Eighty: Efficiency

Hyades City, Exterior Ward

Spring Court, Hidden World

Terra, Gaea Solar system

Milky Way Galaxy,

Neutral Free Zone

Shrouded in the oppressive gloom of his cell, Leon sat in enforced silence, his body bound by mana-sealing cuffs that sapped away his strength. A silver helmet, etched with shimmering glyphs and sigils, encased his head, isolating him from the world, and dulling his senses to a void-like emptiness. The weight of the enchanted metal pressed against his skin, its intricate inscriptions pulsating with a faint glow—silent wardens ensuring his captivity.

The darkness was suffocating, stretching endlessly beyond his reach. How long had it been since he had been confined to this abyss? Time had become an abstract concept, slipping away like grains of sand through unseen fingers. He could no longer sense anything beyond the walls of his prison—no voices, no movements, no flickers of distant mana. Only stillness.

It had been some time since he and Emily had returned from their harrowing venture into the Fuyuki Star Road. The memory of that place lingered at the edges of his thoughts, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile confinement he now endured. The mission they had taken there had been a disaster, though they had done their best to leave no evidence behind—at least they thought they had until Starlight had arrived and intercepted them.

Now, he was here.

Alone. Cut off. Forgotten. In a separate cell, Emily was held captive, bound in the same restraints as Leon—her freedom stripped away, her abilities suppressed. Though he could not see her, he knew she was there, enduring the same silent torment.

As Leon delved deeper into his thoughts, questioning the circumstances that had led him to this bleak imprisonment, a sudden shift disrupted the monotonous darkness. With a faint mechanical whir, the helmet encasing his head began to disassemble, its intricate segments pulling apart like unraveling threads of silver light.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, cool air kissed his exposed skin. His breath hitched, eyes squinting against the dim glow filtering into his cell. The shadows receded just enough for him to perceive the faint outline of a figure standing just beyond the containment barrier.

She stood tall, poised, and undeniably striking.

Bright green hair cascaded down her back, shimmering under the faint light, framing an oval face of refined symmetry. Her brownish-olive skin bore a natural warmth, accentuated by the subtle radiance that clung to her form—an ethereal glow that hinted at something beyond mere beauty.

Then, there were her eyes—deep, arresting, and of a brilliant emerald hue, gleaming like cut gemstones in the half-light. They held a weight, a quiet intensity that sent an unspoken message.

Power. Authority. Judgment.

Even bound in restraints, his senses dulled by captivity, Leon felt it—the presence of someone who was more than she appeared, someone whose very existence demanded attention. 

Grand Admiral Johanna Sinclair stood before Leon, her sharp emerald gaze piercing through him like a blade honed by disappointment. Though her expression remained composed, the slight furrow of her brow and the measured tightness in her lips betrayed the discontent she felt upon seeing him like this—bound, subdued, and awaiting judgment.

Leon lifted an eyebrow at her unexpected presence. He hadn't expected her to come personally.

"I take it they've reached a decision," he said, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

Johanna didn't answer immediately. Instead, she began pacing just beyond the containment field, her hands clasped firmly behind her back, the deliberate rhythm of her steps echoing against the cold, sterile floor. The fabric of her pristine admiral's coat swayed with each measured stride, the golden insignia of Starlight glinting faintly under the dim lighting.

"The tribunal has reached a decision," she finally said, her tone clipped and formal. "I thought it best to inform you before you stood before them."

Leon exhaled, his expression unreadable. "And what decision would that be?"

Johanna halted, her gaze locking onto his with unwavering scrutiny. A storm brewed beneath her disciplined composure.

"You don't look like a man who regrets his actions, Leonard," she said, voice edged with something between frustration and something deeper—perhaps regret. Her fingers curled around the cold steel bars of his cell, her grip tightening. For a fleeting moment, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Leon met Johanna's gaze with unwavering defiance, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

"What's there to regret?" he said, the words rolling off his tongue without hesitation. "What's done is done. My only regret is dragging Emily into this. She had nothing to do with what happened."

Johanna's expression didn't waver, but there was a sharpness in her emerald eyes—a silent rebuke, a flicker of something unreadable beneath her composed exterior.

