What do you do when your first chapter doesn't go the way you want? Or rather, when others decide to rewrite what's yours without you even knowing?
You tear them apart like paper.
Is it a bad way to begin? That's fine, let it be.
Because in that moment, no one there was her friend, fellow candidate, or anything else.
She stood alone, against them all.
Her denial and frustration weren't just about the position she longed for, but about her dignity and pride being trampled on for nothing.
And with those things crushed underfoot, Leo didn't see much difference in stepping on them even more to prove her point.
If I may say so, she thought, a terrible way to start a new journey.
— Stop right now, Bellius! Don't start something you can't handle! — Alphonse shouted, firm. He, who had always been calm and unshakable, now seemed desperate to avoid a possible disaster.
But there's no "stopping" something that had already begun.
— Can't handle it? — Leonia cast a sidelong glance around her. — I've trained with almost everyone here. I've studied your strengths and weaknesses. I did everything to stand out in training and the test. You know I'm the best, so I expected more conviction from someone like you, commander.
In that moment, the respect she had for him was entirely drowned by her rage. Her wounded pride pulsed with every heartbeat, fueling the red fury rising to her eyes.
She had always tried to be calm and clever. But today? Today was not her day.
She stood positioned between the two groups. The candidates to her right remained motionless, alert, aware that any movement could be dangerous for them. After all, what wouldn't a rejected one do to destroy their chances?
To her left, the Heralds could very well act on that threat, even if she wasn't the kind of creature they were used to hunting.
Leonia scanned the faces around her — then looked at the Archduke, still unmoving on the stage, protected by his Aura shield.
She didn't want a fight. She didn't want to hurt anyone.
But there was no other choice.
On the other side, her friend Rugh stared at her in shock, his trembling hand on the hilt of his sword. When their eyes met, she instantly understood his expression.
He didn't want to fight her.
But honor and oath demanded it.
Exhaling slowly, she reached for the other daggers strapped to her body. Even under the cold sun, the blade shimmered in the morning light.
— All that's left is to fight for the truth. — she muttered, devastated.
And she advanced.
Usually, human-made attacks were the responsibility of Monteiro Knights, not Heralds. But since none were present at the ceremony, her boot hooked the heel of the first Herald, knocking him to the ground, seated in the snow.
Three more came at once in a familiar choreography, striking with medium swords meant to wound and restrain her. At the first thrust from the center opponent, she spun back, parrying the blade with her left hand and plunging her own into the second's shoulder, making the metal groan.
From her blind side, a cowardly punch came toward her face — but at the last moment, she caught the fist, twisted the arm, and threw the attacker over her shoulder.
Two more came: one striking high on the right, the other low on the left. She knew who they were — knew their names — but chose to erase them from memory, keeping only the fire of her anger.
Leo leapt behind them, landing deftly. Her first blade struck one in the calf, the second in the forearm.
She moved only two more steps before being grabbed from behind. She narrowly escaped a hold and fell sideways with the Herald, rolling across the ground. In a swift move, she trapped his leg with hers and immobilized him.
— Nothing personal, but you're in my way.
She released him — she couldn't afford to fight them one by one. If they came in waves, she'd have to be smart, knock them out before being overwhelmed.
None of them knew her Aura hadn't awakened yet — but even so, she was more skilled than a veteran knight.
— I don't want to hurt anyone. But since you show resistance and deny me what I want, I will... — she warned, eyes flashing.
The Heralds began closing in. The advantage was clearly theirs.
But she had something far more dangerous: nothing to lose.
Leo moved with flawless precision, her many nights of training making it seem as if she was dancing among them.
Cursed.
The next one she dropped with a sharp punch to the ribs — unexpected, since the others she had fought with blades.
Every move was measured to the millimeter.
More came, trying to immobilize or even kill her if necessary. But her rhythm never faltered — and strangely, she wasn't tired — using the gaps in their formation, provoking and countering with deadly accuracy.
Her footwork was perfect. Though lean, she was fast.
Her strikes were deliberate — shallow, but enough to expose weaknesses in their defense.
Maybe spending more time training rather than hunting Edris' creatures had left her better prepared for this kind of situation.
At her core, she just wanted to prove one thing: she wasn't worthless.
She deserved to be among them.
When the next opponent stepped forward, there was no more formation — the arena was chaos.
Her eyes rose to meet his, and she froze.
It was Rugh.
His expression was serious, yet his gaze held… understanding? Pity…?
When he raised his sword, she understood.
Her face hardened — yesterday's words no longer mattered.
The look she gave him was sharper than any blade:
So you agree with them, too?
Rugh looked hesitant — and that was strange coming from someone she thought she knew.
— I'm sorry — was all she could read on his lips — a nearly silent phrase.
As he advanced, a part of her was already prepared to knock him out like the others.
But his attack didn't feel right — not even real — it looked more like a distraction, as if trying to keep her attention solely on him.
Why was he doing this?
Didn't he want to hurt her?
Then came a soft click in the air.
Barely noticeable.
And she felt the sting on her neck. Her free hand reached up, fingers closing over the small dart.
She leapt back, putting distance between them, and looked in the direction it came from.
Her eyes found Alphonse, with a blowgun still at his lips — the only one who hadn't joined the fight directly.
— How cowardly you've become, commander… — she muttered, her voice weak but laced with hatred.
Then she looked at Rugh again and tasted betrayal on her tongue.
So that was it...
They meant to distract her — make her lose sight of her surroundings.
Her vision blurred. She realized she needed to flee to regroup — to return to her plan.
But what was the plan? Defeat everyone and then...?
She should've known from the beginning it was a flawed idea.
Leonia had been so focused on proving her worth...
That she was stupid enough not to see the trap.
When her hands began to shake and her body grew heavy, she tried to turn and run. Her daggers slipped from her fingers and landed in the snow with a muffled thud.
She couldn't be caught. Not now.
Two arms wrapped around her and she turned to face him.
— You left us no choice. We had to stop you.
— Goddammit, Rugh. — she growled through clenched teeth, black spots invading her vision as her legs gave out.
— We'll fix this, I promise.
— You traitorous bastard…
And then, darkness swallowed her.
She should've seen this coming.
Her last thought wasn't of failure.
It was of betrayal and the bitter taste of her own naivety.