Bermuda

"Leonardo, you..."

Hugo, at a loss for words, stood silent, unable to speak. A storm of emotions roiled inside him, and he didn't know how to look at the man before him. The solid framework of thought he had built until now had been completely shaken by Leonardo’s final words.

He pressed his lips together several times, struggling to find words. Staring down at the churned-up ground as if to gather his thoughts, Hugo finally raised his head, meeting the other man's eyes with a newfound clarity. Just as he began to open his mouth, ready to confirm the truth he feared—

A wooden vine burst from the ground beneath Leonardo’s feet, wrapping tightly around his legs. It looked slightly different from the ones he had burned so easily before. It moved with uncanny speed, and before Leonardo could react, it had already snaked up to his calves.

Despite the sudden attack, Leonardo showed no signs of panic. He glanced down at his legs with an annoyed expression, as if this repetitive trick had become tedious, and casually waved his hand downward. A blazing flame sword formed in his grip once more.

He slashed at the vine in a smooth, practiced motion. But contrary to expectation, the blade only sliced halfway through. It lodged there, unable to sever the rest cleanly.

The texture against his fingers felt tougher—thicker, and strangely moist. Alarmed, Leonardo tried to wrench the sword free.

But another vine sprouted rapidly from the cut, wrapping around the blade and crawling up his arm like a living creature. Leonardo’s eyes narrowed. This wasn't like before. He tried to ignite his body in flames, to incinerate the vines outright—but the fire wouldn’t catch. The moisture choked it out before it could form.

Frustrated, he grabbed the writhing vine with both hands and tried to tear it off. But the surface was slick, soaked with water, and its insides had become more sinewy—more resilient. No matter how hard he pulled, only a few strands snapped. Escape was impossible.

With movement restricted and options narrowing, Leonardo lifted his gaze and glared at Hugo, his eyes wide with rising tension. Yet Hugo, even now, made no move to attack.

Just as Leonardo began to find that suspicious, he felt a surge of killing intent from above. Acting on instinct, he bent sharply at the waist, lowering his stance even while entangled.

In that last moment before impact, he caught a glimpse—two battalion commanders of the Council in full uniform, descending toward him like birds of prey.

Thud!

As he twisted to dodge, two powerful hands seized his shoulders, slamming him face-first into the ground.

In an instant, cuffs snapped around his wrists behind his back. Twin blades pressed against his neck in a deadly cross—if he moved even slightly, they would slice through him.

From beneath, Andreas’ vines continued to surge up, drawing moisture from the square’s drenched ground and binding Leonardo even more tightly. He couldn’t so much as twitch a finger.

“Hugo, you’ve become hesitant.”

A woman with long, wine-colored hair swept into view, her voice calm and cool. She was Loren Opience, commander of the Council’s 2nd Battalion.

Her smooth, medium-low tone, paired with a cold, unreadable face, gave her an aura of quiet authority. Her voice carried a trace of puzzlement more than blame.

“To let the target go when he’s right in front of you... that’s not like you.”

“...”

Loren drew closer as she spoke, but Hugo didn’t respond. His eyes were still fixed on Leonardo, now lying face down, restrained once again.

Leonardo looked faintly resentful, but whether out of resignation or exhaustion, he no longer resisted.

Meterion Clinder, commander of the 3rd Battalion, who had arrived with Loren, looked down at Leonardo and then shook his head with a scoff.

“You were struggling with just this guy?”

“Just this guy, huh? I made the same mistake and ended up with a completely useless left arm.”

Though Meterion had addressed Hugo, the reply came from Andreas, strolling over at a relaxed pace. He seemed rather pleased after capturing Leonardo. Holding up his mangled arm like a war medal, he waved it in front of Meterion.

“See this? That was him. I’m telling you, it was no joke.”

“You’re proud of every little thing, huh?”

Meterion replied with a cold sneer, unimpressed by the display. But Andreas, used to that attitude, brushed it off. He turned back to Leonardo, his true target, and crouched beside him with deliberate calm.

“Blaine, wood may burn well, but once it’s soaked, it gets a whole lot tougher. Guess you underestimated me a little, didn’t you?”

Andreas grinned in victory, speaking down to Leonardo as he lay helplessly restrained.

