The torture room was a scene of chaos and brutality, and Leo's entrance was like a storm breaking.
The moment he laid eyes on Elara, battered and violated, hanging from a meat hook, an intense rage coursed through him, shaking him to his very core.
His fury only deepened when he saw Jessica holding a knife to Yukana's face.
"Oi... Let her go... Now..." Leo's voice was low, a rumble of thunder before the storm.
The sight of the room made his vision blaze with red, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Jessica, unfazed by the sudden intrusion, turned with a sneer.
"Ah, the hero has arrived. How delightful. I was getting bored with these toys."
In a blur of motion, Leo closed the distance between them, his hand reaching Jessica's wrist with stunning speed.
There was a sickening crack as he disarmed her, the knife clattering to the ground.
His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unyielding.
Fear flickered in Jessica's eyes as she realized the gravity of her situation, her bravado slipping away.
Leo's grip tightened, and she screamed, dropping to her knees as he crushed the bones in her hand.
The room fell silent except for her cries of pain, a stark contrast to the chaos moments before.
She dropped Yukana, who fell to the floor, and the rest of Team B looked on in shock, never having seen Leo so enraged.
Her eyes searched for mercy, but she found only a cold, golden gaze promising retribution.
The other members of Whispering Carnage stood paralyzed, stunned by Leo's power and speed.
Their confidence wavered as they realized they had underestimated the force before them.
Leo's teammates watched in a mix of awe and horror, the reality of the situation sinking in.
"You hurt my comrades... And worse of all... You violated my mentor as if she were nothing but a tool..." Leo's voice was a low growl, his rage making the air thick with tension.
"I'm sorry! I'm so—" Jessica's plea was cut short as Leo grabbed her head firmly, his expression cold and blank.
"I'm an assassin too, so 'begging for forgiveness' won't work on me."
He shifted his grip to her neck, lifting her off the ground.
Her legs dangled as she gasped for air, eyes bulging with fear.
The room remained silent, save for her labored breathing and the soft thump of her boots.
Without hesitation, Leo's grip tightened, and with a swift, brutal motion, he ended her life, blood painting the room a gruesome crimson.
Her lifeless body dropped to the floor, and a collective gasp of horror filled the room.
The members of Whispering Carnage were paralyzed, giving Leo's team a chance to regroup.
Leo's rage remained unquenched as he stepped over Jessica's corpse, his gaze locking onto each remaining captor in turn.
"None of you are walking out of here alive," he declared. As they tried to flee, Leo tore through them, his fury unleashed.
He slaughtered them with his bare hands, tearing them apart like paper.
Team B watched, their initial fear transforming into absolute terror.
Revy was the first to speak, her voice shaking. "Holy fuckin' shit... He's an absolute monster..."
Yukana watched in disbelief, comparing this ferocious version of Leo to the boy she met at the swing set years ago.
"Is that... Really the same Leo?" she wondered, her mind racing with memories of his gentle smile and kind words.
Leo scanned the room, ensuring that no threats remained.
The aftermath of his wrath was overwhelming, a grim testament to his fury.
The crimson stains on his clothes and skin contrasted sharply with the cold, emotionless expression on his face.
Team B looked at him with a mix of fear, respect, and horror.
"We need to get out of here," Leo said, his voice still a deadly whisper.
The urgency in his tone snapped them out of their shock, reminding them that they couldn't stay in this chamber of death.
Leo quickly moved to untie Elara and the others, his actions efficient despite the lingering rage.
He avoided eye contact, focused solely on freeing them.
When he reached Yukana, he paused, his gaze lingering on her bruised face.
She searched his eyes for a hint of the person she once knew, but found only the cold, unfeeling warrior he had become.
Once they were free, Leo approached a fallen member of Whispering Carnage and stripped a cover from the corpse without hesitation.
He returned to Elara, who trembled in the corner, her eyes vacant.
Gently, he draped the cover over her, obscuring the tattered remains of her clothing and the bruises on her skin.
His touch was unexpectedly tender, a stark contrast to the violence that had just occurred.
In this quiet gesture, there was a fleeting glimpse of the protector within Leo—a reminder that, beneath the rage, he still cared deeply for his comrades.
As Team B freed the prisoners and made their way out of the compound, a heavy silence enveloped them.
They wanted to express their gratitude to Leo for saving them, but the words wouldn't come.
They were undeniably thankful, yet the memory of his eyes turning that unsettling shade of golden and the oppressive aura he exuded left them apprehensive.
It felt as if the very air thickened around him, making it hard to breathe.
There was an unspoken fear that even the slightest misstep could provoke him, despite knowing that Leo was not one to lash out without cause.
Though they trusted him and knew he had always been level-headed, the sheer force of his presence now made them wary.
The transformation they had witnessed was a stark reminder of his immense power, both a source of protection and a reason for caution.
Back in his office, Cross sat in stunned silence, the brutality he'd just witnessed replaying over and over in his mind.
The images on the monitors were seared into his memory.
"Holy fuck... he ripped them all apart, like they were nothing," he muttered to himself, still grappling with the sheer ferocity of what he'd seen.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice crackling through the computer’s speakers.
"Mr. Cross..." The sudden sound made him jump, but it was only Leo.
"Make sure to call a helicopter for both bases for extraction, please," Leo's voice was colder than Cross had ever heard it, a chilling reminder of the events he'd just witnessed.
"Yeah, they should be there in roughly 10 to 15 minutes," Cross replied, his voice betraying his nerves.
The calm professionalism he usually maintained was shaken by the awe and fear Leo's actions had instilled in him.
As he moved to arrange the extraction, the image of Leo's golden eyes and the raw power he'd unleashed remained vivid in Cross's mind, a reminder of the formidable ally—and potential threat—they had in Leo.
Leo slumped against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest.
The bloodstains on his clothes were a grim reminder of the violence that had just unfolded, and his eyes stared into the distance as a whirlwind of emotions churned within him.
His teammates watched, their expressions a tapestry of shock, admiration, and fear.
"Should we... try to make him feel better? There's no telling what's going on in his head," Fabiola said, her voice tentative.
Cole glanced at her. "Are you bloody mad? I'm not talking to him. He just killed over a hundred guards with his bare hands. Who knows what he's capable of?"
