Leonidas frowned faintly before speaking.
"So you saw it happening and still did not bother getting here faster? What if I had died? What if these young stars had lost their lives?"
Hommy calmly drew another stream of smoke from his cigar, the ember glowing dimly in the ruined darkness while his gaze wandered across the devastated battlefield.
Only after briefly assessing the destruction did he finally answer.
"Well… ya wouldn't have died that easily. And if ya did…" he paused for a moment before shrugging lazily,
"…then that's probably all ya were worth."
Leonidas stared at him in silence.
"And the others?" he asked eventually, his voice quieter this time.
Hommy merely lifted one shoulder.
"I figured you'd handle it."
A long sigh escaped Leonidas as he lowered his head slightly.
Honestly, Hommy's infuriatingly carefree attitude was beginning to test the limits of his patience. Still, there was little point dwelling on it now. Against all reason, none of them had suffered any truly fatal casualties.
"So… was it a Lesser or a Greater?" Hommy asked after a brief stretch of awkward silence.
Leonidas slowly lifted his head again, releasing a weary breath.
"It wasn't really either of the two. It was more like—"
Before he could finish, several healers hurried toward him in panic, completely interrupting the conversation.
Hommy's presence immediately pressed down from behind like an invisible weight, suffocating and terrifying in equal measure.
The healers froze mid-step as a dreadful glare settled upon them.
Leonidas had already been treated earlier.
So why, exactly, were these idiots interrupting him again?
"Ya pesky cunts…" Hommy muttered darkly, cigar smoke curling around his face.
"You lot have got some nerves to interrupt me?"
The poor healers recoiled with startled yelps before hastily stumbling away, fleeing from the terrifying pressure radiating from him as though their lives depended on it.
Honestly, considering the murderous look in Hommy's eyes… perhaps they did.
Leonidas shifted his head slightly, his gaze falling once more upon Jurgen, who still remained kneeling in silence, seemingly lost within the depths of his own thoughts.
Hommy followed that gaze soon after, his eyes settling on the young man's motionless figure.
"Who's the lad?"
Leonidas did not look away.
"Just some weakling that doesn't warrant your attention."
Hommy narrowed his eyes faintly.
He did not believe that for even a second.
After all, he knew Leonidas far too well.
Reading the young man had long since become as effortless as flipping through the pages of a familiar book.
Without another word, Hommy snuffed the burning cigar against his own palm and began walking toward Jurgen.
Leonidas immediately frowned.
"Don't overdo it, Hommy."
Unfortunately, this was precisely what he had hoped to avoid.
Hommy possessed an exceedingly harsh nature, and there were few things he despised more than weakness, hesitation, and pitiful displays of self-pity. He hated people who dwelled in such cumbersome states.
Hommy stopped a short distance away from the irksome boy and spared him a brief glance before speaking in a flat tone.
"Name yourself."
Jurgen merely lifted his head slightly to look at him.
Then, without answering, he lowered it once more in silence, seemingly uninterested in responding at all.
Apparently, the fool did not understand who stood before him.
Well… he would soon enough.
Hommy's expression remained unchanged.
Without repeating himself, he simply released a fraction of his Reira pressure.
The atmosphere instantly grew heavy.
Jurgen was violently snapped out of his dazed reverie as an overwhelming force crashed onto his shoulders, slamming him painfully against the scorched earth beneath him.
A muffled groan escaped his lips.
He gritted his teeth fiercely and struggled against the crushing pressure while ash scattered around his trembling form. His body was slowly forced deeper into the blackened ground, his face pressing harshly against the soot-covered earth until the ashes themselves began to leave stains across his skin.
Hommy was not the sort of man who enjoyed repeating himself.
Ignore him once…
…and there was a very real chance there would not be a second time.
Hommy tilted his head slightly, looking down at Jurgen with clear disdain in his tone.
"Ya know… I hate brats like you. Acting as if the world revolves around ya. You got beaten up like a little princess, so what? You just gon' sit there and rot in that pathetic state?"
He exhaled slowly, almost lazily, as if the entire situation bored him.
"And what next, huh? When you're done moping around… you stand up without shame and do what? Resign in disgrace? 'Cause I'm damn sure you wouldn't dare resume as a fighter for Mercedes."
Leonidas let out a quiet sigh and lowered his head again.
Hommy was doing what he always did, he cut too deep, too fast, without concern for how much it bled.
Beneath the crushing pressure, Jurgen writhed helplessly, every muscle trembling as if his body had been pinned beneath an invisible slab of iron. The ash and scorched dust, now pressed into his skin like a second layer of suffering.
Then, after a moment of silence.
Hommy released the pressure.
"Or maybe ya would," he added coldly.
"Wouldn't surprise me. Shameless weaklings like you are exactly the type to lead a full squad straight into their deaths."
Jurgen gasped sharply, dragging in air as his body finally regained freedom. His fingers clawed at the ash-covered ground, trembling as conflicting emotions churned inside him.
"Get ya shameless ass up… or resign and let competent soldiers take ya place."
The words hung heavy in the air.
And yet...
Something inside Jurgen shifted.
He forced himself upward, unsteady but rising all the same. Pain still lingered in every movement, exhaustion dragging at his limbs, but beneath it now burned something sharper. Something unwilling to stay down.
He clenched his injured arm, breath uneven.
"Yes… sir!"
His voice came out strained but firm.
Hommy paused.
He slowly turned his head, brow furrowing slightly as he looked around.
"Hmm?"
A faint silence followed.
The narrowed look flickered across his face.
"…That wasn't meant for me, was it?"
Jurgen stiffened.
Understanding struck him a second too late. He quickly corrected his stance, snapping his feet together despite the pain and forcing his voice louder, sharper, like it actually meant something this time.