The Sword That Silenced the Sky
The crowd gasped.
Under that single descending sword—
The three experts of the Sky Breaker Acedmy were forced back as if struck by the wrath of heaven itself.
Dust exploded outward. Stone tiles cracked in a web beneath their heels. Even Magnus, a sage Realm expert whose name once carried weight across kingdoms, staggered three steps before stabilizing his footing. Mason's sleeves were torn by the lingering sword wind. Max's palm trembled slightly—though he tried to hide it.
One had to know.
Among those three—
There was a sage Realm expert.
And yet they had been driven back by one strike.
Silence fell.
A suffocating, reverent silence.
High above the ruined street, Leon stood upon his sword, robes of midnight embroidered with thin amethyst lines fluttering in the wind. His long black hair flowed behind him, and those purple eyes—calm, cold, immeasurably deep—looked down as if the world beneath him were merely dust.
He did not shout.