"Emily Legens is an accomplice. As such, she will bear the same punishment as you," she stated matter-of-factly, her grip on the cold bars of his cell tightening. Her voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, the kind that only came from delivering a verdict she had no power to change.

Leon's jaw tensed. He expected this, but hearing it confirmed sent an unwanted pang of frustration through him.

"Luckily for us," Johanna continued, her tone shifting into something almost begrudgingly approving, "you two had the decency to clean up your mess and prevent an all-out conflict with the Land of Wa."

There was no mistaking the underlying meaning in her words. If things had gone differently, their punishment could have been far worse.

Leon's voice was even, but there was a hard edge to it. "So what's the punishment?"

Johanna exhaled softly, her emerald gaze steady as she delivered the verdict. "Banishment," she stated, the word falling between them like a hammer striking cold steel.

She didn't let the weight of it linger before continuing. "Exile to the Neutral Free Zone. You and Legens are forbidden from stepping foot in any Divine Federation territory, including the Colony planets. Furthermore, both of you are indefinitely suspended from all Paladin activity."

The declaration barely had time to settle before Leon threw his head back and let out a sharp, barking laugh.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" His amusement echoed through the cell, rich with derision. When he finally lowered his gaze back to Johanna, his grin was anything but joyful. "And what role did my dear mother play in securing me such a punishment?"

Johanna's expression remained unreadable. "What makes you think she had anything to do with it?"

Leon scoffed. "Oh, come on. I know exactly how far my mother's influence reaches within that tribunal. She's woven herself into their deliberations so thoroughly that they probably think it was their own idea." He leaned back against the cold wall, smirking. "She's always wanted me to return to Terra. I suppose this is her way of making sure I do."

Johanna regarded him for a moment, then shook her head slightly, as if to suppress some private thought. "You should be happy," she said at last. "Now you have all the time you want to search for the Fallen Stars."

With that, she turned on her heel, her naval coat swaying elegantly with each measured step. She didn't glance back as she reached for the panel outside the cell. A quiet hiss followed as the helmet's segmented plating reconstructed itself over Leon's face, sealing him once more in silence and darkness.

Then, without another word, Grand Admiral Johanna Sinclair left him to his fate.

_

Leon's eyes fluttered open, his vision hazy as the remnants of a dream clung to his mind like the fading echoes of a distant past. His body ached—a deep, searing pain that coiled within him as if his insides had been scorched—yet he gave no outward sign of discomfort. The pain was familiar, an old companion he had long since learned to endure.

As awareness returned, so did the realization that he was not alone.

The sterile quiet of the hospital room, where he had been confined for weeks, was disturbed by the faintest stir of movement. Out of the dimly lit corner, a figure emerged—a woman, her presence effortless yet deliberate. She stepped forward with unhurried grace, the crimson fur of her jacket catching the light, its deep red hue resembling the first bloom of spilled blood.

Her eyes—strikingly mismatched, one a vivid crimson, the other a glinting silver—fixed on him with quiet amusement, as if she had been expecting him to wake at this very moment.

Leon exhaled through his nose, his gaze locking onto her with a mix of weariness and inevitability.

"Vuelo," he said, his voice even. "Why am I not surprised to see you?"

The Seer merely smiled, lifting her right hand, the dim light catching the metallic gleam of the bronze-colored coin she idly flipped between her fingers.

Leon's eyes narrowed slightly. His mind raced—that coin. It shouldn't have been in her possession. Wasn't it supposed to be in my storage band? he thought, his expression giving away nothing. Yet the answer to that question, he suspected, would be far more unsettling than he wanted to admit.

Leon's gaze lingered on the bronze coin as it danced effortlessly between Vuelo's fingers, its polished surface catching the dim light.

"I see you have your coin back," he said, his tone measured, though his mind was already working through the implications.

Vuelo tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "It served its purpose."

