Malachi, on the other hand, still felt as if pieces of himself were settling back into place.
A low laugh escaped him. It wasn't mocking. It was the kind someone released after brushing against something impossible. He pushed himself upright, still feeling the remnants of that warm current knitting him whole from the inside.
He looked at Leon with the kind of pride only a warrior could carry after crossing a threshold.
"I have finally reached rank nine," Malachi said. There was no hesitation. Only certainty. Only triumph.
Leon nodded, arms relaxed at his sides, as if they hadn't just traded blows that could have split the hall in half. "Good for you," he said, simple and genuine.
Then he added, without even blinking, "Unfortunately, I'm still at rank seven."
Malachi stared at him.
Before shaking his head, a faint, tired smile drifted across his face.
He had never been delusional.
He knew from the start that matching Leon was impossible.
