Chapter 455: Asking The Difficult Questions
Veyr looked absolutely stunned by Leo’s sudden burst of sharpness, unable to comprehend what had just changed.
Leo hadn’t moved faster than before, nor had he activated any obvious skill. Yet something about him— the gleam in his eyes, the poise in his stance, the subtle shift in aura had fundamentally transformed.
*Drip*
*Drip*
Blood trickled down Veyr’s shoulder, running along his arm and slipping off his fingers, as he watched Leo with renewed caution.
His opponent stood bruised and battered, blood leaking through the gashes lining his frame. But the look in his eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest.
That same dangerous smile from the beginning of the fight still curled his lips, as if the pain had only sharpened his edge.
*CLANG*
*DODGE*
*SLASH*
Once again, Veyr pressed forward, aiming for a clean horizontal slash to Leo’s side. But Leo blocked it easily with his left dagger, his movement fluid and timely.
The follow-up swing at the knees was dodged with a light jump, as Leo twisted mid-air and carved a clean line across Veyr’s bicep, drawing yet another fountain of blood.
“Gah–”
Veyr staggered back, completely stunned, his body burning with fresh pain, as the confusion of how Leo was suddenly faster unsettled him a lot.
Nothing about Leo’s physical prowess had changed. He was still slower. He still lacked the same explosive power.
Yet somehow, he always arrived at the right place at the exact right time, as though every one of Veyr’s attacks had been telegraphed to him in advance.
Veyr couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t understand it.
Because he wasn’t seeing what Leo saw.
———–
(Leo’s POV)
The world around him remained dim, not in color, but in presence.
The crowd, the arena, the noise, none of it existed anymore.
Only two things moved.
His opponent and the red thread.
The thread curved forward once more, bleeding from the edge of Veyr’s blade, looping high before aiming toward his injured thigh in a downward crescent.
‘I see it… there it is again.’
Leo planted his heel, adjusted his stance, and swung his dagger to intercept the opponent’s arc at the perfect moment.
*CLANG*
Their blades met exactly where they were supposed to, and Veyr’s eyes widened yet again.
Leo didn’t flinch. He stepped into Veyr’s open right side, dragging his other dagger across his ribs in a tight, arcing slice — not rushed, not frantic… just inevitable.
*SLASH*
He saw it all before it happened. The red thread danced before his eyes like a painted prophecy, and all he had to do was follow its guidance.
‘Every attack… every swing… every shift in weight. It’s all here. Written in red. As long as I can see it, I can answer it,’ Leo thought, as the faint smile on his lips widened just a tad more.
In contrast, Veyr staggered back, eyes burning with disbelief, as if he had just seen a ghost dodge lightning.
‘No, I need to figure out what Skyshard is up to before continuing my assault. His last few counters were not normal…’ Veyr thought, clutching his bleeding side as he took a full step back, eyes narrowed with grim caution.
For the first time in the duel, Veyr chose not to attack.
And with that single choice, Leo’s rhythm faltered.
The red thread vanished.
No arc guided him.
He saw no new openings to exploit.
No divine guidance helping him.
Leo’s eyes sharpened as he stepped forward cautiously, blades raised with killing intent, yet the clarity that had carried him this far had completely evaporated.
‘Where is it? Why can’t I see it…?’
He circled, attempting to bait an attack out of Veyr, but the man’s stance remained tight. Elbows tucked, feet rooted, every vital area shielded with textbook precision. He had no intention of striking first.
Eventually, it was Leo who had to move.
He lunged in with a low feint, followed by a real strike toward the ribs.
*CLANG*
Blocked.
Veyr swatted the attack aside with ease, as if batting away a fly.
Leo tried again, flicking his wrist mid-swing to alter the angle.
*CLANG*
Blocked again, as despite his new attack attempt, the result remained the same.
Without the thread guiding him, Leo lacked the raw speed or brute power to create an opening from thin air.
‘So that’s it… I only see the threads and have an advantage when he’s the one trying to kill me. Not when I’m the one trying to kill him,’ Leo realized, as the moment Veyr stopped playing predator, his edge vanished.
He now stood in a dead zone — a strange limbo where instinct and logic collided, but no thread appeared to tip the scale.
But then… something shifted.
He saw it.
A faint red dot.
A small, glowing smudge just above Veyr’s left hip.
His eyes darted, as he saw a few more.
Right shoulder. Inner knee. Side of the neck.
They were isolated points— small, pulsing crimson blemishes that shimmered faintly with an unsaid promise.
‘What… are these?’
He didn’t hesitate.
Leo pivoted sharply and aimed straight for the red glowing spot on the hip. And the moment his dagger aligned with the glowing point, something clicked into place.
A red thread sparked to life — not from Veyr’s weapon, but from his own blade.
It curved like a tether of fate, stretching forward toward that exact weak point, its arc revealing not just the destination, but the perfect angle to slice clean through.
*SLASH*
The dagger tore through cloth and flesh, drawing a pained grunt as Veyr staggered again.
The red dot faded the moment impact landed.
But two more flared up immediately.
One on the collarbone.
One behind the knee.
‘These are the chinks… the gaps in his defense. Having unlocked intent, I don’t just see how to survive… but also learn how to kill.’
Veyr stumbled back, adjusting his footing, trying desperately to reinforce what little defense he had left.
But it was too late.
The tide had shifted again.
And this time, it was Leo who was asking the difficult questions.