In the grimy, poverty-stricken slums of the Empire's outer district, a lone figure shuffled through the crowds. He was a ragged, lame beggar, leaning heavily on a crutch. In his other hand, he clutched a chipped porcelain bowl, meekly holding it out to the people who hurried past.
"Hey, nothing for you here. Move along," they would mutter, brushing him off without a second glance.
"Disgusting beggar, get lost."
A parent pulled their child closer, using him as a cautionary tale. "You see? Study hard. You must leave this miserable place when you grow up, or you'll end up just like him, begging in the streets. Do you understand?"
The people here were poor themselves, struggling to put food on their own tables. They had no spare coins for a beggar. Undeterred, the man continued his slow, hobbling journey on worn-out grass sandals, moving with purpose until the deep, resonant chimes of the midnight bells began to echo through the district.
He followed the sound, his destination the old, neglected bell tower.
He stopped before its decaying wooden door and raised a hand, knocking five times in a specific pattern: the first three knocks were quick and sharp, followed by two slower, deliberate raps.
From inside, faint footsteps approached.
The door creaked open a few inches, and a small head with sharp, intelligent eyes peeked out. A girl with vibrant green hair tied in twin braids scanned the darkness behind him cautiously.
"Nobody followed you?" Rebecca whispered, her voice low and tense.
"No one," the beggar assured her.
"Good. Thank you."
Rebecca opened the door just wide enough for him to slip inside. She took one last, careful look at the empty street before firmly shutting and bolting the door.
While the bell tower's exterior was deliberately shabby to blend into the slums, the interior told a different story. After passing through a small entryway, the beggar followed Rebecca through a cleverly hidden door in the wall. It opened into a spacious, surprisingly well-equipped hall.
The room was a secret headquarters. Makeshift beds were lined against one wall, while a large communal table dominated the center. There was a small kitchen area and a station dedicated to analyzing intelligence. Most prominently, on the far wall, hung a circular emblem bearing the image of a fierce, roaring lion—the symbol of their resistance.
Inside this safe house, the beggar finally shed his disguise. He washed the grime from his face at a small basin. Rebecca wordlessly handed him a clean towel.
"Any word from the Captain?" she asked, her voice tight with hope and worry.
Nacho Salamander took the towel, wiping his face dry. "No news. Didn't you say a few days ago that we were planning to declare war on the Empire? Where is your Captain?"
"The Captain said he was going to find someone to help. Maybe it didn't go smoothly," Rebecca admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "But I'm sure he'll be back soon. He never makes empty promises, especially about something this important."
Nacho set the towel aside and leaned back against the makeshift sink, looking down at the much shorter girl. A wry smile touched his lips.
"I trust your Captain, too. He doesn't disappoint—and I say that as someone who used to stand on the opposite side of the battlefield from him."
Every time Nacho remembered his past life—leading dragon warriors against Leon on the Empire's orders—he felt a sense of absurdity. Did they really think I could take down Leon?
The Empire had sent at least five dragon kings under his command, including the legendary Star. Yet, within half a year, Leon had defeated them all, leaving Nacho with a hollow title and no army.
How was I supposed to fight with no soldiers left?
Running had been his only option. After a dangerous journey full of narrow escapes, he had eventually found his way here, to this resistance organization, now fighting alongside Leon against the very Empire he once served.
Just a few days ago, Rebecca had announced that Leon was returning to lead their fight. But days had passed, and there was still no sign of him.
Nacho's eyes swept across the other members gathered in the hall. His expression grew serious.
"This war of ours... it's been dragging on for too long," he murmured, narrowing his eyes. "Sure, the people joining the Lionheart Society want to resist the Empire, and many are fervent admirers of your Captain. But, Rebecca, you need to remember—some of these people are desperate for revenge. Their patience is wearing thin."
Rebecca followed his gaze, her small face tense as she watched the simmering tensions in the room.
She remained silent, allowing Nacho to continue.
"Everyone's holding their breath, waiting for Leon to come back and sound the horn of our counterattack."
"But days have passed, and still no news."
"I can wait. You can wait. So can Martin and Walker. But those who are impatient? They might not have the patience to wait any longer."
"Do you know what emotion spreads faster than fear among people?" Nacho asked quietly.
Rebecca shook her head.
"Impatience," he said. "It spreads like a plague, infecting everyone it touches. It will, inevitably, impact the entire Lionheart Society."
"Impatience also clouds judgment, just like any other negative emotion."
Rebecca frowned. "Clouds judgment?"
Nacho nodded grimly. "I learned that the hard way. When someone lets impatience take over, they start doubting everything and everyone around them."