Hyon Seung-Woo spoke up, his voice firm but gentle. "We can't just leave him like this, guys. He just saw our mentor, someone we looked up to like a mother figure, defiled right in front of us. How do you think he feels?"
Yukana was the only one who approached Leo, her steps hesitant yet determined.
She understood the fragility of his state and knew she had to be cautious.
As she neared, she noticed the tremble in his hands, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil.
She sat down beside him, echoing the way they first met on that swing set years ago. "Leo," she said softly, "we're okay. Thanks to you."
He turned to look at her, his golden eyes both emotionless and deeply emotional, a paradox of calm and intensity.
"Thank you, Yukana," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "For not being afraid of me."
Yukana placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You did what you had to do," she said, her voice steady.
"You protected us." Leo removed her hand gently, his body still covered in drying blood.
He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort.
"This is not over yet... this feeling in my chest, it's not going away," he said, his voice oddly calm but the tension in his body palpable. "Like an urge that won't go away until it's satisfied."
The team exchanged uncertain glances, aware that Leo was speaking of something deeper than their immediate escape.
The air was still heavy with the scent of death and fear, stark reminders of the recent carnage.
"Leo, I know you're feeling a lot right now, and you might not fully understand your emotions like the rest of us. But I think you need to take a minute to breathe," Yukana suggested, her voice filled with genuine concern.
"I'm fine. And I finally know what to do to make it go away... to make this feeling in my chest vanish,"
Leo replied, standing up with an eerie calm.
He brushed off his clothes, as if the bloodstains could be shed as easily as his emotions.
His gaze was intense, his eyes cutting through the silence.
"The Sinaloa Cartel will be destroyed within the next 30 hours," he declared, his voice growing in volume.
"Every commander, anyone in charge, will have their heads removed from their bodies. And once I've destroyed the power keeping it together, I'm going to find El Chapo himself and kill him." His words were a declaration of war, not mere intent, echoing through the room and leaving his team in stunned silence.
Team B stood frozen, disbelief etched on their faces as Leo's chilling calmness contrasted sharply with the monstrous rage they had just witnessed.
His eyes, cold and unwavering, glowed like golden embers amidst the ashes of his humanity.
"Are you crazy, Leo?!" Fabiola's voice cut through the silence, her eyes wide with shock. "You can't take on the entire cartel alone!"
Leo's expression remained stoic as she continued, her voice trembling. "They're not just any cartel, Leo. The Sinaloa Cartel has been a major player in the underworld since '87. They've got tentacles everywhere—in Mexico, the U.S., even in the government! You're talking about facing an empire here, not just a bunch of goons!"
"I know you're from here, Fabiola, and I know that you care," Leo replied, his voice steady and unyielding. "But they have to pay, and they will pay. If you want to stop me, you're welcome to try."
Fabiola looked at him, torn between terror and pity.
She understood the cartel's power and the scattered influence of El Chapo's sons.
She also recognized that the boy she once admired had changed, driven by a force she could barely comprehend.
Enzo stepped in front of Leo, his voice firm but filled with concern. "We can't stop you, and you know this. But do you think Elara would want you to go down a darker path for revenge, just for her sake?"
Leo paused, Enzo's words piercing through his resolve.
The mention of Elara, their mentor and mother figure, stirred something within him.
He knew that she would never wish for him to lose himself to vengeance.
Yet, the burning desire for retribution remained, a compulsion he couldn't easily shake.
The team stood in tense silence, understanding the gravity of Leo's decision.
They knew the path he contemplated was fraught with peril, not just from external threats but from the darkness within himself.
As they watched him wrestle with his inner demons, they hoped that the Leo they knew—the protector and friend—would find his way back from the edge.
With that, Leo walked over to where Elara lay, crouching beside her on the ground.
"If you tell me to stop, to not do this, I won't do anything. I'll just go home with everyone," he said softly.
Elara didn't respond with words; instead, she began to sob, the humiliation and pain she'd endured overwhelming her.
In her mind, she wrestled with what she needed to say.
"I need to tell him... I know I have to tell Leo not to do this, not just for me..." she thought, but her mind felt like a web of lies.
Her mouth, however, spoke her raw truth. "Leo... Kill them all... please."
The entire team was shocked by her words, but Leo simply stood up. "That's all I needed to hear," he said, resolute.
Right on cue, the helicopter arrived, its blades slicing through the air.
Team B understood there was no talking him out of it now, but Yukana ran over to Leo, embracing him tightly.
"Leo! Please just come back with us!" she pleaded, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want you to die, Leo! I know you're strong, but I care about you. You were doing so well—learning how to express and feel. Please don't throw that away!"
Her words were a desperate attempt to reach the part of Leo that hadn't been consumed by vengeance.
She hoped he wouldn't lose his soul in pursuit of revenge, that he would remember the progress he had made and the people who cared for him.
Leo looked at Yukana, his expression softening for a moment as he absorbed the weight of her plea.
The decision he faced was not just about justice or vengeance, but about the path he would choose for his own soul.
Leo embraced Yukana, feeling the weight of her concern.
"I can't... This must be done," he whispered, before delivering a swift chop to her neck, gently knocking her out.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, he thought he heard her soft plea: "Leo... why?"
He caught her before she fell and carefully handed her over to Amara.
"Take her away. I'm sure she'll understand why I did it," he instructed.
Amara nodded, taking Yukana onto her shoulder. "Are you sure you can do this within 30 hours? That's a lot to take on, Leo," she asked, concern etched on her face.
Leo's expression remained unchanged, resolute. "That's a fact," he replied.
With that, the helicopter lifted off, leaving Leo alone with his mission and his thoughts.
Speaking into his earpiece, Leo addressed Cross.
"Mr. Cross, I don't expect you to agree with what I'm doing, but I'm going to do it regardless of what you say. I know one thing for sure: you're not going to stop me because you want this to happen. You love her, and you always have. Go be with her when she gets back to the fraternity." With those words, he dropped the earpiece and sprinted off into the night.
In his office, Cross stared blankly at the screen, grappling with his own conflicted emotions.
He knew he should respond, should reprimand Leo for his disobedience.
But instead, he simply rose from his desk and walked away, understanding that some battles were personal, and some decisions, though difficult, were made out of love and necessity.
Ten hours after the mission, the members of both teams were in the process of healing.
