Leon's POV
I had defeated Tilde. The moment the fight ended, she looked at me with that expression—disappointment flickering behind her sharp eyes, as if she couldn't accept how quickly it was over. Her breathing was uneven, sweat trailing down her neck, and that small tremble in her hand told me she wasn't faking it. She wasn't weak—far from it. She had fought like a beast backed into a corner.
And honestly, I had to give her credit. For someone with no magic or special ability, she had put up one hell of a fight. Every movement she made had that raw sharpness, a predator's precision. She wasn't relying on any school of technique or fancy spellwork—just pure instinct, natural agility, and those quick, almost feral reflexes that could only come from experience and survival. The way she moved, how she slipped between my attacks, how her blade danced dangerously close to my throat—it was impressive. If I hadn't been serious, I might've actually lost. She was that good.
