Leon collapsed to the floor, his strength finally giving out after the long chase and brutal fight with the Spinehounds. His body trembled with exhaustion, his wounded arm numb, and his breath shallow.
His eyes were half-lidded, dull with fatigue—but he used to it.
He had been in this state before and many time in his life.
Slowly, he turned his head, scanning the room for anything he could use to patch the wound on his arm.
The room was dim, lit only by a flickering orange emergency light overhead. Its weak glow cast long, wavering shadows across the walls and floor—just enough to make out the outlines of overturned desks, shattered tool kits, and scattered research equipment.
Then, Leon noticed it—a faint glow beneath his left palm.
His hand, trembling from pain and exhaustion, had been resting against the cold floor. Blood from his wound had dropped steadily, pooling beneath his fingers.
And now, something beneath the floor was glowing.
A soft light—pale golden light with a slight pulse—emerged from the cracks, right where his blood had touched.
Leon's eyes widened. Instinctively, he pulled his hand back and stumbled away from the light.
(What... is that?)
The glow remained, steady and silent.
Then, something began to rise from the floor.
The glow sharpened, and a shape started to take form.
(A... cube?) Leon blinked, uncertain.
A small metallic cube, no larger than his fist, slowly levitated from the crack in the floor. Its surface shimmered with faint golden lines—like circuitry or ancient artifact. The light dimmed slightly as it floated upward, ascending gently toward him.
Leon quickly raised his pistol, aiming it at the floating metallic cube as it drifted closer.
But just as he lined up his shot, the cube froze mid-air.
Then, a calm, synthetic female voice echoed softly from within it.
"Wielder, you are wounded. You require emergency assistance."
Leon's breath caught in his throat.
"...What ? Who's that ? Who's speaking?!"
His eyes darted around the room in panic, trying to locate the source of the voice. But he couldn't move much—the deep wound in his left arm throbbed with every heartbeat, blood still dripping down his side.
Just as he tore his eyes away from the cube—
It moved.
The object suddenly unfolded, transforming mid-air into thin, glowing metallic sheets. Before Leoncould react, the pieces wrapped themselves tightly around his injured arm.
"Agh—what the hell?!"
He cried out, trying to tear the metal off. He scratched at it, pulled at it with his remaining strength—but it wouldn't budge.
Then came the burning.
A sudden, searing heat erupted across his wound.
Leon screamed, the pain shooting straight through his nerves like fire. His vision blurred, and his knees gave out.
Leon's body gave in, and he collapsed face-first onto the cold floor, unconscious.
Then… he began to dream.
He saw a younger version of himself—small, thin, dressed in filthy clothes—wandering through the slums. The world around him was cold and cruel. People glanced at him with disgust. Others ignored him completely. The other children beat him regularly. He was weak, and worse, he was new to this harsh place.
It was a brutal reality—no child should endure.
But Leon? He never complained. He never cried.
He simply learned.
He learned two things:
Trust no one.
Do whatever it takes to survive.
That became his law—his only rule in a world that offered nothing to him.
No hope.
No education.
No dreams.
Just survival.
And yet, as he chased something in the dream—a blurry figure, a memory, something that he tried to forget.
Then suddenly he heard something soft, a humming sound. It was gentle warm and comforting.
It was so unfamiliar that it stopped him in his tracks.
(What is that… warmth?)
He turned away from whatever he had been chasing, drawn instead of the sound.
Then his eyes snapped open.
Leon gasped, taking in a huge breath of air as if he had been suffocated.
Above him was the broken ceiling of the same ruined room. The faint orange glow of the emergency light still flickered overhead, casting dim light across the debris-strewn floor.
Leon slowly sat up, his body aching and disoriented.
Then came the pain—sharp and sudden—flaring from his ribs.
(Ouch...)
He gritted his teeth and held his side, moving carefully to avoid making it worse.
But something felt... off.
His left arm—the deep wound that had soaked through his clothes—was no longer bleeding. In fact, the wound had closed entirely. The skin was still raw, but sealed. Faint burn marks wrapped around it, almost like the flesh had been welded shut.
He stared at it in disbelief.
He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but the room around him was now completely silent.
No snarls.
No claws scratching at the door.
The Spinehound… was gone.
Leon managed to push himself onto his feet, legs trembling beneath him. Still weak, but alive.
Then he turned, eyes searching the room.
The soft voice returned.
The same one Leon had heard in his dream almost soothing. But now it wasn't coming from inside his head. It echoed from somewhere across the room.
He darted his eyes toward the source.
The humming was real now.
It was coming from the desk in the center of the room.
And sitting there—was a woman.
A stunning woman.
She had long, silky blonde hair that flowed like golden threads down her back. Her eyes were a deep, piercing blue. Her skin flawless. She wore nothing to cover her body, and yet she sat calmly on the desk, humming a tune like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When Leon's eyes met hers, she smiled softly.
"Ah... Wielder. You're finally awake."
Her voice was cheerful, almost playful.
Leon didn't respond.
He didn't blink.
He just stared, frozen in place, heart pounding.
The woman tilted her head and let out a teasing chuckle.
"Ara… do you find me attractive?"
She gave him a mischievous smile.
It was true—her appearance was dangerously beautiful. The kind of beauty that could drive weaker men to madness. Her figure was curvy, graceful, and inviting.
