Leon wakes, having dozed off beside his mother. Outside, the sky holds a faint yellow tint. It’s almost evening.
Evenings bring a different rhythm. After his mother falls asleep, Leon slips into his room to access his system interface. The blue glow is carefully muted, invisible, in-case his mother pops in or has a visitor.
[Leon Graves - Level 7] [Available Stat Points: 12] [Vitality: 24 → 30] [Magic: 18 → 24]
Each point allocation sends a subtle warmth through his healing wounds. It’s not dramatic enough to draw attention, but the steady improvement serves him for whatever comes next.
He decides to eat but first he checks on his mother if she is still sleeping.
Leon studies her face. The gaunt hollows have filled out completely, and her hair now shines with natural strength instead of brittle fragility. The elixir’s effects are thorough—and permanent.
That evening, Leon prepares dinner in their tiny kitchen while his mother rests on the couch. The apartment feels warmer now, less like a shelter, more like a true home. Evening sunlight streams through the clean windows, highlighting dust motes that dance like tiny celebrations.
"You’re fussing," his mother observes, watching him adjust her tea setting for the third time.
"I’m being thorough."
"You’re being overprotective." She pats the cushion beside her. "Sit with me. Tell me about your week."
Leon settles next to her, careful not to jostle her still-recovering frame.
"Nothing interesting happened. Hunter’s quest and all."
"And the new scars?"
His hand moves instinctively to the healing cut on his jaw.
"Training accident."
His mother looks at him with a question that comes out few seconds later."Training for what?"
"Hunter certification renewals. Standard combat assessments."
She nods, accepting the explanation without question. She still maintains the word ’some inquiries don’t need deeper answers’.
In the days that follow, they build comfortable routines. Leon cooks meals with ingredients they can now afford, while his mother practices gentle exercises to rebuild the strength lost during months of illness. Neighbors continue to visit, bringing food and gossip in equal measure.
Evenings become their favorite time. They sit on the small balcony, watching the upper district lights flicker to life while little of the shadow districts put on any light. His mother shares stories from her childhood, while Leon describes imaginary adventures from his supposed Hunter training.
"I missed this," she says one night, stars visible despite the urban glow.
"Missed what?" he asks back, curiously.
"Hope. For weeks, I couldn’t imagine next month. Now I’m planning for next year."
Leon squeezes her hand gently.
"What kind of plans?"
"Travel, maybe. See the ocean again. Visit your father’s grave with flowers instead of tears." She smiles. "Simple things that felt impossible before."
They sit in quiet warmth, sharing the moment. For the first time since his Awakening, Leon envisions a future beyond immediate survival.
But peace never lasts long. Leon knows this with crystalline clarity. The underground tournament has already tied his name to dangerous people. The Association will investigate the missing elixir eventually. His actions will draw attention, from people who prefer shadows to sunlight.
Three days later, Leon makes sure his mother is settled with afternoon tea and one of her favorite book.
"I’m meeting an old friend," he says, adjusting his jacket.
"Anyone I know?" she looks up from her book to ask.
"Someone from before the Awakening."
"Be careful, please and be home before dark."
"I always am."
Leon navigates the city using winding paths that is off the main streets. He moves through quieter districts where surveillance is limited, taking three times longer than necessary just to ensure no one follows.
The rooftop training area sits atop an abandoned warehouse in the manufacturing district. Leon found it months ago during one of his early training for awakening. Now, he climbs the rusted fire escape with a different purpose.
Damian stands at the edge of the roof, practicing sword forms against the setting sun. His movements flow like water, each strike precise and deliberate. Sweat gleams on his brow despite the cool evening air.
Leon approaches quietly, boots crunching against gravel. Damian continues without pause, but his stance shifts slightly—he’s aware of Leon.
"You could have kept the elixir, you know."