In the deep quiet before dawn, Nacho returned to the Lionheart Society's clock tower headquarters with a small, hand-picked team.
Trailing behind him was Willey, whose face was split by a triumphant grin so wide it seemed to promise their success was already assured.
"Walker," Nacho instructed a seasoned member, "take our new recruit here and show him the ropes. Get him familiar with the layout and the basic protocols."
"Understood," Walker replied, clapping a friendly hand on Willey's shoulder and leading the eager, if slightly dazed, young man away.
Nacho then went directly to the strategy room, where he found Leon hunched over a large, detailed map of the Empire's five districts, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"The warehouse operation is complete," Nacho reported without preamble. "We successfully inserted and concealed the recording stones in the entire stock of paper lanterns. We've also confirmed the primary distribution points for the festival—the royal city, the upper district, and the middle district will all be supplied from that warehouse."
"No coverage for the lower district and the slums?" Leon asked, not looking up from the map.
Nacho shook his head, a grimace of disgust twisting his features. "It appears the royal family doesn't deem those areas worthy of their 'generous' festival spirit. The official distribution list ends at the middle district border."
Leon let out a short, bitter chuckle. It was absurd, yet perfectly in character for the Empire he knew.
"No matter. We've gathered enough lanterns through our own channels to cover the lower district and the slums ourselves," Leon said, finally looking up. "Now, we wait for the festival to begin. Once our people are in position, we launch the lanterns simultaneously. The Empire's corruption will be illuminated for every citizen to see."
"Martin's last communication indicated all is quiet on his end. The Empire seems blissfully unaware of the storm brewing under their noses," Nacho observed. "Our biggest variable remains what countermeasures they might deploy once the truth is out."
Leon nodded. He had discussed this very scenario with Tiger. The most likely threats were the Empire's grotesque fusion beasts and other bio-engineered horrors held in reserve.
That was precisely why he had called upon his most powerful allies, Rossweise among them, for this operation.
"With our own trump cards ready, we'll meet whatever they throw at us. This will be a real fight, and everyone knows it. They're prepared," Leon stated, his voice firm.
Nacho was about to respond when he noticed a palpable, electric energy humming through the members in the main hall. It wasn't the anxious tension of impending battle, but something brighter, more fervent.
Curious, Nacho raised an eyebrow. "What's got everyone so... animated? Can't sleep from pre-battle jitters?"
Leon grinned, a genuine, warm expression that softened the hard lines of planning on his face as he looked around at his comrades.
"A few nerves, perhaps. But mostly, it's excitement."
"Excitement?" Nacho echoed, skeptical.
"Absolutely!"
A young woman with energetic twin braids bounded over, giving Nacho a playful punch on the arm. "About half an hour ago, the captain gave one of his pre-battle speeches. It got everyone completely fired up!"
"Was it really that effective?" Nacho asked, his royal upbringing making him inherently suspicious of motivational oratory, which he'd always viewed as a tool for manipulating the masses.
"Of course it was!" Rebecca chimed in, appearing beside them. "Back in the Dragon Slayer Corps, the captain would always give us a big speech before a major engagement—telling us not to fear the enemy, to offer our courage, to face the darkness head-on. It was a little dramatic, sure, but stars, did it work!"
She beamed at Leon. "But this time... it was different. It wasn't just a captain talking to his soldiers. Hearing him speak, it was like... he was a true leader. You could feel it."
Nacho glanced at Leon, a new layer of understanding dawning on him. In that moment, he finally grasped one of the fundamental reasons he had never been able to defeat Leon when they were adversaries.
Leon possessed an inner fire, a relentless forward momentum that refused to be extinguished, no matter how deep the darkness. He had an almost preternatural ability to fixate on the faintest glimmer of hope and, through the sheer force of his own belief, make everyone around him see it too.
It was a magnetism so potent that even a being as powerful and proud as Rossweise, a Dragon Queen, chose to stand at his side.
The Empire, for all its numbers and resources, was rotten at its core, its loyalty sustained by fear and coercion—a foundation that was always destined to crumble. In the crucial arena of hearts and minds, Leon was simply playing a different game.
"Tell everyone to get what rest they can," Leon instructed Rebecca. "Tomorrow, the final preparations begin."
"Yes, Captain!" she replied with a crisp nod.
"And Nacho," Leon added, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you've done more than enough for one night. Get some sleep."
"Alright. Don't stay up too late yourself," Nacho said before turning to leave.
Rebecca and Nacho departed, and the other members in the hall gradually dispersed to their quarters, the excited buzz slowly fading into a determined quiet.
Leon remained at the large central table, the city map spread before him once more. The launch sites for the lanterns were nearly finalized. Now, his focus was on the most critical, and most somber, part of any operation: mapping the escape and evasion routes. Only through meticulous preparation could he hope to minimize surprises and casualties when the plan was set in motion.
As the night grew colder and the silence deepened, a soft, pale hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.
