*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
Leon leaned against a tree, his legs threatening to give out. "I'm… tired," he whispered. "I can't move. It feels like my body is tearing apart. Bones, veins, lungs… everything's working too damn hard."
Each breath scraped his chest like broken glass. A sharp pressure pounded behind his eyes, as if his own brain were swelling against his skull. "I can't die yet," he muttered, forcing his eyes to stay open.
Deep down, only one instinct remained: survive.
What Leon didn't know was that, while he had battled three hundred thousand soldiers, swordmasters, assassins—and even a clone of a god—something inside his head had begun to rupture. The strain of the Limitless Mimic Physique, the stolen divinity, and the endless slaughter had pushed his mind past its limit.
It was already a miracle he was still alive.
At last his thoughts blurred. The world tilted. His body slid down the trunk, and his eyes slowly closed. His brain, on the verge of collapsing, forced itself into a deep, unnatural sleep. Until both mind and flesh recovered, he would not awaken.
That night, all the kingdoms silently retreated. None of the rulers dared suggest hunting Leon again. The battlefield of two hundred seventy thousand corpses was proof enough of what chasing that monster would cost.
Days passed.
Leon did not wake on the first day.
Nor on the second.
Nor the third, fourth, or fifth.
On the sixth day, his fingers twitched.
His eyes snapped open.
The first thing he felt was warmth on his cheeks. He raised a shaking hand and froze when he saw the dark red stains on his fingertips.
Tears.
Tears of blood.
Leon stared, stunned. "Master isn't here," he muttered. "I don't know where you are… but one thing is certain. You're not in this world. I can't keep relying on you every time."
He clenched his blood‑streaked hand into a fist.
"If I want to survive, I have to be stronger. No matter how hard it is. I can't get arrogant just because I stole some of the God of Lightning's skills and movements. I have to sharpen my mind and my body. Just because I have the Limitless Mimic Physique doesn't mean I'll win every battle."
He remembered the last clash with the god, the sense that the storm had been chained.
"And I don't think that God of Lightning died from our final exchange," Leon said quietly. "I could feel it—he wasn't using his full power. That had to be a clone or some limited projection."
He sucked in a shaky breath.
"So my main task now is simple: get stronger. Train this physique until I truly understand it. If I can fully control the Limitless Mimic Physique… I'll be able to destroy and kill any opponent."
His stomach twisted, reminding him of a far more immediate problem.
"But first," he groaned, "I need food. How long has it been since I ate anything? I didn't eat before the battle, and definitely not during it. I need something in my stomach."
Returning to the empire would mean walking back into a nest of enemies. "If I go back now, I'll just have to fight them again. No thanks. Better to find wild beasts instead."
He tried to push himself up, grabbing his knee for support. Pain lanced through his body. His legs buckled, refusing to bear his weight.
"Damn it," Leon hissed. "How long is this going to take? I need to learn healing. If I don't, I'll keep ending up like this over and over."
He forced himself to move his toes, then his ankles. "Fine. Little by little. I'll crawl if I have to. Once I can walk and eat… I start training again."
***
While Leon prepared to begin his lonely path to recovery, the Eternal Zenith Empire held an emergency meeting about him.
In the grand hall, the emperor, empress, and every figure with the highest authority were present. Banners hung heavily along the walls, as if even the cloth knew defeat.
Emperor Kaelen Stromspire sat at the head of the table, face drawn. "What did we do so wrong to deserve this?" he asked quietly. "We only did what we believed was right… and now we have ten swordmasters left in our entire kingdom."
Murmurs rippled through the elders.
"That brat can fight a god," Kaelen continued, voice tight. "And even after that, he was still strong enough to butcher our armies. Who could have imagined we would take such damage from a single boy? And if his demon master is truly stronger than him…"
The hall fell silent.
At last, one elder stepped forward, worry etched into his features. "Your Majesty, what if we apologize to that boy instead? I fear that, once his injuries recover, he will return stronger than ever. If that happens, we will have no way to stop him. We should take this chance to find him and seek forgiveness."
Kaelen's eyes flickered. He opened his mouth—
"Why," a cold voice cut in, "should we need to apologize to him?"
Empress Lyria Dawncrest rose from her seat, long dress whispering across the floor. "If we simply kill him, there will be no one left to threaten us."
The elder paled. "Your Majesty, we must not! If three hundred thousand soldiers and a god's avatar could not finish him, how can we do it with only ten swordmasters? Please, do not act rashly."
Lyria's gaze hardened. "Tell me, Elder," she said, voice dripping with arrogance, "who do you think you are to lecture me?"
The emperor rubbed his temples. *If this continues, the hall will tear itself apart,* he thought. *But this matter is too important to simply dismiss. What should I do?*
Debate, fear, and pride tangled like threads around Leon's name.
***
Far away, under the quiet canopy of the forest, Leon finally managed to stand. His legs trembled, but they held.
"I must train harder than anyone," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "For that, I need food. A lot of it. So I'll start by hunting… then training. But even after thinking so much, I still wonder…"
He looked up at the sky between the branches.
"Master… what are you doing right now?"
A rustle in the bushes pulled his focus back to earth. A wild beast stepped into the clearing, sniffing the air.
A grin slowly spread across Leon's face. "Finally," he whispered. "My first meal has arrived."
He straightened as much as his injuries allowed.
"Sorry," he told the creature, eyes sharpening. "But I'm going to have to catch you."
***
**Author's Note:**
If you reached this point, you're a real one.
How do you feel about Leon waking up with tears of blood and deciding to grow without his master? Does he feel more like a future hero, or a monster trying to justify survival? Drop a comment (even just an emoji) and tell what you think of his resolve and the empire's fear. Your thoughts really help shape how the next chapters unfold.
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