Chapter 88. Talk with Duchess (1)
From a large tree at the outside of the manor, Brakk sitting on a branch, his lean frame blending seamlessly with the foliage. His telescope locked in on the training grounds, tracking Leo as he dismantled soldier after soldier with ruthless precision.
Brakk’s lips made a psychotic grin, his pulse quickening. "Well, damn," he muttered. "This one’s got spice. Gonna be a fun hunt."
He adjusted the telescope to the courtyard where Liana and the maids watched the spar. His grin turned lecherous, tongue flicking across his lips as he watched the young women.
But a sudden chill slithered down his spine, like a predator’s gaze locked into him. His instincts screamed, and he swung the telescope toward the manor’s tall wall. There, perched on the wall, was a black cat, its purple eyes locked onto him, unblinking, even from the distance.
Brakk chuckled, low and uneasy. "Just a damn kitty."
At the training grounds, Vivien bounced with excitement from the hallway, her eyes sparkling as Leo floored his fifth opponent with a devastating knee to the gut. The fallen soldier lay gasping, defeated.
The cheers weren’t just for Leo’s victories but for the sheer artistry of his combat—fluid, brutal, and terrifyingly efficient. Commander Dian stood mesmerized, his mind reeling.
He’d known Leonhardt as a boy who could barely lift a sword, a laughingstock. Now, watching him, dominate his best men, Dian wanted to believe the tales of him killing an S-rank monster were true.
Leo began unwrapping the cloth from his fists, his breath steady, ready to walk away. But behind him, the fallen guy, fueled by rage and humiliation, gets to his feet, teeth gritted. "I won’t be humiliated like this!" he roared, charging at Leo’s back.
Dian shouted, "Stop!" but it was too late.
As his foot steeped Leo’s shadow, a faint, inky hand—unseen by the crowd—coils around his ankle. It yanked just enough to throw him off balance.