Team A—Yoon Ga-ram, Verona Strobel, Rosa Negra Cisneros, Altaïr Eirikr, Ryota Takeda, and Vagan Walker—had sustained only minor injuries.
Team B—Revy Mcgarden, Fabiola Francisca, Amara Webb, Enzo Suwa, Hyon Seung-Woo, Cole Cooke, and Yukana Kashī—were also physically recovering, but the psychological wounds were more severe.
Dario was particularly devastated, grappling with the realization that they had walked into an obvious trap set by Whispering Carnage, nearly losing everything valuable to them.
Elara, resting in the infirmary, dealt with mental scars far deeper than any physical ones.
In his room, Vagan was trying to console Yukana.
Despite his efforts, anger and frustration got the better of him, and he punched a hole in the wall.
"Damn it! For years, I've worked my ass off... trained even harder than Leo. Yet I couldn't even defeat someone inferior to him," he exclaimed, his voice filled with bitterness and disappointment.
Yukana knelt beside him, struggling to hold back her tears.
"If I were stronger... Maybe I could have helped him. Maybe he wouldn't have turned into this," she said, her words heavy with regret and self-blame.
Vagan's anger subsided as he looked at Yukana, understanding her pain and sharing in her feelings of helplessness.
"It’s not your fault, Yukana. None of us could have predicted this. Leo made his own choices, and it doesn’t mean we failed him. We just have to keep believing that he’ll find his way back to us."
Yukana nodded, though the burden of what had happened weighed heavily on them both.
The uncertainty of the future loomed large, binding them together in their shared concern for their friend and the path he had chosen.
During this time, Dario sat in the medical bay beside Elara's bed, holding her hand.
His mind was a chaotic mix of anger, fear, and a desperate need for redemption. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Elara, who was enveloped in her own world of pain and darkness. "We're going to get you out of here. I promise."
Elara pulled her hand away, her voice barely a whisper yet cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Dario... You watched them do this to me, didn't you? Through the cameras."
Dario didn't hesitate in his response. "Yes... I saw it all," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret and self-loathing.
"But I had no choice. If we had intervened, it would have been a massacre. You know the rules, Elara."
In a sudden burst of anger, she sat up and slapped him across the face, her palm leaving a stinging imprint.
"I don't know what's worse, the fact that they did this to me or that you just watched," she spat, her eyes burning with a rage that mirrored Leo's.
Dario rubbed his cheek, unfazed by the physical pain but tormented by the emotional turmoil.
"Elara, you're alive, and we're all okay. That's all that matters," he replied, his voice laden with the weight of their shared burden.
"Oh yeah, I'm alive all right," Elara retorted bitterly, her voice cracking with pain and anger.
"I get to live with the fact that I was tortured and violated in front of the children we trained, while the man I cared for and admired just watched. What kind of monsters are we raising here?"
Her words pierced Dario's heart, making him acutely aware of the depth of her suffering.
He knew their creed was harsh, yet it was the foundation of their existence as instructors.
"Elara, you know why I couldn't intervene. If they had noticed us, it would've meant your death and the failure of the mission," he said, his voice trembling with the weight of his inner conflict.
"But Leo..." she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Dario sighed heavily, the weight of his choices pressing on him like a boulder.
"Leo's different. He's lost in his anger right now, but he's strong. He's always been the strongest of all of us. And he's doing this for you, for all of us."
Elara lay back, her anger momentarily giving way to exhaustion.
She understood the rationale, but the pain of betrayal and helplessness lingered.
Dario remained by her side, the unspoken understanding between them a fragile thread in the aftermath of their ordeal.
Dario took a deep breath, knowing he needed to explain his actions to Elara, even if it risked her hating him for the rest of his life.
"I know what I did was wrong on so many levels," he began, his voice low and filled with regret.
"But if I had intervened, it could have made things worse. They might have killed you faster, or taken out the students. When they're in full control, they can take their time."
He paused, searching for the right words. "I know, in a heartbeat, you would have saved me without a second thought. But I had to make a choice, even if it meant you might never forgive me."
Dario continued, sharing their creed, hoping it would provide some context for his difficult decision. "In shadows, we guide without chains; balance is our creed, and freedom our aim. We act not to alter the world, but to ensure its choices remain. Our path demands the sacrifice of self, for in our mission, personal desires hold no sway. Morality, as the world perceives, is but a veil—we seek not to judge what is good or evil, but to maintain the harmony of choice. In the dance of destiny, each life is a note, none more vital than the symphony they create together. Our hand is steady, our resolve unwavering, as we guard the freedom of humanity's will, ensuring no force, however benevolent or malevolent, can strip it away."
Elara listened, her anger a smoldering ember rather than a raging fire.
She understood the creed, having lived by its principles herself, but the pain of feeling abandoned was still fresh. "I get it, Dario. I do. But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less," she replied, her voice softer now.
Dario nodded, his heart heavy with the understanding that some wounds take time to heal.
"I know, Elara. And I'm sorry. I truly am. But I promise, we'll get through this, and we'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again."
Their eyes met, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared—a bond tested by the harsh realities of their world but not broken.
They both knew that their path was fraught with difficult choices and sacrifices, and while the pain of the present lingered, there was hope for healing and redemption in the future.
Elara quickly wrapped her arms around Dario, holding him tightly.
"I'm not mad that you didn't break the creed, Dario," she said, her voice heavy with pain. "But I can't ignore what happened here today. I can't just go back to the way things were."
Dario held her close, feeling the weight of her words.
"Yeah... It'll never be the same," he admitted softly.
"But I can live with that. Even if you never forgive me for it. You know I'd do anything to protect you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.
As she began to cry into the crook of his neck, he felt the depth of her anguish.
"I love you, Dario... I always have," she confessed, her voice choked with emotion.
"I just don't know how to handle this. I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad at the world for being so cruel," she sobbed.
Dario held her tighter, his own emotions swirling within him.
"I love you too, Elara," he murmured, feeling her pain as acutely as his own.
"We'll figure this out together. The world may be cruel, but we have each other. We'll find a way to get through this."
In that embrace, they found a moment of solace amidst the chaos, a shared understanding that while their path was fraught with challenges and heartache, they didn't have to face it alone.
The bond between them, though tested, remained a source of strength and hope for the future.