At the sound of his voice, Leonardo clenched his jaw and glared at the man’s feet.

Damn it, again...

That familiar, hateful feeling slithered up his spine—those memories of humiliation and helplessness. Once again, all he could see were the feet of the ones looking down on him. He bit his lip hard, his body shaking with fury.

The cold kiss of the blade on his neck kept him still for now. But his voice, low and soaked in murderous intent, reached Andreas above.

“When I break free, I’m shattering that smug mouth of yours too.”

Andreas, who had been grinning as he watched Leonardo’s lips move, recoiled slightly at the words. He stood up with a nervous chuckle, taking a step back and rubbing his arm as if brushing away a chill.

He said,

“Gosh, with that pretty face, there’s really nothing you won’t say.”

Loren, the commander of the 2nd Battalion, stared at Hugo with an odd expression as he remained silent, still looking down at Leonardo Blaine. But she had come to assist the operation, and there was work to be done. Without wasting more time, she pulled a photo from her inner pocket, compared it to Leonardo’s face, ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) and spoke again.

“He’s an exact match with the photo on the profile. Shall we take him in like this, Commander?”

At her words, Meterion also glanced between the picture in Loren’s hand and Leonardo’s face before speaking up.

“No time to waste. The entire Council’s in an uproar right now because one mage managed to stir up this much chaos in the Imperial Capital. Do either of you remember you’re commanders in the Council’s army?”

The sharp reprimand, spoken as someone who had only arrived after the battle was over, made Andreas furrow his brow—an unusual reaction from him. He responded with visible irritation.

“Hey, Clinder. You might not realize it since you showed up after the fact, but this—this is what minimal damage looks like. Do you not see the cut under the Commander’s eye or my shattered arm?”

“Save the excuses for the report back at Council.”

Meterion shut him down instantly with a cold retort. Andreas, who had been glaring at him, turned his head away with a hollow chuckle. A muttered “that jerk” escaped him clearly, but Meterion didn’t acknowledge it. His gaze shifted once more, this time settling on Hugo.

“Agrizendro, you’ll need to submit an incident report too.”

At that, Hugo—who had remained silent until now—turned his eyes slowly toward Meterion. Though his gaze was calm, the chill that radiated from him seemed to say: stay out of it.

“My incident report isn’t something you need to concern yourself with.”

Despite the tense air, Meterion didn’t reply. Their eyes locked, the silence between them charged with quiet hostility.

As always, it was Loren who broke the tension, unable to stand the power play dragging on.

“Save the posturing for later. Right now, we need to get moving.”

****

“What is this chaos in the Imperial Capital? The Imperial Knights and the military are going to laugh at us!”

“Not a single case like this has occurred in decades! Commander Agrizendro, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Before a wall of reprimands from the Council’s upper ranks and senior staff, Hugo and Andreas stood like targets, being torn to shreds.

Though there had been no fatalities, fleeing citizens had trampled over one another in panic, resulting in a flood of injuries. Massive mana use in the heart of the capital had destroyed public facilities and left key roads completely blocked.

The blame lay squarely with Leonardo Blaine—and with Hugo and Andreas, who had captured him. The Council demanded accountability.

As the criticisms poured in, Andreas stood rigid, his shattered arm awkwardly cradled to his chest. After glancing once at Hugo, who stood silently with his head lowered, he looked forward and cautiously spoke.

“Still, you know this too, don’t you, esteemed councilors? Leonardo Blaine was classified as a high-risk mage from the start. Even during the confrontation, Commander Agrizendro tried to keep the damage—”

“Battalion Commander Fredrick, you’ll also be subject to disciplinary review.”

At that, Andreas clamped his mouth shut. But that didn’t mean he accepted it.

Where had these people been while they were fighting tooth and nail to subdue Leonardo? Now they were acting as if the real problem was the Council’s reputation taking a hit. If that was such a concern, then why had they made such a scene about catching him in the first place?

Yes, the northern square of the Imperial Capital had been left in ruins after the unprecedented scale of the battle. But Andreas, having faced Leonardo’s abilities up close, was frankly amazed that no one had been seriously hurt by a direct hit from his magic.

Yet now, being scolded like this—Andreas could only taste bitterness, wondering why he’d even let his arm be shattered in the first place.