CHAPTER 192: EX 192. GOD’S TEMPLE V

Elves were a prideful race. That much was known among the higher echelons of the trial world. Dragons carried pride in themselves, but elves carried pride in their blood. They believed their race stood above all others, noble, beautiful, untouchable. Yet that very pride was riddled with cracks, for even among themselves they drew lines, discriminating against their own kin. A flaw hidden beneath a veneer of perfection.

But that wasn’t what mattered now.

When Leon and his squad appeared, the elf cohort had been shocked enough to draw their weapons on instinct. Yet the moment they realized he was human, the tension melted away into disdain.

Rowan was the first to sneer, his voice dripping with contempt. "They’re just filthy humans."

Caleb chuckled beside him. "I’m surprised they made it this far. Did the trial beasts not find them... delectable?"

Luna, with a cruel grin, tilted her head toward Nikko. "I thought elf lesser-borns were hideous, but human females look far wor—"

Thud.

The sound cut her words short.

Blood sprayed upward like a fountain. Luna stood for a heartbeat longer, her eyes wide with shock, as her head rolled on the floor. While her body remained upright, before collapsing in a lifeless heap.

Silence swallowed the chamber.

The elves recoiled instinctively, stepping away from the corpse as if it carried a plague. Rowan’s voice cracked as he whispered, "How...?"

The fountain of blood sputtered out, leaving only the corpse sprawled at their feet. And there, at the center of their cohort, stood Leon. His blade dripped crimson. His expression was unreadable, his face devoid of emotion.

That was what terrified them most. There was nothing more frightening than a man who killed without showing the slightest flicker of feeling.

Leon raised his sword, its edge still gleaming wet, and pointed it directly at Rowan.

Fear gnawed at Rowan’s chest, but his pride, his racial pride refused to yield. He gritted his teeth, forcing his voice to rise. "Don’t be afraid! He’s just a filthy human. Who knows what trick he used, but he won’t be able to repeat it. If we all attack together, he’ll be dead before—"

He never finished.

The air split. As a sharp slice echoed. And in the blink of an eye, the heads of every elf standing beside him dropped cleanly from their shoulders. Bodies stood swaying, blood spilling, before collapsing in unison.

The sight alone shattered Rowan’s composure. The mana gathering in his palm fizzled, dispersing uselessly. His body trembled violently, his trousers darkening as liquid soaked down his legs. Sweat or something fouler, ran freely.

But even drowning in fear, Rowan clung to his final scrap of arrogance. His voice quivered as he tried to speak, "If you touch me, Princess Gertrude will—"

Schick.

His words were severed as cleanly as his body.

Leon’s sword had cleaved him vertically down the middle. For one frozen second, Rowan’s body remained whole, his terrified eyes locked onto Leon’s cold blue gaze, the gaze that looked at him as if he were nothing, as if he had never mattered. That stare would haunt his soul for eternity, though his eternity lasted only a breath longer.

His body fell apart from the center, splitting into two halves with a wet crash against the floor.

And just like that, the elf cohort was gone. Wiped out in less than a minute.

It was almost ironic. They had called Leon a filthy human. But if they were destroyed by that same "filth" without leaving a scratch in return... what did that make them?

That was left for the world to ponder.

Leon said nothing. He merely turned his back on the bloodied corpses and walked toward the golden barrier, the steady drip of his blade marking each step. His squad followed in silence, their expressions a mix of respect and unease.

The chamber smelled of iron, and the elves’ pride lay broken on the stone floor.

****

Leon stood still, eyes fixed on the shimmering golden barrier. Its faint hum resonated through the chamber, swallowing the clash of steel and magic that raged within. His squadmates lingered in silence, each drowning in their own thoughts.

Elizabeth glanced at Leon from the corner of her eye. She understood. That swift, merciless action of his earlier, it wasn’t rash. It was Leon’s nature. The elf had dared to step across a line he never allowed anyone to cross, and for that, they had paid with blood. Her chest tightened, not with fear, but with a quiet acceptance. This was who Leon was.

Bal’ark, nestled deep within Eleanor’s body, stared through borrowed eyes, that were now unsettled. ’What... is this boy?’ The thought clawed at him. Even demon lords reveled in slaughter, their hatred, and twisted joy fueling every strike. But Leon? He moved through death without pause, without a flicker of satisfaction or anger. His face remained calm, his soul unreadable. ’No... not calm. it was empty. Like a void. He kills like it is breathing.’

Adrian’s fists tightened at his side. His sharp eyes studied the battlefield inside the barrier, but his mind chased after the images of what he had seen earlier. ’Those things... their ears, their speech... they looked human. Could it be? Another race? Are there others hidden within the trial world?’ The possibility shook him.

Eden, standing just behind Adrian, wore the same expression. The same questions coiled in his mind. If there were other races... then everything they thought they understood about this world was crumbling apart.

Beside Leon, Nikko folded her arms, her piercing gaze never leaving him. "So," she asked evenly, voice carrying beneath the echoing chamber, "what are we going to do now?"

The golden light of the barrier flickered in Leon’s eyes as he watched Racheal and Jessica fight tooth and nail against the stone statue within. His silence stretched long enough that everyone’s attention fixed on him. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes.

The others waited. Even the hum of the barrier seemed to hush.

When his eyes opened again, they were steady, and resolute. "We wait," he said simply, his voice carrying with quiet finality. "And watch."

No one questioned him.

And so, Unit One stood in the dim chamber, shadows dancing across their faces from the black torches that lit the room. They said nothing more, content to let the crackling barrier and the distant clang of battle speak for them. Inside, two elves fought desperately against the statue’s relentless might. Outside, Leon and his squad watched, like predators waiting, and patient as the storm.