The crushing pressure remained on Leon's body for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only a couple of minutes. He endured it as best he could, struggling to even breathe properly while watching the tense face-off happening between Crimson and the powerful man. The air felt thick, like he was inhaling through wet cloth, and every breath scraped his throat raw.

I shouldn't have come inside here. This was a massive mistake.

His entire body felt like it was being compressed by an invisible hydraulic press, bones creaking under the strain. Even the fabric on his skin seemed to bite into him, and sweat cooled instantly under the weight of that Aura—cold sweat, the kind that wasn't relief but panic.

At the very least, they weren't actually fighting each other, which Leon felt genuinely relieved about. That was something. If they'd started exchanging actual blows with their power levels, he'd probably be caught as collateral damage.

Small mercies, I suppose.

His thoughts about Crimson's strength—despite her being "only" at Ascendant rank—had fundamentally changed in these few minutes.

She's standing against this pressure like it's nothing. The Coreborn I fought before... There must have been something seriously wrong with it. Even with its higher level, it could never come close to what I'm witnessing right now.

The difference in quality was staggering.

Silence stretched. Not the normal kind—this silence had weight, the kind that pressed on the ears until they rang. Leon's vision tightened at the edges. His heartbeat sounded loud inside his skull, thudding against the pressure like a trapped animal.

Then Crimson finally said one line stubbornly in her language—words Leon couldn't understand, but could feel the determination behind.

"Vel mandor SIKTH tor!"

And then suddenly, as if it had never existed at all, the face-off was completely over.

WHOOSH!

The pressure vanished instantly.

Leon sucked in air so fast it hurt, lungs flaring like they'd been starved. He stood up slowly, quite embarrassed internally at being the only one who'd been slammed to the ground like a weakling.

Everyone saw that. Great.

The overwhelming Aura was retracted fully, but the tension definitely wasn't gone. Leon could still feel it crackling between Crimson and the man like static electricity before a lightning strike—like the hairs on his arms wanted to stand straight up.

The man then said something that sounded calm on the surface, but his voice carried an undercurrent of barely controlled anger.

"Vel'kresh mandor sikara tor kala vel."

Leon felt that dangerous edge clearly. Even without understanding, the tone carried threat—controlled, sharp, restrained. He wisely kept his distance from the side, positioning himself near the tent wall, as if the canvas itself could somehow protect him.

Not getting in the middle of whatever this is.

He didn't try to run away or escape—not because he didn't want to, but because he genuinely didn't think he would be able to succeed. That suppression field was still remembered in his mind—like a phantom hand around his throat.

Trapped. Completely trapped.

After hearing the man's words, Crimson visibly gritted her teeth for several long seconds, her jaw muscles working. Her fingers flexed once, twice—like she was resisting the urge to strike. Then she released a heavy sigh and gave a reluctant nod.

Leon had absolutely no idea what was happening or what had just been decided, but the only thing he could do was watch carefully and try desperately to read their tones and body language since there was nothing else to work with.

Come on, give me something. Anything.

Next, Crimson turned and came directly in front of Leon. The expression on her face didn't look good at all—stressed and conflicted, like she'd swallowed a bitter mouthful and couldn't spit it out.

This made Leon even more nervous than before. The scary man also didn't look like he was in the best mood either, standing there with crossed arms. The air between them felt charged, and Leon swore he could smell something faint—hot dust and a sharp, metallic tang, like stone warmed by sun and iron left too long in heat.

And whatever it is... It's related to me somehow, definitely about me.

Leon didn't say anything or use any hand signals to ask what was going on. He just waited, heart pounding so hard his ribs felt too small for it.

Crimson was the one who started explaining through gestures.

She first pointed directly at Leon with one finger.

Me. Okay, this is about me.

Then with her other hand, she made a tight fist and punched it sharply into her open palm.

SMACK!

The sound was loud and clear, echoing in the tent like a gavel striking wood.

Leon understood the meaning easily—there could be only one interpretation.

Fighting. She's saying I have to fight.

But the questions racing through his mind were killing him: Who would he fight? Why? What had they talked about? What would happen if he lost? The uncertainty was worse than pain—pain at least had a shape.

This is insane. I need answers!

His expression grew complex and desperate. He tried frantically asking her through hand signals—pointing at himself, then making a questioning gesture, then pointing around as if asking "who?"

Who do I fight?! Tell me!

But Crimson just repeated the same gesture firmly—the fist punching into palm—as if to emphasize that yes, he absolutely had to fight. This wasn't negotiable. Her eyes didn't waver, but her shoulders were tense, like she was bracing for impact.

But it didn't end there.

At the end of her explanation, she added one final, chilling gesture. She brought her hand up and drew it slowly across her own neck in a cutting motion, her face dark and expression deadly serious.

SHHK!

Leon's mouth went instantly dry. It felt like his tongue turned to sand. His stomach dropped so hard his vision flickered, and for a moment the tent looked too bright, too sharp, too real.

If I have to fight someone... and if I don't fight... I'll die. They'll kill me.

What the hell is happening?!

The words almost escaped his lips, but he kept them internal. He swallowed, and it did nothing. His heartbeat kept hammering, brutal and fast.

Shit! I shouldn't have come here! This is a den of monsters, and now I'm stuck! I have to fight someone, and if I don't, they'll execute me!

His thoughts spiraled wildly, but underneath the panic, a colder instinct surfaced: survive first, understand later.

