Chapter 311: Do Not Look Back, Leo

The clash of wood on wood had long since died. But the empty training hall still held the heavy, hot air of two bodies pushed past their limits.

The floor was covered in broken pieces. Dozens of shattered wooden katanas, cracked broadswords, and snapped handles lay scattered in a wide circle like the remains of an old war. In the middle of it all, Leo and Arthur lay side by side on their backs.

They stared up at the ceiling. Both of their shirts were gone. They had thrown them off an hour ago when the sweat became too much. Their bare chests rose and fell in rough, uneven breaths, gasping for air that felt too thin.

Sweat shone over fresh bruises, red marks, and wet skin. Leo’s right arm lay limp over his eyes, blocking out the dim lights above. Arthur’s head was turned to the side, his dark hair stuck to his forehead in wet, messy spikes.

For several minutes, the only sound in the big hall was the rough sound of their breathing.

"You’re..." Arthur wheezed. His voice came out rough and broken. He had to pause to swallow a mouthful of air. "...a complete... menace."

Leo didn’t move his arm from his eyes. But his chest shook with a low, breathy chuckle that turned into a sore cough. "Says the guy... who tried to break my hip... with a pommel strike."

"It was an open angle," Arthur grunted. He rolled his head back toward the ceiling and let out a long, shaking breath. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the burning ache in his thighs settle. Then he let out a short, surprised laugh.

"...I still don’t get it," Arthur said. His tone shifted into something almost confused. "Are you really sure you never practiced the sword as a kid? Because I’m looking at forty broken weapons on the floor, Leo. That’s not ’improvising.’ That’s pure violence."

Leo slowly dragged his arm down from his face. It flopped heavy onto the floor. He stared at his own right hand.

"I told you already," Leo replied, his tone flat, exhausted, but entirely devoid of deception. "You know how mediocre my talent was back then. I barely learned the basic three-step stance before I quit. I hated the blade. It was heavy, it hurt my wrists, and every instructor House Celestial hired looked at me like I was a waste of expensive steel."

Arthur let out a quiet sigh, his gaze drifting over to the broken katana hilt lying three inches from his hand. "Yeah. I remember... You used to hide behind the pillars near the gardens just to skip sword practice."

A faint, fond smirk touched Arthur’s lips for a fraction of a second. "And then you’d bribe the kitchen staff for sweet rolls."

"They were good sweet rolls," Leo muttered, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"They were," Arthur agreed softly. Then he turned his head, looking directly at Leo’s profile. The humor vanished from his eyes, replaced by a quiet, searching intensity. "But that makes today even crazier. Without a single drop of mana... you didn’t just fight me, Leo. You read my footwork. You anticipated my wrist shifts. Where the hell did you pick up a style like that?"

Leo’s eyes moved a little, but his face stayed calm and blank. He couldn’t tell Arthur about the bloody survival of a soul thrown into another world. He couldn’t explain learning to kill or be killed in the mud of the Path Trial.

He couldn’t explain the muscle memory built from pure, desperate need.

"I didn’t ’learn’ a style, Arthur," Leo said quietly, turning his head to meet Arthur’s gaze. "When you spend enough time getting beaten to a pulp, you stop thinking about ’forms’ and start thinking about leverage. I just fight to survive."

Arthur stared at him for a long moment. Then he let out a breathy, tired laugh that echoed off the empty walls. "Just survive. Right. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Silence settled over them once more. It was a different kind of silence than the heavy, bitter wall that had stood between them for years.

The raw, physical exhaustion had burned away the immediate walls. Their bodies were too sore to posture. Their minds too drained to hide behind noble titles or distant glances. They were just two exhausted nineteen-year-olds lying in their own sweat on a floor.

Slowly, the quiet grew longer, stretching into minutes.

Arthur shifted a little. He looked up at the ceiling, his hands resting flat on his stomach as his breathing finally began to slow down.

"Leo?" Arthur asked softly.

"Shut up," Leo said instantly.

Arthur blinked, caught off guard, a faint frown touching his brow. "I didn’t even ask anything yet."

"I know," Leo replied, staring straight up without moving a muscle. "And whatever it is, it’s going to be something stupid. Don’t ruin the quiet."

A small, reluctant huff escaped Arthur’s nose. It was a tiny spark of the easy banter they hadn’t shared since they were kids. The air between them cooled as Arthur swallowed hard. His throat was dry. He forced the question out before his courage failed him.

"Did you... ever resent me?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Arthur kept his eyes locked on Leo. His jaw was tight. His shoulders stayed tense despite his exhaustion.

