CHAPTER 175: EX 175. BEN STALLION

The air froze. The attendants’ eyes went wide, jaws slack. The auburn-haired woman swayed slightly, then blurted, "I—I have to inform my boss! Colonel Leon, please, one moment!" She scrambled from her chair and darted down the corridor, nearly tripping over her own haste.

Leon only smiled faintly and waited, arms at his side.

Around him, the murmur began.

"How is he an Azure Colonel at that age?" someone hissed.

Another trial taker frowned, recognition sparking. "Wait... isn’t that the kid who cleared his first trial in twenty-eight days?"

"That doesn’t make sense," a third muttered. "Back then he was nothing. I saw him. Everyone thought he was talentless."

The whispers swelled into a ripple of disbelief. The settlement was full of seasoned trial takers, men and women who lived more here than in the Federation. They prided themselves on knowing the faces of those who rose quickly. Yet Leon’s rise had been too sudden, and too sharp. That it left their assumptions shattered.

Then the heavy footsteps came.

A towering man emerged from within the center, his bald head gleaming under the faint trial lights, his frame wrapped in a commander’s coat. His presence silenced the room before he even spoke. Behind him followed the auburn-haired attendant, still flushed from her sprint.

The man stopped before Leon. Then, with practiced solemnity, he raised his hand in a three-finger salute.

"Greetings, Colonel Leon Kael."

The words carried through the hall.

One by one, attendants straightened and followed suit, hands rising to their brows in the same salute. The trial takers, hesitant at first, joined in, until the entire center stood still, three fingers raised in respect.

Silence pressed heavy over the crowd.

Leon’s eyes swept across them, his face calm, and unreadable. Then he lifted a hand, his voice cutting through the quiet.

"At ease."

****

The respect given to Leon was understandable. Though the trial world was not the Federation itself, the people here were still children of its order, and its customs ruled even in this strange land. This was the Mortal Zone, where the highest trial ranks were F, E, and—at their peak—D. Because of that, the greatest military authority one could hope to reach here was Iron Captain, and only if they were exceptionally gifted.

So when Leon stood in their midst as an Azure Colonel, still permitted to walk in a place meant for mortals, the message was clear: his talent eclipsed anything they had ever seen. None dared whisper that it might have been an error. The thought itself was blasphemy. The men and women of the trial world were not like Federation soldiers at the borders; they were trial takers who had lived too long beneath its shadow. Their belief in the Federation’s infallibility had grown twisted, hardened into something more than loyalty. Here, faith deepened the farther one drifted from the being they worshipped.

The commander of the settlement straightened after his salute, voice steady though his eyes betrayed unease. He motioned Leon toward his office. Once seated, he clasped his hands on the desk before him.

"Colonel Leon," he said. "Your request for a new residence has been accepted. A residence has been assigned to you."

Leon inclined his head. "Thank you..." He paused, realizing he had yet to place the man’s name.

"Ben," the commander supplied. "Ben Stallion."

"Thank you, Ben Stallion," Leon replied with a small nod.

Ben let out a breath and added carefully, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Colonel?"

Leon’s blue eyes narrowed with focus. "Yes. I came here with my squad. and we plan to tackle a D-rank, Tier VII trial. If you have any intel on one, you can inform me."

For a moment, Ben simply stared at him, stunned. A Tier VII D-rank trial was a wall that broke men. But the thought struck him just as quickly, to an Azure Colonel, this would not even qualify as a warm-up.

"Understood," Ben said at last, nodding briskly. "If we acquire any information, we will get in touch immediately."

Leon rose from his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He extended his hand. "Thank you."

Ben shook it firmly, though his own heart still beat fast in his chest. "Anytime, Colonel Leon."

****

The settlement buzzed with life. Merchants shouted prices, trial takers haggled over supplies, and the smell of food, real food, not rations, hung in the air. While Leon was off arranging accommodations, his squad had taken shelter in a small ice cream bar tucked between two stonework stalls.

Inside, the place was cool, lit by lantern crystals. Nikko leaned back in her chair as the waiter set down four bowls of ice cream. Without hesitation, she slid all of them in front of herself.

"You guys can order now," she said casually, spoon already in hand.

Elizabeth and Eden both stared, unimpressed. Adrian only exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"Don’t worry," he muttered, folding his arms. "I don’t feel like eating ice cream."

Nikko looked at him mid-bite, cream at the corner of her lip. "Your loss. You’re missing out." Then she dug in with ruthless speed, demolishing the first bowl as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

It was then the door creaked open. Four men strode inside and made their way to the table beside theirs, where three younger trial takers already sat. The difference in presence was obvious; the four carried themselves with the arrogance of predators, while the three looked more like prey.

The tallest of the newcomers stopped behind one of the seated men, his voice sharp enough to cut through the bar’s chatter.

"Andrew. You haven’t given me the credits you owe for your monthly protection fee."

The man called Andrew swallowed hard, his hands tight around his spoon. "Lukas, we... we couldn’t find an altar these past few days. Just give us one more week and—"

Before he could finish, Lukas’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. The casual strength in his grip made Andrew wince.

"Are you trying to play me?" Lukas asked, voice low and dangerous.

The bar grew quieter. Even Nikko slowed her eating, spoon dangling midair, eyes flicking toward the brewing confrontation.