Leon exhaled through his nose, his eyes narrowing. "I studied the enchantment placed on that coin," he said, his voice steady despite the weight behind his words. "I'm not particularly gifted in magic, nor do I care for its intricate systems, but I recognize a Delphi-crafted spell when I see one."**

Vuelo said nothing, but her smirk deepened as she lifted her free hand, fingers curling in a smooth, almost lazy motion. A chair materialized from the air itself, forming seamlessly before she settled into it with practiced ease, crossing her legs as she regarded him.

"How long have you and my mother been working together?" Leon asked, his voice cool but laced with something sharper—an edge of suspicion.

Vuelo leaned back slightly, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming. "Your mother is the most powerful Seer in the universe," she replied, as if stating an indisputable fact. "As someone who seeks to reinvent the world, she is a trustworthy ally."

Leon let out a quiet scoff, his gaze never leaving hers. "Trustworthy…" he muttered under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth.

His fingers curled slightly against the sheets, his mind drifting—not to Vuelo, not to his mother, but to the past. To the moment Lance Al'Roth had introduced him to her upon his return to Terra, following his banishment. That bastard had also led him to Ryu—a man who had played him like a finely tuned instrument.

And then there were Ryu's words, the cryptic riddles, the insufferable truths wrapped in half-lies. The choices Leon had to make. The inescapable fate Ryu claimed to have merely guided him toward. The path that had led him to that damn ship—the one that held the key to his so-called destiny.

His eyes snapped back to Vuelo, locking onto her mismatched gaze, filled with that same quiet amusement, that same knowing expression.

"What are you doing here, Vuelo?" Leon asked, his voice lower now, laced with a restrained intensity. "I know Lance is involved with the Fallen Stars. And if he is, then you must be too."

Vuelo exhaled softly, rolling the bronze coin between her fingers before catching it between her thumb and index finger. "Lance is not a Fallen Star," she said, the words deliberate. "Though as an Inner Member of Octagram, he is an ally of the Fallen Star."

Leon's brow furrowed. "Octagram?" he echoed, the name unfamiliar yet carrying an unmistakable weight.

Vuelo chuckled softly, shaking her head. "The Fallen Star was never what you thought it was," she said, her tone carrying a touch of nostalgia. "It was a movement—nothing more. A dream conceived by Sophia Sinclair and her husband, James. James believed he could fix the Federation from within, reshape it, make it better. And in some ways… he succeeded."

She leaned forward slightly, her crimson eye glinting. "The Federation today is far more tolerable than it was twenty years ago."

Leon's expression darkened. "That's my homeworld you're talking about," he said, voice tight.

Vuelo studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Tell me something, Leon. How much do you actually care for the Federation?"

Leon stilled.

"I know what your childhood was like," Vuelo continued, her voice dipping into something softer, but no less cutting. "The burden you inherited as the son of Jonathan Haravok, the so-called 'great hero.' The heir to the House of Leo—a bloodline revered by some, despised by others."

She tilted her head slightly. "Even after your father's sacrifice, there were those who still spat upon your family's name. Who saw you as nothing more than a reminder of the past—a threat to the fragile balance they built."

Leon's fingers clenched, but he said nothing.

"Isn't that why you were cursed with that sickness?" Vuelo pressed. "The price of being your father's son?"

Silence.

"And yet, you persisted." Vuelo's gaze bore into him, unrelenting. "How many times did they send assassins after you? How many times did you survive when they wanted you gone? Even after you left the Federation, after you chose to wander the cosmos, train among martial sects, disappear into the void, they still came for you."

Leon didn't respond, but the weight in his chest grew heavier. He never liked dwelling on his childhood. It had been a dark time—not just because of the Federation, but because of the changes in his mother. Gone was the kind, gentle woman he had once known. In her place stood someone else—cold, calculating, distant. A Seer who saw too much and spoke too little.

After he awakened, she had taken him away from their homeworld, away from the Federation, and into the Neutral Free Zone. There, he had spent most of his youth wandering the galaxy, training in martial sects, forging himself into something far removed from what the Federation had tried to mold him into. And yet, no matter how far he ran, his past refused to let him go.

Leon's jaw tightened, but his voice remained firm. "I'm still the scion of the House of Leo," he said, his blue eyes sharp with defiance. "I might be banished, but I still have obligations."

