The tension between Leon and the man crackled in the air like a live wire, the opulent bar falling silent around them. The other patrons whispered among themselves, their curiosity piqued, but none dared to intervene.
"Are you saying you don't remember who I am?" the older man asked, his voice carrying a calmness that belied the storm brewing in his words.
Leon's fiery gaze bore into him, unyielding and sharp as a blade.
The man continued, unfazed. "I guess the disaster nine years ago still hasn't gotten out of your head, has it, Leon?"
Leon's fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table. "I said... who are you?" His tone was low and menacing, each word laced with a quiet threat.
The man raised his hands slightly, startled by the deadly intensity in Leon's eyes. "Woah, woah, Leon. I think you've had too much to drink today."
The tension only thickened as Leon's glare didn't waver. The broken glass in his hand trembled slightly under his grip.
"It's me," the man said finally. "Logan. Faith's father... and Sara's grandfather."
Leon froze, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly. For a moment, his piercing stare wavered, replaced by a flicker of shock. "Logan..." he murmured.
Logan's lips curled into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. "I can't believe you don't remember me," he said, his tone oddly joyful despite the weight of his words.
Leon's shock quickly gave way to anger. His grip tightened on the broken glass, his knuckles white. "How can you sit there and smile like that?" he said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "How can you laugh while talking about your dead daughter? Is it because she was just the daughter of one of your concubines? Is that why?"
Logan's faint smile vanished instantly. He leaned forward, his expression hardening as he met Leon's furious gaze. "Watch your tone, boy," he said, his voice sharp as steel. "I'm ten times older than you. Don't think you can speak to me like that."
Leon stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the polished floor. His fiery hair caught the glow of the chandeliers, making him look even more menacing. "Just because she was the daughter of a concubine doesn't mean she deserved to be treated that way," Leon snapped, his voice rising.
Logan's eyes flared with indignation as he stood to face Leon, towering over him with his commanding presence. "I SAID WATCH YOUR TONE!" Logan roared, his voice booming and silencing the whispers of the onlookers.
The entire bar seemed to hold its breath as Logan took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Leon. "You think because she was the daughter of a concubine I didn't love her?" Logan's voice cracked with raw emotion, his fists trembling at his sides.
Leon didn't flinch, his own anger boiling over. "Then tell me why you treated her like she didn't matter!"
Logan's expression crumbled, his voice breaking as he shouted, "I loved her! She was the brightest part of my life! Her smile, her laughter—it gave me joy every single day!" He slammed a fist onto the table, the glasses on it rattling.
"Then why—" Leon started, but Logan cut him off, his voice rising to a near shout.
"EVERY NIGHT, I THINK ABOUT HER DEATH! EVERY NIGHT, I CRY THINKING ABOUT HOW I SHOULD HAVE KEPT HER IN THE KINGDOM, HOW I SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HER!" Logan's voice shook with grief, his words tumbling out like a flood. "When I heard about the disaster, I went there immediately. I saw it with my own eyes. The destruction... the emptiness... it haunted me. It took me seven years—seven years—to even begin to crawl out of that darkness."
Leon's glare softened slightly, but his voice was still sharp. "Then why didn't you come to our wedding?"
Logan flinched as though struck. He looked away, unable to meet Leon's eyes.
"She wanted to see you," Leon said, his tone quieter but cutting. "That was the most important day of her life, and you couldn't even be there for her."
"I was there," Logan said after a long pause, his voice hollow. "I was there... but I left. I had urgent business to attend to."
Leon slammed his hand onto the table, making Logan look up in shock. "Business?!" Leon spat, his eyes blazing with fury. "You left for work? You chose work over your daughter's most important day? What kind of father are you?"
Logan's shoulders sagged, his earlier anger fading into regret. "I know," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "I know I was wrong. I've regretted it every day since. Now that you mention it..." He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as they clenched into fists. "I feel ashamed of myself."
The raw admission hung in the air, the weight of Logan's words pressing down on both men.
Leon let out a slow, measured breath, the tension in his body finally easing. He placed the broken glass gently on the table, his movements deliberate. The bartender, who had been standing frozen behind the counter, quickly grabbed the glass and tossed it into the trash.
Leon leaned back slightly, his fiery gaze still fixed on Logan. "You should," he said coldly.
Logan's expression wavered between grief and guilt, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own mistakes.
The bar remained silent, the onlookers exchanging glances but saying nothing as the confrontation came to an uneasy pause.
