The battle between Leon and the monstrosity tore through Harlot's Paradise like a storm made flesh. Every clash sent tremors rippling through the crumbling cityscape, each blow ringing out like thunder. The streets cracked, buildings groaned, and what little still stood from the earlier chaos now fell apart under the sheer force of their fight.
From where he lay half-buried in debris, Lancelot could only stare. His body ached from the savage beating he'd taken at the hands of the golden brute, yet the pain was nothing compared to the disbelief tightening his chest.
That boy, whose aura was unmistakably Rank Four, was matching a High Rank Seven blow for blow.
His eyes tracked their movements, barely keeping up with the blinding flashes of impact that darted across the ruined skyline. "Just… what kind of monster are you?" he whispered hoarsely, uncertain whether he was speaking of Leon or the creature.
A light touch on his shoulder made him flinch.
