At that moment, a burly servant passed silently through Nacho's line of sight, carrying a tray, his head bowed unusually low.
The sound of the servant's footsteps interrupted Nacho's thoughts. He turned to look at the tall servant's retreating back, his mind stirring slightly. "Strange… I do not recall seeing that man before."
"My lord, the room is prepared. Shall we proceed inside to await the guests?" another man, Scott, asked respectfully as he approached. Scott was Nacho's current deputy, handling his day-to-day affairs. When Nacho was promoted again, Scott would inherit his position.
Following Nacho's gaze, Scott squinted and carefully examined the black-haired servant's back. After a moment, he shook his head. "Never seen him before. Probably a new hire. Hisna Manor has strict standards for its servants. There is no need for concern, my lord."
Nacho nodded and dismissed the thought.
The two walked through the corridor toward the manor's most luxurious dining room. After taking their seats, Nacho asked, "How much longer until the Blade Unit arrives?"
"Approximately twenty minutes, my lord," Scott replied.
"Hmm. Double-check the perimeter. Ensure everyone present is one of ours."
"Yes, my lord."
Nacho was a cautious man. Before every welcoming banquet, he would arrive early, arrange the personnel, and position the guards. He relished the feeling of having everything under his control.
Twenty years ago, Nacho had not understood the nature of power. Leon Cosmodeous's disappearance had, indirectly, allowed him to taste its flavor. That sensation was like an addictive poison—once sampled, impossible to resist.
Nacho sat at the dining table, eyes half-closed, quietly waiting.
Creak—
The door opened.
Then came the sound of slow, heavy footsteps.
"Was it not half an hour still?" Nacho did not open his eyes, a thread of displeasure in his tone. He disliked Scott getting the timing wrong, and he detested the three fools of the Blade Unit arriving early, disrupting his schedule. It gave him a sense of his control slipping, a feeling he found profoundly unsettling.
However, the person did not answer Nacho's question. He only quietly closed the door behind him.
It was then that Nacho slowly opened his eyes. "I am asking you a question, Scott, you—"
His words caught in his throat the moment he saw the black-haired man standing in the room.
The man was dressed in servant's livery, holding a tray bearing a fork and knife. But Nacho knew that with this man's skill, any object could become a lethal weapon, let alone cutlery.
In that moment, Nacho felt he was dreaming.
Or perhaps… he was seeing a ghost.
Fear exploded in Nacho's heart. He wanted to cry out, but the sheer pressure emanating from the man before him stole his voice. It felt as if a stone were lodged in his throat. A tingling sensation began in his hands, spreading down to the soles of his feet.
Nacho's eyes widened in shock, blood vessels creeping across the whites.
Finally, Nacho forced the man's name from his lips:
"Leon… Cosmodeous…"
Speaking the name was like unlocking invisible shackles. A strange relief washed over him.
Nacho's heart hammered, but he struggled to maintain composure. Slowly lowering one arm beneath the table, he dug his fingernails into his palm, hoping the pain would steady his nerves.
Leon, noting that Nacho still remembered him, showed no particular surprise. He stepped forward, pulled out a chair, and casually placed the tray with the cutlery before him. Leaning back, he fixed a lazy gaze on Nacho.
He said nothing. Merely watched.
Nacho dared not meet Leon's eyes. He swallowed hard. Where are the sentries? The patrols? My attendants?! Why has no one reported anything?!
At that moment, hurried footsteps sounded outside the dining room.
Scott burst in, panting, his voice panicked. "My lord! Our men have all been… neutralized— L-Leon Cosmodeous?!"
After a brief, stunned moment, Scott reacted swiftly, turning to flee and summon help. But as he spun around, he found himself face-to-face with two tall young women.
Their hands were tucked casually in their pockets. They offered slight, polite nods.
Snap—
Leon snapped his fingers. "Why stand outside? Come in and sit."
Noah stepped forward, faint flickers of electricity crackling around her form. Scott, seeing no alternative, nervously backed into the room and sat beside Nacho.
Leon's cold stare remained fixed on Nacho, amplifying his discomfort.
After a weighted silence, Leon spoke, his voice low. "I know you are likely very curious how I am still alive. I do not have time to explain that now. What I need from you is simple: tell me the location of the Heart Scales the Empire has collected."
Leon's tone was calm, yet it carried an undeniable force that pushed Nacho's fear to its peak.
He opened his mouth, intending to stall, to buy time until the Blade Unit arrived. No matter how strong Leon might be now, he would be nothing before the Unit's power.
But then—
Nacho froze, staring at Leon's face. He was shocked to find the man looked exactly as he had twenty years ago. Not a single trace of aging.
Could it be… he also possessed…
"Nacho, we are old acquaintances. Let us not waste time here."
Leon stood and slowly walked behind Nacho and Scott.
Thud—
He brought his hands down heavily on their shoulders.
The impact made Scott jolt violently. Nacho, however, sat perfectly still, staring rigidly ahead.
"Very well. If you prefer it this way, I shall have to use stronger methods."
"Leon, you—"
Thud!
A swift chop to the neck, and Nacho's vision went black. He lost consciousness instantly.
"My lord, are you—"
"Ah, I nearly forgot you."
Another chop, and Scott joined his lord, slumped over the dining table.
Leon hoisted the two unconscious men over his shoulders.
Noah and Muen stepped fully into the room.
"The Blade Unit has arrived. We must leave. Now."
"Understood."
The three moved swiftly, exiting the dining room and circling toward the manor's rear entrance.
Aurora was already waiting with a prepared carriage. The moment everyone was aboard, she flicked the reins, and the vehicle sped off into the concealing darkness.