The sound of clashing metal continued to echo through the arena, punctuated by cheers and jeers from the crowd. Seyl leaned back in his chair, casually popping a piece of food into his mouth as he glanced toward Leo, who was cleaning a glass behind the bar.
"So, old man," Seyl said, setting his fork down. "What do you know about Aurion? The city itself, I mean."
Leo raised an eyebrow, his one good eye glinting with curiosity. "Oh, so you're new here, huh?" He chuckled, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "That much was obvious. Nobody strolls into NoManCity unless they've got no idea what they're walking into."
Seyl grinned. "Guess I've got a lot to learn, then. So, what's the story?"
Leo leaned forward, resting his hands on the bar. "Aurion. City of Heroes, they call it. A place where legends are born and titles are earned. You see, at the heart of the city stands the Cathedral, a massive structure that controls everything—from politics to public life. It's not just a religious place; it's the center of power."
"Sounds fancy," Seyl said, spinning his helmet on the table absentmindedly.
Leo nodded. "It is. The Cathedral's authority comes from the Nine Councilors. They're the ones who watch over the city and decide who's worthy of becoming a hero. Your achievements, your skills, your capabilities—everything you do is measured by them. If they deem you worthy, they grant you a title, a badge of honor that reflects your ability and purpose."
"Like what?" Seyl asked, leaning forward slightly.
Leo shrugged. "Depends on the person. Some get titles like The Blade of Aurion, for warriors who've mastered the art of combat. Others might be called The Keeper of Flames or The Weaver of Shadows, depending on their unique talents. These titles aren't just for show—they carry real weight. They're recognized across the city and beyond."
Seyl's eyes lit up with interest. "That's actually pretty cool. So, who's the biggest hero in the city right now?"
Leo's expression darkened slightly as he straightened, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "There's one hero who's become the face of Aurion—a public figure for the city. The people call him the Wizard of Aurion."
Seyl blinked, surprised. "A wizard? I thought those were just myths."
Leo smirked, shaking his head. "Not this one. This guy's the real deal. They say he can control Arcana with just his mind, no crystals or tools needed. And he proved it."
Seyl tilted his head. "Proved it how?"
Leo's voice lowered slightly, as if recounting something almost sacred. "About a year ago, he stood before a crowd in the middle of the city—right in front of the Cathedral itself. He raised his hand, and for a single second, time itself rewound."
Seyl froze, his eyes widening. "Rewound time?"
Leo nodded gravely. "Every single person there felt it. They described it like déjà vu but stronger, like their actions and thoughts were reset by a heartbeat. The entire city was amazed. Of course, most of Aurion saw it as a miracle, proof of his unmatched power."
Seyl leaned back, trying to process the enormity of what he'd just heard. "That's insane. And the Council lets him stay in the city?"
"Let him?" Leo barked out a short laugh. "The Council needs him. He's their symbol, their beacon of strength. After he appeared, the Cathedral gained even more power. People stopped questioning their authority."
"But not everyone, right?" Seyl asked, picking up on the edge in Leo's voice.
Leo's grin faded. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Not us. The people of NoManCity—we haven't forgotten the past. Before the wizard showed up, we were locked in an endless battle with the Cathedral. A tug-of-war for control of the city. They had their Council and their soldiers, but we had our grit. For years, we fought them for territory, reclaiming land they'd abandoned and turning it into our own."
"So, what changed?" Seyl asked, his tone quieter now.
Leo let out a long sigh. "The wizard changed everything. After his little display, most of us were too scared to keep fighting. We stopped attacking the Cathedral, and their officers began liberating the areas we'd taken. Little by little, they pushed us out, reclaiming everything."
"And now?" Seyl pressed.
Leo shook his head. "It won't be long before the Cathedral has control over the entire city again. NoManCity might not even exist in a few years."
Seyl sat quietly for a moment, his mind racing. "A wizard, huh?" he muttered, mostly to himself. "So, they're not just stories..."
Leo nodded solemnly. "They're real. Aurion has one."
Seyl's grin returned, though it was laced with intrigue. "Guess I'll have to see him for myself someday."
Leo snorted. "Kid, you've got guts, I'll give you that. Just don't go picking fights with people who can rewind time."
Seyl was about to push himself off the barstool when the announcer's booming voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the arena.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Now, for the final round!"
The crowd erupted into a frenzy, their cheers and chants shaking the very walls of the arena. Seyl froze mid-motion, his attention snapping back to the center of the ring.
"It's time for the excruciatingly exciting battle!" the announcer continued, his voice electrified with energy. "The winner of the last fight, The Metal Fist... versus our undefeated, unstoppable force of nature... the one, the only... The Black Death!"
