Part 2 —
The roar of the crowd had not yet faded.
It was a sound like distant thunder, rolling endlessly across the great arena, yet its weight seemed far away from Leo's thoughts.
His chest still rose and fell in steady, deliberate breaths, each inhalation carrying the faint metallic tang of battle that still lingered in the air.
The faint echoes of steel striking steel remained etched in his mind, remnants of the fight that had pushed both him and Rio to their limits.
The arena floor beneath his boots felt solid yet oddly hollow now that the clash had ended.
Every scuff mark, every gouge in the stone, bore silent testimony to the relentless exchange of blades.
A faint dust hung in the air, stirred by the faintest breeze.
It drifted lazily, as if even the wind itself hesitated to break the stillness that followed such intensity.
Leo's gaze, sharp yet calm, shifted from the emptying stands toward the far end of the arena.
It was there that a solitary figure waited, distinct from the spectators, unmoving yet carrying an aura that could not be ignored.
That man was Maximus.
The name alone carried weight, and now, seeing him in person, that weight became substance.
He stood tall, shoulders square, posture unwavering — a presence that seemed to anchor the world around him.
There was nothing ostentatious about his clothing, yet every fold of fabric seemed to sit upon him as though it belonged there by right.
His eyes were steady, their depth unreadable, holding within them the faint glimmer of someone who had seen countless battles, victories, and defeats alike.
Leo began to walk toward him.
Each step was unhurried, deliberate, as if allowing the tension between them to thicken naturally.
His boots made a muted sound against the stone, the rhythm of his footfalls unbroken even as he approached.
Maximus did not move.
He simply stood, arms loosely at his sides, the faint breeze tugging at the hem of his cloak.
When Leo came within a few paces, their eyes met, and for a brief moment, neither spoke.
It was a silence that carried weight — the kind that only occurs when two individuals measure one another without words.
Maximus's gaze shifted, just slightly, to the sword still in Leo's grip.
The blade bore faint scratches, small traces of the battle it had just endured.
Leo noticed the subtle movement of his eyes but made no effort to sheath it yet.
The weapon had been his partner in the clash with Rio, and he still felt its weight as a natural extension of himself.
At last, Maximus spoke.
His voice was deep, calm, and steady — neither cold nor warm, but direct, as if every word carried purpose.
"You fought well."
The statement was simple, but it was not spoken casually.
It carried a deliberate tone, as though Maximus had taken the measure of the fight in its entirety and found it worth acknowledging.
Leo did not immediately respond.
Instead, he let the words settle, then inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the sentiment without embellishment.
His breathing had already steadied, yet a faint heat still lingered in his limbs, a reminder of the exertion that had come before.
Maximus's eyes studied him, taking in not just the aftermath of battle but something deeper.
"You adapt quickly," he said after a pause.
"That was clear from the way you adjusted your strikes against Rio. You saw his growth mid-battle, and you matched it without hesitation."
There was no hint of flattery in the words — only observation.
Maximus's tone suggested that he spoke of facts, not opinions.
Leo's gaze did not waver.
"Yes," he replied evenly.
"But adaptation alone is not enough. Rio improved as we fought, and yet…"
He let the sentence trail off, the conclusion obvious in the air between them.
Maximus nodded slightly, as if confirming something he already knew.
"Victory comes from more than talent," he said.
"It comes from preparation, from experience, from the will to endure even when the odds shift against you. Rio's talent is exceptional, but talent without refinement meets its limit."
The faintest trace of approval touched his expression, though it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Leo noticed it nonetheless.
For a moment, both stood in silence again.
The noise of the departing crowd became a distant hum, as though the rest of the world had dimmed, leaving only the two of them in focus.
The air carried a subtle weight, not oppressive but undeniable, like the atmosphere before a storm.
Maximus's next words broke it.
"I wanted to see for myself what kind of fighter you were. Watching from a distance can tell you only so much. Now…"
He let the thought hang in the air, his eyes meeting Leo's once again.
"Now I have my answer."
Leo remained still, waiting for him to continue.
"You have the strength to stand where few can," Maximus said finally.
"But strength is only the beginning. What matters is how you use it — and for what purpose."
The words carried the weight of experience, the tone of someone who had stood on many battlefields and learned the truths they reveal.
Leo absorbed them without reaction, though inside, a quiet acknowledgment stirred.
He understood the meaning — and the challenge — behind them.
Neither man spoke again for several breaths.
The quiet was not uncomfortable; rather, it was the natural stillness that settles when words have said enough.
At last, Maximus gave a single, measured nod.
"Rest. You've earned it."
Leo kept his gaze locked on the man sitting across from him — the legendary Sword Emperor Maximus.
Maximus was seated calmly upon his ornate chair, his posture relaxed, yet his very presence radiated an indescribable aura. The air around him seemed heavier, denser, as if it carried the weight of countless battles, victories, and experiences. Though his expression was serene, Leo could feel a wave of suppression rolling off him, pressing subtly yet firmly against his mind and spirit.
