Chapter 166: Spy’s Reward

He activated Kinetic Overload, sacrificing a massive chunk of his stamina to push his physical speed beyond its absolute limit. He crossed the thirty-foot gap in a terrifying, imperceptible blur.

He didn’t swing his blade. He dropped his weapon entirely, stepping inside the Enforcer’s guard.

Leon grabbed the man by his heavy leather trench coat, channeling an astronomical surge of raw, brutal mass into his arms using Kinetic Weight.

He violently hoisted the Tier Two Grandmaster off his feet, pivoting his hips with flawless, devastating leverage.

He slammed the Enforcer directly into the jagged edge of the massive black obelisk with the force of a falling meteor.

The sickening crunch of shattering bone echoed through the massive warehouse. The Enforcer coughed up a thick spray of dark blood, his spine completely broken against the corrupted stone.

Leon didn’t stop. He pulled his fist back, wrapping his knuckles in a dense, blinding sphere of pure white kinetic energy.

He delivered a brutal, devastating punch straight through the Enforcer’s chest, violently driving his fist into the solid obsidian anchor behind him.

The massive obelisk groaned in structural agony. A web of deep, glowing fractures spider-webbed across the black stone, before the entire corrupted monument violently exploded into a million harmless, glittering shards.

The anchor was destroyed.

Leon collapsed to one knee, panting desperately for air as the toxic domain instantly evaporated. His shoulder and ribs burned with intense, agonizing pain, his body heavily bruised and battered from the brutal confrontation.

But as he looked up at the shattered remains of Morgana’s battery, a dark, victorious grin spread across his striking face. One anchor down. The throne room was slowly losing its power.

----

The chaotic aftermath of the shattered obelisk left the warehouse bathed in an eerie, quiet stillness.

Leon knelt on the ruined wooden floorboards, his broad chest heaving as his Endless Vigor aggressively fought the lingering effects of the corrosive acid. His dark tailored suit was violently shredded, exposing the heavily scarred, muscular plains of his chest and ribs.

The burning pain was fading into a dull, manageable throb, but the sheer physical exhaustion of utilizing Kinetic Overload weighed heavily on his limbs.

Seraphina rushed to his side, her violet eyes wide with frantic, protective concern. She ignored the glittering shards of obsidian scattered across the floor, dropping to her knees to inspect his wounds.

"You reckless, arrogant fool," she hissed, though her voice trembled with profound relief. She reached out, gently tracing the edge of the acid burn on his shoulder. "You cannot keep throwing yourself into toxic domains. You are going to get yourself killed."

"I am fine, Seraphina," Leon murmured, his deep voice rough with fatigue. He reached up, capturing her delicate hand in his large, calloused grip. He pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to her knuckles. "The anchor is gone. Morgana just lost a third of her power."

Captain Nyx walked over, sheathing her curved cutlasses with a sharp metallic snap. The mercenary captain stared at the shattered remains of the Tier Two Enforcer, her dark eyes flashing with genuine, profound respect.

"I have seen men fight, Leon," Nyx noted, crossing her arms over her leather corsair outfit. "But I have never seen a man punch a solid obsidian monument into dust with his bare hands. You earned my ships."

Valeriana stood a few paces away, her dark eyes locked onto Leon’s bleeding torso. The beautiful information broker looked incredibly pale.

She was accustomed to gathering intelligence from the safety of luxurious parlors and plush velvet sofas. Watching the towering warlord take brutal, agonizing damage just to protect their faction had violently shaken her aristocratic core.

"We need to get him out of here," Valeriana stated, her voice tight with uncharacteristic anxiety. "The Syndicate will feel the backlash of the anchor shattering. They will send reinforcements to the docks."

Nyx nodded, turning toward the heavy iron doors. "I have a private harbor safehouse about a mile down the river. It is completely off the grid. No one will find us there. We can patch him up and wait out the patrols."

They moved quickly, abandoning the ruined warehouse and slipping back into the freezing, foggy labyrinth of the smuggler’s docks.

The rain began to fall in heavy, freezing sheets, washing the grime and residual acid from the cobblestones. Leon walked under his own power, refusing to let the women carry him, though he maintained a slow, steady pace to conserve his recovering stamina.

Nyx’s safehouse was a sturdy, two-story stone building built directly into the side of a steep, rocky cliff overlooking the rushing black water of the capital river. It was heavily fortified, featuring thick iron shutters and a heavy oak door secured by multiple mechanical locks.

The strike team filed inside, deeply relieved to escape the freezing rain. The interior was surprisingly comfortable, decorated with plush rugs, sturdy wooden furniture, and a massive stone hearth that Nyx quickly ignited with a flint and steel.

Seraphina immediately took charge of the perimeter, instructing Nyx to walk her through the localized escape routes and blind spots in the harbor’s defenses.

Leon slumped heavily onto a large leather sofa positioned near the roaring fire. The blistering heat from the flames felt incredible against his damp, shivering skin.

Valeriana hurried into the small adjoining kitchen, returning a moment later with a wooden basin filled with warm water, clean linen bandages, and a small jar of soothing herbal salve she had scrounged from the mercenary’s supplies.

The beautiful spy knelt gracefully on the plush rug right beside his legs.

"Let me help you," Valeriana whispered, her voice incredibly soft, stripped entirely of its usual haughty mockery.

Leon offered a tired, appreciative smirk, leaning his head back against the leather cushions. He allowed her to take control.

Valeriana’s delicate fingers trembled slightly as she dipped a clean cloth into the warm water. She carefully, meticulously wiped the dirt, sweat, and dried blood from his broad chest.

She focused intensely on the angry, red acid burns scoring his left shoulder and ribs.