Leon plunged fearlessly into the center of the Bahamut legion. His swordsmanship was relentlessly aggressive. For him, defense, offense, even momentary stillness, were merely preludes to another devastating attack.
Using Apocalypse as an anchor, he vaulted high above the battlefield, landing atop a towering Bahamut’s crown. With practiced precision, he spun his blade once before driving it deep into the creature’s skull, then surveyed the surrounding horde from his elevated position.
His goal was to shatter their perfect formation completely. The Bahamut collective shared a crucial weakness—when forced from their assigned positions, they were momentarily vulnerable. Leon possessed the uncanny talent to exploit these fleeting openings, transforming them into opportunities for wholesale slaughter.
In mere heartbeats, more than a dozen Bahamut heads were separated from their bodies. The stench of blood filled the air.
How many have I killed? How much longer can I hold out? Will I have time to return to Veronica before I die?
Amid the brutal carnage, these questions grew distant. The killing intent surging through his veins whispered seductive commands to fight, kill, and rage until his soul was torn asunder.
His sword arm and legs grew unnaturally light as the battle raged on—a telltale sign of his holy power draining away. Though fully aware of this dangerous symptom, Leon pressed forward without hesitation. In truth, he had crossed the threshold where stopping was no longer possible.
This was his most devastating rampage since watching his comrades fall at Tyran and since witnessing the First Bahamut devour Veronica. His reckless advance had purpose—to reach the suspicious void at the legion’s center. Among the Bahamuts’ obsessively maintained formation, a space large enough for a single person stood out as unnaturally empty. Leon believed with certainty that this void marked Its position.
As his sword strikes reached their zenith of power, Leon kicked off from the ground and hurled himself toward that empty heart, thrusting Apocalypse into what should have been the most protected position in the entire formation.
In that moment, Apocalypse—which had not ceased its deadly dance since the battle commenced—froze mid-strike.
His black cloak settled around him.
A deathly silence descended.
At the gleaming tip of his blood-drenched blade stood a woman, naked and unafraid. Leon stood transfixed, his voice barely a whisper. “…Veronica?”
The nude figure showed no reaction even as the divine sword hovered a hair’s breadth from her forehead. The blade that had been slowly descending toward her throat halted suddenly.
“You can never kill it.”
Leon‘s eyes widened with dawning horror. The moment comprehension bloomed across his features, It lifted the corners of its borrowed mouth into a smile. Before Leon could react, a Bahamut flanking him seized his throat and slammed him violently against a cave pillar.
His heart thundered in his chest as the creature’s grip crushed his windpipe. With one desperate swing of Apocalypse, he severed the arm restraining him and crashed to the floor alongside the dismembered limb. With a blood-flecked cough tearing from his throat, he immediately cleaved through the leg of another approaching Bahamut.
Blood cascaded down his chin after a moment’s respite. He coughed and let out a bitter laugh.
“Damn it all…”
I had resolved to die with her, he thought grimly. If her will was strong enough to hold steel to her own throat, I’d rather slay the First Bahamut myself and perish in her embrace. At least then I could spare her the burden of dealing with that abomination.
And yet…
He had been insufferably arrogant. Who was he to entertain the thought of ending her life?
Leon slowly raised his head. Veronica’s face loomed above him—a beauty so cruelly innocent it stole his breath. Regardless of her origins, she had always been the most noble and radiant being in his eyes, so transcendent that a tainted soul like himself dared not even lift a finger in her presence.
If I survive this—what had he intended to confess afterward? Even he couldn’t recall. His lips curved into a sardonic smile.
“Why do you smile?”
It trampled over brittle bones as it approached, words flowing from Veronica’s lips, in Veronica’s voice. Leon wasn’t surprised, but he understood why she had been so terrified. It had the same face as Veronica but alien expressions—the same voice but the wrong cadence. Its mimicry only made the creature more grotesque.
Leon planted his divine sword in the ground and rose to his feet. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s smiling even more widely than me.”
“Someone?”
“Would you prefer I address you as ‘monster?’”
The creature tilted its head at an unnatural angle. Its gleaming crimson eyes overflowed with unholy ecstasy. Seemingly pleased, it readily offered an answer.
“I smile because I’m happy. I’ll finally kill you, then she’ll become my family.”
As Leon fully straightened his frame, the creature became something he had to look down upon. He stared downward and muttered, “Family, is it?”
To his adversary, Leon probably appeared to stand alone. But solitude was an illusion. Throughout the battle, the ghosts of his brothers had fought alongside him. Leon raised his head and gazed upon the spectral visages of his fallen family from Tyran.
He could see Walter, who had continued swinging his blade even as he dragged his mangled body forward after his leg was torn asunder. He had sung hymns until his final breath before being consumed by the quicksand.
And what of Melusine beside him? He’d been a devoted husband who penned heartfelt letters to his beloved wife every night, but the final correspondence dispatched from the southern front had contained only news of his valiant end. The woman who had eagerly awaited the courier’s arrival must have wept bitter tears upon hearing of his fate.
Ah, and one mustn’t forget portly Gustav, who had been dispatched to uphold the marquis’s ancient honor. He’d been a coward who had soiled his bedsheets the eve before battle, yet in the end, he fought with unmatched bravery for his sworn brother Maximilian before falling to enemy claws. They had all been his brothers-in-arms and cherished family.
Leon, orphaned and alone, had discovered in adulthood brothers he wouldn’t trade for all the kingdoms of the world. Blood relation or shared species wasn’t what forged family bonds. When humans truly understand and love another soul, they become bound by ties stronger than any bloodline. That sacred connection was the divine blessing the Creator had bestowed upon the creatures of this mortal realm.
So in Leon’s heart, he knew with certainty that the Bahamut—unable to comprehend Veronica’s anguish—didn’t know what love really meant.
“What’s so amusing?” It suddenly inquired.
It seemed Leon had been laughing aloud without realizing it. After committing his comrades’ faces to memory one final time, he slowly turned his steely gaze toward the creature.
“Just that your argument is weaker than I expected, considering how you destroyed other people’s families to get here.”
At his blatantly mocking tone, the corners of the creature’s mouth twisted downward. Leon, in contrast, curved his lips into a knowing smile and met Its gaze with cold eyes.
“Are you that lonely?” Leon whispered with the confidence of a victor. “Do you want Veronica’s love? Does the mere glimpse of love I’ve experienced drive you to madness with envy? But unfortunately, Veronica will never love you—not even if you kill me right now.”