CHAPTER 220: EX 220. PIUS THE THIRD

The city lord was taken aback the moment Leon stepped into view.

It wasn’t his looks, though Leon was undeniably beauty personified, the kind of presence that could make even a hardened soldier falter. The lord had his priorities straight, and he wasn’t a man easily swayed by appearances. No, what unsettled him was something far deeper.

It was Leon’s presence.

Something in the young man’s aura tugged at the edges of his instincts, a quiet pressure that made the lord’s chest tighten. His brow creased as a thought flickered in his mind like a shadow he couldn’t grasp: ’Why does he feel like "that"?’

He had no answer.

Before he could dig deeper into his unease, Leon’s voice cut cleanly through his thoughts.

"Oh, James—you’re back."

James’ face immediately lit up with a fawning smile, his posture just shy of groveling. "Yes, Leon. And the Lord himself has come to greet you personally."

Leon’s eye twitched.

Inwardly, he cursed so fiercely he could almost taste blood. ’Is this bastard trying to set me up?’ The way James’ tone practically polished his boots made it sound like Leon was an usurper biding his time. With how cleanly James was kissing his ass, it wouldn’t be strange if the city lord thought he had come to dethrone him.

Leon bit down on the thought, his jaw tightening. He was, technically, the new ruler of the forest—but that didn’t mean he wanted to walk the path of tyranny. He’d seen enough of what that brought. The lord has already suffered enough under one tyrant, Leon told himself. ’The last thing he needs is another.’

Straightening his shoulders, he forced himself to smile lightly and stepped forward, words chosen with deliberate care.

"You must be the city lord," Leon said, his tone even and respectful. "Let me introduce myself. I am Leon Kael, the new ruler of the forest."

In his mind, Leon gave himself a mental pat on the back. "Perfect. That was a clean introduction."

There was no hostility or claim to the lord’s city. And because of that, Leon felt the city lord wouldn’t think he was here to take his throne.

But the moment stretched longer than expected. The city lord’s lips twitched. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, betraying the faintest crack in his composure.

Leon, blissfully unaware, didn’t notice.

****

The city lord studied Leon with a faint frown.

’Is this really the one who defeated the tyrant?’ he wondered. The boy’s current impression didn’t fit the image of a warrior who could slay such a beast. There was no arrogance, no thunderous weight of authority in his words, just a strange casualness that bordered on irreverence.

Yet, what the city lord couldn’t know was that Leon’s odd behavior had a reason. It was a thin veil, a coping mechanism masking the storm inside him. The truth was that Leon was still rattled over the incomplete book he’d read in the library. The cliffhanger gnawed at him, and the act of keeping things light was his way of keeping himself from unraveling.

The city lord, chose to look past the strangeness. With a practiced smile, he stepped forward, extending his hand.

"I am Pius the Third," he declared, his voice firm, rehearsed from years of titles and audiences. "The twenty-first city lord of Shantel."

Leon took his hand. His grip was steady, at first.

And then it wasn’t.

The instant their palms touched, a storm surged into Leon’s skull.

AvEngeUs... avENGEUs... saVeNgeUs...

The voices overlapped in a grotesque chorus, warping and splintering until the words twisted together:

...AvEnGErS... AssemBLe... AVENGE US.

Leon’s eyes widened. His breath hitched. He tore his hand free as if burned, staggering back, clutching his head.

The city lord froze, blinking in confusion, and the guards held their breath, watching the young man seize as though gripped by some unseen force. James’ voice broke the silence, alarmed.

"Leon! What’s—"

He never finished.

As the world stopped.

Time itself seemed to lurch into stillness, colors dulling to ash and silence falling like a curtain. Then—

Lightning sparked violently across Leon’s body. Azure arcs tore through the frozen air, crawling over his arms, shoulders, and back like chains loosed from heaven. His aura roared, violent and absolute.

Extreme Art: God of Thunder.

The guards hadn’t even drawn breath before it was done.

In the frozen instant, Leon moved. His body blurred into a streak of blinding light, thunder cracking in his wake. The city lord’s lips parted in shock, but no sound came out. His head separated cleanly from his body, eyes still wide as it spun into the air.

Leon reappeared behind him, his right arm outstretched in the after-position of a rapid strike, lightning still dancing over his knuckles.

The headless body swayed, then collapsed.

And the city lord’s head, wearing an expression of disbelief that would never fade, crashed to the marble floor.

****

The city lord felt it the instant his hand clasped Leon’s.

That gnawing, suffocating presence, the same one he had sensed long ago, buried beneath his schemes and careful lies, rose to the surface like a tide he could no longer deny. Suspicion turned to certainty in a single heartbeat.

’This one... cannot be tamed.’

The thought carved itself into his mind as his pulse quickened. Unlike the tyrant bear, who could be bent, shackled, and used, this boy was something else entirely. Leon Kael wasn’t a tool to exploit. He was calamity incarnate, a storm that would consume everything the city lord had built if allowed to remain.

Pius knew he had to act. Right then. No hesitation, no second guessing. His schemes, his years of patience, his quiet weaving of power behind closed doors, it all meant nothing if he didn’t cut down this threat before it took root.

But fate was cruel.

Before he could summon a word, before he could call on his guards or trigger the hidden measures he had prepared, Leon moved.

A thunderclap split the silence.

In less than a breath, the city lord’s head was severed clean from his body. His lips parted in disbelief as he tumbled toward the ground, vision spinning, the world turning upside down in the final seconds of his existence.

And in that instant—time no longer measured in beats of his heart but in fragments of memory—his life unraveled before him.

Not only his life as Pius the Third, lord of Shantel... but the ones before.

The proud reign of Pius the Second, marked by ambition that faltered into paranoia.

The ruthless beginnings of Pius the First, whose hunger for dominion had planted the cursed seeds carried forward by his bloodline.

Three lives. Three crowns. Three legacies of greed and corruption, flashing before his dimming gaze like scenes on shattered glass.

His head hit the marble floor with a dull thud, rolling to face the boy who had ended it all.

The storm still raged around Leon, lightning crackling in arcs, his figure backlit like a god of judgment.