Bermuda

As Leonardo’s attitude stayed cold and defiant, Hugo—who had been speaking in an admonishing tone—met him now with a gaze just as chilled.

“Leonardo Blaine, I’m in a position where I must take responsibility. I have to account for every possibility and prepare for each one. I apologize for testing you. Through this, I confirmed that you care about the safety of the others in combat and actively try to prevent them from getting hurt.”

“...”

“But my actions weren’t because I couldn’t trust you—they were because the time we’ve spent together hasn’t been enough for me to fully understand you. I needed to know how you’d act in urgent moments, what you’d prioritize, and how far your control could hold.”

Leonardo’s glare held, but he said nothing. Hugo stepped forward, voice softening slightly.

“I believe that you, who understand my responsibility, can also understand my judgment.”

Leonardo’s golden eyes—colder than ever—stayed fixed on him before drifting for a moment to the distant members watching from afar. Some wore cool expressions, others—those who’d fought in the water with him—looked uneasy when their eyes met his.

But they all had something in common: as if they believed this would all settle if only he kept his mouth shut, if only he yielded—like he was the root of the problem.

Feeling that, Leonardo turned back to Hugo, who still looked down at him with that same cold, composed gaze. It carried the weight of someone trying to make him understand while telling him not to be emotional, a weight heavy enough to crush him.

Leonardo knew exactly how heavy that responsibility was. That was what made him angrier—because he’d thought about it himself, even hesitated before leaping into the water, wondering if doing so was right, doubting his own ability and judgment.

His responsibility was to protect those behind him. But it felt like his own safety wasn’t included in that protection.

Even after fighting alongside them, he was still a person under suspicion, someone to be watched. The immense mana he carried was still a dangerous weapon in their eyes, one that could harm them.

This situation was fucking awful—and he hated himself for not being able to deny it, for not being able to blame anyone, because his control still wasn’t perfect.

He looked into those blue eyes with a warped smile—twisted with self-directed loathing and resentment toward the rest.

Then he said the word that bound him.

“Responsibility.”

It fell heavier than anything else.

His brows furrowed sharply, his lips split from biting too hard.

“Fuck.”

****

The procession waited until the injured were treated. Hugo conferred quietly with the 8th Platoon leader, while Leonardo sat alone, staring into the distance.

The others were dying to know what the Commander had said to silence him, when he’d looked ready to explode.

But that didn’t mean his presence had softened. The air around him was so charged that no one dared approach.

Except Flynn.

He had been worrying the whole time, and in the end, he gathered his courage, stepping cautiously closer while Leonardo was alone.

For Flynn, Hugo was like the sky itself—untouchable—so Leonardo’s sharp tone toward him had been wrong. But more than that, Flynn didn’t want Leonardo to misunderstand the Commander’s intentions. He spoke gently.

“Blaine, the Commander doesn’t think badly of you. It’s just... if something happened, you might be in trouble later. He’s looking out for you.”

“...”

“He keeps telling me to—”

“It must be nice,” Leonardo cut in coldly. “Having a Commander like that.”

“...?”

“He doesn’t have to move a muscle, and the whole world steps up to defend him.”

Flynn fell silent. Leonardo gave him a sideways glance, then turned away, his voice low.

“You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

“Ah...”

The words drew a line. Flynn fidgeted, clutching his own hands and picking at his clothes. Head lowered, he hesitated before murmuring:

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

Leonardo, who had been ignoring him, finally looked over. The veins and tendons stood out sharply on Flynn’s hands—he was gripping them that tightly. Leonardo let out a long sigh. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

That fool hadn’t done anything wrong, yet here he was, blaming himself.

But Leonardo had neither the generosity nor the energy to ease him. He was about to speak out of frustration when a voice called from a distance:

“Flynn, Leonardo. We’re moving.”

Hugo gave them a light nod toward the waiting group, already packed and ready.

Leonardo swallowed his words, rising without a word. As he passed Flynn, he tapped his clenched hands lightly, as if telling him to loosen up.

“Let’s go.”

Flynn jolted at the cold touch. He watched Leonardo’s back as he walked away in silence.

His hands had always been warm—so warm you could feel it just by being near him—but now, they were ice.

****

The procession moved quickly, entering the active volcanic zone.

Unlike the dormant areas they had crossed before, this place made even breathing and walking a burden. Sulfur stung the nose and throat, steam rose from the scorched ground, and the air shimmered with heat from magma flows.

Boiling geysers dotted the path, spraying scalding water like fountains. The others wore protective gear and barriers, trudging with effort—but Leonardo needed neither.

The boiling water hissed to steam before touching him, the heat dissipating instantly in the haze surrounding him. Moving at the back of the group, he looked as though he walked leisurely through a fog no one else could see through.

He had decided to turn cold.

No—thinking about it, I’ve been the fool.

Why had he been the only one to build trust, to feel betrayed, when his only goal was the subjugation’s success? At this rate, he had no right to call Flynn naïve. To Agrizendro, he was probably just a difficult but occasionally useful burden—nothing more.

Expressionless, he fixed his gaze on Hugo’s back at the center of the formation.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand the “responsibility” Hugo spoke of. He did—that’s why he’d ended it there and stayed silent.

He knew Hugo was considering his position. If anyone were hurt because of his unstable control, even if the mission succeeded, it could jeopardize his release. That was likely Hugo’s concern.

And that was exactly why this was unbearable.

Hugo didn’t trust his abilities, but from the Commander’s perspective, the choice had been the safest. Which meant Leonardo’s anger had nowhere to ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) go. The decision had been made as the Council’s Commander—and every Central Branch member here was on his side.

Leonardo tore his eyes from Hugo and glanced left. Far off, bright red magma crept down a peak, slow enough to be invisible unless you stared.

He knew the truth: no matter how much he understood others’ perspectives, no one would try to understand his. He had to protect his own body and mind.

He’d been told once that he lived a tiring life—and he was still doing it. So he decided to protect his own emotions, rather than trying to justify someone else’s choices.

In the midst of that thought, he wondered if he would have tested his own comrades like that, throwing them into the water, even if their mana was unstable.

He didn’t want Hugo’s protection—he wasn’t weak enough to need it. The problem was the feeling of being toyed with just because he was a “strong outsider.”

Then Hugo’s earlier words replayed in his head.

The time we’ve spent together was insufficient.

“...”

True enough—unlike comrades who’d shared life and death, they’d barely seen each other. Maybe it was absurd of him to expect more.

Fuck... I’m tired.

He bit his lip and forced the thought away. Anger, understanding, anger again—this cycle was exhausting, his head aching like it would split.

Rubbing his face, he swept back his hair. When he looked up, Hugo was glancing over his shoulder at him.

Leonardo met that look with a fierce glare. Hugo studied him for a moment, then faced forward again.

Leonardo frowned and exhaled slowly. He would turn cold again.

From now on, the man up ahead would bear full responsibility for the safety of the members. If anyone got hurt, it wasn’t his concern. He would focus solely on killing monsters and ending this subjugation as fast as possible—so he could walk away from this group for good.