Adrian's chest tightened as he stared at the figure lying motionless on the bed. The features didn't line up with the captain he remembered, not at all. it was a completly different aura, even the way his body rested looked strange. Yet the familiarity lingered, gnawing at him in a way he couldn't ignore.

After a moment of silence, he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

"Why… does he look so different?" he finally asked.

Racheal hesitated, then repeated the words Leon had once told her.

"According to him… he's built different."

Adrian blinked. His mouth opened, then closed. Finally, all he could manage was:

"…"

even though, he couldn't help but say, "That sounds exactly like something he would say."

Leon, still lying with eyes shut, nearly twitched. 'What do you mean by that?' he grumbled inwardly. He swore to himself that once he "officially" woke up, he'd show Adrian a thing or two.

Adrian's gaze lingered on Leon's still body before his tone grew sharper.

"But what happened to him? Why is he unconscious?"

"You'll have to blame the lieutenant," Racheal said, her voice laced with disapproval.

Adrian's eyes narrowed. He studied her for a beat, and then the realization clicked. His eyes widened.

"It can't be… He was the one who gave the lieutenant that injury on his chest?"

Racheal gave a small nod, confirming it.

For a long heartbeat, Adrian said nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he broke into laughter. A relieved, almost proud laugh.

"The captain is still the same," he said between chuckles. "No matter how he looks."

He obviously knew of Lieutenant Lancelot—everyone in the capital did. A famed figure, a powerhouse. And yet, Leon had not only fought him but marked him.

Adrian's thoughts raced. 'And he doesn't even have a scratch on him despite battling a Rank S?' 'So I wasn't the only one who improved… but the captain's growth is on another level entirely.'

Just then, movement stirred the air. Leon's lashes flickered, and slowly he sat up with a groggy look, stretching as though waking from a deep sleep. His gaze found Racheal first, then Adrian.

"…Where are we?" he asked, his voice rough but steady.

Both Racheal and Adrian turned to him, their eyes widening. Racheal rushed to his side without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him.

"It's good—you finally woke up!" she said, her relief clear.

Adrian stepped closer, a rare softness touching his voice.

"Captain. It's good to see you again."

Leon glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Adrian," he said, tone even. "Looks like I have a lot to catch up on."

Meanwhile, inside, he smirked to himself.

'At least now no one will know I was faking it.'

****

Leon sat upright on the bed, his body still sluggish but his eyes sharp, listening as Rachel and Adrian took turns filling him in. Most of what Rachel said, he already knew, her reports overlapped with pieces he had witnessed firsthand, but he paid close attention when Adrian spoke. The way he described the Golden Guard Art made Leon's chest tighten with a strange mixture of pride and relief. Adrian had found his path, and it was a powerful one.

When they finished, silence hung in the room until Leon broke it. His voice was calm but carried weight.

"I'm glad you didn't encounter any difficulty during your time here, Adrian."

Adrian's expression softened at the words, but Leon's thoughts carried heavier shadows. He blamed himself for their predicament. That voice before the trial, the one that had spoken directly to him had twisted the difficulty, dragging it from D all the way to SSS. His squadmates had suffered for it. But simply wallowing in guilt wasn't enough; he would only make it right by acting. And for that, the Imperial Guards were the key.

Adrian shook his head. "It's okay, Captain. I didn't experience any real difficulty during my time here."

"That's good to hear." Leon's tone shifted as he turned toward Rachel, his eyes hardening. "But listen carefully. The commander places great importance on me. From what I've seen, it won't be long before the Emperor himself becomes aware of me."

Both Rachel and Adrian's eyes widened.

Leon continued, his words deliberate. "According to them, corruption is something that can be destroyed. And I am the only one capable of doing so. It may not seem like much to us, but to the empire… it must feel like rain in the middle of a drought. The value they place on it can't be measured. Which means, without a doubt, the Emperor will soon know of me."

Rachel frowned. "That will make things difficult."

Leon gave a faint smile. "Only if we don't use the opportunity well."

Rachel processed his words, then nodded slowly in agreement.

It was Adrian who spoke next, his voice edged with unease. "But Captain… for them to know you can destroy corruption, you must have encountered it yourself."

"Yes." Leon didn't hesitate. He began recounting everything, his fall into the Tyrant's Forest, his battle with the abomination to save Shantel, and his clash with Lancelot. His voice carried each scene vividly, enough for Adrian to feel the weight of it. Yet Leon deliberately left out two truths: the strange copy, and his new race. He didn't understand them himself, and he wasn't ready to place that burden on anyone else.

By the end, Adrian's hands had balled into fists, his jaw set tight.

"Captain… you've gone through so much. Compared to that, what I've been doing is child's play."

Leon fixed him with a steady look. "Don't undermine yourself, Adrian. Nothing you've done is a waste. Remember that."

Adrian inhaled deeply, then gave a sharp nod. "Yes, Captain." His resolve steadied, and after a pause, he straightened. "Alright then… let's plan what we'll do from here."

****

In the heart of the Imperial Palace, a vast hall stretched endlessly, lined with towering marble pillars that rose into shadowed heights. The chamber held no ornament, no throne of gold or banners of silk, only a single cushion-like seat at its center. Upon it sat a man in deep meditation.

His hair shimmered like polished bronze under the faint light, and his emerald eyes were closed in serene focus. Yet the aura radiating from him made the very air tremble, a presence vast, unshakable and unmistakable. He was a Rank 9 professional, the pinnacle of mortal power.

He was Alexander Arman, Emperor of the Empire.

For a long moment, the hall was silent but for the faint hum of his power. Then, with a flutter of wings, a pigeon materialized from the ether, circling once before alighting gracefully before him. A small scroll was fastened to its leg.

Alexander opened his eyes. Emerald light gleamed sharply as he unfastened the message and unrolled it. His gaze flicked across the words, steady at first, until the lines struck him like thunder.

His breath stilled. His brows shot upward.

"What!!"

The single word echoed like a command through the vast hall, rolling off the pillars with the weight of disbelief.

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