Vuelo tilted her head slightly, the soft glow of the hospital room's artificial light casting shadows across her sharp features. She studied him, the amusement in her mismatched eyes dimming into something unreadable.

"And what about your obligation to Terra?" she asked, her voice smooth, yet weighted with an underlying challenge.

Leon exhaled through his nose. "My mother has the Delphi Clan's affairs well in hand," he replied. His gaze narrowed as he regarded her, suspicion tightening his features. "What do you want, Vuelo? You and my mother conspired to bring me back to Terra. Fool that I was, I thought I was here to uncover the truth about my father's death."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dipping into something colder. "What happened during the Uprising?"

Vuelo didn't flinch, but the shift in her stance was subtle—a slight stillness, an imperceptible pause before she responded.

"Why don't you ask your mother?" she said.

Leon's fingers curled slightly against the bedsheets. "She won't tell me," he muttered.

He had always suspected there was more to the Uprising than the public knew. His mother had never been forthcoming about it, only revealing what she deemed necessary—which, in truth, meant almost nothing at all. The real reason he had been chasing after the Fallen Star was because, deep down, he had suspected there was a connection between his mother and the movement. And now, he finally had confirmation—confirmation he never wanted.

Vuelo let out a quiet sigh, tossing the bronze coin into the air and catching it without looking. "And I can't tell you," she said. "It's not my place."

She pushed herself to her feet, dismissing the chair she had conjured with a flick of her wrist. The air shimmered faintly as the construct unraveled into nothingness. Without another word, she turned toward the door, the soft click of her boots the only sound breaking the silence. But just before she could leave, Leon spoke again.

"You once told me that if I continued down the path I was walking, death would be the only thing waiting for me." His voice was quieter now, tinged with something he couldn't quite name. Vuelo stopped.

Leon's blue eyes burned into her back. "Tell me, Herald," he said, using her title with a rare seriousness. "What do you see for me now? Do I still have a future?"

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, slowly, Vuelo turned her head just enough for him to see her crimson and silver gaze beneath the dim light.

A knowing smile tugged at her lips.

"I see a man who hasn't decided yet," she murmured. "And that… is the most dangerous kind of future there is."

With that, she stepped forward, the door sliding open before her, and disappeared into the shadows beyond. 

****

Weeks had passed since Sam's ascension into the Warrior Realm, and even now, the memory of it lingered in Emily's mind—a moment of raw power and transformation unlike anything she had ever witnessed before.

She had seen many breakthroughs in her time, but Sam's was different. There was something new about the way she had shattered the boundary between realms, something almost primal in the way she had forged her own path forward.

And yet, as awe-inspiring as it had been, Emily knew one undeniable truth—Sam's method was not one that just anyone could replicate.

Only those with a soul as powerful as hers could survive such an overwhelming transition.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, snapping Emily back to the present.

With a smooth pivot, she barely dodged the massive stone projectile hurtling toward her, feeling the rush of displaced air as it thundered past. Another followed immediately after, but she was already moving—her daggers flashing in a deadly arc, slicing through the incoming rock as if it were mere parchment.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she fixed her gaze on Sam, who stood a few paces away. Rows of massive boulders hovered above her, held aloft by the sheer force of her will, waiting to be launched at a moment's notice.

Even now, after weeks of training, the sight was something to behold.

Since her ascension, Sam had sought Emily's help in mastering her newfound strength. And Emily, always eager for a challenge, had obliged.

"Not bad," Emily mused, rolling her shoulders as she twirled her daggers. "But you're going to have to do better than that."

Sam's lips quirked upward, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, "I'm just getting started." With the awakening of her secondary ability factor, Terramorphosis, Sam had gained a remarkable command over the earth itself. She could reshape the terrain around them with nothing more than a thought, molding boulders, spires, and jagged formations into whatever form she desired.

Unlike conventional earth mages, she didn't need to weave intricate elemental spells or chant incantations—her control was raw, instinctive, and absolute. With a simple activation of her unique technique, Earth Sculpt, the battlefield bent to her will.

