Leonidas' voice rumbled with the weight of stone and flame, calm but unshakably firm.
"You are an impressive young man, Scarlet King. And I sense the danger that the alien carries in his wake, the trail of ruin he leaves behind. That is why I give you this explanation. I have perhaps seven years left… ten if fate is generous. And I will not spend them on war. Imagine it—I could suddenly lose myself, fall into confusion and panic, run from the battlefield when resolve is most needed, or worse… strike down my own allies in madness."
His eyes, glowing like embers deep in the forge, fixed on Cain with unwavering sharpness. This was no frail resignation. This was clarity.
"But you need not worry about me. When the disease finally consumes my mind, when I can no longer string together coherent thoughts, I will kill myself. I will not lose my dignity and crawl in the dirt. I will not lash out at those who do not deserve it. I am Leonidas. Not a beast."