The crowd's roar grew deafening, a chaotic mixture of excitement and fear. Seyl felt his pulse quicken as he turned his gaze toward the ring.
And then, he saw him.
A figure stepped forward from the shadows at the edge of the arena, draped in a tattered, dark cloak. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, the air around him heavy with an almost suffocating aura of menace. Even from a distance, Seyl could feel the oppressive energy radiating from the man, and for the first time in years, a chill ran down his spine.
Seyl swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he turned to Leo. "Hey, old man... wh-who is that?"
Leo glanced at the ring and let out a low chuckle. "Oh, him? That's The Black Death." He leaned on the counter, his tone more serious now. "He's been fighting in this arena for five years. When he first showed up, his face looked... hollow, like he was already dead inside. But don't let that fool you—he crushed everyone. Every. Single. One."
Seyl's eyes were glued to the figure in the cloak, his mind racing. "He's the strongest guy I've ever seen..."
Leo smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. "Strong? Yeah, he's strong. But he's a mystery. He doesn't care about the Cathedral or the fight for Aurion. He's just here for the arena, for the fights. And trust me, kid—no one has ever beaten him."
Seyl watched as The Black Death stepped into the ring, his movements as calm and measured as a predator surveying its prey.
"And now, the final fight will commence in ten seconds!" the announcer bellowed, igniting another wave of cheers.
"Ten!"
The crowd began chanting along with the announcer, their voices synchronizing in a feverish countdown.
"Nine!"
The Black Death's hand rose slowly to the clasp of his cloak.
"Eight!"
With a single motion, he pulled the cloak from his shoulders, revealing his form. His sleek, jet-black hair was tied back with a simple rope, and his light blue eyes glinted with a cold, piercing intensity. His body was lean but battle-worn, his arms and legs wrapped in bruised and bloodied bandages. Yet, he stood tall, exuding a calm, unshakable presence.
"Seven!"
He moved into a fighting stance, his posture relaxed but flawless, every muscle aligned for precision and power.
Seyl's breath caught in his throat. "Even though he's just standing there... it's like there are no openings at all," he thought.
"Six!"
The Metal Fist, his opponent, slammed his massive, metallic fists together, creating sparks that lit up the arena. He shadowboxed aggressively, his steel-enhanced muscles glinting under the lights.
"Five!"
The two fighters locked eyes, the intensity between them rippling across the arena.
"Four!"
The crowd's chants began to fade into silence, their anticipation growing too thick to break.
"Three!"
The Metal Fist shifted his stance, bouncing on his feet as he warmed up his legs, his movements quick and sharp for someone of his size.
"Two!"
The Black Death remained still, his icy gaze fixed on his opponent.
"One!"
The arena held its breath.
"Fight!"
The Metal Fist roared and charged forward, his heavy steps pounding the ground. His massive right fist swung in a powerful arc, aimed directly at The Black Death's head.
But The Black Death didn't flinch.
At the last possible second, he dipped low into a crouch, the punch whistling harmlessly over his head. In one fluid motion, he rose and delivered a devastating uppercut to the Metal Fist's jaw.
CRACK!
Blood and broken teeth flew through the air as the impact sent the Metal Fist reeling back, crashing into the corner of the ring. The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers as the fighter staggered, clutching his bleeding mouth in shock.
"You... Bitch!" The Metal Fist growled, spitting blood onto the arena floor. His fury was palpable as he charged again, his fists swinging wildly.
The Black Death moved with eerie precision, weaving through the flurry of attacks like a shadow. Every punch missed by millimeters, his movements almost effortless.
The Metal Fist feigned another wild swing but pivoted, bringing his knee up in a calculated strike aimed at The Black Death's head.
"Gotcha now!" Metal Fist snarled.
But The Black Death sidestepped with a hair's breadth of space, his hand snapping out to grab the Metal Fist's ankle in mid-air.
The crowd gasped as The Black Death held The Metal Fist's ankle firmly, his grip unyielding despite the opponent's size. The Metal Fist struggled, trying to wrench himself free, but The Black Death's movements were deliberate and precise.
In a blur of motion, The Black Death delivered a brutal punch straight to The Metal Fist's stomach.
WHAM!
The force of the blow reverberated through the arena, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. The Metal Fist's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as blood sprayed from his lips. The power of the punch left him paralyzed, his body unable to react.
But The Black Death wasn't done. Still gripping The Metal Fist's ankle, he shifted his stance, twisting his opponent off balance. With a swift motion, he pulled The Metal Fist closer and unleashed another devastating strike to his ribs.
