The aftermath of the trials lingered in the air, a mixture of elation and tension that clung to the noble estate like an unwelcome guest. Leon walked through the corridors of House Eryndor’s grand halls, his thoughts sharp despite the lingering ache in his muscles. Victory was a fleeting thing in this world—today’s applause could easily become tomorrow’s whispers of treachery.

  System notifications flashed before his eyes, but he dismissed them with a flick of his fingers. The gains were satisfying, but his instincts warned him of what came next. The real game was just beginning.

  As he rounded a corner, Celica was already there, leaning casually against an ornate pillar with that ever-present smirk of hers. "Enjoying your fame, champion?" she teased, sipping from a glass of red wine this time instead of tea.

  Leon arched an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

  Celica's smile didn't falter. "Maybe. You're not the only one who’s caught their attention. Word is, Victor’s fuming after your match with Elya. He expected her to take you down a peg, not..." She gestured vaguely. "...whatever that was between you two."

  Leon leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "She’s different from the others."

  Celica hummed. "Careful. That kind of thinking can get you killed. The Voss family doesn’t play games—they own the board."

  Leon let out a low chuckle. "Then it's a good thing I know how to flip the table."

  Before Celica could respond, a loud, commanding voice interrupted them.

  "Leon Eryndor."

  Leon turned, meeting the piercing gaze of Lord Aldric, his father’s closest advisor. The older man’s presence alone demanded attention, clad in the rich navy and silver colors of House Eryndor. "Come with me," Aldric ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Leon exchanged a glance with Celica before following. They walked in silence through the estate’s inner corridors, away from the prying eyes of the other nobles.

  Finally, Aldric stopped in front of a heavy oak door and pushed it open, revealing an opulent study lined with ancient tomes and maps of the kingdom’s vast territories. At the center of it all stood Duke Eryndor himself, a towering figure with silver-streaked hair and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Leon’s soul.

  "Father," Leon greeted, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

  The Duke regarded him for a long moment before speaking. "You've done well today. But do not mistake a single day’s victory for true success."

  Leon met his gaze evenly. "I know."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Aldric stepped forward, placing a parchment on the desk. "There’s been... interest from several factions after your performance. Invitations to private gatherings, discreet offers of alliances." He paused. "And then there’s this."

  Leon unfolded the parchment and read. His eyes narrowed.

  House Draymore extends an invitation to Leon Eryndor.

  Draymore. A lesser house, but one with significant mercenary influence and ties to the underworld. Accepting their invitation meant walking into a den of vipers.

  Leon set the parchment down. "They want to test me."

  The Duke’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Of course they do. The question is... will you accept?"

  Leon considered it. "If I don’t, they’ll see me as weak. If I do... it could lead to something worse."

  Aldric interjected, his voice cold. "You should tread carefully. Draymore is known for their... unconventional methods."

  Leon smirked. "Unconventional sounds fun."

  The Duke nodded. "Then it's decided. You will attend."

  Leon inclined his head, knowing this wasn’t a request. "As you wish, Father."

  Later That Night

  The streets of the noble district were a different beast at night—quieter, but with an undercurrent of danger that made Leon feel right at home. Celica walked beside him, the hood of her cloak pulled low.

  "Draymore's estate is just ahead," she whispered. "I've heard stories, Leon. They don't play by the same rules as the others."

  Leon adjusted the coat around his shoulders, fingers brushing against the hidden pistol strapped beneath. "Good. Neither do I."

  The estate loomed ahead, a dark structure with flickering lights illuminating the massive iron gates. The guards recognized him immediately and wordlessly let him through.

  Inside, the atmosphere was thick with cigar smoke and murmured conversations. Nobles and mercenaries mingled in dark corners, deals whispered over glasses of spiced wine. A man awaited him at the far end of the hall—Kain Draymore, the same man who had confronted him after the trials.

  Kain’s grin was wolfish. "Leon Eryndor... I wasn’t sure you’d come."

  Leon stepped forward, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I don't scare easily."

  Kain chuckled, gesturing to an empty seat across from him. "Good. Because I have an offer you can't refuse."

  Leon sat, his instincts on high alert. "I'm listening."

  Kain leaned forward, his voice dropping low. "The tournament is just a stepping stone. You know that. Real power isn’t won in the arena—it's taken in the shadows."

  Leon’s expression remained unreadable. "And you think I need your help to take it?"

  Kain’s smile widened. "Maybe. Or maybe we just want to see if you’re smart enough to play the real game."

  A flick of his fingers, and a servant appeared, placing a small ornate box on the table. Leon opened it carefully. Inside was a single bullet—black, with intricate runes carved into its surface.

  Leon examined it, recognizing the craftsmanship. A magic-infused bullet—rare, dangerous, and expensive.

  "What’s the catch?" Leon asked.

  Kain’s eyes gleamed. "Simple. There’s a certain... noble who’s been causing trouble for us. Take care of it, and we’ll consider you one of us."

  Leon closed the box, his mind already calculating the possibilities. Accepting meant stepping into dangerous territory, but declining might close doors he couldn’t afford to shut.

  He leaned back in his chair, tapping the box thoughtfully. "I'll think about it."

  Kain’s smirk didn’t waver. "Do that. But don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t come twice."

  Leon stood, offering a curt nod before turning to leave.

  Celica fell into step beside him outside, her expression dark. "Are you really thinking about doing their dirty work?"

  Leon’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "No. I’m thinking about how to turn it against them."

  Celica sighed. "Why do I feel like you're going to enjoy this?"

  Leon glanced at the night sky, feeling the weight of the bullet in his pocket.

  "Because I am."

  End of Chapter Seven.