Leo kept his eyes closed. For a moment, he pretended nothing had happened the night before. He just felt warm, comfortable, and safe.
Then his body reminded him. Every muscle still ached, his shoulders throbbed where he'd carried the wounded students, his legs felt like lead, even breathing hurt slightly—ribs bruised from.
He sat up slowly, wincing, looking around his room, everything exactly as he'd left it before collapsing last night: clean, quiet, untouched by the violence that had consumed the capital.
Outside his window, the city sprawled in morning light. From this distance, he could see the damage, smoke still rising from a few buildings, sections of the Grand Arena visible even from here—scaffolding already going up, workers moving like ants across the structures.
The empire didn't waste any time.
Someone knocked on the door. Leo called out, and a servant entered with water and simple food.
