By now, Leo understood all too well that the Golden Aura of Fate was a double-edged sword.
It did not reward cowardice, nor did it forgive recklessness, and making a choice when it appeared could permanently alter the trajectory of his life.
On one hand, he didn't particularly like the Evil Cult, nor the two elders seated before him, cloaked in their masks of civility and half-truths.
But on the other hand, he was no longer the naive, hot-headed fool who had once arrived on Terra Nova from Earth, burning with the illusion that he could conquer the universe alone without ever facing setbacks.
That version of himself was long gone, buried under years of war, failure, heartbreak, and quiet realization.
He had matured over time, grown sharper, colder, and more calculated in how he weighed risk against reward.
No longer did he see himself as some unbeatable prodigy fated to walk unchallenged beneath the heavens, because in the grand scheme of things, he knew the truth.