Five hours later, at the 15-hour mark, Cross convened a meeting with all the instructors: Boon-Nam, Ike Eiji, Suhal Chika, and Prudenzio Hiro. He briefed them about Leo's mission, and the room quickly erupted with anger.
"Are you fuckin' crazy, Cross?" Prudenzio shouted, standing up in disbelief.
"You let him do something out of impulse!? He's 11, damn it!"
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Boon-Nam chimed in, echoing the sentiment. "He's right! He's a little boy, a little autistic boy who's dealing with emotions he's never felt before, and this is what you do?"
Suhal Chika and Ike Eiji remained silent, their eyes fixed on Cross, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern.
Cross took a deep breath, preparing to address the room's palpable tension. "I understand your concerns," he began, trying to maintain calm.
"But Leo is not just any child. He's incredibly capable, and he insisted on doing this. He believes it's something he has to do."
Prudenzio shook his head, frustration evident in his posture. "Belief doesn't make it right, Cross. This is dangerous and reckless."
Boon-Nam added, "We should be guiding him, not letting him run headlong into situations he may not fully understand."
Cross nodded, acknowledging their points. "I agree, and I don't take this lightly. But Leo's determination is unlike anything I've seen. He's got a plan, and I believe in his ability to execute it."
"I know what you're all feeling," Cross continued, his gaze shifting to Suhal and Ike, who remained silent, their faces unreadable. "But there's a reason why the only two people in this room haven't told me anything yet."
"In shadows, we guide without chains; balance is our creed, and freedom our aim," Cross recited, letting the words linger in the air.
Suhal and Ike, in unison, completed the creed, "We act not to alter the world, but to ensure its choices remain."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the creed hanging heavily in the air.
Cross looked around at the assembled instructors. "Don't forget, every last one of you in this room swore into the fraternity of these words. We stand by Leo's right to make his own decisions, even if it's a path of destruction," he said, his gaze piercing through the silence. "But I need you all to watch something."
Cross pulled out his laptop and showed them the footage of what happened at both bases.
The initial scenes at the first base were expected, but when they saw Leo kill someone with his bare hands by putting a hole through them, shock rippled through the room.
The brutality of the act was chilling, especially from someone so young.
As the footage continued to the events at the second base, the seasoned killers, for the first time in their careers, were taken aback by the sheer brutality that unfolded.
The carnage was unlike anything they had anticipated, leaving even the most hardened among them in stunned silence.
Prudenzio, who had been vocal earlier, now sat quietly, the reality of Leo's capabilities and choices starkly confronting his earlier anger.
Boon-Nam, too, was silent, the footage a grim reminder of the burden their creed placed on even the youngest among them.
Cross closed the laptop, the echo of the violence still reverberating in the room.
"This is the path Leo has chosen. It's not ours to change his course, but to ensure he has the freedom to choose it," he said, his voice firm yet somber.
The instructors sat, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings, the room filled with a heavy understanding of the complex balance between guidance and freedom—a balance they were sworn to uphold, no matter the cost.
"It's only been 15 hours since then, and no big news has happened as of yet," Cross said, his voice a mix of relief and tension.
"But we need to prepare for the aftermath, regardless of whether Leo succeeds or not."
Ike spoke up, his tone measured. "We need to assess the damage done and ensure that our operations remain covert. If the cartel starts looking into this, it could compromise everything we've worked for."
Suhal nodded in agreement. "And if he does manage to take them out, we'll have to deal with the power vacuum that follows. There'll be chaos, and we need to be ready to navigate it without drawing attention to ourselves."
Boon-Nam leaned forward, her expression serious. "And what about Leo? What happens to him when he's done with this?"
Cross paused, considering the question. "That's the million-dollar question," he said, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"We've all seen what he's capable of, and we know that once he's set on a mission, he'll see it through to the end. But what kind of person will he be when he comes back to us?"
The room fell quiet again as the implications of Leo's actions settled over them.
They knew that the path he had chosen was fraught with danger not only for himself but for the very fabric of the world they sought to protect.
"We can't ignore the possibility of Leo going rogue," Prudenzio said, his voice tight. "We need to be ready to bring him in if necessary."
Suhal's eyes narrowed at the suggestion. "We don't turn on our own," she said, her voice cold.
"Not if he turns on us," Ike countered, his gaze unwavering.
The tension grew as the instructors grappled with the potential future where they might have to confront the very student they had raised and trained.
The thought was unbearable, but their duty to the creed was clear: the balance of power must be maintained, even if it meant facing one of their own.
The hours ticked by, each one feeling heavier than the last.
They discussed strategies and contingencies, trying to prepare for every possible outcome.
Yet, at the core of it all was the unspoken fear that Leo's quest for vengeance could lead to a path from which there was no return, not just for him, but for the fraternity as well.
As the meeting broke up, they dispersed, each lost in their own thoughts.
Cross remained, staring at the now-dark screen of his laptop, the images of Leo's brutality still etched in his mind.
He knew that no matter what happened in the next 15 hours, their lives—and the lives of countless others—would be forever changed by the actions of the boy they had all come to care for.
As the 25-hour mark arrived, the former members of Team A—Yoon Ga-ram, Verona Strobel, Rosa Negra Cisneros, Altaïr Eirikr, Ryota Takeda, and Vagan Walker—gathered together.
They had recently achieved the prestigious status of S-ranked assassins, a testament to their skills and dedication.
Sitting in a quiet corner, they reflected on the events that had unfolded and the journey that had brought them to this point.
Yoon Ga-ram broke the silence, her voice tinged with both pride and concern. "We've come a long way to reach this rank, but the world we navigate is more complicated than ever."
Verona Strobel nodded, her gaze steady. "Being S-ranked means we have more responsibility. We need to be ready for anything, especially with everything that's happening with Leo."
Rosa Negra Cisneros, known for her insightful observations, chimed in. "Leo's mission is unprecedented. We need to be prepared for the ripple effects it could have on our operations and on us as individuals."
Altaïr Eirikr leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "We've trained alongside him. We know what he's capable of. But this path he's on... it's not something any of us could have predicted."
Ryota Takeda added, "Our bond is strong, and it has to be stronger now than ever. We need to support each other and be ready to adapt to whatever comes next."
Vagan Walker, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "Leo's always been a part of our team, even if he's on his own mission now. We owe it to him—and to ourselves—to be ready for whatever comes next, whether it's helping him or dealing with the consequences."