CRACK!
The sickening sound of bone breaking silenced the crowd for a moment. The Metal Fist cried out in pain, his voice ragged and desperate as he tried to swing his free fist wildly.
"Let go of me, you fucking bitch!" he roared, sweat and blood dripping down his face.
The Black Death responded with icy indifference. He dodged the wild punch effortlessly, stepping forward to close the distance. Then, with almost inhuman precision, he brought his elbow crashing down onto The Metal Fist's knee.
A deafening snap echoed through the arena as the knee buckled unnaturally, and The Metal Fist collapsed to the ground in agony.
The crowd erupted into chaos—half of them cheering wildly, the other half watching in stunned silence.
Seyl, still at the bar, could barely breathe as he watched the fight unfold. His hands trembled slightly, gripping the edge of the counter for support. "He's... not just strong," Seyl muttered, his voice barely audible. "He's terrifying."
Leo smirked, noticing Seyl's reaction. "You feel that chill running down your spine, kid? That's what happens when you see a real predator in action."
Back in the ring, The Metal Fist was on all fours, blood dripping onto the arena floor. Despite his injuries, his pride wouldn't let him give up.
"You're gonna pay for this!" he snarled, his metallic fists grinding against the ground as he pushed himself up. With a roar of defiance, he lunged at The Black Death, throwing a desperate barrage of punches.
But The Black Death remained calm, his icy blue eyes tracking every movement. He ducked, dodged, and weaved through the attacks with surgical precision, his movements almost too fast to follow.
The Metal Fist roared in frustration, throwing a massive haymaker aimed to end the fight in one strike.
The Black Death sidestepped smoothly, letting the punch sail past him. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he spun behind The Metal Fist and delivered a spinning kick to the back of his opponent's head.
THUD!
The Metal Fist crumpled to the ground face-first, his body twitching slightly before going limp. The fight was over.
The arena was silent for a moment, the sheer dominance of The Black Death's performance leaving everyone in stunned awe.
Then, like a dam breaking, the crowd erupted into wild cheers and applause. "Black Death! Black Death!" they chanted, their voices shaking the walls.
The Black Death stood over his fallen opponent, his expression unreadable. He didn't bask in the crowd's adoration or even glance at the cheering spectators. Instead, he simply turned, retrieving his tattered cloak from the corner of the ring.
"Hey, kid," Leo said, snapping Seyl out of his trance. "That's why they call him The Black Death. He's not just a fighter—he's a force of nature."
Seyl nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the figure in the ring. "He doesn't just fight," Seyl murmured. "He... dismantles them."
Leo chuckled darkly. "Exactly. And if you're smart, you'll keep your distance. He's not someone you want to cross paths with."
Seyl's lips twitched into a faint grin, his curiosity overpowering his fear. "Maybe. But something tells me... we'll meet sooner or later."
The Black Death disappeared into the shadows, leaving the fallen Metal Fist and the roaring crowd behind.
Seyl’s smirk widened as he watched The Black Death walk away, the man’s presence still commanding even as the crowd’s cheers echoed behind him. The gears in Seyl’s mind turned, and he tilted his head mischievously.
“What I mean by ‘sooner’ is... actually right now,” Seyl muttered to himself, standing abruptly.
He grabbed his belongings and turned toward the door. “Old man, I’m heading out!”
Leo’s brow furrowed in concern as he leaned over the counter. “Hey! Remember what I told you—don’t go looking for him! It’s not worth it, kid!”
Seyl waved dismissively as he jogged toward the exit. “Yeah, yeah, got it!” he said, his voice dripping with mock reassurance.
Leo shook his head, muttering under his breath, “That kid’s gonna get himself killed...”
Seyl turned a corner and spotted The Black Death walking down a narrow alley. He was calm, silent, his tattered cloak slung over his shoulder as he prepared to put it back on. Seyl took a deep breath before shouting, “Hey, you!”
The Black Death froze mid-step, his hand gripping the edge of his cloak. Slowly, he turned his head, his light blue eyes locking onto Seyl. For a moment, there was no reaction, just a piercing, cold gaze that seemed to see straight through him. Then, with an audible sigh, The Black Death turned back and leapt onto the alley wall.
“What the—?” Seyl muttered, watching as the man scaled the wall effortlessly, his movements fluid and practiced.
But Seyl wasn’t about to let him get away. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, adjusting his helmet before sprinting toward the wall. With precision honed through years of training, Seyl began climbing, his hands and feet finding purchase on the uneven surface.
