Divine Chakra: The Divine Armor
Leon stood shirtless in the wreckage, chest rising in ragged, uneven pulls, every breath scraping through his lungs like sandpaper. His skin was a battlefield—old scars running pale across tense muscle, fresh bruises darkening beneath layers of soot, with ash clinging to him like it had nowhere else to go. The only thing still on him were those black trousers, half-burnt, dusty, torn down the seams. Everything else was gone. The wind passed over his bare skin like it didn't give a damn—just cold and careless, brushing past whatever was left. Around him, the air felt thick, almost humming, the weight of it coiled tight like the whole battlefield was holding its breath. And overhead, the sky stretched red and furious, bleeding across the horizon like Silver City itself had been cut wide open.
Then—something flickered.