"It's late. You need to sleep," a calm, familiar voice murmured from behind him.
"Mhm, just finishing this last part," Leon replied, his eyes never leaving the parchment.
Rossweise settled into the chair beside him, her silver gaze scanning the map covered in his notes, circles, and connecting lines. As a queen who had commanded her own people in conflicts, she understood strategy. She could see he was plotting their withdrawal.
Noting his furrowed brow and the slight tension in his jaw, she didn't interrupt. She simply studied the map in silence, her mind working in parallel with his.
After a long while, she reached out and pointed to an unmarked section between two districts.
"Consider placing the middle district's rally point here," she suggested. "There's a river to the left that can serve as a natural barrier, and just beyond it is the eastern entrance to the lower district. If I recall correctly from our... stroll, there's an abandoned scrapyard in that area. It would provide excellent cover for regrouping and could even serve as an ambush point if pursued."
Her suggestion cut through the mental fog of fatigue. It was perfect.
Leon's eyes lit up with clarity and relief. "Impressive tactical insight, Your Majesty."
"You've simply been awake for too long; your mind isn't at its sharpest," she deflected, though a faint, proud tilt lifted her chin. "How much more is left to chart?"
"That was the last problematic area," he admitted, a weight visibly lifting from his shoulders.
He carefully rolled up the map and stood, stretching the stiffness from his back. "Come on, then. Let's get some rest."
"Alright."
Rossweise leaned forward and blew out the single candle on the table, plunging the room into near-darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the high windows of the clock tower. In the dim glow, she took his arm, her touch both firm and reassuring, and guided him toward their temporary quarters.
.
.
.
The Lantern Festival – The Empire's Grand Celebration
The night had arrived. All five districts of the Empire, from the opulent spires of the royal city to the cramped, muddy lanes of the slums, were awash in the vibrant, chaotic energy of the festival.
The streets were a river of light and color, adorned with thousands of paper lanterns of every shape and hue. Stalls offered rare sweets and savory delicacies, their owners shouting over the din. Children, their faces illuminated by joy and the handheld lanterns they carried, weaved through the crowds, their laughter ringing out.
Fireworks burst in the sky overhead, painting temporary, brilliant flowers against the velvet night—a beautiful, fleeting illusion that seemed, for a moment, to mask the festering corruption and decay hidden beneath the Empire's gilded surface.
On a low, flat rooftop in the upper district, Rebecca adjusted the strap of her sniper rifle. She was dressed for mobility in practical shorts, a pistol holstered securely on each thigh, and her custom-assembled long-range rifle strapped to her back.
A primary marksman like her never operated alone. Leon had ensured she had a full team—Nacho and Martin were positioned beside her, acting as her spotters and close-range security.
"Wow, I never got this kind of royal treatment back in the Dragon Slayer Corps! Two dedicated spotters for little old me!" the ace sniper said, her voice buzzing with adrenaline.
Nacho and Martin lay prone at the roof's edge, high-powered binoculars pressed to their eyes, systematically scanning the streets and the boundary with the royal city below.
"Save the celebration for after we've won," Nacho muttered, his focus locked on the grand staircase that led up to the royal city's main gate. That was Leon's designated position, the signal point for the entire operation.
"You're the best shot the Lionheart Society has, Rebecca. That's why Leon gave you this position," Nacho reminded her, his voice low and steady. "When the time comes, your target might be the most important one of all."
"Don't you worry," Rebecca said, her tone shifting to one of deadly seriousness. "I've been practicing for this. My favorite target dummy has a picture of King Canter's smug face pinned right over its heart. I'm more than ready."
"Empire's top female marksman, ready for action!" Martin added, offering a quiet word of encouragement.
Rebecca allowed herself a small, tight smile. "Oh, stop. Let's keep the praise for after the shot."
"Alright, focus," Nacho cut in, his voice sharp. Through his binoculars, he saw a familiar, hooded figure reach the top of the grand staircase. "Get into position. Wait for Leon's signal."
"Copy that."
Down on the street, amidst the swirling, celebrating masses, Leon moved with deliberate slowness. Dressed in a nondescript black cloak with the hood drawn up, he moved against the current of the crowd, a single, purposeful figure ascending the wide steps that led to the boundary of the upper district and the royal city.
With each step, the festive cacophony seemed to swell—the cheers, the music, the percussive bursts of fireworks. It was a symphony of normalcy, of ignorance.
He climbed the final step. A few hundred meters ahead, bathed in torchlight and adorned with festival banners, stood the main gate of the royal city itself.
From within his cloak, Leon drew forth a single, carefully preserved paper lantern. It was already open, and in the flickering light from the street, one could see its surface was covered, edge to edge, in hundreds of handwritten names—the names of every child and teacher from the Cosmod Orphanage.
He held it aloft, his grip firm.
"All debts," he whispered to the night, his voice barely audible yet filled with an iron resolve, "all grievances... end tonight."