The group nodded in agreement, the weight of their responsibilities clear but shared among them.
They knew that as S-ranked assassins, they were at the forefront of a complex and dangerous world.
Vagan couldn't shake the feeling of loss, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of the friend who had once been by his side.
Leo had been more than a teammate; he had been like a little brother, someone he had sworn to protect.
Now, with the knowledge of Leo's mission, he felt as if a piece of himself had been ripped away.
Training had never been easy for Vagan. He had pushed himself to his limits and beyond, driven by a desire to match Leo's strength.
But no matter how much he worked, he always knew that Leo was in a league of his own.
It was a harsh reality that stung, but it was one he had accepted.
Yet, in that one moment when Leo's eyes had turned golden, something had shifted.
It was as if he had seen a glimpse of a power so vast and terrifying that it left Vagan feeling like a mere novice.
The memory of that transformation haunted him—the way Leo's eyes had glowed with an intensity that seemed almost otherworldly.
It was a side of him Vagan had never seen, a side that suggested he had tapped into a strength so profound that it could rewrite the very fabric of their world.
He knew that Leo's path was one fraught with danger, not just from the enemies he faced but from the power within him.
The bond between them had always been strong, but now it felt as if it was stretching to its limits.
Vagan knew he had to trust in Leo's judgment, even if he didn't agree with his actions.
After all, he had seen the change in him—a change that hinted at a power that could either be the salvation or the destruction of everything they held dear.
Yoon Ga-ram and Verona Strobel sat together, sharing stories of their own interactions with Leo.
"Remember that time he helped me during hand-to-hand training?" Yoon said, a small smile playing on her lips. "He was so patient, even when I kept messing up."
"Yeah, and when he taught me how to throw ninja stars," Verona chimed in, her eyes lighting up with the memory. "He was so focused, so precise. It was like he had a sixth sense for where they needed to land."
They both fell silent, their thoughts drifting to the stark contrast between the sweet, considerate Leo they knew and the cold-blooded killer they had seen in the footage.
It was a duality that troubled them, a reminder that even the most gentle souls could harbor darker impulses.
As they spoke, Yoon's eyes grew distant, recalling the gentle touch of Leo's hand as he placed her favorite flower, a rare orchid, into her palm on her birthday.
It had been a simple gesture, but one that had meant the world to her.
And now, knowing what he was capable of, it was hard not to wonder if that sweetness had been a mask all along.
"You know, he's never shown much emotion, but he's always been there for us," Verona said, her voice filled with a mix of admiration and worry. "I just hope he comes back to us... the Leo we know."
Their conversation was a quiet one, filled with the unspoken fear that the boy they had watched grow into a powerful assassin might not be the same when he returned from his quest for vengeance.
Yet, amidst the doubt, there was an unshakeable belief in Leo's goodness—a belief that had been forged through shared battles and personal moments.
As the 29th hour approached, the tension in the room grew thick.
The fate of their friend, their mission, and perhaps even their world, hung in the balance.
They had all seen what Leo was capable of, but none of them could have predicted the path he had taken.
The sound of the door opening snapped them out of their thoughts.
Cross walked in, his face grim. "Gather around," he said, his voice low and urgent. "It's time for the final briefing."
The team exchanged looks, their hearts racing with anticipation. They knew the stakes were high, but they were ready to face whatever the next hour would bring, together.
Vagan couldn't shake the feeling of loss, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of the friend who had once stood by his side.
Leo had been more than just a teammate; he felt like a little brother, someone Vagan had sworn to protect.
Now, with the knowledge of Leo's mission, it felt as if a piece of himself had been ripped away.
Training had never been easy for Vagan.
He had pushed himself to his limits and beyond, driven by a desire to match Leo's strength.
Despite his efforts, he always knew Leo was in a league of his own.
It was a harsh reality that stung, but one he had accepted.
Yet, in that pivotal moment when Leo's eyes had turned golden, something had shifted.
It was as if he had glimpsed a power so vast and terrifying that it left Vagan feeling like a mere novice.
The memory of that transformation haunted him—the way Leo's eyes glowed with an intensity that seemed almost otherworldly.
It was a side of him Vagan had never seen, suggesting he had tapped into a strength so profound it could rewrite the very fabric of their world.
Vagan knew that Leo's path was fraught with danger, not just from the enemies he faced but from the power within him.
The bond between them had always been strong, but now it felt as if it was stretching to its limits.
Vagan knew he had to trust in Leo's judgment, even if he didn't agree with his actions.
After all, he had seen the change in him—a change that hinted at a power that could either be the salvation or the destruction of everything they held dear.
Nearby, Yoon Ga-ram and Verona Strobel sat together, sharing stories of their own interactions with Leo.
"Remember that time he helped me during hand-to-hand training?" Yoon said, a small smile playing on her lips. "He was so patient, even when I kept messing up."
"Yeah, and when he taught me how to throw ninja stars," Verona chimed in, her eyes lighting up with the memory.
"He was so focused, so precise. It was like he had a sixth sense for where they needed to land."
Their conversation dwindled into silence, their thoughts drifting to the stark contrast between the sweet, considerate Leo they knew and the cold-blooded killer they had seen in the footage.
It was a duality that troubled them, a reminder that even the most gentle souls could harbor darker impulses.
As they spoke, Yoon's eyes grew distant, recalling the gentle touch of Leo's hand as he placed her favorite flower, a rare orchid, into her palm on her birthday.
It had been a simple gesture, but one that had meant the world to her.
And now, knowing what he was capable of, it was hard not to wonder if that sweetness had been a mask all along.
"You know, he's never shown much emotion, but he's always been there for us," Verona said, her voice filled with a mix of admiration and worry. "I just hope he comes back to us... the Leo we know."
Their conversation was quiet, filled with the unspoken fear that the boy they had watched grow into a powerful assassin might not be the same when he returned from his quest for vengeance.
Yet, amidst the doubt, there was an unshakeable belief in Leo's goodness—a belief forged through shared battles and personal moments.
As the 29th hour approached, tension in the room grew thick.
The fate of their friend, their mission, and perhaps even their world, hung in the balance.
They had all seen what Leo was capable of, but none could have predicted the path he had taken.
The sound of the door opening snapped them out of their thoughts.