They trained in the same chamber where Sam had once honed her magic skills, but this time, the space was transformed into a proving ground for a different kind of mastery. Sam had always been a close-range fighter, her Adamantium Fist Style designed for devastating melee combat. But now, she was training herself for long-range battle, seeking to wield destruction from a distance. A sharp exhale left her lips as she extended her hand toward the hovering boulders.

With an intense burst of will, she compressed the rocks, shaping them into razor-sharp blades of stone. But she didn't stop there. A deep tremor ran through the air as the blades began to vibrate at a molecular level, generating friction so intense that the stone's surface began to glow red-hot. The temperature rose dangerously, and in mere seconds, the compressed rock ignited, transforming into searing shards of molten magma. With a flick of her wrist, Sam unleashed them all at once.

Across the battlefield, Emily stood poised, daggers glinting in her grip, her mismatched eyes narrowing as she watched the magma-laced projectiles streak toward her.

There was no hesitation. Her movements were fluid and precise, her instincts honed from countless battles. With a swift slash of her daggers, she weaved a spell that called upon the water nearby—a shimmering pond nestled within the training chamber. The surface of the water trembled—then exploded upward, rising in a swirling, serpentine torrent. Emily twisted her blades, guiding the current with unwavering precision. The towering column of water encased her, spiraling like a cyclone as it intercepted the molten blades.

The moment magma met water, the force of Emily's pressure technique took hold. The sheer density and crushing intensity of the water didn't just extinguish the projectiles—it pulverized them into dust, dispersing the molten rock before it could reach her. Steam erupted into the air in hissing bursts, mist swirling around her as the last remnants of Sam's attack vanished into nothingness. Lowering her daggers, Emily smirked through the dissipating steam, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge.

"You're getting better," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "But you'll need more than molten rocks to pin me down."

Sam grinned, rolling her shoulders as she cracked her knuckles.

"Good," she said, fire dancing in her gaze. "That means we're just getting started."

After thirty minutes of relentless sparring, Sam and Emily finally collapsed onto the ground, their chests rising and falling with each heavy breath.

Sam, more than Emily, was utterly spent—her limbs aching, her muscles burning from the exertion. Yet when she turned her head to look at Emily, she found the woman still brimming with energy, as if she could go for several more rounds without breaking a sweat.

Sam groaned, draping an arm over her face as she exhaled in frustration. She couldn't believe it.

She had thrown everything at Emily—force, speed, precision, even her most destructive techniques—yet Emily had endured it all without faltering. Sam had truly believed she had forced Emily to push herself to the limit, but now, staring at her opponent's calm, composed expression, she realized a bitter truth.

Emily hadn't even been trying.

Sam sighed, feeling the weight of her own limits press down on her. Even though she had ascended to the Warrior Realm, her abilities and stats were already far beyond those of an average Ascendant at this level. It had been the same when she was an Adept—back then, her strength had been on par with a Warrior Realm expert.

And now?

Now, she was a Warrior Realm Ascendant with power equivalent to a Master Realm fighter.

And yet… she still couldn't beat Emily.

"How come you're not exhausted like I am?" Sam finally asked, turning her head toward Emily.

Emily stretched lazily, tilting her head in thought. "Hmm… I mostly used spells that aren't as energy-draining as Ability Factors," she replied. "Plus, I can cast spells with only five percent of my mana without waste."

Sam's head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

"Wait—five percent?" she repeated, her voice sharp with shock. "How… How is that even possible?"

No matter how refined a person's mana control was, the consensus was that the bare minimum required for efficient spellcasting was around fifteen to twenty percent of one's total mana. Anything lower, and the integrity of the spell would begin to deteriorate, causing a loss of focus, power, and cohesion.

But five percent?

That wasn't just impressive—it was impossible by normal standards. However, it seems that the rule didn't apply to Emily.

"Wow!" Sam breathed, still reeling from the revelation. "I knew you were a skilled mage, but I had no idea you were this amazing."

Emily shifted uncomfortably, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'm not really that amazing," she muttered. "It's... it's only because of my Ability Factor."

Sam's brows furrowed slightly. "Your ability?"

Emily hesitated, her gaze drifting downward, fingers tightening slightly against the cool ground beneath her.

