The arena was alive with the clash of swords, but in that moment, all the attention turned to the figure who stood frozen in time. Garic Stormblade towered over his opponent, Ronald Stormbreaker, who lay crumpled on the ground, his blood staining the arena sands. The crowd watched in silent horror as Garic prepared to deliver the final, devastating blow. There was no mercy in his eyes—only a bloodthirsty hunger to prove himself, to humiliate his opponent.
As the sword rose, the elders' voices rang out with authority, commanding the match to stop. But Garic didn't listen. His eyes gleamed with malice as he prepared to end Ronald's life, his arrogance blinding him to everything around him.
"Stop this now!" shouted the elder overseeing the match, but Garic ignored him, intent on making an example out of Ronald.
Just then, a sharp and cold voice cut through the tension like a blade through flesh.
"Do you want to die, Garic Stormblade?"
The arena fell silent. The crowd turned toward the source of the voice, their eyes widening in disbelief. Leonel Graythorn
stood in the center of the arena. His stance was unyielding, his expression unreadable. The coldness in his eyes was enough to make even the hardened fighters pause.
Garic's smirk faltered for just a moment, before he laughed, trying to mask his discomfort. "What is it, Graythorn? Coming to save this pathetic excuse for a fighter?" His voice dripped with scorn, but Leonel's presence didn't waver. He simply stepped forward, unbothered by Garic's mockery.
"You're not here to fight. You're here to kill." Leonel's voice was ice cold, the words cutting through the arrogance in the air. His eyes locked onto Garic's without flinching, and there was an undeniable weight to his words, as if he saw something in Garic that others couldn't—something darker, more dangerous.
"This isn't about winning anymore, Garic. This is bloodlust." Leonel's gaze never wavered. "You're going too far, and I'm stopping you right now."
Garic sneered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "What's the matter, Leonel? Are you going to lecture me now? You think you're some kind of hero, stepping in when you don't belong?" He raised his sword high, preparing for another swing, but Leonel didn't flinch.
Instead, with a sudden burst of speed, Leonel closed the distance between them. The crowd gasped as Leonel's sword was drawn in a single fluid motion. In one swift movement, he blocked Garic's strike, his blade meeting Garic's with a clang that echoed through the arena. The force of the clash reverberated through the ground, but Leonel stood firm, unwavering.
He couldn't move—couldn't react. Leonel's gaze was piercing, his voice a low growl that sent a chill down Garic's spine.
"Do you want to die, Garic Stormblade?" Leonel's words were laced with a deadly seriousness that Garic had never seen in him before.
The arrogance melted from Garic's face, replaced with confusion and a flicker of fear. He tried to pull his sword back, but Leonel's grip on the hilt of his weapon was unyielding. The two locked eyes—Leonel's cold, unfeeling, and relentless. He wasn't here for a fight. He was here to end this.
Garic took a shaky step back, but Leonel was right behind him, a shadow that wouldn't let him escape. There was no room for pride, no room for bravado. Leonel didn't care about a fair fight. He cared only about stopping this madness—about protecting those who mattered.
"You've crossed the line." Leonel's voice dropped to a whisper. "You've hurt someone who didn't deserve it, and for that, you're going to pay."
Garic tried to summon his strength, but his body felt heavy. The weight of Leonel's presence pressed down on him. He had been in plenty of duels before, but this was different. This wasn't just about strength—it was about something far more dangerous and Leonel had made it clear that Garic had no idea what he was getting into.
"Get him out of here." The voice of Edric Windlance rang out, and the elder moved quickly, placing himself between Leonel and Garic. The tension in the air was thick, but the intervention came just in time to prevent any further escalation.
"Enough, Garic," Edric said, his voice firm but calm. "This ends now. Ronald has been injured. He needs medical attention."
Garic opened his mouth to protest, but Edric's gaze silenced him. "You're not a warrior, Garic. You're a bully."
Garic's face twisted in frustration, but he held his tongue. Instead, he shot Leonel a venomous glare, his fists clenched at his sides.
But before he could say anything, Leonel turned to leave the arena. He walked past Garic, his steps echoing in the quiet. But just as he was about to step out, he stopped, turning his head over his shoulder.
"Oi, Garic." Leonel called out in a voice so low, it was almost a growl. "Don't ever forget this. If you meet me in a duel again, don't expect to leave with both arms. And as for your face? Don't be surprised if your mother doesn't even recognize you when I'm done."
Leonel's voice was full of cold promise. His words weren't a threat—they were a statement. A fact.
Garic froze, his blood running cold as the full weight of Leonel's words sank in. He had always thought of Leonel as untouchable—someone who played by the rules, someone who didn't get involved in the dirty work of others. But this? This was different. This was dangerous.
"I'm not joking, Garic." Leonel's voice dropped even lower, sending a shiver down Garic's spine. "I'll make you regret it."
And with that, Leonel turned and walked away, leaving Garic standing there, shaken to his core.
As Leonel left the arena, the crowd began to buzz with whispers, but he paid no attention to them. He didn't care for their opinions. All that mattered was that his family—those he regarded as his own—were protected. And if anyone dared to hurt them, they would suffer.
Meanwhile, Thaddeus Graythorn and Liora Moonshadow watched from the sidelines, their faces a mixture of shock and awe. They had seen Leonel in battle before, but never like this. Never with such rage and cruelty.
Liora, her eyes wide with disbelief, muttered, "I… I can't believe what I just saw. He didn't just block the sword… He stopped it like it was nothing.
Thaddeus didn't reply. He couldn't. Because for the first time, he was afraid of the power Leonel had unleashed.
Back in the elders' quarters, Edric Windlance and the others gathered to discuss the events. "That boy..." Edric muttered under his breath. "I didn't think he had it in him.
Meanwhile Lady Seraphina stood motionless, her eyes locked on Leonel as he faced Garic Stormblade with a terrifying calmness. She had never seen him act this way before. Her heart pounded, not out of fear for him, but out of something she couldn't quite define—something darker. She hadn't raised her son to be this... cold.
Beside her, an elder from the Graythorn family, Valtor Graythorne, watched with a stoic expression, though his gaze flickered with silent worry.
"Is this truly the boy you've raised?" Valtor asked, his eyes darkening as he looked at the scene unfolding. "Or is it something else entirely?"
Lady Seraphina's voice trembled as she spoke, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "I don't know. But if this is what it takes to protect those he loves… I'll stand by him. Even if it's hard to bear."
Valtor didn't respond right away. He simply nodded, understanding more than words could express.
Seraphina couldn't help but think back to the way Leonel had approached Garic Stormblade. There had been no hesitation, no mercy. Just a cold certainty that no one would harm his family—no one would go unpunished.