The Augustus Empire.
Twelve days ago.
Leon stood within the peaceful confines of his friend's garden, a hesitant expression on his face.
He held a golden aegis, his rugged face reflected in the shiny metal.
As he gazed at the memento left behind by his father, the half-blood reached out to touch its glossy surface.
However, he froze at the last second, his uncertainty deepening.
"Father, what should I do…?" Leon whispered.
He had a lost look in his eyes.
The half-blood wanted to use the aegis in the Awakening Ceremony for a couple of reasons.
First, as this was his father's treasured item - his old man had once told him he had created the shield right after his mother's death, pouring all his feelings into it - it was undoubtedly extremely durable, and therefore would come in handy should he encounter any severe danger.
The other reason had to do with wanting to feel like his father was right beside him in his times of greatest need.
However, Leon felt as if he would be sullying his old man's work if he took it with him.
Even worse, how could he face him in the future if he got his precious treasure destroyed?
The feeling was so strong… that to the half-blood it would be akin to losing his father for a second time.
"You should do what you think is right."
Just then, a female voice streamed into Leon's ears, causing him to jolt and snap his neck in its direction.
Reflected in his hazel pupils, a ginger-haired priestess dressed in the red robes of the Fate Temple sauntered up to him.
The half-blood gulped, unsure of what such a powerful figure wanted with him.
"Relax, kid. It's not like I'm going to harm you or anything." Beverly chuckled to herself.
The tips of Leon's ears reddened slightly as he averted his gaze, embarrassed.
A sly grin stretched on the Priestess's face in response.
The half-blood pushed down his fear, stealing a furtive glance at the ginger-haired woman, as he turned his gaze back to his father's shield. "B-But I don't want to break it."
"Shields always carry the risk of being broken. Their purpose is to protect you from harm, after all. Still, remember this, kid… A shield can always be restored, even if it may take up a new form. As long as its heart and desire remain the same, then it will never change, no matter how many external transformations it goes through."
Leon slowly raised his head, fixing Beverly with a hesitant stare.
"Listen, kid. The most important facet of a warrior is not just their physical strength alone. Sure, it's important. But you know what else is important? It is their heart." The ginger-haired priestess pointed toward her chest. "A warrior's heart, or more accurately, the reason why they decided to fight in the first place, trumps physical strength all day. Never lose sight of it, for in times of greatest need, it will become your greatest ally."
The half-blood's bronze hand holding the golden shield trembled slightly.
Beverly's words reverberated within his mind like a loud gong.
After a while, he snapped out of his daze to find her staring at him with a serious expression. He flinched, wondering why the priestess's demeanour had suddenly changed.
Gulping internally as a soft breeze blew through the spacious garden, the half-blood listened with trepidation at the woman's next words:
"Leon… what makes up your warrior's heart?"
The burly boy froze, his mind whizzing at a million miles an hour, trying to theorise why Beverly wanted to know.
Eventually, though, he forced himself to relax.
Gazing into the priestess's eyes, which seemed to contain a world of its own within, he intoned softly:
"To free my father, abolish the injustice experienced by half-bloods, and… to repay Nico for all he's done to help me."
A faint smile appeared on Beverly's face.
"Good, because that little rascal will need all the aid he can get…" The priestess said a little enigmatically.
Leon didn't bother to analyse Beverly's words, as he watched her turn around with a relieved sigh.
"You have fifteen minutes to warm up, kid. Be prepared to use that shield to its full effect." the ginger-haired woman spoke over her shoulder, a smug smirk evident in her tone.
The half-blood paled.
Then a moment later he sighed, mentally preparing himself to get his rear kicked.
***
Recalling the special training Beverly had put him through, Leon gritted his teeth and rushed through the misty corridor.
All his thoughts were focused on whether his friend was still alive… or if, in the worst case, the brown-haired boy had already met his end.
The half-blood shook away the dark thoughts.
Even if he knew that resistance against the Dungeon Boss was futile - he had personally experienced its strength, after all - a tiny portion of his heart still held hope that Nico still lived.
Otherwise, if he didn't, he feared he would break down on the spot.
Which wouldn't do anyone any good.
Not him, or Nico.
So, Leon just ran and ran, and ran still. His exhausted body burned, the flames of deep fatigue searing his muscles and straining to slow him down.
However, he pushed his body past its limit, and then some.
The enormous, crushing guilt he would feel if he stumbled on the corpse of his friend paled in comparison to this onerous exercise.
As clouds of mist escaped the half-blood's mouth in erratic waves, he concentrated on his warrior's heart and internally roared.
