Leon marveled at the vibrant chaos of Kindrall's marketplace. Stalls spilled over with trinkets, tools, and treasures, while traders barked their prices to the crowds that surged through solid cobblestone streets. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meats and spices. Towering buildings of stone and concrete loomed overhead, their windows brimming with bright banners and curiosities that promised the rare and exotic.
It was a scene of life and movement, the pulse of Oran beating strong.
Felix walked beside him, exuding newfound confidence. His Integration had marked a turning point. He carried himself taller now, the burden of inadequacy from his supposed "Deficient" soul cast aside. An Inferior Soul was rare, incredibly so. Their father, once Awakened, had possessed only a Lesser Soul. Felix had surpassed the expectations of their lineage, and it showed.
"Leon," Felix began, pulling his younger brother out of his thoughts, "Are you sure you don't need anything for the institution? We can grab something while we're here. It might give you a head start."
Leon shook his head, a faint smile curling at his lips. "No need, brother. I'll manage."
He only asked to be brought along Felix's preparations to see the marketplace.
But he wasn't interested in tools or trinkets. He was getting used to the world, feeling it out.
In three days, he would begin at The Oran Institute of High Order, the most prestigious school in the region. It was a place where the sons and daughters of nobles and the privileged studied alongside the ambitious, those who had proven themselves exceptional.
His acceptance had drawn whispers among those who knew. It wasn't just the prestige—it was the way he had been admitted. No test, no recommendations. Just a single message from the Institute, delivered by courier, inviting him to join.
'I'll finally be able to show what I can do,' Leon thought, his gaze flickering to the buildings above. "No more hiding."
* * *
Amid the lively chaos of Oran's marketplace, a small group of individuals gathered near a stall, their posture tense despite the casual air they tried to exude. At first glance, they seemed like traders haggling over goods, but the sharp glances they exchanged and the way their voices dipped below the din betrayed a deeper intent.
Leon's sharp hearing caught fragments of their murmured conversation as he passed by with Felix.
"…Salim's soldiers are pressing closer… another raid in Fenros…" one said, pretending to inspect a piece of pottery.
"They'll crush us all before we even organize," muttered another, hands trembling as they fumbled with a pouch of coins.
"Quiet," hissed a third, their eyes darting toward a passing guard in a black uniform. "You want to bring their knives down on us here?"
Felix lingered for a moment, feigning curiosity over a nearby stall.
Leon glanced at him, acting uninterested, his 'focus' on the marketplace's wares.
"…tyranny can't last forever," the first voice continued, softer now. "Fenros will rise again. The Ferriers won't stand idle ei—"
"Enough." The leader's voice cut through with finality. "We speak no more of this here."
Their conversation dissolved into silence, and the group dispersed into the crowd like shadows in sunlight.
Leon and Felix passed them by without stopping, though Leon's sharp ears caught every word. He glanced at Felix, whose jaw tightened. "Don't trust them," Felix muttered. "Propaganda flows both ways."
Leon nodded absently, though his mind lingered on the words. He knew little of King Salim or his rule over Fenros, but Oran seemed far removed from such strife. The marketplace thrived, its people untroubled. Yet the unease in the Ferriers' voices clung to him, like the faint scent of smoke before a fire.
* * *
Felix stood by a stall filled with gloves and bracers, inspecting each one with a critical eye. These tools could make the difference in his next test to become a Ferrier. They had to be perfect.
Leon, meanwhile, wandered a few paces away, letting his senses soak in the atmosphere. It was then he heard the scream.
His head snapped toward the sound, his eyes locking onto a bald man dressed in black. The man moved precisely, driving a knife into the chest of one of the Ferriers they had passed earlier. Blood splattered onto the cobblestones as the victim crumpled.
Leon's gaze sharpened. The man in black moved to his next target, blade gleaming, but before he could strike, an explosion tore through the air.
Smoke and fire erupted, scattering the crowd in chaos. Leon noted the scene with detachment. The Ferriers were under attack, their numbers dwindling. The man in black had already claimed two lives, and his blade was aimed at a third.
* * *
Felix froze as the explosion rattled the marketplace. He turned toward the sound, his heart sinking. "Leon!"
Frantically, he scanned the area, pushing through the fleeing crowd. "I have to get him out of here," he muttered, panic tightening his throat.
His Integration granted him speed and agility beyond ordinary humans, and he used it now, weaving through the chaos with the precision of a predator. It didn't take long to spot Leon—his brother was dangerously close to the fight.
* * *
Leon found himself rooted in place, his attention locked on the clash unfolding before him. Two figures, their movements almost too fast to track, were locked in a brutal exchange. Power flared around them, the air distorting under the sheer pressure of their Laws clashing.
He didn't flinch at the chaos; his mind instead dissected the scene.
'So much wasted energy,' he thought, watching as one combatant's strike sent a shockwave through the ground. The other dodged, but only barely, leaving an opening that wasn't capitalized on. 'They're strong, but their control is sloppy. Are they relying solely on brute force?'
His eyes narrowed as he observed a particularly erratic maneuver. One of the fighters seemed to abandon defense entirely, launching themselves into an attack that left them exposed for a moment too long.
'If I were him, I would've stepped in there—cut him off before the momentum shifted,' Leon mused. His gaze shifted to the environment. The marketplace was a mess of upturned stalls and fleeing bystanders, but the fighters seemed oblivious to their surroundings. 'They're so caught up in overpowering each other that they're ignoring how much the terrain could work to their advantage.'
The thought wasn't judgmental. It was simply how his mind worked—observing, analyzing, and identifying the flaws others overlooked.
Another burst of power cracked through the air, and one fighter was thrown back, landing heavily on the cobblestones. Leon tilted his head slightly, a faint frown crossing his face.
'If this is the standard for Integrated combat…' He didn't finish the thought. Instead, he turned his focus back to the battle, noting the intricacies of their techniques while keeping a wary eye on Felix, who was frantically searching for him.
'His use of the Law of... Shadow? is wasteful,' he mused. The Ferrier wasn't much better, in fact, he should have been on the winning side as the assassin had to be affected by the prior kills.
Their tools were strong, but their techniques clumsy. Leon could see the gaps in their defenses, the opportunities each of them failed to exploit.
'Neither side understands their potential,' he thought.
* * *
The fight escalated, and Leon's fascination grew. But Felix's voice broke through his focus.
"Leon!"
He turned to see his brother sprinting toward him, fear etched on his face. Felix reached him in an instant, grabbing his arm.
"We're leaving. Now."
Leon hesitated, his gaze lingering on the fight. But Felix's grip tightened, and he allowed himself to be pulled away.
As they retreated, Leon's mind raced. The encounter had been brief, but it had revealed much—about the world, about power, and about the chaos that seemed to brew beneath Oran's surface.
He glanced back one last time, the flames of the explosion still flickering in the distance.
This was only the beginning.