He didn’t play dumb. He knew exactly what he was asking. He was asking about the gap, the broken engagement, the whispers, the years of watching Leo drown in liquor while Arthur walked under the praise of everyone. He was asking about Amelia.

For a long time, Leo didn’t say a word. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t get angry. He just lay there, completely still.

After what felt like forever, Leo spoke. His voice was dangerously calm. "...For what?"

Arthur’s brow furrowed, a flash of frustration crossing his pale face. "Don’t do that, Leo. Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m asking. Everything that happened between us... when we were kids. After your core awakened. After... after Amelia."

Arthur turned fully onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes burning with a mix of guilt and desperate clarity.

"She was your fiancée, Leo," Arthur said, the words heavy and raw. "We grew up together. The three of us. And then... your core came out at B-rank. The nobles started talking. You pushed everyone away, and... and she fell in love with me. I let her. I couldn’t stop it, but I didn’t push her away either. We watched you walk into the dark, and we just... let you go."

Arthur leaned closer, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of years of unspoken guilt. "So tell me the truth. Do you resent me? Do you hate my guts for stealing the only thing you had left?"

Leo lay motionless for a beat.

Then, slowly, he let out a sound. It wasn’t a growl. It was a long, slow, deeply tired sigh that seemed to drain the last remaining tension from his frame.

Leo pushed himself up off the floor.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, his bare back facing Arthur. The sharp line of his spine and the subtle scars across his shoulders were fully visible in the dim light. He sat there for a moment, taking a slow, measured breath, before turning his head to look sideways at Arthur.

"You really know how to ruin a good quiet, don’t you, Arthur?" Leo muttered, a faint, dry smirk touching his lips before it vanished entirely. He shook his head, looking down at his hands. "Damn it... fine. You want the truth?"

He looked directly into Arthur’s eyes. "Yes. I resented both of you."

Arthur froze.

"Every single time I looked at you," Leo continued, his voice steady, devoid of rage, but laced with an undeniable, heavy truth. "Every single time I saw you standing under those golden banners, looking like the holy hero of this damned story, I resented you. Every time I heard people talking about the ’Apostle of the Goddess’ while calling me the scum of House Celestial... I resented you."

Leo looked down at his raw knuckles, his eyes cold and reflective.

"Imagine it, Arthur," Leo said softly.

"Imagine being in my place back then. You grow up alongside two people. One is the golden boy, handsome, stable, brilliant, gifted with an SSS-rank core, loved by everyone just for existing. The other is the girl you grew up with. The only person in the world who brought you sweet rolls when you locked yourself in your room because your own family didn’t know what to do with you."

Leo turned his head fully, meeting Arthur’s wide, stunned golden eyes.

"...And then you watch your talent cap at B-rank," Leo said, his tone razor-sharp.

"You watch your family’s expectations rot. You watch the entire world laugh at you. And while you’re stuck at the bottom of the pit, looking up... the only girl you were promised to, the only person you thought belonged in your corner, slowly turns her head and falls in love with the hero standing right next to her."

Leo let out a dry, bitter smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. "She chose you because you were better. You were kinder. You weren’t a drunk. You weren’t broken. I understood why she did it, Arthur. I really did. But... understanding it didn’t stop it from tearing my chest open. You had everything. The strength, the looks, the destiny, the love of the people. And the one thing I had... was an arrangement tied to her. And you took that too."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, his face pale, his chest tight with a crushing weight. "Leo, I—"

"I’m not done," Leo cut in quietly, his voice carrying an authority that made Arthur shut his mouth instantly.

Leo swung his legs around and stood up.

His posture was straight and firm. He walked over to the side bench, picked up a clean linen towel, and wiped the sweat from his neck and chest. Then he pulled his dark shirt on. He looked down at Arthur, who was still sitting on the floor, looking smaller than he ever had.

"I resented you both," Leo said softly. "And back then, I thought I’d never forgive either of you for what happened."

He paused.

"But I’ve learned a lot over the past few months, Arthur," Leo continued. His eyes locked onto Arthur’s with a clear, steady look. "And the most important thing I learned... is acceptance."

Arthur blinked, staring up at him. "Acceptance?"

"I accepted that the past happened," Leo said, stepping forward. "I stopped dragging the corpse of who I used to be behind me. I stopped looking at your back, and I carved my own path."

Leo pointed a finger directly at Arthur’s chest.