Leo's sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
This suppression… it's not just ordinary killing intent or dominance. It's refined. It's tempered by discipline. This man is… dangerous.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips — not from fear, but from recognition.
"He's really not that easy to deal with," Leo thought to himself, his gaze unwavering.
Finally, Leo took the initiative. His tone was calm, neither overly respectful nor arrogant — simply steady, like still water.
"My name is Leo."
Maximus's eyes, deep and sharp like twin swords sheathed in wisdom, studied him for a moment before he responded in an equally calm tone.
"I am the Sword Emperor… Maximus."
The title hung in the air like a sharp blade. In the outside world, countless cultivators trembled at the mere mention of it.
Leo simply nodded.
There was no unnecessary small talk from Maximus. His eyes flickered with a hint of interest as he leaned forward slightly.
"Leo," he said directly, his voice carrying a subtle yet commanding edge. "Are you interested in becoming my disciple?"
The offer was sudden. Most people in Leo's position would have been stunned, perhaps even overjoyed. For countless swordsmen, receiving such an invitation from the Sword Emperor himself was a dream beyond dreams. Many would have dropped to their knees in gratitude without a second thought.
But Leo… was different.
He answered without hesitation, his tone completely unshaken.
"What benefits will I get, Mr. Sword Emperor?"
The hall fell into a brief silence.
Instead of being offended or angered, Maximus's lips curved into a faint smile, and then, unexpectedly, a deep laugh rolled out from his chest. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but one filled with genuine amusement.
"Many people," Maximus said slowly, "are waiting — no, begging — for me to accept them as my disciple. And yet here you are, asking me for benefits."
Leo met his gaze with complete calm.
"That," he replied, "is what makes the difference between them and me. I don't care about the title of being your disciple. I don't care about your prestige, your fame, or the worship others give you. I only care whether you are valuable to me or not."
Maximus's laughter faded into a thoughtful silence.
"I see," he murmured.
Maximus studied him for a moment, his gaze lingering as though searching for the truth behind those words. Then, instead of being angered, he simply spoke again.
"Leo, sometimes benefits bring disaster."
Leo's eyes sharpened further as he continued, "If you can't even face the possibility of disaster that might come with giving benefits, then there's no point in asking for benefits in the first place. I already know there's no such thing as a free meal. I want your benefits. You, in return, want my talent. Don't you think… that's a fair trade?"
The words fell into the room like the clean strike of a blade — straight, sharp, without waste.
For a long moment, Maximus simply stared at him. Then he exhaled slowly, as though releasing a hidden weight.
"…I did not expect this answer from you, Leo."
Leo's tone remained steady.
"Expectations make people suppressed," he said quietly. "Like a bird in a cage. They become restrictions, not belief. Mr. Sword Emperor, if one lives bound by expectations, then they will never truly be free."
Maximus's eyes narrowed slightly. In his long life, he had heard countless words — arrogant boasts, humble pleas, desperate bargains. But these words… struck differently. They carried the kind of insight that was born not from age, but from a sharpness of mind and experience that was rare for someone Leo's age.
He compared them instinctively to his own life. He remembered his own youth, the chains of expectation that once bound him, and how he had to break them with the edge of his sword.
A slow smile spread across Maximus's face.
Without another word, he rose from his seat. The subtle shift of his weight caused the air in the room to stir. His footsteps were calm yet carried an invisible pressure with each step until he stood directly before Leo.
Then, without hesitation, he placed a firm hand on Leo's shoulder and leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a tone that was almost conspiratorial.
"I have the complete Ancient Sword Art," he said. "The one you possess only half of. And… I have my own special sword art — the Celestial Sword Art."
The words were like a sudden strike to Leo's heart. His eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise breaking through his calm façade.
The complete Ancient Sword Art…?
He did, indeed, have half of it — a priceless, powerful technique that had been given to him by his damnable System. But it had never given him the complete version. No matter how many times he had demanded or searched for it, the other half remained missing, hidden away as if mocking him.
And now, here was Maximus… claiming to possess the entire version.
Leo's mind raced. The complete Ancient Sword Art would be an enormous boost to his power — it was a key, a foundation, something that could evolve his swordsmanship to heights few could imagine. And the Celestial Sword Art… the name alone carried weight, promising something unique, perhaps even transcendent.
His lips curled slightly. The calculation was quick. The decision, inevitable.
Leo met Maximus's gaze, the glimmer of ambition clear in his eyes.
"…I will become your disciple."
Maximus's smile deepened, satisfaction flashing in his eyes. He gave Leo's shoulder a light, approving squeeze before stepping back.
"Good," the Sword Emperor said simply.
And with that single word, the agreement between them was sealed.
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End of Chapter
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