Cross walked in, his face grim. "Gather around," he said, his voice low and urgent. "It's time for the final briefing."
The team exchanged looks, their hearts racing with anticipation.
They knew the stakes were high, but they were ready to face whatever the next hour would bring, together.
Once all the students had gathered around Cross, he began, "Congratulations on becoming S-ranked assassins, everyone. I know some of you might feel you haven't earned these titles, especially considering how Whispering Carnage, our rival predecessors, have put you in dangerous situations. But you survived, and that's what matters. Now, if Leo is to succeed, we have to prepare."
Cross then detailed the potential consequences of taking out the Sinaloa Cartel, emphasizing the complexities they might face:
Increased Violence: "With the Sinaloa Cartel gone, rival cartels might aggressively compete to fill the void. This could lead to a surge in violence and bloodshed as they fight for control over territories and drug trafficking routes."
Fragmentation: "The cartel itself could splinter into smaller fractions, each vying for power and control. This fragmentation could trigger internal conflicts and further destabilize the region."
Rise of New Cartels: "New criminal organizations might seize the opportunity to establish themselves as significant players in the drug trade and other illicit activities."
Government Intervention: "The Mexican government might intensify its efforts to restore order, possibly leading to increased military and law enforcement presence in affected areas to prevent other cartels from taking over."
Shifts in Drug Trafficking Routes: "The disruption could lead to changes in drug trafficking routes, as other cartels or criminal groups attempt to secure their supply chains and distribution networks."
Impact on Local Communities: "The fall of a major cartel could have various social and economic impacts on local communities. People involved or affected by the cartel's activities may seek alternative livelihoods or face increased insecurity."
International Implications: "Given the global nature of drug trafficking, shifts in power dynamics could also affect international drug markets, potentially altering the flow of drugs to other countries."
Cross paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "This isn't just about taking down a cartel; it's about managing the chaos that follows. We need to be ready to act swiftly and strategically, ensuring that our operations remain covert and effective."
The students listened intently, understanding the gravity of the situation.
Their roles as S-ranked assassins were not just about skill and survival but about navigating a complex web of power, influence, and consequence.
As they prepared for the potential aftermath of Leo's mission, they knew they needed to be more united and vigilant than ever.
Meanwhile, Yukana sat in her room, lost in thought, replaying a memory from years ago when she and Leo were just kids.
She remembered his words vividly: "If it guaranteed high levels of success or even as a last resort, without a second thought." His determination had always been clear, even as a child.
Thinking about how Leo had returned to save them, viewing them as valuable assets to his mission, she instinctively rubbed the spot on her neck where Leo had once chopped her.
A mix of emotions surged within her—gratitude, confusion, and a lingering affection she couldn't quite shake.
"Leo... If you knew how I felt, you probably wouldn't even leave, right?" she mused aloud, her fingers absentmindedly playing with her hair.
She sighed deeply, caught in the complexity of her feelings. "You're such an idiot... Why do I even like you so much?"
Despite everything, her feelings for Leo had only grown stronger over the years.
She admired his strength and resolve, but it was his vulnerability and the moments of kindness he showed that truly captured her heart.
Yet, she couldn't help but feel frustrated by his single-mindedness and his willingness to risk everything, including himself, for his mission.
As she sat there, surrounded by memories and emotions, Yukana realized how much she wanted him to return safely—not just for the sake of the mission, but for herself.
She hoped that one day, Leo would understand the depth of her feelings and see the value in their connection beyond strategic advantage.
30 hours had passed, and in a mansion in Mexico, a man lay restless in his bedroom, tossing and turning beside his sleeping wife.
The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as if something unseen was pressing down on him.
In his troubled sleep, he heard a voice counting slowly.
"1...." The sound reverberated in his mind, and he imagined his head resting in a guillotine.
"2..." The sensation was vivid, like the cold steel of the blade resting on his neck as it slowly rose.
"3..." The blade reached its peak, poised for the drop.
"4..." In his mind's eye, he met his executioner—death itself, staring back at him with an unyielding gaze.
"5." The blade fell, and in his dream, he felt his head severed, rolling to the ground, leaving him staring at his own lifeless body.
Startled awake, he sat up, drenched in sweat, clutching his neck as though the dream had been real, the phantom sensation lingering in his skin.
His heart raced, pounding against his chest as he tried to catch his breath.
His wife stirred beside him, awakened by his sudden movement.
"¿Qué pasa bebé? ¿Tuviste un mal sueño?" she asked, her voice soft with concern, wondering if he had had a bad dream.
He nodded, trying to steady his breathing. "Sí, un mal sueño," he replied, his voice shaky as he tried to shake off the lingering dread.
The dream felt like a warning, a premonition that left him uneasy and on edge.
She reached over to comfort him, her presence grounding him back to reality.
"Todo está bien, estoy aquí contigo," she reassured him, rubbing his back gently, bringing him back to the safety of their shared space.
As he lay back down, he couldn't help but wonder if the dream was more than just a nightmare.
The sensation of impending doom lingered, a shadow that refused to dissipate with the morning light.
Then they both heard a voice, calm yet chilling, "Joaquín Archivaldo Guzmán Loera y Emma Modesta Coronel Aispuro." The voice belonged to Leo, who stood in the corner of the room, stepping into the morning light.
He appeared surprisingly well-kept, not showing any signs of wear or distress, clad in a black shinobi shozoku.
As he revealed his face, there was a hint of a sardonic smile. "¿O prefiere que le llame El Chapo, señor Loera?" he added, his politeness dripping with sarcasm.
El Chapo quickly scrambled out of bed as his wife, Emma, screamed in terror.
"¡Guardias! ¡Guardias! ¡¡Que alguien mate a este pequeño cabrón!!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls.
Leo, unfazed, tossed a backpack onto the bed. "No te molestes en llamarlos, no te van a salvar," he said, his voice steady and cold.
With trembling hands, El Chapo hesitantly unzipped the backpack.
Inside, he found the severed heads of his security detail, their lifeless eyes staring back at him.
The sight was grotesque, the reality of Leo’s capabilities stark and undeniable.
Emma turned away, unable to withstand the gruesome scene, and vomited onto the floor, her body shaking with shock and revulsion.
El Chapo, pale and speechless, felt a wave of fear unlike any he had experienced before.
Leo calmly pulled a chair over to the nearby desk and sat down, his demeanor relaxed yet menacing.
