Chapitre 3: Chapter 3: Blades and Ideals
The grand hall echoed with the sharp ring of steel on steel, each clash resounding like thunder in the silence of the castle. Leon Winter and Sebastian Vettel moved like ghosts through the dim light, their swords flickering in and out of the shadows. Their movements were precise, almost choreographed—two masters of their craft, honed through years of battle and rivalry.
Leon's blade arced through the air, a flash of silver aimed for Sebastian's throat, but the hero moved with equal speed, his sword rising to deflect the blow. Sparks flew as the two blades met, the sound of metal grinding against metal filling the chamber. Sebastian stepped forward, pushing Leon back with a series of rapid strikes, each one more vicious than the last.
But Leon was calm, nonchalant, his face betraying none of the intensity of the duel. His movements were fluid, effortless, as if he were dancing through the battlefield rather than fighting for his life. He parried each of Sebastian's strikes with precision, twisting his body to avoid the blade's lethal edge.
"You're as predictable as ever," Leon said, his voice smooth, almost amused.
"And you're still as indifferent as ever," Sebastian shot back, his voice sharp with frustration.
They broke apart for a moment, circling each other, their swords poised for the next strike. The tension between them was palpable, their shared history weighing heavy in the air. Sebastian's sword glowed faintly with the light of his Essence, while Leon's remained dark, his own power hidden, unknowable.
"Tell me, Leon," Sebastian began, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "What's the point of all this? What's your endgame? A world of blood and iron? A kingdom built on fear and destruction?"
Leon smirked, his sword spinning in his hand as he prepared for the next exchange. "I told you, Sebastian. It's about control. Order. You think justice will bring peace? You're a fool."
Sebastian's eyes flashed with anger. "There's a world where people don't have to live in fear, where power doesn't have to be used to oppress. That's the world I'm fighting for."
"You think that's possible?" Leon's tone was almost mocking. "A world without conflict? Without bloodshed? You're naive."
Sebastian lunged, his sword cutting through the air with deadly intent. Leon sidestepped the attack with ease, his blade flicking out to slash at Sebastian's side. The strike drew blood, a thin line of crimson blooming on Sebastian's armor, but the hero didn't flinch. He spun, his sword crashing into Leon's, the force of the blow sending vibrations up both their arms.
"Naive?" Sebastian growled. "I'd rather be naive than a monster."
Leon laughed softly, his blade gliding through the air to meet Sebastian's next strike. Their swords collided again, sparks flying in all directions. "A monster? Is that what you see when you look at me?"
Sebastian pushed forward, driving Leon back with a series of rapid slashes. "Yes. That's exactly what you are."
Their swords danced through the air, the sound of steel meeting steel filling the hall. Each strike was calculated, each movement a testament to their years of training. Leon's style was fluid, almost casual, as if the battle were nothing more than an inconvenience. Sebastian's was the opposite—precise, driven by purpose, his every attack fueled by the fire of his convictions.
"You think this world can survive without people like me?" Leon asked, his voice calm even as he deflected another blow. "Without someone to keep it in check?"
Sebastian gritted his teeth, his sword flashing as he pressed the attack. "The world doesn't need tyrants, Leon. It doesn't need people like you."
Leon's eyes narrowed, his blade moving faster now, meeting Sebastian's attacks with equal force. "You're wrong, Sebastian. This world needs order. It needs strength. Without that, it would fall apart."
They were moving faster now, their swords blurring as they clashed again and again, neither one giving an inch. The floor beneath them was slick with blood, their armor dented and torn, but still they fought, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Sebastian swung wide, aiming for Leon's head, but Leon ducked, his sword slicing upward in a deadly arc. Sebastian barely managed to twist away, but not before Leon's blade caught his arm, cutting deep into the flesh. Blood poured from the wound, but Sebastian didn't falter. He spun, bringing his sword down in a vicious strike aimed at Leon's chest.
Leon caught the blow on his own blade, the force of it driving him back a step. His expression was unchanged, unreadable, even as blood dripped from a cut on his brow. He stepped forward, their blades locked between them, their faces inches apart.
"You think this is about power?" Leon hissed, his voice low. "This is about survival. The world bends to me because it has no choice. Because I am the only one strong enough to shape it."
Sebastian grunted, pushing against Leon's blade with all his strength. "This world doesn't need to be shaped by someone like you. It needs justice. It needs hope."
"And who's going to give it that?" Leon asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You? The hero? You can't even save yourself."
With a sudden, vicious twist, Leon wrenched his sword free, spinning and driving the blade toward Sebastian's heart. Sebastian barely managed to block the strike, but the force of it sent him staggering back, his sword arm trembling.
"I've already won, Sebastian," Leon said, his voice cold. "You just haven't realized it yet."
Sebastian's eyes burned with fury. "Not yet. Not while I still stand."
Leon moved in, his sword flashing in a blur of silver. Sebastian deflected the blows, but he was slowing, his movements less fluid, less precise. Blood dripped from his wounds, staining the floor beneath them.
With a roar, Sebastian lunged, his sword slicing through the air toward Leon's throat. Leon twisted, bringing his blade up in a perfect parry. The impact sent a shockwave through both of them, their arms shuddering from the force of it.
In the next instant, Leon's blade flicked out, catching Sebastian's wrist. With a sickening crunch, Sebastian's hand was severed, his sword clattering to the floor.
Sebastian staggered back, clutching the stump of his arm, his face pale but defiant. "This isn't over," he growled, his voice strained with pain.
Leon stared at him, his expression unreadable. "You should have known it would come to this, Sebastian."
But even with one hand lost, Sebastian wasn't finished. He stepped forward, his eyes blazing with determination, his sword arm gone, but his resolve unbroken.
"You may take my hand," Sebastian said through gritted teeth, "but you'll never take my will."
Leon smirked, raising his sword once more. "We'll see."
The duel raged on, their swords flashing through the air, their words cutting as deeply as their blades. Ideals clashed with every strike, convictions tested with every blow.
And as the blood spilled between them, neither man gave an inch.
The battle continued, their fates intertwined in the dance of death.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone