*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
Leon did not stop.
Day after day, he trained beneath the same scarred tree, pushing his body past its limits until pain felt as ordinary as breathing. Muscles tore and rebuilt, bones groaned and hardened, and his movements grew sharper, heavier, more precise.
Yet the empire did nothing.
As the sun dipped low one evening, Leon wiped sweat from his brow and glanced toward the distant horizon. "How surprising," he muttered. "The empire still hasn't made a single move. It's really strange. Are they… preparing something?"
He thought about it, then shook his head. "Something that could truly threaten me? With what they have left, I doubt it. I'm probably overthinking it."
His stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts.
"Food first," he decided.
***
Leon gathered what he needed with practiced efficiency. He selected the best cuts from the remaining beasts he'd hunted, trimming away gristle with the precision of a surgeon. From the forest, he plucked wild herbs and bitter leaves, crushing them between his fingers to test their scent.
"Last time was too salty," he said to himself. "This time… a little smoke, a little spice."
He fashioned a simple spit over the fire, arranging the meat in layers so the fat from the upper pieces dripped down, basting the ones below. The flames crackled softly, licking the edges, turning the surface a rich, golden brown. He adjusted the angle of the sticks to control the heat, rotating everything in calm, steady intervals.
Grease hissed as it hit the coals, sending up sparks and a savory aroma that wrapped around him like a warm cloak.
Leon tasted a small piece, chewing thoughtfully. "Tender," he nodded. "Seasoned properly. I'm getting better at this."
He plated the meat on a flat stone, sprinkling crushed herbs across the top. It was still rough campfire food, but compared to the charred, tasteless strips he had eaten before, this was practically a feast.
As he ate, he let his shoulders loosen, the tension from training slowly bleeding away. The warmth spread through his chest and limbs, grounding him in a rare moment of peace.
When the last bone was stripped clean, Leon leaned back against the tree and stared up at the stars.
"I've been training so much lately," he murmured, "that I haven't even slept properly for days."
He flexed his fingers. There was fatigue, but no trembling. His body had adapted to the torture, turning it into routine.
"I don't feel exhausted from the training anymore," he admitted. "But even a monster's body needs rest. If I don't sleep, I'll just end up dull when it matters."
He closed his eyes.
"Fine. Just this once… I'll sleep properly."
Within moments, the rhythm of his breathing evened out. Leon slipped into a deep, silent rest, unaware that while he rested, an entire empire was waking something else up.
***
Far away, within the Eternal Zenith Empire, the great hall blazed with torchlight.
Emperor Kaelen Stromspire and Empress Lyria Dawncrest stood at the forefront of the palace steps, looking down upon a sea of citizens and soldiers filling the plaza. Banners fluttered in the night wind, and the air hummed with tension.
Lyria's voice carried across the crowd. "People of the Eternal Zenith Empire," she proclaimed, "you know why we stand here today."
Whispers rippled through the masses—Leon's name, the god he fought, the slaughtered armies.
"Our blades alone could not cut him down," Kaelen said, his tone heavy. "Our ten remaining swordmasters are not enough. If we fight him as we are now… we will lose everything."
An uneasy silence followed his admission.
"That is why," Lyria continued, eyes gleaming, "we will not stand alone."
She raised her hand toward the sky. "From this day forth, every citizen, noble, soldier, and elder will offer prayers—true, desperate, fervent prayers—to the gods. We will drown the heavens in our voices until they are forced to listen."
One elder stepped forward, bowing. "Your Majesties speak the truth," he said. "We cannot defeat that monster with mortal strength alone. But if the gods answer… if they grant us a blessing, or send down a champion, we may yet stand a chance."
Kaelen nodded grimly. "This is our strategy. We admit we are too weak on our own. So we will borrow the strength of the heavens themselves. For our empire. For our survival."
"And for glory," Lyria added. "If we are the ones who move the gods to act—if *our* empire becomes the instrument of divine judgment—then our name will be etched into history as the hand that struck down the god‑slayer."
The crowd stirred, fear and greed mixing in their eyes.
Priests stepped forward, arranging incense burners and ritual altars across the plaza. Bells rang, low and solemn. One by one, people knelt—first in scattered pockets, then in a wave that spread across the entire square until thousands of heads bowed to the same sky.
Voices rose.
Prayers spilled into the night.
Some begged for protection.
Some demanded vengeance.
Some offered loyalty, offerings, even their own lives, if only the gods would deliver them from the shadow of Leon's existence.
The elders led the chants, their voices hoarse but unwavering.
"Great gods, hear the plea of the Eternal Zenith Empire!"
"Grant us strength to destroy the demon's disciple!"
"See our fear, our sacrifice, our devotion—answer us!"
Hour after hour, the prayers continued, building like a storm. The air grew thick, heavy, charged with invisible weight.
And then, somewhere high above, something shifted.
A pressure descended—faint at first, like the brush of a giant's gaze. The priests trembled. The elders fell silent mid‑chant. Even Lyria's arrogant smile faltered for a heartbeat.
The torches flickered without wind. The stars above seemed to dim.
The empire had succeeded.
Someone—or something—in the heavens was listening.
Now, only the gods knew what would come next.
> **Author's Note:**
> If you read this far, you're a real one.
> Today the empire literally prayed to the gods just to deal with one guy. Do you think Leon will be angry, amused, or disappointed when he finds out?
> If you're here, comment "Prayers" or tell me what kind of god you think will answer them. Your comments help a lot and motivate me to write faster.