Chapter 8: A Spark Ignited

"That was amazing!" Towan blurted, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. His eyes burned with something new—not just relief, but awe, a spark of hunger for that kind of strength.

Elliot, still catching his breath, winced as he pressed a hand to his ribs. "Are you okay?" he asked, scanning Leon's unnervingly calm demeanor. "I thought you were at the village."

Leon smirked, dusting off his sleeve with deliberate nonchalance. "Turns out you two run really slow." He gestured lazily toward the unconscious bandit. "And I missed this guy."

The words were light, almost teasing—but the weight behind them lingered.

They had survived.

But only because he had let them.

Towan glanced down at the motionless figure, his face tense. The bandit's chest rose and fell faintly—still alive, but broken. A living testament to the gulf between them and Leon.

"Who were they?" he asked, voice tight.

Leon's smirk faded. His expression darkened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes before he turned away. "We'll talk tomorrow." His voice was quieter now, carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. "Right now, you two need rest. Follow me—we're heading to the closest village."

Both brothers exchanged a look—silent, wary—before giving a small nod and falling in step behind him.

Leon walked ahead, his stride steady, but even then, his sharp eyes flicked over them, assessing. "You'll need to recover. Took too much damage."

Towan clenched his fists. His knuckles were raw, his body a map of bruises and aches. "We… weren't strong enough," he muttered. The words tasted bitter.

Leon didn't turn around. But his steps slowed—just for a second. Just enough for them to notice.

"Not yet," he said simply.

And then he kept walking.

Towan and Elliot followed, bruised and battered, but something in those words lingered.

Not yet.

The night stretched on, cold and silent, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of boots over fallen leaves. The forest around them felt vast, endless—a world that no longer felt safe.

"Let's stop here," Leon finally said, glancing at the brothers. His voice was firm. "You're too tired to continue."

"Tired?" Towan scoffed, forcing his posture straight—only for his legs to buckle the moment he tried to sit. A dull ache spread through his limbs, and suddenly, moving felt impossible.

Elliot, who had been unusually quiet, simply nodded. "All right." His mind had been elsewhere for a while, circling the same question over and over.

What now?

Leon wasted no time. He pulled a compact tent from his pack, unfolding it with practiced efficiency. It wasn't large, but it would do.

"Here," he said, motioning for them to get inside.

Towan, still catching his breath, frowned. "What about you?" He glanced at Leon, realizing there was no way he'd fit comfortably inside with them.

Leon gave a small shrug. "Don't worry about me. I'll keep watch."

Towan opened his mouth, about to argue—but exhaustion hit him like a collapsing wall. His body gave up before his mind could fight back, and within seconds, he was out cold beside Elliot, their breathing slow and heavy.

Leon exhaled softly, watching the two sleeping figures.

"Guess this was too much for them," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer—something unreadable in his expression—before he turned away, blending into the shadows of the night.

Standing guard.

Waiting.

For what, they didn't know.

But tomorrow would come soon enough.

Morning came, but by the time Towan and Elliot stirred awake, they weren't where they had fallen asleep.

Towan blinked groggily, his senses still heavy with exhaustion. He wasn't on the ground anymore. Instead, the rhythmic sway of movement and the soft creaking of wood filled his ears.

"Huh…?" He looked around, confused. A carriage. He was inside a moving carriage. Elliot sat beside him, still waking up, while Leon sat across from them, calmly gazing out the window.

"Good morning," Leon greeted without looking away from the passing landscape.

"Hello…" The brothers responded, still trying to process their new situation.

"You two wouldn't wake up," Leon explained with a smirk. "So I went ahead and got us a ride. This way, you can focus on recovering."*

Elliot rubbed his eyes, his mind already shifting to what mattered. "Where are we going?"

"Lockeheart," Leon answered. "It's the closest village I know that's still safe."*

Towan frowned at that. "What do you mean 'still safe'?"

Leon sighed, reaching into his pack and pulling out a worn map. He unfolded it carefully, revealing a large portion of land smeared in black ink.

"This area,"* he said, pointing to the darkened region, "is corrupted. You know what that means, right?"

Elliot nodded immediately. "It's an area where the Corruptor passed through, annihilating all life that was there."*

"Exactly,"* Leon confirmed. "But now, it's being used by bandits. After the Corruptor was defeated, the kingdom was left in shambles, too weak to protect every city like before."* He paused, giving them a moment to take it in. "And bandits… well, they aren't just common thieves. They're part of a much bigger organization operating within the corrupted zone."*

Towan narrowed his eyes. "Then why doesn't anyone go there and get rid of them?"

Leon leaned back slightly. "Some warriors are strong enough to handle them,"* he admitted. "But the problem isn't just strength. The highest members of the organization are powerful—strong enough to be a real threat if they aren't dealt with properly. And stepping into their territory…" He tapped the blackened zone on the map. "That's as good as walking into a trap. No one goes in without getting ambushed."*

Elliot exhaled, already seeing the conclusion. "So it'd be suicide."*

"Yes,"* Leon confirmed, his tone grim.

Silence settled in for a moment

Leon exhaled, rubbing his chin as he stared at the map. "I never expected them to spread their influence so far… Heartwood should've been beyond their reach."* His voice carried a quiet frustration, as if he was trying to piece together how things had gotten this bad.

Towan and Elliot stayed silent, letting his words sink in. Their thoughts drifted back to last night—to the chaos, the desperation, the helplessness they had felt. The cold weight of reality settled in their chests.

Leon closed the map and looked at them. "I'll drop you off in Lockeheart. It's one of the safest places outside the capital."* He had noticed the clouded expressions on their faces, but he chose not to press the topic further. Some wounds needed time before they could be spoken about.

Towan clenched his fists. The tension in his jaw, the slight tremble in his fingers—he was holding something back. Then, as if reaching a decision, he spoke: "Can I ask you a favor…?" His voice was low, hesitant.

Leon met his gaze. "Go ahead."*

Towan inhaled deeply, then lifted his head. His eyes no longer wavered. "Could you teach us how to use Essentia?"

Leon raised a brow slightly. He shifted his gaze toward Elliot, expecting hesitation—doubt, even. But what he found was the same fire burning in his eyes. That same hunger.

They weren't just asking for power.

They were asking for a way to fight back.