Jas stood frozen, his eyes locked on the markings carved into the wall. His chest rose and fell sharply, disbelief painting his features. Arts, actual arts, inscribed right there before him. His voice ca out low, almost reverent, "Was it... the Lord’s clone that did this?"
He didn’t linger on the question. Deep down, he already knew the answer. Only Leon could have left such a gift behind. Jas stepped closer, his gaze tracing the etchings, the strokes that seed almost alive with intent. I wonder what grade it is... he thought, awe and curiosity wrestling within him.
"Captain," Carl’s voice broke the silence, urgent. "There’s more here."
Jas’s head snapped around, his heart kicking in his chest. He strode to where Carl stood and froze again. Another art. Entirely separate, yet just as profound. The thought that struck him next felt impossible, and yet the evidence spread before him left no room for denial.
Slowly, Jas pressed his palms together. The fireball in his hand flickered and died, plunging the chamber into darkness. Carl shifted uneasily behind him, but Jas shut his eyes and began an incantation in a language Carl didn’t recognize, the syllables rolling off his tongue like whispers from an ancient ti.
When he opened his eyes, the chamber blood with light. Countless specks of fla floated into the air, scattering across the room like stars cast against a night sky. The glow revealed everything the fireball could not, and both n’s eyes widened.
Every wall, every surface, was covered. Arts, dozens of them, each form profound, each stroke precise. It was as if Leon had poured out an entire lifeti of mastery into this hidden chamber.
Carl’s voice trembled as he spoke. "How... how can one person know so many arts?"
Jas didn’t answer. His throat was too tight, his thoughts too tangled. He already knew the truth. A professional could only impart an art if they had mastered it themselves. And the sheer number here ant Leon, their Lord had grasped far more than any man his age had a right to.
Jas blinked rapidly, his vision blurring. His eyes burned, moisture threatening to spill. His voice cracked with quiet devotion as he whispered, "Even in your absence... you still look after us."
"Captain," Carl’s voice ca again, softer this ti. He pointed to a corner of the wall where the script shifted. This wasn’t an art. It was a note.
Jas stepped closer, his breath held.
The world requires power for one to survive in it, so I left you a ans to achieve that power.
The words were blunt, straightforward, and utterly Leon. Always direct. Always cutting past anything unnecessary.
Jas lowered his head, bowing to the writing as though it were Leon himself standing there. His voice rang with solemnity, steady despite the swell of emotion inside him. "Thank you"
Then he turned to Carl, who still stood in shock. "Get the others here. We have a lot to do."
Carl nodded sharply. "Yes, Captain." He hurried out, his footsteps echoing as he vanished up the stairway, leaving Jas alone with the glowing chamber.
Jas stood silently, his eyes sweeping across the walls, across the future written into stone by their Lord’s hand. A future not just for him, not just for the squad, but for all of Shantel.
And he knew, they had been entrusted with sothing that could change everything.
****
Outside the manor, the people of Shantel had gathered. Whispers carried through the crowd, nervous and restless. They had all heard it, the distant roar of battle, the earth-shaking chaos that erupted deep in the forest. Even from so far away, the signs of devastation were clear. Yet none of it had reached them. Their hos stood untouched, their families unhard. For that, there was only one explanation.
Their new lord.
Leon.
"I wonder why we were called here..." one man muttered.
"Maybe the Lord wishes to explain what happened there"
"Hah. Why would soone like him waste ti with us commoners?"
The words drew a small hush, though not from fear, more from disapproval. Then, a lighter, smaller voice broke through. "Excuse ..."
A young boy stood near the front, his hand clutched tightly in his mother’s grasp. Pascal. If Leon had been there, he would have recognized the boy instantly. Samantha, his mother, held his shoulder protectively, but her son’s eyes were steady as he looked toward the crowd.
"Lord Leon would never disregard his followers," Pascal said firmly, his voice carrying more weight than his years. "No matter how powerful he becos, he will always remain benevolent."
The scoffing man sneered. "And how would a child like you know that?"
Pascal didn’t flinch. "Because the Lord rescued himself."
The answer silenced the man. A murmur spread through the crowd, but before anyone else could speak, the manor doors groaned open.
Every neck craned. Expectation filled the air, hearts beating faster. Surely, surely it would be him.
But it wasn’t.
Jas stepped out, flanked by his squad. The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Excitent dulled into disappointnt, the faces of many—especially Pascal, falling as if a fla had been snuffed out.
Jas drew in a breath, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat. "Ahem." The murmuring stilled. Dozens of eyes fixed on him. He felt the weight of it, their silent plea for reassurance.
And then he spoke.
"Lord Leon... is no longer with us."
****
The courtyard of the manor fell utterly silent as Jas’s words rang out.
"Lord Leon is no longer with us."
For a breath, no one moved. It was as if ti itself had stopped. Then, a single voice shattered the stillness.
"What!?"
Ironically, it ca from the very man who had scoffed earlier, the one who claid Leon wouldn’t bother with commoners. His face drained of color, his voice cracked, and the strong front he had worn crumbled in an instant.
His fear spread like wildfire. Murmurs turned to panicked chatter, and soon the air was choked with questions.
"What happened!?"
"Is this even possible?"
"A Rank Six professional—how could he just...?"
The disbelief was heavy, almost suffocating. Their Lord had been untouchable in their eyes, the one who had stood against the abomination without hesitation. To imagine him gone now was like imagining the sky itself falling.
Jas clenched his jaw, realizing too late how his choice of words had struck them. He raised his voice over the growing unease. "Not like that!"
The crowd quieted just enough for him to continue. His tone steadied, though the weight in his chest did not ease.as he explained everything.
Relief flickered in so faces at the thought he hadn’t been slain, but it quickly soured into fresh unease. Gone was gone. Whether by death or any other ans, the truth remained the sa: Leon was no longer with them.
Mothers pulled their children closer. Farrs exchanged grim looks. Pascal’s small hand tightened around his mother’s, his wide eyes searching Jas’s face for so hint of hope.
But Jas had none to give.
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