"I... I don't use it that much," she admitted. "Because of the risk involved..."

Her voice trailed off, and her thoughts drifted—back to that day, back to the battle against the Beast King. She had been the one to destroy the Infernal Engine. She knew that much. And yet, there was a void in her memory—a gap where time simply ceased to exist for her.

When she had regained consciousness, the abominations were gone. Vanished. She and the others were no longer in Northbrook Mall—they had somehow ended up in Freya's pocket dimension instead. Rex had been the one to fill her in on what had happened. And it wasn't the first time this had occurred. A year ago she and Leon had taken on what should have been a simple infiltration mission- an operation to get an intel that would lead them to the Fallen stars. It had been a disaster. Emily didn't remember everything that had happened toward the end of that mission, but from what Leon had told her, things had spiraled out of control in the worst possible way. A cosmic storm had materialized out of nowhere, ripping through the ship, and sending everything into chaos.

The next thing she knew, the vessel was gone. Destroyed. By sheer luck—or perhaps something else entirely—she and Leon had managed to escape. And yet, for all their efforts, it hadn't mattered. Because Starlight had been waiting for them. Arrested. For conducting an unauthorized mission. Another mission lost to the void in her memory. Another moment when she had blacked out—and something else had taken over.

"Anyway," Emily said, exhaling softly, "my ability grants me full control over my mana flow."

Sam arched a brow. "Your Ability Factor allows you full control over your mana flow?" she repeated, skepticism lacing her tone. "Isn't that just advanced mana manipulation? All Mystics and Mages are capable of that."

Emily shook her head. "Mine is different."

She lifted a hand, fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns in the air. A small fireball ignited at her fingertips—a simple Tier-One spell, barely enough to be considered a proper attack.

"Mana is only one type of energy," she continued her voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable weight. "There are other energy forms in the universe, and my ability allows me to control them." Her fingers flicked, causing the fireball to burn brighter for a brief moment before she posed a question.

"After I convert my mana into fire elemental energy, what happens to the other five elements?" Sam's eyes narrowed, tracking the spell closely. She wasn't sure what Emily was getting at—until she noticed something that made her breath hitch. Her eyes widened.

"You… You—"

She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Normally, when a mage casts a spell, their mana was converted into the corresponding elemental energy—in this case, fire. The residual mana from the remaining five elements would typically disperse back into the atmosphere, a process known as Mana Waste. Even the most skilled Mystics and Mages could only minimize this waste, never eliminate it entirely. But Emily…

Emily had absorbed the residual energy back into herself. There was no loss. No waste. Sam had never seen anything like it before.

"That's a useful ability for a mage," Sam admitted, still trying to wrap her head around what she had just witnessed. "I thought my Ability Factor was impressive, but... wait. You said it comes with a risk. What risk?"

Emily's expression stiffened ever so slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her features.

"It's nothing major," she said, her tone light—too light.

Sam immediately recognized the subtle deflection. There was something Emily wasn't saying. But rather than push, she let it go—for now.

Instead, she shifted her thoughts toward something else.

"Wish I could do the same for my casting," she mused, crossing her arms.

Emily's lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. "From what you told me about your Ability Factor, Resonance sounds a lot like mine."

Sam arched a brow. "Why do you say that?"

Emily stretched her fingers before responding. "Magic is like a circuit. Most people burn through their entire battery just to power a single spell. Me? I only release exactly what's needed—and I take back what I don't use."

She let her words settle for a moment before continuing. "Your Resonance can allow you to perfectly harmonize vibrations, creating a cycle where energy flows through harmonic feedback loops."

Sam's eyes flickered with intrigue. "Are you saying I can apply Resonance to my spellcasting?"

Emily grinned, rising to her feet as she casually dismissed the flickering fireball, letting the embers dissolve into the air.

"It's up to you what you can and can't do," she said.

Just as the words left her lips, the door to the chamber slid open. Standing in the doorway was Rex, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable—but the weight in his gaze said enough. His eyes met theirs, lingering just long enough to break the air of ease between them.

"It's time," he said.

Whatever lay ahead, their reprieve was over.