Kuroka woke up drenched in sweat.
Her heart pounded. Her breathing came in sharp gasps. The sheets tangled around her legs.
A nightmare.
She'd had a nightmare.
She couldn't remember much. Just fragments. Flashes. Her sister's face twisted in pain. Blood. Darkness. That awful feeling of losing Shirone all over again.
Kuroka sat up quickly, her eyes wide. Her ears twitched, searching for sounds.
"Leon?" she called softly.
No answer.
She looked around the room. His room. His bed.
Empty.
She was alone.
Where was he? He'd been holding her when she fell asleep. His warmth, his scent, his steady heartbeat against her cheek. All of it had finally let her rest after crying for so long.
Now he was gone.
"Leon?" she called again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Kuroka pushed the sheets aside and stood.
Maybe he was in the bathroom. Or downstairs getting water.
She moved toward the door, her bare feet silent on the floor. Her hand reached for the handle.
Then she felt it.
An overwhelming pressure crashed down on her like a tidal wave. Her knees buckled. She dropped hard, palms hitting the floor. The impact jarred her wrists, but the pain was nothing compared to the weight crushing her from all sides.
"What...?" she gasped.
The pressure intensified. Every breath became a struggle. Her arms shook as she tried to push herself up. Failed. Her cheek pressed against the cool floor.
But the aura felt familiar.
She knew this presence. This power.
Leon.
This was Leon's aura.
But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She'd felt his power before. Felt the steady, controlled strength that radiated from him like warmth from the sun. This was different. This was raw. Unrestrained. And beneath that crushing weight, she felt something that made her blood run cold.
Rage.
Pure, cold, focused rage.
The kind that promised violence. Promised destruction.
Leon was angry. No. Angry was too small a word.
Leon was furious.
"What happened?" Kuroka whispered, her voice shaking.
Her mind raced. What could make him this angry?
Her heart stuttered.
Shirone.
Did something happen to Shirone?
Fear shot through her chest. Sharp and cold and paralyzing.
No. No, no, no.
Her sister had run off earlier. Hurt and angry and alone. And now Leon's aura felt like this. Like he was about to tear the world apart.
"Shirone," Kuroka breathed.
She gritted her teeth and tried to stand. Her legs refused to cooperate. The pressure pinned her down like invisible chains.
"Come on," she hissed at herself. "Move. Move!"
Her muscles strained. Her whole body shook with effort.
She managed to get one knee under her. Then the other. Her hands pressed flat against the floor. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up to a kneeling position.
Sweat dripped down her face. Her breathing came in ragged gasps.
But she was up.
Sort of.
The pressure still bore down on her. Still made every movement feel like wading through mud. But she could move.
She had to move.
Kuroka fought against the pressure. Each movement felt like pushing through concrete. Her muscles screamed. Her bones ached. But she kept going.
One step. Then another.
She stumbled outside. Her legs wobbled. Her cat ears pressed flat against her head from the weight of his aura.
Then she looked up.
And froze.
Miles away. High in the air. She saw him.
Leon.
But he didn't look like Leon anymore.
Flames surrounded him. Golden. Bright. Intense. They wrapped around his body like living things. Like a sun had been born in the night sky.
The fire blazed so bright she could see him clearly despite the distance. Every detail. The golden armor covering his body. The way the flames flickered and danced. The sheer power radiating from him.
He looked like a god.
No. He looked like something beyond that.
A mini sun floating in the darkness. Burning. Raging. Ready to destroy anything in his path.
Kuroka's breath caught in her throat.
"Leon," she whispered.
The flames pulsed. Grew brighter. Hotter.
Even from here, she felt the heat. Felt the rage pouring off him in waves.
Whatever happened. Whoever made him this angry.
They were going to die.
=====
"Where is he?!" Mishima roared, his voice echoing through the monastery halls.
Valper froze, confusion washing over his face. Who? He? What did Mishima mean?
His mind instantly jumped to Loki. Had that bastard done something without telling him?
"Did he do something?" Valper muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Goddammit.
This wasn't in the plan. Not at all.
The plan was for him to finish the experiments before Loki made any move on Mishima or anyone he cared about. Everything had been carefully calculated, meticulously arranged.
And now this? Now Mishima was here, radiating fury and power that made the very air heavy around them?
Valper's assistant backed away, clipboard clattering to the floor as he struggled to breathe under the oppressive aura filling the room.
"Sir?" the assistant gasped. "What do we do?"
But Valper knew. He knew there was nothing they could do. Not against Leon Mishima.
Not when he looked like that—eyes cold as ice, rage barely contained beneath the surface.
They were all going to die here.
"Goddammit," Valper cursed under his breath.
Before he could say more, the air around him shimmered—a sensation like being pulled inside out—and suddenly he was standing directly in front of Leon Mishima.
A hand shot out, impossibly fast, closing around his throat. Valper's feet dangled above the ground as Leon lifted him effortlessly.
"Where. Is. He?" Leon hissed, each word dripping with cold fury.
Valper struggled for breath, his face reddening. The grip wasn't tight enough to crush his windpipe—no, Leon wanted him conscious. Wanted him to answer.
Behind them, through the open doorway, Valper could see flames erupting. Screams echoed through the monastery halls as fire consumed everything—his assistant, his test subjects, his life's work. All of it turned to ash in seconds.
Years of research. Gone. The modified exorcists. Gone. Every specimen. Every experiment. Every hope of vindication.
Gone.
Valper's eyes bulged, not just from the choking but from the crushing despair that washed over him. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd sacrificed for... reduced to nothing in moments.
"Tell me where Loki is," Leon demanded, his voice eerily calm now. The contrast with the inferno raging around them made it all the more terrifying.
Valper's lips curled into a defiant snarl. Even with his life's work destroyed, even with death staring him in the face, his pride remained. He'd rather die than give Leon what he wanted.
Leon's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't matter if you tell me or not," he said softly.
"I can take it directly from your mind."
A cold sensation spread through Valper's skull as Leon's consciousness invaded his own, rifling through memories and knowledge without permission or mercy.
Valper's face contorted in fresh horror. Not just at the violation, but at the realization of what Leon would find.
Nothing.
The truth was, Valper had no idea where Loki was. The god never trusted him enough to reveal his true location. They met only at predetermined spots, always chosen by Loki himself. Their communication was strictly one-way—Loki contacted him, never the reverse.
He saw the moment Leon realized this, watched as fresh rage flooded those cold eyes.
"Useless," Leon muttered.
The last thing Valper felt was heat—intense, all-consuming heat as flames engulfed him. His body crumbled to ash before he could even scream.
====
If you'd like to read ahead and support me, feel free to check it out: [email protected]/VashFF