The square was silent, save for the ragged breathing of the escaped prisoner. The man's grip on Leon's throat was tight, chains biting into his skin, but his hands trembled—whether from exhaustion or desperation, Leon couldn't tell.
The surrounding guards stood frozen, their weapons drawn but unused. They shifted uneasily, like men waiting for someone else to make the first move.
"Well?" Darius Venholm's voice cut through the tension. "Catch him! What are you waiting for?!"
None of the soldiers moved.
Leon's mind raced. The prisoner had been shackled, meaning most of his strength was sealed by the enchanted cuffs. If that was the case, he was no real threat.
I could kill him.
The thought came unbidden. Cold. Calculating.
But before he could act, something happened.
A deafening blast split the air.
Leon barely had time to flinch before the prisoner's head exploded. A force so great obliterated it, sending blood and bone scattering like dust on the wind. One moment, the man was there—the next, his lifeless body collapsed at Leon's feet.
A figure emerged from the settling haze of red mist.
Aldric.
His expression was unreadable, his gaze focused solely on Leon. His hands still smoldered from the attack, the residual rings of compressed air slowly dissipating from his knuckles.
Leon took a breath, ready to thank him—
Then Aldric raised a single finger and pointed directly at him.
"You," he said, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through steel.
Leon hesitated. "…Me?"
"Are you a hybrid?"
The words barely registered before Aldric moved.
One moment, he stood a dozen paces away. The next—he was in front of Leon.
There was no time to react.
Leon's body moved on instinct, his arm flying up in defense just as Aldric's punch connected.
A violent shockwave rippled through the air.
Leon's vision blurred as his body was launched backward. He hit the ground hard, skidding several feet before coming to a stop. Pain tore through his arms.
He looked down.
They were gone.
His hands—**his forearms—**had vanished.
Even with the shield he had raised, Aldric's attack had obliterated them.
Blood dripped from the stumps where his hands had once been.
Leon barely had time to process the sight before Aldric spoke again.
"If you really are a hybrid," he said coldly, "then a dirty creature like you shouldn't exist."
The words carried weight.
Aldric took another deep breath, pulling more air into his lungs than seemed possible. Three rings of compressed energy formed around his wrists.
"The more rings there are," he explained, "the more air I've gathered—the stronger the cannon shot."
His hands began to change—their shape distorting, twisting, molding into something unnatural.
A weapon.
Aldric's fists now resembled twin cannons, primed and ready to fire.
"And I'm telling you this," he continued, leveling his gaze at Leon, "so you understand that your death is inevitable."
A sharp voice interrupted the moment.
"Are you insane?!"
Darius, still atop the platform, had gone pale. His fat fingers gripped the edges of his tunic as he stared at Aldric with wild eyes.
"You already killed the first prisoner," he seethed. "And now you're trying to kill a child?! Do you have any idea what my father will do to me when he hears about this?!"
Jealousy.
That was the emotion dripping from Darius's voice—not concern, not fear. Just envy.
Because Aldric—his subordinate—had once again outshone him.
Aldric slowly lowered his hands. He exhaled, the rings of air around his knuckles dissipating.
"He's a hybrid," Aldric said simply. "A monster."
Darius hesitated. Then, after a brief pause, a grin stretched across his face.
"Then let's throw him in instead of the fourth prisoner," he said. "No one will know the difference."
His gaze swept over the assembled guards, daring them to challenge him.
They didn't.
They bowed their heads in silent agreement.
Aldric smirked. "Aren't you clever?"
And then—he moved.
Leon barely had time to react before a hand clamped around his throat.
Aldric lifted him with ease, hoisting him high above the ground. Leon kicked out, struggled, but his strength was nothing compared to Aldric's grip.
"The fourth prisoner," Aldric declared, stepping toward the edge of the gate, "for desecration of his own body, is sentenced to exile."
Leon's heart pounded.
Aldric's fingers loosened—
And he let go.
The world plunged into darkness.
The Abyss Below
Leon fell.
There was nothing.
No sky. No ground. No air.
Just voices.
Low murmurs, rising and falling, brushing against his ears like echoes in a cavern.
"Looks like we pulled a good one this time," a voice close by mused. "A hybrid. Much better than the last loser they sent."
A deeper voice, farther away, scoffed. "Doesn't matter. They should've thrown down a barrel of alcohol instead. That would've been worth something."
Leon's eyes flickered open.
His vision was blurry at first, adjusting to the dim, eerie glow around him. Shadows moved in the distance, shifting like living things.
And in front of him—three men stood.
The first was young—early twenties, maybe—with a relaxed, knowing smile. His clothes were ragged, but his posture was too confident for someone who had been exiled.
Behind him was a giant of a man. Mid-thirties, heavily scarred, with arms thicker than tree trunks. He crossed them over his chest, watching Leon with mild amusement.
The third was the strangest.
White-haired, sharp-eyed, calm.
He said nothing, merely observing.
The first man crouched beside Leon, grinning.
"You're awake, boy," he said, patting Leon's shoulder as if they were old friends.
"Welcome to exile."