Leon stood in the grand throne room of Eldoria, flanked by the adventurers of The Crimson Vow. The atmosphere was thick with expectation, the nobles and knights in attendance murmuring among themselves as King Edric sat atop his ornate throne. A regal figure clad in deep blue and gold, his presence commanded both respect and authority. This was meant to be a ceremony of recognition—a celebration of their victory over the demon commander. Leon, however, felt uneasy.
Darius and his party stood tall beside him, each exuding quiet confidence. They had earned this moment. Their bravery and skill had saved countless lives, and now they were to receive their rewards. The anticipation built as the king's attendants presented them with magnificent weapons—each one surpassing their previous armaments in quality and craftsmanship. Gaius received a reforged shield imbued with elemental magic, Lyra a set of enchanted daggers, Selene a wand that hummed with latent power, and Iris a staff pulsing with divine energy. Darius, their leader, was bestowed a new sword, its blade shimmering with arcane runes.
Then, it was Leon's turn.
He stepped forward, expecting a weapon like the others. Instead, a hush fell over the room as the king's attendants led forth a figure—a young girl. She looked younger than him, her frail form wrapped in ragged, bloodstained clothes. Pale skin, golden-brown eyes devoid of life, and an eerily beautiful face ruined only by the emptiness within it. Dried blood clung to her torn garments, her body marked with faint bruises. A heavy iron collar encircled her neck, a single chain hanging limply from it.
Leon's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat.
The king's voice rang through the chamber. "Leon, for your contribution to Eldoria's victory, I present to you this girl. She is a rare find—an exceptional slave with both Arcane and Divine magic. A treasure beyond value."
The words barely registered. Leon could only stare at the girl, horrified. His mind screamed in protest. This wasn't a reward. This was a mockery of everything he believed in. His hands clenched into fists, his body trembling as he looked around the room, searching for a sign of outrage, of resistance—anything. But all he found were indifferent expressions. Acceptance.
His voice broke through the stunned silence. "Are you serious?"
The murmurs stopped. The air grew tense.
Leon took a step forward, his anger boiling over. "You call this a gift? A person? A child?" His voice rose, his fury unrestrained. "You're sick! Every last one of you!"
The nobles gasped in shock. A knight gripped his sword.
Darius turned to him sharply. "Leon—"
"No!" Leon snapped, his voice raw with emotion. "Don't tell me to calm down! You're all okay with this? With treating her like an object? Like property?" His gaze swept over the room, finding only disdain, amusement, or blank indifference. "This is disgusting. You're no better than the demons you fight."
Gasps filled the room. The hostility toward him grew palpable. More than one knight reached for their weapons. To insult the king and his court so openly was an unforgivable offense.
The Crimson Vow stood frozen, clearly torn. Darius opened his mouth to protest, but the look Leon shot him stopped him cold. The betrayal Leon felt was unbearable. He had respected them, even admired them. And yet they stood there, silent. Complicit.
Before he could shout again, the king raised his hand. The room fell silent.
King Edric regarded Leon carefully. Then, he spoke. "Leon, you are from another world. A world without war. A world without slaves. I understand your anger, and I do not judge you for it." His voice was calm, unwavering. "But you forget—this is not your world. You do not set the rules here."
Leon seethed but said nothing.
The king's tone hardened. "You have two choices. One, you accept the girl and continue your journey to Solmaria, the Holy Kingdom, with The Silver Vanguard and your new ally. Two, you refuse—" he paused, letting the weight of his words settle, "—and she will be sold to fund the reconstruction of Eldoria. A rare dual-caster fetches a high price."
Leon's breath hitched. His stomach twisted. His mind screamed in denial. How could he? How could he choose? His hands shook at his sides, his vision clouded with rage and despair. The sheer cruelty of the king's words threatened to push him past the edge.
The air grew heavy. The room dimmed. Leon's anger manifested into something tangible—a suffocating pressure. His katana, sheathed at his side, glowed a deep, ominous red. The knights around him struggled to breathe, some collapsing to one knee. Even the nobles paled, fear creeping into their expressions. Only King Edric, Alden, The Crimson Vow, and the girl remained unaffected.
Leon didn't care. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't.
He took a step forward—
"Please stop," a small voice cut through the tension.
Leon froze.
He looked down at the girl. For the first time, her dull golden-brown eyes met his. They were no longer empty. They held pain. Suffering. Fear.
