The sword in Leon's hand felt heavier than it should.
Not from weight—but from expectation.
He stood at the center of the lower training hall, stripped down to a sleeveless tunic. The faint scent of oil and steel filled the underground chamber, where only torches lit the walls and iron racks bristled with blunted weapons.
And yet, what Leon held wasn't blunted.
It gleamed. Razor-sharp. Forged from true shadowsteel.
This was no mock bout.
Elric's voice echoed from the steps above. "Today, Cohort Seven will be observed. One-on-one duels. Real weapons. No intervention."
His words weren't for Leon. They were for the other students filtering into the gallery—their boots clicking against stone as they took their seats.
From where he stood, Leon spotted Rellan. Already leaning forward with his chin propped on his knuckles.
And beside him—
Emily. Her expression unreadable.
Then the steps behind Leon creaked.
His opponent had arrived.