Rebecca opened her mouth to ask another question, but at that moment, their conversation was cut short. A burly member of the society slammed his fist down on the wooden table, the loud bang silencing all other chatter in the room.
"When are we finally going to topple that wretched emperor?" the man roared. "Every day, we hear about the 'right time,' but if we wait any longer, the Empire will capture us all!"
"Rebecca said Leon was coming back soon. I think he'll be here any day now," a younger member offered, trying to calm the situation.
"Leon, Leon—you young ones joined the Lionheart Society because of Leon Cosmodeous. But tell me, have any of you actually ever met him?"
"...No, we haven't," the younger man admitted.
"I'm not questioning the purpose of the Lionheart Society. I'm just dissatisfied with Tiger's methods! Why rely on the name of someone who doesn't even exist to rally us together? Are we just here to die for a ghost?"
"Watch your mouth, old man!" a veteran soldier barked, stepping forward. "I served with Captain Leon in the Dragon Slayer Corps, and I met Mr. Tiger, too. They're nothing like the deceitful cowards you make them out to be!"
"Just because you met them a few times, you think you know them?"
The argument escalated, voices rising and overlapping in the cramped hall.
Rebecca watched, her instincts telling her to intervene, but Nacho placed a firm hand on her arm, holding her back.
"If you step in now, that troublemaker will shift all his anger onto you," he warned in a low voice. "No matter what you say, he'll twist your words and use them to turn everyone else against you."
"So what do we do? Just let them fight?" Rebecca asked, her frustration bubbling over.
"We'll have to wait until they calm down before you try to explain," Nacho replied. Then he paused, his eyes scanning the room again. "Although..."
"Although what?"
"I might have underestimated how bad the situation has gotten."
Rebecca blinked in confusion, but before she could process his meaning, the troublemaker's anger found a new target: her.
"Rebecca!" he shouted, pointing a finger accusingly. "You said we'd declare war on the Empire soon! But where's Leon? We're still hiding in these slums, waiting for nothing!"
"I—" she started.
With Tiger away recovering from his injuries, Rebecca alone lacked the authority to control these angry, desperate men.
"A few days ago, you and Tiger went to meet Leon, but only you came back! You said Tiger was gravely injured and needed to recuperate. You said you would bring back help."
"But I don't see any help! Nor have we seen Leon. Tiger's gone, too. Little girl, have you been lying to us this whole time? Did Tiger and Leon run off, leaving us here to die?"
"Shut up, you idiot!" Rebecca snapped, her patience finally shattering.
The man, stunned for a moment by her outburst, quickly grew even more aggressive. "Don't just tell me to shut up! Everyone here is waiting for Leon. Bring him to us if he's really coming!"
With just a few well-aimed words, he had successfully redirected the entire society's focus and pressure onto Rebecca's small shoulders. She could feel the weight of everyone's expectations and growing doubts pressing down on her.
Some, like the troublemaker, had begun to lose faith entirely. Others, the loyal members who had joined precisely because they believed in Leon, were also growing restless, their desire to see their hero becoming a palpable need.
In short, every single person in the room was waiting for Leon.
The troublemaker scoffed, sneering at Rebecca's silence. "Cat got your tongue, Ms. Clement? With Tiger gone and your so-called 'help' nowhere in sight... maybe Leon Cosmodeous is just a myth, too, huh?"
"No... that's not true..." Rebecca stammered, her voice barely a whisper against the rising tide of doubt. "The Captain will—"
"He'll show up at the crucial moment."
A new, calm voice rang out from the doorway.
Every head in the room swiveled toward the sound. There stood Walker, having just returned from his patrol. He was flanked by two figures—a man and a woman.
"Walker? Weren't you out on patrol?" Rebecca's eyes darted past him to the two figures standing behind him. "And who are these—"
Recognition dawned instantly. Her deep green eyes, which had been clouded with worry and frustration, now shone with pure, unbridled joy and relief.
"Captain... Captain!" she cried out.
Someone else in the crowd recognized him, too, their voice a hushed, awed whisper.
"Leon... Cosmodeous..."
Then, like a spark catching on dry tinder, the realization spread through the hall.
"Leon? It's him—it's really him!"
"Leon Cosmodeous! The Empire's strongest dragon slayer!"
A wave of cheers erupted, powerful and triumphant, washing through the headquarters of the Lionheart Society. The doubt and tension of moments before were utterly forgotten, replaced by a surge of renewed hope and fervor.
Leon stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. He walked directly to Rebecca. Seeing the young girl looking up at him—a mixture of overwhelming relief and lingering frustration on her face—he reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"Sorry," he said, his voice quiet but clear, meant for her alone. "I'm late."