Léon was no longer in control of himself.
His gaze was frozen, void of any human emotion. The golden light radiating from his body had become a silent blaze. Each pulse lit up the arena like a beating heart in the darkness.
Then… suddenly…
BOOOMM
A wave of energy burst from his chest, pushing back the debris and cracking the ground around him.
The first gift the deity had granted him during his coma… had awakened.
The Gift of Faith.
An ancient power, as pure as it was dangerous. It's not a force one commands—but a force that commands those who believe.
And now, Léon was being inhabited by that power.
Though his body was bloodied and broken, he slowly rose to his feet. His stance anchored him to the earth, and without even lifting his hand, a blade of light formed in his palm—an extension of his conviction.
The monster, who until now had shown an eerie calm, took a step back. Its glowing red eyes widened. What stood before it was no longer just an opponent.
It was a miracle in motion.
The creature let out a deep, guttural scream, not of rage, but of fear laced with excitement. It circled the arena slowly, analyzing Léon, hesitating… yet drawn to the promise of a worthy fight.
Meanwhile, the deity of time, hovering high above the arena, observed with a crooked smile.
"At last… you awaken, bearer of the Present."
His voice echoed through the space—and through Léon's very soul.
"You do not fight alone. Your faith is your army. Your convictions are your blade."
The wind shifted.
Time itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what Léon would do with this power.
Silence weighed upon the arena.
Then, a single step.
Léon moved slowly, guided by a higher force. His feet barely touched the ground. His entire body was bathed in golden light. His eyes were empty, yet filled with an unshakable resolve—possessed by something far greater than himself.
The monster across from him growled, its crimson gaze narrowing. It knew.
This was no longer the same man.
Suddenly, the ground trembled. The monster lunged forward, its speed defying the laws of physics. But Léon didn't move.
And yet…
CLAAASHHH!!!
An invisible wall of condensed light blocked the beast's attack. Léon raised a single finger, and like a divine tide, a wave of energy smashed into the monster, hurling it across the ruins of the broken columns.
The creature quickly rose again, enraged. It launched a furious barrage of strikes, each impact shaking the arena. But Léon... was dancing.
He dodged effortlessly, as if time itself had bent to shield him.
His movements flowed like water—otherworldly. With each step, trails of golden light followed his motion.
Then he struck.
A single flick of the wrist, and a blade of pure energy slashed across the beast's hide, tearing through it.
The monster howled in pain.
Meanwhile, outside the arena, one of the terrified guards—a young man named Elyas—crawled his way toward the lifeless body of Jason, still unconscious, wounded, barely breathing.
"Hang in there, sir… I'll get you out," he whispered, voice trembling.
Beneath the storm of battle, Elyas lifted Jason onto his back and dragged him toward a side alcove, where the shocks of the fight couldn't reach them.
Back in the arena.
The monster, bloodied and slashed, was retreating. Its limbs folded in.
It no longer attacked.
It was afraid.
But Léon—or rather, whatever he had become—felt nothing. He raised his hand, and around him, glowing temporal rings floated like celestial clocks.
Every heartbeat sent ripples through the air, as if faith had become music, light, and war.
With a leap, Léon dashed forward, his radiant blade slicing in a perfect arc. He cut the air, then the flesh, then the creature's very soul.
One strike. Two. Three.
BOOM — CRACK — SHRRRRR
Each blow was a judgment. A sentence of the Present.
The beast screamed one final time, spitting black ichor. Its massive body collapsed to its knees, its gaze lost...
before the light of a man no longer in control of himself.
And through the sacred chaos, a voice whispered on the wind:
"Faith is not a weapon… It is a fire. And this fire has chosen its bearer."
The ground still trembled from the final blows. The air was heavy, saturated with strange energy. But the fight had clearly changed in nature.
The monster... began to retreat.
Its steps faltered. Its breathing grew erratic. It watched Léon like one might observe an unknown entity, a divine anomaly. Every move Léon made was unpredictable, impossible to anticipate. The creature, once so confident, was now terrified.
From his ethereal throne, the Deity of Time watched with new eyes.
"I recognize that light…" he murmured to himself.
A chill ran through him. This power wasn't his doing. It belonged to someone else.
An ancient memory stirred within him. A forgotten light, a familiar presence.
"You…" he whispered, staring at Léon.
"You are… the bearer of the Gift of Faith. The seal of Creation…"
A faint smile crossed his timeless face.
"So, she chose you too…"
He spoke of the Deity of Creation, his ancient friend—silent for centuries.
This was no longer just a fight. It had become a message… a sign.
Five minutes later.
The radiant energy around Léon began to fade.
His breath grew shallow. His muscles loosened. The golden glow in his eyes dimmed. His body, drained of all energy, collapsed slowly, like a feather carried by the wind.
Léon had fainted.
His state of transcendence had vanished. He was once again… human.
But the story didn't end there.
The monster, heart pounding, saw his fallen opponent and didn't hesitate. Fear gave way to primal rage.
"I must kill him now!"
With a beastly roar, it leapt at full speed, claws extended, ready to slice through Léon with a single, fatal blow.
Then suddenly...
Time stopped.
The moment froze. Dust particles hung motionless in the air. Heartbeats fell silent.
The Deity of Time had intervened.
He slowly descended into the arena, floating above the ground like an ancient judge.
"This battle… is over."
He raised his hand toward the monster, frozen in mid-strike, just inches from Léon's face.
"You have lost. You cannot defeat one who is carried by Faith."
Then he lifted his gaze to the heavens. A golden mist descended gently, wrapping around Léon's body to shield him, as if some invisible force refused to let him die now.