Leon's smile grew faint, almost imperceptible. His obsidian eyes darkened, reflecting a depth she had never seen before. "Change isn't always bad, is it?"
Amelia's steps slowed for just a heartbeat, her gaze lingering on him before she looked away. "…No. Not always."
Change was an inescapable truth of life. None could resist it, and none could bargain with it. Whether one welcomed it or feared it, change arrived all the same — as unstoppable as the turning of the seasons.
Some faced it head-on, tempering themselves against its storms. Others crumbled beneath its weight, broken by what they could not endure. Many died resisting it, unwilling to yield. Yet a rare few… a rare few accepted it, shaped it, and turned it into a weapon. Those were the ones the world called fortunate — the ones destiny seemed to favor.
And here stood Leon.
His change was not a matter of choice, nor was it subtle. His body had hardened, his spirit had sharpened, and even the cadence of his voice carried a depth that had not been there before. The boy who once laughed easily now carried shadows behind his smile. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, as though each step was weighed against a path only he could see.
Those closest to him had already noticed. Emma, with the keen intuition of a mother. Alfred, with the sharp instincts of a man hardened by the world. Amelia, whose heart wavered each time she looked at him. Even Aunt Bella, who saw more with her gentle eyes than most dared to admit.
None of them were blind to the transformation. But unlike the cruel changes that so often left scars, Leon's was different. His change was not a descent but a rise. It carried with it strength, determination, and the promise of something greater. And so, rather than fear it, they welcomed it. They expected it.
For this change was not the kind that destroyed.
It was the kind that built.
After nearly fifteen minutes of walking, Leon and Amelia arrived at the venue.
It was a coliseum — not massive like the ones in Elyaryn, but large enough to hold several hundred people. Its stone walls rose with quiet dignity, worn by years of ceremonies, yet still carrying the weight of tradition.
Outside, a dense crowd had already gathered. Leon's eyes swept over the mass of youths waiting their turn. Most were between fifteen and twenty, faces pale with nerves. Some fidgeted with clenched fists, others tried to hide their unease behind forced bravado. A few carried the calm look of those who had already attempted the ceremony once before, but most were clearly facing it for the first time.
Beyond them, villagers and visitors filled the surrounding stands, voices buzzing with chatter. Many had come from neighboring settlements to witness the awakenings, hoping to see a spark of talent worth remembering. Familiar faces surfaced in the sea of spectators — merchants, hunters, even children perched on their parents' shoulders, eager to see the spectacle.
Leon's gaze wandered further, searching for signs of those from Elyaryn. He saw none. His brows furrowed slightly. Maybe they're already inside, he thought.
What he did see were the guards. Elite soldiers in polished armor stood at every corner of the coliseum, spears in hand, eyes sharp. Their presence wasn't for show — their killing intent was faint but unmistakable. The security was tight, as it should be. With so many young potential cultivators gathered in one place, any disruption could quickly turn into disaster.
Amelia slowed her steps, glancing at him. "Leon, we part ways here."
Leon turned to her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Mm. I figured. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you out there."
Amelia arched a brow, her expression unreadable. "Embarrass me? Hmph. Just don't get yourself into trouble. You always had a knack for that."
Leon chuckled softly. "I'll try. But… don't worry, big sis. I'll be fine."
She hesitated, her eyes searching his face for a moment longer before softening. "You've changed, Leon. But some things better not change."
Leon tilted his head. "Like what?"
Amelia smiled faintly, turning away. "Like the fact that you're still my little brother."
With that, she walked toward the stands where the audience was gathering.
Leon's gaze lingered on her retreating figure before he exhaled and turned toward the coliseum gates, where the other youths waited. The hum of anticipation in the air felt like the calm before a storm.
As Leon approached the entrance of the coliseum, countless gazes fell upon him. His black robe with crimson trim, his tall frame, and the sharp, handsome lines of his face made him stand out like a lone flame among shadows.
The girls were the first to notice. Their eyes lingered on him, some filled with admiration, others with a spark of infatuation they couldn't hide. Yet not all gazes were soft. From among the young men of neighboring villages came looks of envy, hostility, and quiet disgust.
But strangely, not a single one of them recognized him.
