The mission seemed simple, written in the same cold, mechanical script as the others: "Village of Oakhurst. Blight infestation confirmed. Total sanitation required. Leave no trace of the Shadow Council's influence."
Leo arrived at the village as the sun was setting. Oakhurst was a skeleton of a town. The "Blight"—a necrotic mist created by the Shadow Council—had turned the trees into black, claw-like structures.
The Internal Duel
As Leo walked through the silent streets, the heat in his chest pulsed. The Hellfire wanted to feed. It sensed the necrotic energy and demanded to be unleashed.
"Why walk when you can fly?" the white-haired man whispered in his mind. "One spark, Leo. Burn the village, burn the blight, and you can go back to your cold cell and sleep."
Leo gripped the hilt of a standard-issue Magic Knight broadsword. He hadn't used a blade in years, but he had been practicing in the silence of the Border. "No," he muttered. "Not today."
The Discovery
He reached the center of the village, where a large stone granary had collapsed. He raised his hand to ignite the debris—standard procedure to ensure the blight was killed—when he heard it.
A small, wet cough.
Leo froze. He threw aside a heavy timber, and there, in a small crawlspace beneath the stone, was a girl no older than six. She was shivering, her eyes wide with terror, clutching a tattered doll. She wasn't blighted—not yet—but she was trapped.
The Choice
From the shadows of the surrounding houses, Shadow-Beasts began to emerge. These were Malakor's hounds: creatures made of teeth and void-mana, drawn to the scent of fear.
The Magic King's orders were clear: Total sanitation. To save the girl, Leo would have to fight the beasts. But if he used the Hellfire, the girl would be vaporized by the sheer heat of the blast.
Leo stepped in front of the crawlspace. He didn't open his grimoire. He didn't call upon the flame. He unsheathed the steel sword.
"Stay down," he told the girl.
The Human Fight
The beasts lunged. Leo moved, but without the explosive speed of the Hellfire, he was humanly slow. He used his plant magic—not to burn, but to create. Small, wiry vines sprouted from the ground, tripping the beasts, giving him just enough time to drive the steel blade into their throats.
One beast raked its claws across Leo's shoulder. He gasped, falling to one knee. Red blood—normal, human blood—stained his dragon-scale mantle.
"You're bleeding, little prince," a voice echoed from the fog. Umbra was watching from a nearby roof. "Is this the 'hero' you want to be? Dying in the mud for a child who will fear you anyway?"
Leo didn't answer. He cut down another beast, his muscles screaming, his vision blurring from the pain. For the first time in a year, he felt alive because he felt pain. He wasn't a weapon; he was a man protecting a child.
The Aftermath
By the time the last beast was dead, Leo was covered in deep gashes. He reached into the crawlspace and gently pulled the girl out. She looked at his bleeding shoulder, then at his face. She didn't scream. She reached out and touched his cheek.
"You're... you're warm," she whispered. "Like a hearth."
Leo felt a crack in the ice around his heart. He carried the girl to the edge of the village, far from the blight. As he watched her run toward the neighboring town's lights, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest.
The Hellfire was angry. It had been denied its feast.
"The King won't be happy, Leo," Umbra said, descending from the roof. "You left a witness. You chose a life over an order. The cage is going to get a lot smaller after tonight."
Leo looked at his bloody sword, then at the glowing horizon. "Let it," he said. "At least I know I can still bleed."
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