For a heartbeat, the entire plaza froze.
Benson's fist tore through the air, aimed straight at Leo's face, packed with everything his newly awakened Berserker class could muster. The energy around his arm twisted violently, raw and brutal.
Even though he had only awakened today, no one doubted the strength behind that punch.
A Berserker's surge of power was always terrifying, even for a newly awakened one.
Around them, people held their breath.
Would the barrier hold?
Everyone knew what would happen if it didn't. A shattered skull. Blood on the plaza floor. Alliance punishment. A public disaster.
Yet strangely, no one panicked.
Instead, eyes gleamed with anticipation.
It was as if the scene unfolding before them wasn't real violence, but a carefully staged spectacle. A moment of absolute cinema. The kind people would talk about later with excitement.
Meanwhile, Leo stood still.
At first, he was genuinely shocked.
Not by the attack itself, but by Benson's recklessness. Unleashing awakened power in public. Ignoring the Alliance's laws. All for something this petty. For pride. For attention.
For a moment, Leo couldn't quite believe it.
Then the shock faded.
And what replaced it wasn't fear.
It was pity.
A quiet, heavy pity that settled in his chest as Benson closed the distance between them. Leo alone understood what was about to happen.
Benson arrived in front of him, his face twisted with rage and a look of imminent victory as he threw the punch with everything he had.
But before the impact could connect with his face, a blue barrier flared to life.
The instant Benson's fist collided with it, the barrier flashed red.
The entire plaza leaned in.
Was it cracking?
For a split second, even the mockers hesitated.
Then the sound came.
A sharp, sickening crack.
It echoed across the plaza like a snapped branch.
Not the sound of a barrier breaking.
The sound of bone.
Benson screamed.
His hand collapsed inward, bones rupturing through skin as blood sprayed across the stone. His arm twisted at an impossible angle, the force of his own attack rebounding back into him without mercy.
He staggered back, clutching his mangled hand, his scream tearing through the plaza and drowning out everything else.
Shock rippled outward.
Then laughter followed.
"What a fool."
"Did he really think he could break that barrier?"
"What an idiot."
The same people who moments ago had wondered if the barrier would fail now laughed the loudest. Insults rained down, cruel and careless, as if they hadn't been holding their breath just seconds earlier.
Leo let out a slow sigh.
It wasn't relief.
It was disappointment.
The kind a tired father might feel toward a child who should have known better.
He turned away without another glance, leaving Benson writhing on the ground. His hand was broken, but his ego was shattered far worse.
Benson lay there, teeth clenched, vision blurred with pain and hatred.
He had always hated Leo.
Not for the reasons most people thought.
Nineteen years ago, during the beast horde that claimed Leo's father, Benson's older brother had been there too. An awakener. A fighter. When a devastating attack tore through the battlefield, his brother had thrown himself in front of a civilian.
The blow hadn't killed him.
It had destroyed him.
For nineteen years, he had lain in a hospital bed. Alive, but broken. Medical bills piling higher each year. His parents crushed under the weight of debt and despair.
And yet, no one remembered him.
No monuments. No stories.
Instead, the city praised Leo's father. The whole world basked him in glory. Leo and his mother were showered with support and sympathy.
Benson hated it.
He hated the guild. He hated the so-called hero. Unable to touch the powerful forces truly responsible, he redirected all his resentment onto the one person he could reach.
Leo.
He tormented him whenever he could, savoring every small victory.
Today was supposed to be another such day. His great revenge.
He would crush Leo. Prove his worth. Catch Vice Guild Master Ian's eye—a person he was supposed to hate even more, which ironically he didn't, not even a bit. Earn a place in the Golden Eagle Guild. Gain wealth. Support his parents.
Instead, he became a joke.
And as Leo walked away, Benson's hatred deepened into something darker.
Unnoticed by the departing Leo, an enemy born of twisted hatred and anger had taken shape today.
Leo left the plaza without looking back.
Outside, a small crowd had gathered. Well-wishers. Families. And reporters.
The moment Leo stepped out alone, recognition spread quickly, especially among the reporters. Cameras lifted. Whispers rippled.
The trash son of the great hero. The boy whose final awakening everyone wanted to witness. Failure or redemption. Either way, it was a story worth selling.
Without hesitation, they rushed toward him.
But before anyone could reach him, a sleek black car pulled up sharply at the curb. The rear door swung open.
"Quickly, young master."
Leo didn't hesitate. He slipped inside as the door shut automatically. The car accelerated, leaving the reporters shouting behind them.
Only when the plaza faded from view did Leo release the breath he'd been holding.
He turned to the man seated across from him.
A grizzled old man with salt-and-pepper hair, deep wrinkles etched into his face. Glasses perched too low on his nose. Dressed in a pristine butler's uniform.
Arnold.
Someone Leo had known for as long as he could remember.
Arnold smiled warmly. "How was your day, young master?"
"It was alright," Leo replied.
Arnold nodded and said nothing more. He knew Leo too well to push.
Silence filled the car.
Leo stared out the window as the city blurred past. Eventually, the car slowed before a towering gate. After verification, it opened, revealing a long driveway lined with flowers and carefully sculpted greenery. The car rolled forward and stopped before a grand mansion.
Leo stepped out and looked up at the home he had lived in his entire life.
He scoffed softly. "A million credits a year. What a joke."
For most people, that offer would have been irresistible. But Leo had never lacked money. His father had been a peak Rank Three summoner, wealthy beyond measure. His mother, though inactive since losing her beloved husband nineteen years ago, was still a powerful Rank Three awakener. Not at the peak rank like his father had been, but money had never been a concern.
The front doors opened as a beautiful lady stepped out.
Her long black hair shimmered in the sunlight. Her green eyes were soft and radiant. She wore a simple white dress, yet looked effortlessly elegant.
Lillian Spades, his mother.
Arnold bowed upon seeing her. "Good day, my lady. You look enchanting as ever."
She smiled. "You flatter me, Arnold."
Her gaze shifted to Leo, softening instantly. "How was your day?"
"It was alright," Leo said again.
She understood immediately. Sadness flickered across her face.
"I'll go to my room," Leo said quietly.
She forced a smile. "Freshen up and come eat. I made your favorite."
"I'm not hungry," Leo replied, forcing a smile as he walked past her.
Inside, the mansion was quiet as Leo walked through it, navigating toward his room.
But as he reached the door, a sound from inside stopped him. Leo sighed.
There was only one person shameless enough to enter his room without permission.
He opened the door.