“He’s an arrogant asshat. You should ignore him and send him back to Brander without deigning him with your presence.”
Leonard nodded placidly, waiting for Amelia to work through her anger. She needed some time to get over her worst impulses, but she usually had good ideas once she did.
“And don’t smirk! That old, annoying… Ugh, I should have smeared him into a paste when he first attacked Damien. But no, we need to have good relations with Brander. No matter that Etinus is probably responsible for half of their deaths in the last century. I told you that allowing him to go scot-free after that provocation would lead to only more arrogance!”
Leonard ran a finger along the length of the new dagger he had acquired from a remarkably well-hidden safe in a Baron’s mansion. Who knew they’d still have dragon-scale weaponry around? After the Fatwa against draconic flesh being used by mortals, they were vanishingly rare. No one wanted to test if the magic still held up, even centuries later.
“And he had the gall to laugh at me after I put him back in his place! As if he wasn’t trying to intimidate and subjugate our diplomats! I told you that these people only understand violence and power. If the threat is too well hidden, they’ll feel free to do anything!”
Well, it seemed that Amelia had finally started airing out her actual grievances. “I agree with you that my initial estimate was wrong. I thought the decent relationship we built so far and the news of my downing a heavy airship would have made him warier to act out. It was a mistake.” He apologized, conceding the point. It didn’t cost him much. He had made a wrong call, and while Damien wasn’t harmed, what he was put through was still unacceptable.
“Good.” Amelia sighed, manic energy finally leaving her. She dropped bonelessly on an armchair, staring up at the painted ceiling. “I know you already know this, but we must be careful with that man. He might not be as strong as me or even close to you, but he has been the driving force behind everything in Brander for almost a century. He controls everything, no matter what they might like to say about being a democracy.”
Leonard lazily lifted a finger, causing the wine bottle he had prepared for the occasion to uncap and pour its contents into two crystal goblets. He sent one floating to Amelia with another flick, who grabbed it with a murmured thanks.
“I understand. Don’t worry. I have something in mind.” From the way her lips curled up, she seemed to get his gist.
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A meeting between two Champions was something to behold. Two people who had reached a level that mortals could only dream of were naturally competitive. Their auras would clash, and they would battle for supremacy. Usually, this struggle would result in changed lands and many deaths.
But it didn’t often come to that. First of all, because Champions were extremely rare. Even powerful countries could only boast a handful in their ranks, and given their incredible might, they were not always willing to follow their king’s orders. Secondly, those who reached the fifth Blessing understood everything had a time and place.
Duking it out in the middle of a bustling city would lead to thousands, if not tens of thousands of deaths. The resentment alone such a massacre could create would lead to the birth of a new necropolis. And those were never fun to get rid of.
This was all to say that such meetings had to be carefully arranged. Amelia had known the risks before appearing at the talks and had ensured the clashing auras didn’t harm anyone outside the room. Even then, had Etinus wanted to cause trouble, no one could have guaranteed that Treon wouldn’t suffer for it.
Well, no one but me.
It might have seemed like an arrogant statement. Leonard was well aware that to anyone else, his carefree attitude at having to give a dressing down to the man who pulled the strings of an entire country might have seemed foolish. It wasn’t.
Leonard sat alone in the private study that had been meticulously prepared for this meeting—not the official one he stole from the Count and used for official business, but a more modest room where he could do some work. It was furnished with sturdy, well-made pieces resembling his grandfather’s own study. With a large wooden desk dominating the center, flanked by two high-backed chairs and shelves lined the walls, filled with old tomes and artifacts, he felt right at home.
The lighting was soft, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room, and the air hummed with the faintest trace of magic.
Jean had ensured the room was protected with several layers of powerful enchantments. The wards were subtle—barely noticeable unless one was an expert in runecraft—but undeniably present to someone with his guest’s experience. Anyone attuned to fifth-tier magic would feel the runes pulsing beneath the surface of the walls, woven into the very fabric of the room’s structure. It was a reverse bunker built in the middle of the castle, meant to contain almost anything a Champion could throw at it.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Leonard took his seat behind the desk, calm and composed. He ran a hand over the surface, feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingers as he waited. Patience was a virtue, and he had learned to cultivate it well over the years.
A knock at the door signaled his guest’s arrival. The door opened, and Marzio Etinus was allowed into the room by one of Leonard’s men. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing the two inside.
“Please, take a seat,” Leonard gestured to the chair opposite him. His voice was polite, almost casual, as if they were about to discuss nothing more pressing than the weather.
Etinus eyed the room warily, evidently having realized its purpose, before complying, lowering himself into the chair with deliberate slowness. He looked around, taking in the enchantments and protections with a knowing glance, before returning to Leonard. “I must say, I half-expected to be attacked after the little stunt I pulled. It’s not often someone lets me walk into their lair unscathed and even takes some abuse. Your girl seemed ready to flay me. I believed I’d have to fight my way out of here.” His tone was light. Unburdened. As if the possibility of making an enemy of a Hero didn’t bother him. It probably didn’t. The man was old enough to have been in his prime when the last Incursion happened in the West. He likely met the previous Hero.
