He was right.
The earth obeyed the guardian—rising, reshaping, sealing off every exit. The Hollow itself had joined the fight.
Leon leapt onto a rising platform as the guardian approached again. This time it slammed a fist down and sent chunks of stone flying like shrapnel.
Leon cut through two—danced past the third—then launched himself toward the core embedded in its chest.
Just as he reached it—
Stone erupted from the guardian's back, forming a shield.
He was thrown off.
Slammed hard into a pillar.
But he stood.
Blood ran down his brow.
His legs shook.
And still, he raised his blade.
"Try again," he growled.
Then, from deep inside, something answered.
The ground beneath him rumbled—not from the guardian.
From himself.
The flame mark on his arm ignited.
The wind mark shimmered.
And now, a third mark—a cracked stone ring—glowed faintly around his wrist.
He didn't understand how.
Only that the earth recognized his will.
And it accepted him.
