The 24 hours before the duel passed like a held breath.
Leon stood atop a quiet ridge overlooking the mirrored lake at the plaza's edge. The surface reflected not just his form, but his presence—one that now pulsed with subtle waves of authority. He wasn't just climbing anymore. The Tower had accepted him as part of its logic tree. Every decision he made here would ripple downward across hundreds of floors.
That weight wasn't crushing. It was clarifying.
He heard footsteps behind him. Roselia approached first, arms crossed.
"You're calm."
"I've already fought what I could become," Leon replied. "This next part is just… refinement."
Milim dropped beside them, stretching. "We looked up this Yvaal. She's old. Dominion-based law shaping. Likes control, suppression, and burning out resistance. Kind of your polar opposite."
Kael joined with a low whistle. "You didn't pull a light opponent."
Roman chuckled. "He didn't choose. The Tower chose her to test him."