Leonard allowed himself a small smile. “I’m not that crass, Archmage. We might need to discuss what happened earlier, but Brander is still an important ally. I wouldn’t just kill you without a good justification.”
Etinus chuckled, though there was an edge to it. “Good to know. I like boldness, but I was starting to think the new regime had a penchant for rashness. That leads to weak foundations. I built a country with my own hands, so I know. Take some advice from an old man. Sometimes, it’s better to bide your time and take some hazing.”
Leonard reached for the decanter on the desk, pouring a glass of wine for each of them. He pushed one across to Etinus, who accepted it with a nod. “To patience,” Leonard said, raising his glass.
“To patience,” Etinus echoed, though his tone was more cautious. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving Leonard.
The pleasantries, however, were merely a prelude. Leonard set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, intensely staring at his guest. He had pondered precisely how to do this and if Brander’s alliance and wariness were worth revealing so much. His power was still a secret to everyone but Amelia, and he hadn’t intended to reveal more so soon. But his friend was right that some things couldn’t be tolerated. Etinus had crossed a line. And though attacking him while holding back would surely put him in his place, it would give the man the false idea that he could win with enough preparation and help. Leonard couldn’t allow that thought to pass.
Thus, he opened the floodgates to his power, allowing the full force of his mana to escape his ironclad willpower for the first time since that last fight against the Incarnation of the Void.
The air in the room trembled as if the very fabric of reality had been twisted and stretched to its breaking point. Leonard’s mana flooded the space inexorably. The soft glow of the sun outside brightened until it was hard to look at. Shadows shortened unnaturally as if retreating from the overwhelming presence that now dominated the room.
The Light that Leonard wielded was no gentle radiance, no comforting beacon. It was the primordial Light, the first spark of creation, raw and unfiltered. It seared its way into existence with an intensity that defied comprehension, burning away the mundane and leaving only the purest essence in its wake. It revealed all, even the things mortals were not meant to see.
Etinus felt it first as a pressure on his chest, a weight that pressed down on him like the hand of a god. His breath caught in his throat, and he instinctively tried to muster his own mana in defense. But as he reached for his power, he found it smothered, swallowed by the torrent of Leonard’s energy that surged through the room like a tsunami. The walls, the ceiling, and the air seemed to pulse with an unnatural rhythm, beating in time with Leonard’s heart.
The old mage’s eyes widened, pupils dilating as his mind struggled to process what was happening. The Light was too bright, pure, and vast to be contained within a mortal vessel, yet it emanated from the man seated before him. Etinus had faced powerful foes before, had stared into the depths of Abyssal Magic and lived to tell the tale, and had even dueled with the previous Hero once, but this—this was something entirely different. The Light wasn’t just an element like many others; it was an entity, a force beyond the understanding of even the most learned scholars. Leonard had tapped into the essence of the cosmos, drawing forth a power that should have been lost to time.
In that moment, Etinus understood that what he was experiencing was not just power but the truth of the universe laid bare before him in all its terrible glory. The Light revealed every secret, hidden fear, and corner of his soul that he had kept locked away. It stripped him of his defenses, laid him bare, and exposed him to the cosmos’ infinite expanse. The room around him seemed to dissolve, replaced by a vast, swirling void of brilliant white light, punctuated by flashes of colors that had no names, shapes that defied geometry.
Etinus tried to speak, to summon a spell, to do anything, but the words caught in his throat turned to ash by the sheer magnitude of what he was witnessing. His body trembled, his muscles locking as Leonard’s power pinned him to the chair. He tried to look away, but there was nowhere to turn and hide from the all-encompassing Light that surrounded him. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out as they tried and failed to process the infinite within the finite.
The old man’s mind began to unravel at the edges, fraying under the strain of trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. He saw things—glimpses of realities beyond his own, visions of a world stripped of its illusion of order, where time and space were mere suggestions, and the laws of nature bent and twisted in the presence of something greater. The Light showed him the foundation of existence itself, the scaffolding upon which reality was built.
His breath came in ragged gasps, drool beginning to drip from the corner of his mouth as his body struggled to maintain its connection to the here and now. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to escape this overwhelming presence, but his body was no longer his own. He was frozen, a mere spectator to the vastness of creation, unable to do anything but witness.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Leonard’s power returned to the confines of his being, the room snapping back into focus as if reality had been reasserted by sheer force of will. The oppressive weight lifted, the shadows returned to their normal length, and the world seemed to breathe again.
Etinus slumped in his chair, gasping for air, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, as if he had been pulled back from the edge of some great abyss. It took several moments before he could even attempt to speak, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to remember how to form words. The remnants of drool clung to his chin.
Leonard watched him with calm, impassive eyes, the impossible power concealed once more beneath his skin. He waited patiently, allowing the old mage the time he needed to regain some semblance of composure.
Eventually, Etinus managed to pull himself together, though his face was still ashen, his hands trembling as they gripped the arms of the chair. He looked at Leonard with fear and awe, as if seeing him for the first time. “What... what are you?” he finally croaked, his voice raw and unsteady.
Leonard leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Now that we’ve established the terms of our discussion,” he said, smooth and measured, “we can begin the actual negotiations.”