He had made sure to memorise the path from the Dungeon Core, so coming back wouldn't pose a problem.
It also helped that the labyrinth had ceased its shifting.
Leon pounded down the corridor, taking a right and then left into a relatively wide corridor. Straight away, his senses picked up on the greater concentration of a mildew scent and a different, more sinister one.
It was a stench that caused his stomach to squirm.
He frowned, deciding not to spend too much time thinking of the weird scent's origin.
Time was of the essence, after all.
That blasted thing…
Gritting his teeth, as the muscles in his body bulged from the sheer strain, the half-blood's eyes suddenly turned sharp.
He slowed for a fraction of a second, his gaze reflecting the same hooded figure who had all but been useless in helping with their attempts to survive in this tumultuous realm.
Leon threw his unruly teammate a dark look, deciding to ignore him.
Luckily, it seemed the hooded individual shared the same thought, for he spared him no attention.
It was as if he was just air.
Good, the half-blood thought.
That meant he didn't have to fight and could come to Nico's potential aid that much faster.
As his feet stomped on the ground, echoing like a discordant symphony toward the stalactites above, Leon hoped with every fibre of his being that he would make it in time.
He found it strange how he had not come across any sign of the Dungeon Boss. As soon as that thought manifested though, he discovered a large, unmoving corpse pushed up against the wall.
He slowed.
Some parts of an impregnable icy carapace were missing, as well as large gaps and glaring holes appearing on different sections of the pale armour.
…It was as if something had eroded it from the outside.
Leon's eyes narrowed.
He recalled the cloaked figure, who was most likely now heading toward the Dungeon Core and frowned.
Was this his doing?
Shaking his head, the half-blood ignored the instinctive fear and dread that welled up in his heart at stumbling on such a scene and pressed on once again.
He had barely travelled for less than a minute before he found Nico's battered form, his spear a few paces away.
Leon's gaze scanned his brother with frantic urgency.
The brown-haired boy had his back to the wall, eyes closed, and his arm raised to his chest, holding what seemed to be a wooden charm.
His other hand was pressed to his stomach, that part no doubt the source of his wound.
The half-blood flinched at the alarming amount of blood.
His heart suddenly turned ice cold, and an endless wave of shivers racked his body.
He stood paralysed to the spot.
Tears prickled the corner of Leon's eyes, threatening to turn into a furious deluge at any moment.
Suddenly, he saw Nico's chest shudder, releasing a faint breath. It seemed he had not yet succumbed to death.
The half-blood gasped as a flood of relief filled his being, breaking the chains of his paralysis.
He sent his mind into the dimensional tether and scrambled for anything to help staunch the blood flowing out of the wound.
Retrieving some bandages and a softly glowing vial, Leon quickly got to work.
The priestess had dedicated a small part of the special training she put him through towards First Aid, in addition to giving him this healing potion.
He couldn't help but think Beverly knew this was going to happen.
He guessed it wouldn't be too strange since she was a member of the Fate Temple. However, he sensed there was probably something deeper at play.
Shaking off the unhelpful thought, the half-blood carefully pried his brother's hand away from his stomach and allowed a drop from the vial to fall onto Nico's exposed wound.
Quickly, he did his best to cover the wound with the white dressing, fumbling a few times.
He had been forced to move Nico's body slightly in the process, and he hoped that it hadn't exacerbated any of the internal bleeding.
And while the drop of healing potion should hopefully increase Nico's chance of survival, Leon did not how far gone his friend was, or just how deep the wound stretched.
He supposed he had to get the brown-haired boy to the Dungeon Core, either way, so for the time being, he would do his best not to fret over the details.
Gritting his teeth, the half-blood reached out to retrieve his brother's spear and placed it in his dimensional space, before he gingerly lifted Nico, cradling him in his arms as he hurried toward the crimson barrier on the map.
Along the way, an internal war raged within Leon.
Thoughts of self-blame and rage festered internally like an unstoppable disease. Amidst the roiling storm, however, a single desire shone, resisting the crushing waves.
Glancing at the cooling body in his hands, the half-blood's jaw clenched.
This desire… he would see it to its fruition.
His brother had gone through so much, experienced so much, and felt so much… that his soul had inevitably grown weary.
If the brown-haired boy lived after this ordeal, Leon promised himself that he would not allow a single thing to harm his dearest friend… his saviour.
Beverly's words resounded in his mind again.
His warrior's heart roared, matching the desire.
With both body and soul, he would transform into a bulwark that rivalled no other.
At this moment, deep within the confines of an ever-changing Dungeon…
...the ultimate shield was born.