"Verás, El Chapo, no soporto a la gente como tú," he began, his voice steady and sharp. "La gente como tú me pone mucho de los nervios. Con todo este dinero, puedes permitirte un estilo de vida lujoso, literalmente tienes suficiente dinero para no volver a trabajar... Sin embargo, tienes una necesidad ardiente de seguir ganando más y hacer sufrir a tu gente."
As Leo spoke, El Chapo's eyes darted toward his pillow, where his gun lay hidden.
Slowly, he began to inch his hand toward it, hoping to catch Leo off guard.
"Vamos, maté a toda tu fuerza de seguridad sin despertarte. No hagas eso, solo te vas a lastimar. No seas estúpido," Leo warned, his gaze never leaving El Chapo.
Ignoring the warning, El Chapo decided to gamble on his speed, quickly grabbing the gun and pointing it at Leo.
In an instant, Leo flicked his wrist, sending a throwing star flying with pinpoint accuracy.
It embedded itself in El Chapo's hand, causing him to scream out in pain and drop the gun.
Emma's eyes widened in fear as she rushed to his side, her concern palpable.
"God, you're so dumb," Leo muttered to himself, shaking his head at the futile attempt.
El Chapo clutched his injured hand, his bravado shattered along with his defenses.
The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the realization that he was utterly at Leo's mercy.
Emma, tears in her eyes, tried to comfort him, but the gravity of their situation was overwhelming.
Emma looked at Leo nervously, a strained smile on her face as she pleaded, "Dime, estás aquí por dinero, ¿verdad? ¿Sí? Solo dinos cuánto quieres y te pagaremos... Lo prometo." She was desperate, hoping to appeal to any shred of greed she imagined might sway him.
But she had made a grave mistake by speaking out of turn.
Leo turned his gaze to her, his eyes remaining calm but filled with an unmistakable intensity.
The room seemed to grow colder, as if his presence alone had the power to alter the very atmosphere.
Emma felt a chill run down her spine, her breath quickening despite her attempts to steady it, fearing that even her panic might provoke him.
Raising a finger, Leo pointed at her, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.
"No controlas esta organización, eres solo un cuerpo símbolo y un creador de bebés viviente. Habla en voz alta otra vez y te mataré." The threat was delivered with such icy precision that Emma's mind was overwhelmed, causing her to faint from sheer terror.
El Chapo, panicked, shook her gently, trying to rouse her. "Emma, ¿estás bien? ¡Despierta! ¡Emma!" His voice was frantic, laced with worry for his wife, who lay unresponsive beside him.
Leo merely rolled his eyes, unfazed by the scene. "El dinero no te va a sacar de esta situación, El Chapo, ni por asomo. Vine a matarte y eso es exactamente lo que voy a hacer. Y créeme, lo haré."
He gestured behind him, his voice steady and cold. "Puedo matar a toda tu familia ahora mismo y borrar la línea de sangre de la faz del planeta. Tus hijos y tus hijas. Y tus hijos no son mejores que tú."
The words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the ruthless reality that Leo embodied. In this moment, El Chapo saw not just an assassin, but an executioner who had come to deliver the final judgment on a life steeped in crime and bloodshed.
The gravity of his predicament was undeniable, and for the first time, El Chapo realized that he had met someone who truly feared nothing—not his wealth, nor his power, nor his legacy.
"Toda esta muerte, toda esta destrucción... No tiene ningún razonamiento," Leo continued, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
"Matas, violas, saqueas y brutalizas a las personas a las que vendes tus drogas. Aunque tienes mucho dinero, les recuerdas matando y torturando sin ningún motivo. Todo este sufrimiento, ¿y para qué, El Chapo? Dime, ¿qué razón lógica puedes encontrar para lastimar a tantas personas?"
El Chapo finally spoke, his voice blunt and unapologetic. "Por el dinero, el poder y la fama," he said. "La razón de mis acciones está impulsada por una sed insaciable de inmensa riqueza, influencia incomparable y la adoración que conlleva. El sufrimiento y el caos que causo son meros medios para lograr un fin, daños colaterales en el camino hacia mis objetivos. Encuentro una profunda sensación de satisfacción al saber que mi nombre es temido y respetado por millones, y que mi imperio continúa creciendo a pesar de las atrocidades que cometo. En este mundo oscuro, he encontrado el éxito y el poder a través de métodos despiadados y medidas violentas, y no me arrepiento ni me disculpo por las acciones que cometo."
Leo listened, a part of him begrudgingly respecting the clarity and boldness of El Chapo's admission, yet deeply disappointed that even in the face of death, he remained unrepentant.
Without a word, Leo drew his sword from his back, the blade gleaming in the dim light as he placed it against El Chapo's neck.
"That's why people like you deserve to die, El Chapo," Leo said with calm finality. "I'll take care of the power vacuum myself once you're dead. But just know this: your bloodline will not continue after today."
With a swift, decisive motion, Leo severed El Chapo's head, the cut so precise that his brain remained momentarily active, unaware of its severance.
Leo, knowing that El Chapo could still hear him, placed the head at the end of the bed.
As Leo walked out of the room, he ensured that El Chapo could hear the screams of his children, a haunting echo of the terror and pain his own actions had inflicted on countless families.
The cries resonated, a grim reminder of the cycle of violence and retribution.
When El Chapo's perception finally faded, and whether he heard the screams until his last conscious moment, was unknown to Leo.
But what Leo did know was that his quest for vengeance had reached its conclusion.
With each step away from the room, he felt the weight of his mission lift slightly, though the world outside awaited the ripple effects of this violent end.
At 5:00 p.m. on November 2, 2011, the international news broke a story that sent shockwaves around the world.
In New York, people gathered on the streets in front of a TV store, their eyes glued to the screens as they listened intently to the broadcast.
"Hello everyone, I'm your reporter Sonia Kelly," the anchor began, her tone a mix of gravity and urgency.
"Today, the world is in shock following the news that the infamous leader of the Sinaloa Cartel, Joaquín Archivaldo Guzmán Loera, also known as 'El Chapo,' was found beheaded at the foot of his bed, along with his entire family."
