Leon had once imagined what it would be like—how would he feel when he saw Uncle Woods again?
Perhaps it would be in the magnificent palace hall, as he went all the way in with royal and brave knights, declared his rebellion in public, then cut off his head with a sword?
Perhaps it would be in the luxurious king's dormitory, as he appeared like a ghost in front of his sleepy eyes, blocked his voice with magic, and slowly cut him into pieces, repaying the hatred of innocent victims, his relatives, friends and himself?
Perhaps it would be during a royal hunt that he would lurk in the wild thickets. When Uncle Woods passed by, he would rush out, kill him with a sword, and then drive away in the middle of the guards and soldiers' panic?
