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Chapter 127 - Chapter 125: The Banquet

Leo stood still, gazing down at Mr. Clone's glassy, unfocused eyes. There was no recognition in them anymore—just emptiness. The man's body still breathed, but his mind was gone… trapped in a nightmare of his own making, slowly unraveling inside the prison Leo had built.

A few seconds passed. Then, without a word, Leo closed his eyes, and the Thorn pulsed faintly before dissolving into shimmering blood mist, vanishing through the palm of his hand—returning to his domain.

He crouched beside the body, reached into the man's coat, and pulled out the black crystal. It gave off a faint vibration as he channeled his mana into it. In the far corner of the room, a portal formed. It held steady, glowing faintly but without sound or movement. The gateway was ready.

Leo didn't spare another glance at the broken man on the ground. Without hesitation, he turned and stepped through the portal—back into the dim, musty air of the shop.

The moment he emerged, the shopkeeper, who had clearly been pacing with nerves, stumbled back in fright.

"H-He threatened to kill me!" the man blurted out, sweat rolling down his forehead. "I-I didn't know he would—he said—"

Leo didn't even look at him.

"Give me a black crystal," he said quietly. Coldly.

"Eh—what?"

"A black crystal. Uncursed."

The man hesitated for just a moment, but the look in Leo's eyes cut through him like a blade. He turned and rushed to a shelf, fumbling over his own fingers as he grabbed a clean black crystal and placed it carefully on the counter.

Leo took it without a word, slinging the bag of supplies—still untouched in the corner—over his shoulder. Then he started walking to the exit.

The shopkeeper opened his mouth, voice weak. "Sir, I just… I didn't know what to do. I—"

Leo paused at the door. He turned his head slightly, just enough for the light to catch his eyes.

"Next time," he said, with a cold voice, "I'll kill you."

Then he walked out, leaving the door to creak shut behind him, as the shopkeeper collapsed into the nearest chair, drenched in sweat and too afraid to breathe.

Leo walked home slowly, each step heavier than the last. The battle was over—he had won—but it hadn't been a clean victory. His opponent had been far stronger than expected, forcing Leo to drain almost all of his mana and push his body past its limit. His arms ached, his legs felt like lead, and there was a dull ringing behind his eyes from the mana burnout.

He activated the teleportation spell with a shaky hand and appeared inside the tower. The moment the light faded, he took a breath and forced himself to stand straight. The entrance hall was quiet, the marble floor gleaming under the soft glow of the crystal lamps. A maid stood at attention near the entrance. Without a word, Leo handed her the worn bags he'd carried back. She gave a quick bow and hurried off with them.

Klaus was waiting near one of the stone columns. His arms were folded, and his sharp eyes were locked on Leo with thinly veiled concern.

"What happened to you?" Klaus asked, his voice low but direct.

Leo exhaled through his nose. "Nothing serious," he said. "Just ran into an old enemy."

Klaus stepped closer. "Was it the same one who's been following you these past few weeks? Are you hurt?"

Leo gave a slight nod, then shook his head. "Yes and no. I'm not injured. Just exhausted." He started walking past. "And in desperate need of a bath."

Klaus didn't follow, but his voice carried after him. "Did you take care of the body?"

Leo didn't look back. "Yes."

He reached his room and shut the door behind him. The silence inside was comforting. After peeling off his bloodstained and scorched clothes, he stood under the steaming water of the shower for a long time. The heat helped wash away the soreness, though it did nothing for the fatigue deep in his bones. When he finally dried off and dropped into bed, it felt like collapsing into a pit.

His thoughts drifted. Mr. Clone—once a terrifying figure who had nearly brought down all of Flesa's captains together—was now dead. By his hand. Leo had faced him alone and survived. The man hadn't been in his prime anymore, that much was obvious. If he'd recovered more of his power, Leo knew he would've lost. Badly. But luck had been on his side. This time, there had been no backup, no hidden force stepping in at the last moment.

He had done it entirely on his own. That realization gave him a sense of pride. He had reached the level of a paladin captain—maybe not officially, but in strength, he was there. A tired smile crept across his face.

The stronger he got, the closer he came to the answers he'd been chasing—about this world, and the one before it.

After a short nap, Leo sat up and turned to the books on his desk. The banquet was still hours away, and the Kroll family's invitation had come weeks ago. This meeting he had today was just a formality. There was time to prepare.

The book in front of him wasn't a novel or a textbook—it was a compiled document, closer to a report. It covered pirates. Leo had been studying their patterns, names, and history. Five major pirate figures were listed, and two of them were already confirmed dead.

The most powerful remaining was the unnamed captain of the Red Rose pirates. No identifying details were included.

But what caught his attention wasn't that. It was the name Arthur Avalon—better known as the One Hundred Sword Pirate. A name that Leo recognized immediately. He had seen the Pope's son out at sea. 

He leaned back in his chair. "Don't tell me he's sailing under his real name," he muttered.

'Maybe he doesn't care…' he thought, frowning.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Three maids stepped inside, bowing. "Sir, it's time to get ready for the banquet."

Leo stood and let them begin. They helped him into his formal wear—a tailored black suit with a long, custom coat that extended just past the knees. The fabric was smooth and heavy, decorated with subtle embroidered patterns in dark thread. It fit him perfectly, clean lines sharpening his posture.

They brought out a new cane—mostly black, with a dragon's head at the tip carved in dark gold. Leo tested its weight in his hand. Solid, balanced.

After about twenty minutes, he stood in front of the tall mirror. The suit gave him an older look—refined, composed. At seventeen, he looked more like someone already used to commanding a room.

