"You could have kept the elixir, you know."
Damian’s sword halts mid-strike. He turns slowly, sweat glistening in the orange light of dusk. The city sprawls beneath them, windows glowing like scattered stars against the darkening sky.
"Leon." He lowers his blade, his breathing steady despite the intense training. "How’s your mother?"
"Alive. Healthy. Thanks to you."
Damian sheathes his sword with practiced ease.
"The Association would’ve recovered it eventually. At least this way, someone actually benefits."
They face each other across the rooftop gravel, the weight of old friendship hanging between them like an invisible tether. Leon studies Damian’s face, searching for remnants of the boy who once shared childhood dreams.
"You risk everything," Leon says. "Your career, your reputation, your standing with the Association."
"Maybe." Damian walks to the edge of the roof, gazing out over the sprawling districts.
"But I couldn’t let her die, Leon. Not when it mattered."
His admission carries more weight than Leon expects. He joins Damian at the ledge, both of them watching the city transition from day to night.
"The tournament officials are still searching for who took the elixir," Damian says.
"Association investigators are pressuring everyone involved."
"Will they find anything?"
"Not if we’re careful." Damian reaches into his pocket and produces a silver coin.
"Here. For luck."
Leon accepts the coin, feeling its warm weight. One side displays a hunter’s crest; the other bears words in ancient script.
"Next time, maybe you’ll win fair and square," Damian says, a hint of his old smile returning.
"Next time?"
"There’s always a next time with you."
They talk for another hour as stars twinkle overhead. Nothing profound—just a conversation between two people rebuilding trust, one word at a time. When Leon finally leaves, they part with handshakes instead of hostility.
------
The walk home takes Leon through the evening market district. Vendors call out prices for fresh vegetables and grilled meat while families gather around food stalls, sharing meals and laughter.
"Look who decided to show his face."
Leon turns to see Elise standing beside a dumpling cart, steam rising around her like pale smoke. She wears simple clothes instead of her usual combat gear, making her appear younger.
"Elise. I don’t expect to see you here."
"Everyone has to eat." She gestures to the vendor. "These are the best dumplings in the district. Want to try?"
They order portions and find seats at a small table overlooking the river. The water reflects the streetlights in broken patterns, and the evening breeze carries the scents of cooking food and distant rain.
"You look better," Elise observes, studying his face. "Less like someone expecting assassination attempts."
"I’ve been sleeping more."
"Good. You were wound tighter than clockwork during qualification." She bites into a dumpling, sauce dripping onto her plate.
"How’s your mother?"Elise continues.
"She’s recovering well."
"From what?" she looks at him curiously, expecting his answer.
"An illness. Nothing serious now."
Elise nods, respecting his boundaries without pressing further. They eat in comfortable silence, watching boats drift along the dark water.
"I’ve been thinking about forming a team," Elise says eventually. "Nothing official. Just hunters who work well together."
"Anyone specific in mind?"
"Someone who doesn’t abandon partners when things get dangerous." She smiles. "Know anyone like that?"
Leon returns her smile. "I might."
They finish their meal as the market begins to close around them. Vendors pack up their stalls while late customers hurry through final purchases.
"Don’t be a stranger, okay?" Elise squeezes Leon’s hand briefly before they part ways.
"I won’t."
------
Leon walks home through the quieter streets. His apartment building looms before him like a familiar fortress. A warm light glows in his mother’s window, promising safety and peace.
Inside, his mother sits reading by lamplight. She looks up when he enters, her face bright with renewed health.
"How was your friend?"
"Better than expected."
"Good. Old friendships are worth preserving when possible."
Leon kisses her forehead and retreats to his small room. The space feels larger somehow, less cramped by desperation. His few possessions—weapons, equipment, and the silver coin from Damian—are arranged neatly.
He opens his system interface carefully, keeping the blue glow dim.
[Leon Graves - Level 7] [Available Stat Points: 3] [Strength: 16 → 18] [Agility: 20 → 21]
Warmth flows through Leon’s muscles as the points take effect, providing a subtle improvement that serves him well when peaceful days come to an end.
He places Damian’s coin beside his gear. The metal catches the lamplight, reflecting tiny promises of luck and renewed friendship.
Leon checks his new manna gun’s condition, testing the sight alignment and trigger response. The weapon feels solid in his grip, ready for the challenges ahead.
Outside his window, the city hums with nighttime energy. Somewhere in those streets, forces move, forces that will eventually find him: the Association, the underground, old enemies, and debts yet to be settled.
But tonight offers respite. His mother is safe, and old friends have become allies once more. The future holds possibilities beyond mere survival.
Leon tightens the strap on his manna gun holster, stands, and says to himself with quiet resolve, "Let’s see what tomorrow brings."