But this wasn't the time. Not for Leon.
He clenched his teeth and lifted his pistol, aiming it directly at her.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!"
He shouted; eyes filled with suspicion.
There was no way she was just a human.
When he first entered the room, it was empty. No signs of life.
She couldn't have survived in a place like this.
This woman… was unnatural.
The mysterious figure blinked, a little surprised by his reaction. But there was no fear in her expression.
Calmly, she rose to her feet and stepped off the desk with grace, as if floating.
Leon's hands tightened around the pistol. His voice sharp and commanding.
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
The moment Leon shouted, the woman vanished.
His eyes widened in shock.
(What...?)
He blinked hard, shook his head, and scanned the room again, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.
But before he could even process it—
She reappeared.
This time, right in front of him.
Leon flinched and stumbled back a step, quickly raising his pistol again.
His hands trembled, but his aim stayed firm.
"DON'T MOVE ANY CLOSER!"
The woman didn't seem fazed. Instead, she let out a soft, amused giggle.
Then she levitated.
Her body rose into the air—graceful, unnatural—and drifted straight through Leon's gun… and through him.
"W-What?!"
Leon spun around in panic. His heart raced.
She had passed through him like mist.
He searched the room again, but she was gone.
Then her voice echoed softly through the space, coming from nowhere.
"Wielder, would you please calm down?"
The same gentle, melodic tone as before—unbothered, almost amused.
Leon narrowed his eyes, breathing heavy.
"...Calm down??? Wielder??? What are you? And what the hell do you mean that?!"
His voice was raw with confusion and fear. Nothing about this made sense.
"You are my wielder. You awakened me."
The voice replied again—soft, calm, almost affectionate.
Leon tried to make sense of what was happening. His mind raced as fragmented memories flashed through his head—
The golden glow...
The floating cube...
His blood dripping onto the floor...
The moment it changed shape and wrapped around his wound...
Something clicked.
His eyes widened.
"That cube..." he whispered, then raised his voice.
"Are you—are you that floating cube?"
"Floating cube? What a funny reference! Hahaha~"
The woman laughed playfully, her voice light and teasing.
"Eh…?"
Leon blinked in confusion, caught off guard by her reaction. He had expected a cold, robotic answer—not... this.
"You're not wrong, Wielder," she continued, her tone shifting back to graceful and composed. "But what I am... is called a Seraphim. And my name is Selphy."
As she spoke, her figure materialized again in front of him—glowing slightly as if made of light and data, yet as real as flesh.
Leon stared at her in silence, his grip on the pistol loosening. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, eyes narrowed with a mix of awe and suspicion. He observed her closely—the beauty, the warmth, and the unnatural stillness of her presence.
"Seraphim..." he muttered under his breath.
"That's right! Wielder!"
She beamed, her smile radiant as she clasped her hands behind her back, clearly delighted to hear him say it.
Leon let out a small, tired smile.
"Could you... maybe do something about your appearance?"
Selphy raised an eyebrow, then giggled playfully.
"Ara~ Is my appearance distracting you?"
She spun lightly in midair, golden light swirling around her form. In a flash, her body was now covered in a sleek, tight-fitting outfit—still revealing, but just enough to tease rather than shock. It shimmered with a faint digital glow, like it had been formed from data itself.
"How about now?" she asked with a wink.
Leon didn't even flinch.
"It's fine. Now let's talk."
His voice was cold and focused—not the least bit impressed by her body or charm.
"Tell me about you. And why are you calling me 'Wielder'...?"
He gritted his teeth mid-sentence as a sharp pain flared in his ribs.
"Argh—!"
Selphy's playful expression softened with concern.
"Wielder, you need to address your wounds immediately. As for your arm—I only sealed it. It's not fully healed."
She floated gently toward the corner of the room, her long hair drifting behind her like golden mist. There, she pointed to a dusty glass box sitting on a shelf, her finger glowing faintly as she tapped its surface.
"That container holds a prototype nano-healing compound. From what I recall, it was developed during the early stages of the Collapse. Highly effective... but never mass-produced."
She glanced back at him with a reassuring smile.
"I suggest you use it. Your internal damage is worsening."
Leon narrowed his eyes, still skeptical. He didn't trust this mysterious woman—not yet.
"Why should I believe anything you say?" he growled, pushing past the pain in his ribs. "And where's your real body?"
He stood his ground as he demanded answer.
Selphy didn't look offended. Instead, she simply smiled and raised her hand, pointing toward his right arm.
"You're already holding me."
Leon blinked and followed her gesture, glancing down at his wrist.
His eyes widened.
Wrapped around his wrist was a thin, styleless bracelet—like a black watch band, smooth and matte. It was so light that he hadn't even realized it was there until now.
(When did this get here…?)
Panic rose in his chest.
He immediately tried to rip it off. He clawed at it, scraped it with his nails, even tried to pull it loose—but it wouldn't budge. The band didn't move, didn't react. It felt like it had fused with his skin.
"What the hell is this?!" he growled.
Selphy simply watched him, smiling softly, her voice calm and almost amused.
"It's no use, Wielder. Once your blood activates a Seraphim… your bond is sealed."
She floated closer, eyes glowing faintly.
"From that moment on, the blood-bearer becomes the Wielder of the Seraphim."