They whispered among themselves, some even frowning as though the sight of him stirred a memory. His face resembled someone they knew — Leon, the quiet boy of Stoneford — but the resemblance ended there. This youth before them carried an aura, a bearing, and a strength that didn't belong to the Leon they remembered. His body was taller, his eyes deeper, his very presence sharper, as though he had been forged in fire.
The thought came and went in their minds, only to be dismissed. Impossible. That can't be him.
Leon allowed their stares to slide off him, neither prideful nor bothered. Let them think what they want. The truth will shock them soon enough, he mused quietly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
He walked steadily toward the contestant's area. The rows of stone benches were already filling up with youths his age, each radiating nervous excitement. Spotting an empty seat, he moved toward it — only to notice the boy sitting beside it.
A faint warmth stirred in Leon's chest.
It was Denny.
About the same age as Leon — eighteen this year — Denny was a familiar face, one tied to countless memories. In his past life, they had shared laughter and struggles, training side by side, hunting in the forests, even sneaking food during festivals. But fate had parted them when Denny left for the capital. After that, Leon had never heard of him again.
Now, seeing him here once more, Leon felt a complicated mix of nostalgia and relief. He remembered Denny's loyalty, his humor, and the bond they had built. In this lifetime, perhaps their paths could cross differently.
Leon slipped into the seat, a small, genuine smile forming on his lips. Seventeen and a half… but I suppose it's time I accept my new age. If I am to stand among them, then let me stand as I am now.
Leon settled into the seat beside him, his lips curving faintly. Without warning, he reached out and gave Denny's back a light pat. To Leon, it was casual — but the force carried through like a clap of thunder.
Whump!
Denny's body jolted, his shoulders trembling as though struck by a beast's paw. He had been leaning forward, trying to eavesdrop on the whispers of two girls sitting in the row ahead, but Leon's voice froze him in place.
"Yo, Denny," Leon said smoothly, a teasing lilt in his tone. "Whatcha doing?"
Denny stiffened, his heart leaping to his throat. The pat had been strong enough to rattle his bones, and the sudden voice made his back run cold. He turned, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What the fu—!"
The words died in his throat.
His gaze locked on Leon's face, and his expression froze in disbelief.
"The… the fuck? Leon? That… that you?" Denny stammered. His chubby cheeks twitched, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water.
Leon raised a brow, his faint smirk deepening. "Surprised?"
"Surprised?!" Denny nearly shouted, his voice breaking. "What the hell happened to you?! You were a skinny stick last time I saw you — now you're… you're—" He waved his pudgy arms wildly, as though words had failed him. "—freakin' jacked! You look like a whole different person!"
His sudden outburst drew curious glances from a few nearby contestants, but when they saw it was only Denny's loud mouth, most lost interest and turned back to their own worries.
Leon chuckled quietly, the deep sound carrying a calmness that only made Denny gape further. "Guess I grew up a little."
"A little?!" Denny groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Bro, I swear, if you told me you were Leon's older cousin, I'd believe it. You—ugh, this is insane!"
Leon only smiled, leaning back casually. His obsidian eyes, however, glinted faintly — amused by his friend's reaction, but also warmed by it. Despite his outburst, Denny was still the same: blunt, unfiltered, and genuine.
Leon gave a small shrug, his tone casual as though nothing was out of the ordinary. "Yeah… well, it's complicated. I'll tell you later."
Denny blinked at him, then groaned, clutching his head. "Complicated, my ass! Bro, you—fuck—you look so damn handsome now! What the hell?!" His voice cracked with disbelief, his chubby cheeks puffing as he squirmed in his seat. "Shit, now I'm getting itchy out of jealousy!"
He twisted awkwardly, scratching his back with both hands like some desperate beast, grumbling curses under his breath.
Leon couldn't help it — a chuckle slipped past his lips. The deep, calm sound only made Denny glare at him harder, which in turn drew another laugh. For a brief moment, the tension of the day melted away, replaced by the warmth of old friendship.
But it didn't last.
BOOM!
A loud voice suddenly resounded acro
ss the coliseum, amplified by spirit energy. It rolled through the arena like thunder, silencing the crowd in an instant.