At the manor’s courtyard, Liana hangs damp linens to a clothesline, the morning breeze teasing her hair. Nearby, a cluster of maids gossiped, their voices bubbling with curiosity. One leaned in, eyes wide. "So, the Young Lord hasn’t laid a hand on you since the incident?"
Liana’s smile was soft but knowing. "Not even a rude word. He’s a gentleman now." She lowered her voice, a playful glint in her eyes. "Plus, he’s chatting up plenty of girls at the academy."
The maids burst into giggles, one nudging her. "Lucky you! No more of his punishments. We were terrified for you, Liana. Honestly, why’d you stick around after all the awful things he did?"
Liana’s gaze softened, a memory of Duchess Seraphina’s final moments, her frail hand squeezing Liana’s, a promise. "No reason in particular," she said lightly, brushing it off.
A maid sprinted up, interrupting. "Liana! The Young Lord’s about to spar with the soldiers on the training grounds! Everyone’s gathering to watch!"
Liana raised a brow, unfazed. "Oh?"
The other maids exchanged confused glances. "Aren’t you worried?" one asked. "Young lord could get thrashed!"
Liana smirked, hanging another sheet. "Not surprised at all." She turned, her eyes gleaming with confidence. "Wanna make bet? I say Young Master wipes the floor with them."
In the hallway overlooking the training grounds, Vivien peeked out, her auburn curls bouncing as she craned her neck to see the field. Her maid stood behind her, smiling.
A familiar voice called. "Here to watch your brother fight, Vivien?"
She spun around, her face lighting up as Lucian approaching toward her in his wheelchair, pushed by his attendant. She squealed, "Brother!" and bounded over, throwing her arms around him.
She glanced back at the grounds, her voice small. "Everyone’s saying Big Brother Leonhardt’s gonna lose."
Lucian ruffled her hair, chuckling. "Don’t worry, Vivien." His gaze shifted to the field, a spark of pride in his eyes. "Our big brother’s one hell of a fighter."
On the training grounds, Leo stood in the center, wrapping his hands with white cloth. Commander Dian stands nearby, his face filled with concern. "Young Master, please reconsider. Are you sure about this spar?"
Leo met Dian’s gaze, his crimson eyes unyielding. "Start the match. Now."
Dian exhaled sharply, stepping back. He signaled to a burly soldier, one of the skeptics who’d mocked Leo earlier. "Finish it quick," Dian muttered. The soldier grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Easy, sir."
The crowd of soldiers and onlookers buzzed with anticipation, some smirking, others curious. Leo adjusted the cloth on his hands.
Commander Dian’s voice boomed, slicing through the murmurs of the gathered soldiers. "Hand-to-hand combat! Fight ends when one can’t continue. Begin!"
The first soldier squared up, his voice dripping with mockery. "Young Master, I’ll go easy. Take your shot fir—" His words died as Leo’s fist exploded forward, a blur of raw power. The strike connected with a sickening crunch, snapping the soldier’s head back. His body lifted off the ground, arcing through the air before slamming into the dirt, unconscious in a heartbeat.
[Opponents defeated: 1] Elynn’s voice sang in Leo’s mind.
Leo lowered his fist, his voice a low snarl. "Talk less whem there’s fight."
The crowd froze, their cheers turning into silence. Jaws dropped, eyes wide with shock. Dian stood rooted, his mouth agape, staring at the crumpled soldier.
Leo’s shout shattered the stillness. "Next!"
Dian shook himself, barking, "You! Get in!" as soldiers dragged the fallen man away. The next fighter, broader and more seasoned, stepped up, cracking his knuckles. "Young Lord, that guy was careless. I won’t be."
"Prove it."
Dian signaled the start. The soldier charge forward, prepared to throw a jab at Leo’s face. Leo dodged it with unnatural accuracy, his body moving like water. In an instant, he slammed a vicious uppercut into the man’s chin, the sound of impact ringing out. The soldier’s head snapped back, teeth clicking, and he stumbled. Leo didn’t pause—grabbing the man’s arm, he pulled him forward, slamming a knee into his gut. The soldier folded, gasping, and a final elbow to the back of his skull sent him face-first into the dirt.
[Opponents defeated: 2]
"Next!" Leo roared, his voice a challenge that made the soldiers flinch. Dian’s mind spinning, this isn’t the weak heir he knew. The fighting style was too raw, too vicious, it takes so much experience to throw seasoned soldiers like this.
From the hallway, Vivien squealed with delight, clapping wildly. Lucian, watching from his wheelchair, grinned fiercely. "That’s our brother!"
In the courtyard, Liana smirked at the maids’ stunned faces, her bet already won. "Told you he’d crush them. Ready to pay up"
Dian, his pride stung by the humiliation of his men, pointed to a veteran—a lean, scarred fighter known for precision. "You’re next!"
This one was quicker, dodging Leo’s initial hook and striking back with a flurry of punches. A fist connects with Leo’s cheek, leaving a thin stream of blood. The crowd gasped, but Leo’s smile only grew and unyielding.
He took the veteran’s next punch, wrenching his arm with a bone-cracking snap, and slammed him over his hip in a brutal throw. The man fell hard, and Leo’s boot crashed into his chest, holding him down. A raised, single fist caused the veteran to tap out, gasping.
[Opponents defeated: 3]
Leo stood, wiping blood from his cheek, his voice a growl. "Strong’s not enough. Be smart. Next!"
The crowd’s now silent, their doubts obliterated. Dian, torn between awe and desperation, called up his best—a towering brute, a bulk of muscle with fists like warhammers, his presence alone cowing lesser men. "Young Lord," Dian warned, voice tight. "This one’s different. You sure?"
Leo’s grin was pure defiance, his eyes alight with menace. "Send him."
The hulking step forward, the earth shaking beneath his bulk. The round had started and he threw a huge fist, looking to smash Leo’s head in. Leo’s thoughts of his old life where he’d learned how to bring down giants.
Big men base their game on strength, but their weight is what makes them vulnerable. As the punch approached, Leo ducked low, gliding underneath the brute’s arm.
In a single smooth motion, he hooked his leg around the giant’s ankle, taking advantage of the man’s forward motion. With a firm push to the chest, Leo knocked the brute face-first into the ground, the impact like a meteor explosion.
The crowd gasped, but Leo wasn’t done. He hops onto the gaimts back, locking an arm around his neck in a chokehold, tight, unrelenting. The giant thrashed, veins bulging, but Leo’s grip was tight.
after a few seconds, the soldiers struggles slowed, his body slumping as he tapped out, gasping for air.
[Opponents defeated: 4]
The training grounds erupted in cheers, the sound deafening. Dian stared, his face pale, as Leo rose, barely winded. "One more," he said, his voice a low, daring the final challenger to step in.
On the manor’s highest rooftop, Nimbus sprawled across the sun-warmed tiles, his black fur gleaming under the morning light.
Unbothered by the chaos of Leo’s sparring. His purple eyes were half-lidded—until they snapped wide open, pupils narrowing to slits. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat as his head whipped toward distance at the manor wall, sensing something wrong, something creepy.