What the actual fuck?! How did this happen?! They seemed quite curious and not malicious at all at first! But after Crimson talked with this powerful bastard, now things are here—at this point!

It was increasingly obvious to Leon that these conditions—being allowed to fight for his life rather than being killed outright—were here specifically because of Crimson's efforts and intervention.

She argued for me. Fought for me to have this chance. If it had been only up to that man, I'd probably be dead already.

The scary man whom Leon didn't even want to look in the eyes anymore, fearing that direct eye contact might trigger the psychotic monster.

Don't look. Don't provoke. Just survive.

He'd accepted that harsh reality now.

However, the critical question remained: Fight who exactly?

Leon made exaggerated hand signals at Crimson, pointing at himself, making the fighting gesture, then pointing around desperately and shrugging.

WHO?!

Crimson seemed to understand what he was asking. She just showed her hands in a helpless, clueless gesture, shaking her head. Her lips pressed together, frustration and worry braided tight.

She doesn't know either. Great. Fantastic.

So he'd be fighting some unknown opponent under unknown conditions with death as the penalty for refusal or failure.

Perfect situation. Just perfect.

Leon decided to nod affirmatively to her fighting question when she gestured it again, this time with raised eyebrows as if asking for confirmation.

Of course I'll say yes! They'll kill me if I refuse! This isn't really a choice at all!

Crimson looked genuinely pleased to see his positive nod, relief washing over her features. It was brief—like a candle flickering in a storm—but it was there. Her shoulders loosened by a fraction.

Still, Leon felt at least one significant relief: that terrifying man watching everything from the side—whose eyes he could feel burning into his skin like hot coals—was clearly not the opponent he'd have to fight.

Because Crimson would have pointed at him when I asked who. Thank god for that mercy.

Next, the man's voice came sharp and commanding—only a single word spoken.

"VEL!"

It clearly meant "leave" or "get out."

After which, Crimson immediately started dragging Leon toward the exit by firmly holding his wrist.

GRIP!

Her hand was warm, but her grip was iron. Leon definitely understood that word's meaning—it was definitely an order to leave immediately.

But before they could exit the tent completely, Leon made a split-second decision.

I know I have to fight for my life soon. So I should at least try to get them. I'll try my luck.

He was scared, but he had to do it while they were still in this tent with those books. I need them.

Leon stopped walking suddenly, his feet planted.

Crimson stopped immediately right before crossing the tent's exit threshold. She looked back at him with a clueless expression, obviously asking silently why he'd stopped when they'd been ordered to leave.

What are you doing?

Leon simply turned around to face back into the tent's interior.

Then he pointed directly at the wooden bookshelf against the far wall.

I need those. For language. For survival.

But the next thing he saw made his blood run cold.

Crimson's expression transformed into absolute terror—her eyes going wide with genuine fear. Not anger, not annoyance—fear, raw and immediate, like she'd seen a blade already falling.

Oh shit.

That was enough to tell him immediately he'd fucked up somehow. Badly.

His eyes shifted for just a millisecond and accidentally met the man's gaze inside the tent. The man's eyes were now literally burning crimson-red with visible flames.

FLICKER! FLICKER!

Heat shimmered in the air between them. The heat from his gaze felt like it might scorch Leon's face—like standing too close to an open furnace. His knees trembled—not from pain, but from absolute primal terror, the kind that bypassed thought entirely.

"Fucking hell!"

Then the man vanished—as if he'd never been standing there at all.

WHOOSH!

Gone.

Leon immediately tried to teleport away in panic—

Nothing. The ability didn't work again.

FIZZLE!

Oh hell no! Not again!

Then in the next instant, he felt a soft but firm sensation against his front, arms tightening desperately around him, along with a loud shout in that foreign language.

"VEL MANDOR SIKTH! KRESH!"

Crimson had grabbed him from the front in a protective hug. The impact wasn't violent, but it was urgent—like she was shielding a flame from wind with her own body. Since Leon was taller, he could see clearly just behind her—

The terrifying man now stood directly behind Crimson, his blazing crimson eyes locked onto Leon like he was an insect to be crushed. The same ethereal red energy surrounded him, but now it was far more condensed and controlled—like a blade ready to strike rather than a bonfire.

CRACKLE! HUMMM!

The sound wasn't just noise. It felt like vibration in Leon's teeth, a low hum that made his bones ache. The air smelled sharper now—heated stone and something acrid, like scorched metal.

The man had stopped just behind her, but didn't move forward. He simply stood there, staring into Leon's eyes with the cold promise of death.

I'm dead. I'm actually dead.

Leon's heart hammered so hard he thought it might explode. It wasn't just fast—it was violent, slamming against his ribs like it wanted out.

Then, with another desperate shout from Crimson—still hugging Leon tightly and refusing to let go—the man suddenly disappeared right before Leon's eyes, returning to his meditation spot as if nothing had happened.

WHOOSH!

Gone again.

Leon's heart was beating like never before in either of his lives—

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

They exited the tent by stumbling and falling forward outside together due to Crimson pushing him urgently while not releasing the protective hug, as if she didn't want to let go until they were completely outside and away from that immediate danger.

THUD!

They hit the ground outside in a heap.

Cold earth. Grit in his mouth. The night air hit his lungs, and it tasted clean compared to the tent—clean, but still threaded with smoke and dust from the settlement.

Leon was in complete shock. Genuine, overwhelming shock.

What... what just...

But through the haze of terror and adrenaline, he understood one crystal-clear thing:

This girl just saved my life. Again.

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