[ONE OF THE MANY UNKNOWN BASES OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY]
The narrow corridors of the hidden base bustled with activity as soldiers dressed in Revolutionary Army uniforms went about their duties.
Along one such corridor, a lone figure clad in black and masked strode purposefully. Soldiers saluted as he passed, their movements sharp and respectful.
Leo, the so-called "Immortal Wraith," acknowledged their salutes with a slight nod but kept moving.
As he turned a corner, his hearing caught the hushed whispers of three recruits standing idly.
"Is that the 'Immortal Wraith'? No way… He doesn't look older than ten," one whispered, disbelief evident in his tone.
"Are you sure? Isn't that just a girl trying to pass as a boy? Look at that slender frame and those delicate hands. That's no boy."
"I've heard her voice is so heavenly it'd make you give up your entire paycheck just to hear it," added another, his admiration clear.
Their quiet chatter was abruptly interrupted by their superior, who appeared behind them like a ghost.
BONK! BONK! BONK!
The recruits yelped in surprise as their superior smacked them over their heads. "Stop wasting time gossiping! Get back to work!" he barked, dragging them off for extra duties.
Leo ignored the commotion, his mind too preoccupied to care. Reaching the door to Geralt's office, he paused for a moment before entering.
---
[GERALT'S OFFICE]
Inside the sparsely furnished office, Geralt sat at his desk, engrossed in reading reports. His strong frame was bent slightly forward, his expression serious as his eyes darted over the pages.
Leo entered quietly, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. He stopped in front of Geralt's desk, his fingers trembling slightly.
Without any preamble, he lifted his shaking hand, his voice strained, "Did the new supply of cigarettes come?"
Geralt glanced up at the boy, his brow furrowing slightly. Wordlessly, he opened a drawer and retrieved a small box, sliding it across the desk.
Leo took it, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with practiced ease. Without another word, he moved to the sofa, slumped down, and removed his mask.
As he puffed on the cigarette, his hands trembled slightly, betraying the strain he constantly hid behind his stoic demeanor.
---
Geralt watched in silence as the thirteen-year-old smoked like a man twice his age.
Normally, he would have reprimanded any other recruit for such behavior, but not Leo. Not after everything he had endured.
Geralt's mind drifted to five years earlier, when the boy had first arrived at the base. At the time, Leo's physical condition had been fragile, but with proper care, he had improved significantly over the following year. Then, unexpectedly, his health began to decline.
The trembling had been the first sign. Initially, Geralt dismissed it as a symptom of overtraining and ordered Leo to rest.
But the symptoms persisted, eventually escalating to bouts of coughing up blood. When Geralt insisted on a thorough medical examination, the results were devastating.
The infusion of Danger Beast blood that had granted Leo his regenerative abilities was also destroying him from within.
His body's constant cycle of breaking down and rebuilding itself placed immense strain on his organs, slowly eroding them.
---
The head of the medical facility had been frank about Leo's condition. "This boy is in constant pain," she had said, her voice heavy with sympathy. "His body is fighting itself every second of every day."
When Geralt asked how Leo had managed to hide such agony, the answer was simple: sheer determination.
The boy had endured silently, unwilling to let his condition interfere with his training.
The doctor had also been clear about the prognosis. Whether Leo continued to use his regenerative abilities or not, his body would eventually succumb to the corrosive effects of his blood. Without a way to neutralize it, his lifespan was uncertain at best.
When Geralt confronted Leo about his silence, the boy had simply shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he had said. "I just need to live long enough to make them pay."
---
Geralt shook his head, snapping himself back to the present. He watched as Leo finished his second cigarette, the faint haze of smoke hanging in the air.
"Have you been to the medical facility for your checkup?" Geralt asked, his tone calm but firm.
Leo shrugged. "Not yet. I'll go today," he replied nonchalantly, tucking the box of cigarettes into his storage artifact.
Geralt's eyes narrowed slightly. He hated the casual way Leo dismissed his condition, as if it were just a minor inconvenience. To the world, Leo was the "Immortal Wraith," an unstoppable force.
But to Geralt, he was just a broken child trying to bear the weight of a mission far too heavy for his shoulders.
---
The cigarettes Leo smoked were specially crafted from powerful herbs and drugs, designed to alleviate his symptoms.
The doctor had warned that these cigarettes could cause hallucinations or unconsciousness in ordinary humans. Only Leo's unique hybrid physiology allowed him to consume them safely.
Leo broke the silence by handing over a set of documents retrieved during his most recent mission. "These are from the slave trader's vaults," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Geralt accepted the documents, his gaze lingering on the boy. Over the past four years, he had watched Leo grow into a fearsome operative.
The boy's ability to learn and adapt had been nothing short of extraordinary, allowing him to surpass even the most seasoned instructors.
But it came at a cost.
---
After mastering combat techniques and infiltration tactics, Leo had joined a special operations squad. Mission after mission, he proved his strength, earning his infamous moniker.
But the missions weren't without loss. Squad members died around him, their numbers dwindling with every assignment.
Leo always emerged as the sole survivor. Though he never voiced it, Geralt could see the toll it took on him.
The boy internalized every failure, blaming himself for his inability to protect his comrades.
When Geralt recommended transferring Leo to a different squad, the boy refused. "I'm not strong enough yet," he had said.
Instead, he opted to take on solo missions, rationalizing that it was better to work alone than to risk others' lives.
Geralt had realized then that Leo was broken. He had constructed an emotional barrier, insulating himself from grief and guilt by rationalizing that the weak perished while the strong survived.
---
Geralt sighed heavily, his thoughts weighing on him as he watched Leo. He had left his position in the main base to stay close to the boy, hoping to support him in whatever way he could.
"Go for your checkup," Geralt said finally, his voice carrying a note of concern.
Leo stood, slipping his mask back on. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, heading toward the door.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Geralt leaned back in his chair, staring at the documents in his hand.
"Find something to live for, Leo," he thought to himself. "Even if it's just for a little while."