The Black Death glanced back, his expression unreadable but tinged with mild annoyance. Seeing Seyl gaining ground, he increased his speed, vaulting onto the rooftop and breaking into a run.
Seyl reached the rooftop moments later, his boots landing softly on the metal surface. He looked ahead, spotting The Black Death weaving through a maze of vents and pipes with remarkable agility.
“Oh, so you can move fast,” Seyl said with a grin, his heart racing as he chased after him.
The Black Death didn’t reply, his focus entirely on putting distance between them. He jumped across a narrow gap between buildings, landing without breaking stride.
Seyl followed suit, leaping over the gap with ease. “You’re pretty good, but you’re not losing me that easily!” he called out.
The chase continued across the rooftops, the city lights below casting long shadows over their path. The Black Death slid under a low-hanging pipe, spun around a corner, and dropped down onto a fire escape.
Seyl was right behind him, his movements just as fluid. He vaulted over the pipe, using the momentum to swing himself down to the fire escape in one swift motion.
The Black Death’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced back again, his annoyance growing. He kicked off the fire escape and dropped into a narrow alley below, landing with a soft thud. Without missing a beat, he sprinted toward another wall, leaping to grab a ledge and pulling himself up.
Seyl dropped down moments later, the adrenaline surging through him as he stayed on The Black Death’s trail. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the alley.
The Black Death didn’t respond, but his movements became sharper, more calculated. He leapt onto a stack of crates, pushing off to grab the edge of another rooftop. Seyl followed, his fingers brushing the ledge just as The Black Death pulled himself up.
The moment Seyl landed on the rooftop, The Black Death spun on his heel and made a sharp turn, disappearing into the shadows of a cluttered construction site.
“Trying to lose me in a maze, huh?” Seyl muttered, narrowing his eyes as he followed the faint sound of footsteps.
He weaved through stacks of materials and half-built structures, his senses on high alert. For a moment, he thought he was closing the gap—until he reached an open area, and The Black Death was gone.
Seyl skidded to a stop, scanning the surroundings. The faint sound of the city hummed in the distance, but there was no sign of his quarry. He crouched slightly, his eyes darting to every shadow and corner.
“Where’d he go?” Seyl muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.
He turned slowly, trying to spot even the smallest movement, but it was as if The Black Death had vanished into thin air.
“Damn,” Seyl said with a grin, leaning against a nearby beam to catch his breath. “Guess you win this round... for now.”
The night air cooled his flushed face as he chuckled softly to himself. His excitement hadn’t diminished—if anything, it had grown. “This city just keeps getting more interesting,” he said, his grin widening as he adjusted his helmet and began retracing his steps.
Far above, hidden in the shadows of a towering crane, The Black Death watched Seyl leave. His piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly, and for the briefest moment, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he disappeared into the night.
Seyl hopped down from the rooftops and landed lightly back into the maze-like alleys of NoManCity. The hum of the city felt distant here, muffled by the looming walls and the darkness that swallowed the narrow passages. Adjusting his helmet, he rubbed the back of his neck, still grinning from the thrill of the chase.
“Man, that guy’s something else,” Seyl muttered, his breath steadying as he walked. “Still… next time, I’ll catch him.”
The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the alley, mixing with the occasional clatter of metal as rats scurried through the debris. Seyl’s boots crunched softly against the cracked pavement as he moved deeper into the labyrinth of pipes, vents, and shadows.
His sharp eyes caught a faint glimmer in the corner of his vision. A cluster of pipes ran along the side of a nearby building, their metallic surfaces reflecting the dim light of a flickering neon sign above. Seyl tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.
“What’s that?” he murmured, stepping closer.
As he approached, he noticed a strange hissing sound, faint but insistent, coming from the pipes. The closer he got, the louder it became, accompanied by a faint vibration that he could feel in his boots.
Seyl crouched down, running a hand along the surface of one of the larger pipes. It was warm to the touch—too warm. Purple gas was seeping from a thin crack in its surface, the pressure building visibly as the metal began to strain.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Seyl muttered, his grin fading.
The hissing grew louder, the pipe trembling slightly as more purple gas escaped. Small droplets of condensation dripped down its surface, sizzling as they hit the ground.
Seyl stepped back, his sharp instincts kicking in. He scanned the area quickly, noticing how the connected pipes along the wall were all trembling now, their joins and bolts straining under the increasing pressure.
“Okay, yeah, that’s definitely about to blow,” he said, his voice low but urgent.
The sound of metal groaning filled the air, the vibrations growing stronger. The dim light around him flickered ominously as the hissing escalated into a high-pitched whine.