With the maids behind him, he made his way to the main hall. Klaus was already there, dressed in a simpler but well-kept black suit. As a butler, he would attend in a different building once they arrived.

Klaus looked Leo up and down, then gave a nod of approval. "You'll make sure they remember the name Victor Black with that suit."

Leo smiled slightly. "Thanks."

As they waited for Alexia, Leo turned slightly. "Mr. Klaus, do you know the Pope's full name?"

Klaus scratched his beard and frowned. "The Pope's full name? Huh… I don't think I've ever heard it. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Well, maybe you should ask Lady Alexia."

"I will."

At that moment, a line of ten maids entered, followed by Alexia herself.

She walked down the stairs with deliberate steps, her posture perfect. She wore a long crimson gown layered with black lace. The fabric clung tightly to her form before falling into flowing folds that followed her movement. Her gloves reached to the elbows, and at her throat was a red choker adorned with a glowing gem.

Her hair was chestnut in color with elegant waves. Red flowers were tucked into the strands. Her face was calm, pale, and precise—expressionless and unreadable.

Leo found himself staring.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at him.

"Aren't you done yet?" she asked.

Leo blinked. "Sorry, Master… wasn't your hair black before?"

Alexia gave him a flat look, then after a moment, her hair faded back to its natural black. A second later, it returned to the dyed chestnut.

"New lesson," she said. "Illusionists can change small details of their appearance too."

Leo stared at her. "What?"

"Let's go."

He turned toward the teleportation room, but Klaus stopped him.

"This is Lady Alexia's domain. Just stay still."

Alexia closed her eyes, and a magic circle lit up beneath their feet. Light flared around them, and the world shifted.

A second later, they stood in the mansion in the lower city.

Alexia didn't say a word—just started walking toward the exit. The others followed without question.

They could have teleported directly to the Kroll estate, but using a carriage was still expected of nobles, and appearances mattered. Leo didn't like it, but he didn't complain.

Outside, a large black carriage waited. Four horses stood ready, and the gold trim lining the doors shimmered in the evening light. The carriage was built for nobility—no one would mistake it for anything less. They climbed in. Fifteen minutes later, the Kroll mansion came into view.

The carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of the mansion's grand entrance. A pair of doormen stepped forward immediately, pulling the polished black doors open.

Leo stepped out first, then turned and offered his hand to Alexia. She accepted it with a practiced grace, and together they walked up the broad steps toward the entrance. As they ascended, Leo could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on them. Most of that attention, he was certain, was directed at Alexia. She carried herself with the poise of someone born to rule, effortlessly elegant and untouchable.

Any eyes that lingered on Leo, he knew, were for a different reason—envy. Not admiration. He was the young man who stood at the side of the Phantom Oracle. That alone drew quiet resentment from some of the crowd.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted the moment they passed through the arched doorway. A well-dressed majordomo stood at the top of the entry steps, and as soon as they were within earshot, he raised his voice with ceremonial clarity.

"Presenting Lady Alexia Clayden, Grand Magister and the Phantom Oracle, accompanied by her esteemed student, Mr. Victor Black."

Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The chatter of nobles and mages fell into a hush as every guest inside the mansion looked toward them.

Lord William Kroll and his wife moved quickly from the crowd to greet them, bowing with practiced etiquette.

"My Lady, it is our family's honor to receive you this evening," William said, his voice warm but deferential.

Alexia gave a small, regal nod. "William. I see you still enjoy making a spectacle of tradition."

Her tone wasn't harsh, but her authority was unmistakable. The slight upward tilt of her chin, the calm way she spoke—it was clear she didn't need to raise her voice to command attention.

William chuckled lightly, as if used to her barbed remarks. "Ceremonies like these must be maintained now and then."

With a discreet wave of his hand, a group of waiting maids stepped forward.

"Please, guide our honored guests to the great hall."

The maids bowed and began to lead the way. Leo and Alexia followed, ascending the staircase that curved gently toward the upper level. The hallway ahead shimmered with candlelight, and soft music played somewhere in the distance.

Just as they reached the midpoint of the stairs, a second announcement echoed through the hall, drawing attention once again.

"Presenting Lord Bernal Galvan, Grand Magister and the Primarch of Elements, accompanied by his esteemed student, Ms. Sophie Heilig."

Leo instinctively turned to glance down at the new arrival. He didn't dare use any magical observation—not on someone of S-rank status—but he didn't need to. Bernal Galvan stood out immediately.

The man was tall, nearly one-point-nine meters in height, and carried himself with a posture that was both commanding and precise. He wore a high-collared, double-breasted leather overcoat dyed jet black, its sharp lines reinforced by gold buttons and ornate trim at the cuffs and shoulders. The coat gave him a formal, almost militaristic air—equal parts noble and commander.

Underneath, a rich brown waistcoat and matching trousers completed the ensemble, both expertly tailored. A crisp white shirt added a traditional flourish, highlighting the seriousness of his appearance. His top hat, tall and cleanly shaped, cast a faint shadow across his sharp features.

His beard was neatly groomed, and his jawline looked chiseled from stone. Every inch of him projected discipline, control, and a quiet readiness—like someone always prepared for danger, or accustomed to issuing orders in tense situations.

At his waist, a leather belt carried a small brass ring and a set of keys. It was a subtle detail, but one that suggested he was more than just a man of status. There was function behind the form.

Alexia, still walking up the stairs, tilted her head just enough to glance back. Her gaze locked with Bernal's for a brief moment—a silent exchange of recognition between equals. Then she turned forward again and continued walking, Leo still at her side.

They passed through the large archway into the great hall, leaving the growing stir of whispers behind them.

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