"It hurts," she whispered.
Leon felt his soul crack.
His aura vanished. The room was silent once more. The knights exhaled in relief, but Leon barely noticed them. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his fists unclenching. He felt sick. His anger, his rage—it had only frightened her more. He was no better than the people in this room.
He exhaled shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. "…Fine."
The king nodded in satisfaction. As if nothing had happened, he continued, "Then it is decided. Leon and The Crimson Vow shall depart for Solmaria in four days. There, you will assist in the defence against the demons."
Leon didn't respond. He barely heard him. His eyes remained fixed on the girl—his ally, as the king had called her. A girl who had lost everything. A girl who had been forced into slavery. A girl who, despite her silence, had more strength than anyone in this room.
His fingers curled into his palm. He made a silent vow.
No matter what it took, he would set her free.
And he would burn this system to the ground.
As the nobles murmured amongst themselves and the knights shifted uneasily, Leon barely noticed. The weight of his decision pressed upon him like a stone. He wasn't just accepting an ally—he was chaining himself to a war far greater than the one against the demons. A war against a world that had long accepted cruelty as its foundation.
The girl lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable. But Leon swore he saw a flicker—an ember of something long lost.
Hope.
*
*
*
The throne room of Eldoria was filled with tension so thick it could choke the air itself. The nobles whispered in disbelief, knights shifted uneasily, and the king sat firm in his command. But above them, unseen by mortal eyes, a presence lurked in the darkness.
A shadow.
It clung to the ceiling, woven into the very fabric of the void, watching, listening. Its task was simple: observe. Nothing more. Nothing less. And yet, what it witnessed this day had been far beyond what it had expected.
Leon.
The so-called hero of this world had reacted with nothing short of sheer rage when presented with his so-called gift. He had lashed out, his words dripping with venom, his heart burning with an anger that nearly set the room ablaze. But what had truly drawn the shadow's attention was the power that came with his fury.
The moment Leon's emotions had reached their peak, the air around him had changed. A deep, crushing force had spread throughout the chamber, suffocating all those too weak to withstand it. The nobles had gasped, their breaths stolen from their very lungs. The knights, men hardened by war, had nearly collapsed under its weight.
Only a select few had stood unshaken—King Edric, the knight captain Alden, the adventurers of The Crimson Vow, and the girl. But it had not been their resilience that intrigued the shadow.
It had been his.
Leon's katana had glowed. No—it had burned. A deep crimson light, unnatural and alive, pulsed from the blade's core, mirroring the storm in its wielder's soul. The shadow had seen weapons of great power before, weapons forged in ancient times, weapons that carried curses or blessings beyond mortal comprehension. And yet, this was different.
What exactly was that sword?
More importantly—what was this hero?
The shadow now understood why the Demon Lord was so intrigued by him. His emotions, his strength, his presence—it was unnatural. The power within him had yet to bloom fully, and if left to grow, it would become something either awe-inspiring or catastrophic.
The shadow remained silent in its thoughts, even as the room's tension faded. Leon, broken by his forced choice, had finally relented. His power had faded, his aura had disappeared, and as he left the throne room with bitter silence, the shadow followed unseen.
For the first time, it questioned its orders.
Should it kill him now?
The thought lingered. Ending his life now would be simple. A single strike from the dark would remove this variable before it could become a threat. It would be a mercy, even. He was still weak. Still vulnerable.
But to do so would mean disobeying the Demon Lord's command.
No, that was not an option. It would observe. It would learn. It would follow him, just as commanded. And there was another order the shadow had been given—one it had not fully understood before now.
The Demon Lord had tasked it with finding others.
At first, the shadow had assumed this meant more warriors, more champions—perhaps even more heroes. But now, clarity dawned.
Leon was something different, something new. And if he existed… then perhaps others of his kind existed as well.
It was an old truth that beings of similar power found one another, whether by fate or by sheer inevitability. Power called to power. And now, the shadow saw the greater purpose of its mission. By watching Leon, by following his path, it would not only study him—it would find more like him.
The Demon Lord had foreseen this.
The shadow did not question its master's wisdom further. It had its orders, and now it understood them. The hunt had begun.
As Leon disappeared down the corridor, his fists clenched in silent fury, the shadow melted into the darkness once more.
And it watched.