shaft and driving the butt into my ribs.
Pain flared.
Good.
"Bloodlust Strike."
Wrath surged. I pressed in, faster now, stronger, blade screaming as it clashed against radiant steel. Sparks flew. The street cracked beneath our feet.
He frowned.
"You're using sin," he said. "You don't even deny it."
"Why would I?" I replied, slashing again. "It works."
He struck back harder.
Light burned across my shoulder, flesh screaming as holy energy tore through skin.
Mara screamed my name.
I laughed through the pain and lunged.
For the first time—
He stepped back.
Just one step.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
I felt it then—the gap.
Not in strength.
In belief.
He fought to protect an idea.
I fought to win.
I feinted left, then drove my blade into the ground, ripping up a wave of blood-soaked debris with Blood Manipulation. The Paragon leapt back, cloak torn, light flaring defensively.
I didn't pursue.
Instead, I met his eyes.
"You can't kill me," I said calmly. "Not without proving the world wrong."
His jaw tightened.
"And you can't defeat me," he replied. "Not yet."
We both knew it.
Silence fell.
The System chimed softly.
The Paragon lowered his spear—slowly.
"This isn't over," he said. "I will stop you."
I nodded once. "You'll try."
He glanced briefly at Mara—hesitation flickering for half a second—then turned and walked away, light fading with each step.
When he was gone, my legs finally gave.
I caught myself on my sword.
Mara rushed to me. "Leon—are you insane?! That was him!"
I wiped blood from my mouth, grinning.
"He bleeds," I said. "That's all I needed to know."
Behind us, deep beneath the city, the dungeon pulsed.
The king had been acknowledged.
And the war had finally begun.
The streets were eerily quiet after the confrontation. The Paragon had left, radiating that impossible aura of conviction and strength—but I didn't care. Not yet.
Mara followed closely, keeping her distance but moving with ease. She didn't speak. I didn't need her to.
"Back to the dungeon," I said, voice low. Shadow melted into the darkness at my feet.
She glanced at me. "You mean… that place?"
"Yes." I gestured vaguely toward the city outskirts. "My home. My… base of operations. You'll see soon enough."
The closer we got, the heavier the air felt. Magic and monster mana pulsed faintly from the ground, a low hum that seemed to reverberate through my bones. The dungeon's presence had grown stronger, and every step toward it reminded me why I'd chosen it as my refuge.
Mara didn't say a word, but I could feel her eyes on me, curious, wary, and maybe—just maybe—afraid. Good. She should be.
We arrived at the entrance, the gaping maw of darkness yawning before us. Shadow slipped ahead and disappeared into the shadows inside, moving like a phantom.
I turned to Mara. "Stay close. Don't touch anything unless I say so."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Understood. But why bring me here at all?"
"Because," I said, stepping inside, the cold, damp air of the dungeon brushing against my skin, "you need to understand where power comes from. And if you're going to stick around, you need to respect it."
She followed silently, and I let the darkness swallow us. The dungeon stretched before me like a living thing: walls pulsing faintly, corridors shifting subtly, the air thick with untapped energy.
I stopped at the central chamber, where the remnants of the serpent's presence lingered. Shadow curled along the floor beside me, waiting.
"This is home now," I said. "And from here… the world will bend."
Mara's eyes scanned everything, absorbing the scale and the raw danger. "You really live here," she whispered.
"Yes," I replied. "And I always will. Everything else is temporary. Everything else dies. You'll see soon enough."
The System pulsed in response.
And in the darkness, Shadow's eyes glimmered like twin embers, waiting for the next command.