The crowd exchanged hushed whispers, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
Sonia continued, detailing the implications of this event. "Authorities are struggling to piece together the events leading to this brutal act. The loss of El Chapo, a figure who has dominated the global drug trade for years, leaves a significant power vacuum within the cartel. Law enforcement agencies worldwide are on high alert, anticipating potential fallout and shifts in power dynamics across criminal organizations."
As the report unfolded, the atmosphere on the streets was charged with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.
The sudden and violent end of one of the world's most notorious criminals was a momentous event, raising questions about the future of the drug trade and the potential for further violence as rival factions vie for control.
"Our sources report that in Mexico, there was a massive killing spree targeting members of the Sinaloa Cartel over the span of 30 hours from yesterday," Sonia Kelly continued, her voice steady as she relayed the shocking details.
"The bloodbath was so severe that approximately 5,000 men were murdered, with violence raging throughout the night. Additionally, four buildings were destroyed in explosions. It's unclear whether these events were orchestrated by a rival cartel or a decisive military action against the cartel, but the scene was undeniably gruesome."
The broadcast then cut to a live press conference with the President of Mexico, Felipe Calderón.
Standing before a sea of reporters, he addressed the nation and the world.
"My fellow Mexicans and people from around the world," Calderón began, his expression solemn yet resolute, "the death of El Chapo marks a glorious moment not just for Mexico, but for the United States and the world as a whole. The loss of El Chapo is a significant victory for us, symbolizing the end of a reign of terror. No more deaths, no more loss of innocent lives at the hands of the Sinaloa Cartel."
He paused, allowing his words to resonate with the audience.
"In light of El Chapo's downfall, we have increased policing efforts and added military presence in the Sinaloa region of Mexico. While we do not know who was responsible for eliminating El Chapo, the Mexican government extends its gratitude. Whoever you are, you have saved countless lives and brought hope to many."
The camera returned to Sonia Kelly, who summarized the developments.
"The global community now watches closely as Mexico and its allies navigate the aftermath of this unprecedented event. With El Chapo's demise, the landscape of the drug trade faces potential upheaval, and the world holds its breath, hoping for a more peaceful future."
As the news spread, it sparked conversations and debates worldwide, with many contemplating the consequences of such a dramatic shift in power.
The hope was for a reduction in violence and a brighter future for the regions most affected by the cartel's influence.
"But surprisingly," Sonia Kelly continued, "fellow cartels around Mexico, upon hearing the news, have not reacted aggressively to the situation. Instead, they have seemingly paused their activities, allowing police forces to take over the Sinaloa region with little to no resistance. Whatever the case, the underworld has taken a massive hit. The flow of drugs between the U.S. and Mexico is expected to face significant disruptions due to this upheaval."
She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before adding, "Oddly enough, all of El Chapo's money has mysteriously vanished from his bank accounts. The Mexican government, while aware of this anomaly, has chosen not to investigate further, expressing relief that El Chapo is gone and seemingly unconcerned about the missing funds."
As Sonia concluded her report, the implications of this bizarre twist began to ripple through discussions worldwide.
Analysts speculated on the possible whereabouts of the money and the potential for power shifts among remaining cartel factions.
Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope that the reduced operations might lead to a decrease in violence and a chance for recovery in regions long plagued by cartel activity.
The disappearance of El Chapo's fortune added an element of mystery to the story, leaving many to wonder about the fate of the wealth he amassed through years of illicit dealings.
While the exact circumstances remained unclear, the world watched as Mexico navigated this new, uncertain chapter in its fight against organized crime.
In the shadowy corridors of the underworld, the news of El Chapo's demise sent shockwaves through the ranks.
El Chapo had long been considered the most untouchable figure on the planet, so well-protected that even the most skilled assassins dared not approach him.
His notorious reputation was matched by the staggering $40 million bounty on his head, a prize that had remained unclaimed for years—until now.
"There's no way... Someone actually killed him," one assassin murmured, disbelief evident in his voice. The room was filled with murmurs of surprise and curiosity, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
"Who killed him? Nobody has taken that bounty for years, and yet they did it in just 30 hours," another voice chimed in, echoing the astonishment that rippled through the underworld community.
The identity of the mysterious figure who had accomplished what many believed impossible became the subject of intense speculation.
How they managed to bypass El Chapo's formidable defenses, execute him, and claim the bounty in such a short time was a mystery that captivated the criminal world.
Whispers of admiration and fear spread, as the underworld acknowledged the arrival of an unknown force capable of toppling even the mightiest of figures.
The implications were profound, with many questioning the balance of power and wondering who might be the next target of this enigmatic assassin.
As the underworld buzzed with theories and rumors, one thing was clear: the landscape had changed dramatically, and the traditional rules of engagement no longer seemed to apply.
The fall of El Chapo marked a new era, one where even the most untouchable could be reached, and no one was truly safe.
Meanwhile, back at the fraternity, disbelief and awe filled the room as the news of Leo's incredible feat spread.
The seemingly impossible task of taking down the most untouchable man on the planet had been accomplished, and the impact of Leo's actions was undeniable.
Cross stared at the news broadcast, his eyes wide with admiration for Leo's achievement.
Elara, overcome with emotion, cried tears of joy, finally finding solace in the fact that Leo had avenged her.
The fraternity buzzed with a sense of relief and celebration, grateful for the outcome and the surprisingly manageable power vacuum that had followed.
Despite the jubilant atmosphere, Vagan and Yukana couldn't shake a lingering feeling that something was amiss.
Yukana turned to Vagan, her voice filled with hope and uncertainty. "Vagan... Do you think he'll come back home?" she asked, longing to see Leo again.
Vagan, confident in his response, reassured her, "He should now. Everything is done, so he should be on his way back right now." Yukana smiled, her heart lightened by the thought of Leo's return.
Meanwhile, in Mexico, Leo stood solemnly by a series of shallow graves marked with tombstones.
He gently placed flowers on the graves, offering a silent prayer for those who had been lost.
Rising to his feet, he looked down at the resting places of the fallen, a somber expression on his face.
"I'm sorry..." he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of regret.
Though his face remained stoic, the weight of his actions and the lives affected by them were evident in his demeanor.
After a moment of reflection, Leo turned and walked away, leaving behind the graves and the memories they represented.
As he made his way back, the path ahead was uncertain, but Leo knew that he had fulfilled his mission.
Now, it was time to return to those who awaited him, and perhaps find a measure of peace in the aftermath of his journey.