Guardian Village
Leon's expression shifted.
He understood.
This wasn't about reputation. This was about something dangerous enough that even the air could not be trusted.
Slowly, he raised his hand.
With a flick of his fingers, three droplets of blood formed midair from his own palm.
They hovered between them, glowing faintly in the dim light—bright against the polished stone floor.
The elders stiffened. Even they hadn't expected that level of immediacy.
A crimson sigil expanded in the air between them, intricate lines weaving into one another like veins.
"This is a silence contract," Leon said. His voice was steady, controlled. "Bound by blood. What is spoken here will not be revealed without mutual consent. Not by tongue. Not by memory extraction. Not by magical coercion."
The middle elder narrowed his eyes. "And if one of us attempts to break it?"
Leon met his gaze evenly. "The contract will decide the punishment."
A beat of silence.