"I don’t live in the past anymore, Arthur. If you stay stuck in yesterday, brooding over regrets and trying to apologize for things that can’t be undone, you’ll always stay behind. We aren’t kids anymore. The damage between you, me, and Amelia is done. It’s carved in stone. You can’t rewrite it, and I don’t care to."

Leo reached down, grabbed his dark coat from the rack, and threw it over his arm.

"...I found my own people," Leo said, his voice low, looking Arthur right in the face. "People who don’t look at me like a failure, and don’t look at me like a hero either. People who stand beside me because of who I am now, not who I was when I was a kid. People who are, frankly, better for me than you or Amelia ever were."

Arthur swallowed hard, the sharp honesty of those words hitting him like a physical blow. It wasn’t an insult, it was just a cold, undeniable fact.

"So stop living in the past, Arthur," Leo said, turning his body toward the exit doors of the training hall. "Stop looking at me like you owe me a debt, and stop looking at yourself like a guilty villain. We believe in two completely different things now. You have your own path to walk, and I have mine."

Leo stopped at the doorway, his hand resting on the iron handle. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder one last time, a faint, thin smirk touching the corner of his lips.

"Besides," Leo added softly, "if you keep staring at what’s behind you... you’re never going to catch up. And I have no intention of waiting for you."

Without waiting for an answer, Leo pushed the doors open and stepped out into the quiet hallway. The doors thudded shut behind him.

Arthur sat alone in the big, empty training hall.

The silence pressed against his ears. It was heavy and cold. The only sound was his own unsteady breathing. He stared at the pile of swords scattered across the floor. His mind replayed every word Leo had thrown at him.

People who are, frankly, better for me than you or Amelia ever were.

It should have stung. It should have burned his pride to hear Leo dismiss their whole childhood with such cold, final words. But as Arthur sat there on the floor, his bare shoulders slumped and his hands resting limp in his lap, the suffocating knot that had been tied in his chest for years slowly came undone.

Leo didn’t want his pity or apologies. Leo had moved on.

A shaky, breathy laugh escaped Arthur’s lips. It echoed weakly against the walls. He dragged a hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat. Then he let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for years.

The weight of the debt hadn’t vanished. It had just been tossed into the fire. He wasn’t forgiven, but he was free.

_

[Leo’s POV]

I dragged my feet down the dim, arched hallways of the academy. My coat hung loose over one shoulder. My stomach let out low, angry rumbles. That whole emotional talk had drained whatever tiny bit of energy I had left.

"Fucking bastard," I muttered under my breath. I winced as I rotated my bruised shoulder. "Had to go and dig up childhood memories right when I was starving."

Arthur had ruined my evening. I knew sooner or later I’d have to clear the air with him. His guilt was a loose thread that needed cutting.

But I hadn’t planned on doing it while dripping in sweat on a floor. Still, it was over. The hero was out of my hair. The past was buried. Now I just needed something solid to eat before my stomach ate itself.

I made my way out of the training hall and toward the academy city.

The academy was dead silent. The lockdown was still in effect. Most of the students had been sent home. The massive hallways felt like an empty tomb. The lanterns flickered faintly along the walls. They cast long, stretching shadows across the floor.

The city was still standing, but barely. Most of the shops were closed, their windows boarded up or shattered. But a few were still open, the ones that had survived the attack and were stubborn enough to keep serving food. I just needed to find one before my stomach started eating itself.

I crossed into the eastern archway, the cool evening air washing over my face.

Then, I froze.

The air didn’t just feel cool. It felt... wrong.

A sudden, unnatural drop in temperature hit my skin like an ice bath. The faint hum of the mana lines running through the academy walls vanished. It cut off like a severed wire. The flicker of the wall torches froze mid-flame. Their amber light stiffened into still, motionless points of glass.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped beast.

Don’t look back. Don’t you dare look back.

Every survival instinct I had built in the hell of the Path Trial screamed in my head. My blood ran cold, thick and heavy in my veins. My breath caught, freezing into a tiny cloud of white vapor in the suddenly dead, cold air.

If you look back, you die.

It wasn’t a guess. It was a certainty. Whatever was standing behind me wasn’t something I could fight and win.

Don’t look back. If you turn around, it’s over.

Slow, quiet footsteps echoed right behind me.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I couldn’t move. My feet felt stuck in the floor.

My body froze. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead, freezing instantly against my skin. Then, a cold, ghostly pressure brushed directly against my right ear. It was so close I could feel the tiny shift of dead air.

And the exact same words screaming inside my head echoed aloud:

"Do not look back, Leo."