Chapitre 4: Chapter 4: The End of a Tyrant
The sound of clashing steel echoed through the throne room, reverberating off the cold stone walls. The once-grand hall was now a battlefield, the floor slick with blood, both combatants drenched in sweat and exhaustion.
Leon Winter moved with deadly precision, his sword flashing in tight arcs as he pressed his attack. His movements were sharp, calculated, each strike aimed to kill. But something had shifted. For the first time in their duel, the king of the largest kingdom felt an unfamiliar sensation creeping into his chest—uncertainty.
Sebastian, despite the loss of his hand, was still fighting. No, he was doing more than that. He was pushing Leon back. The hero, with one arm, was managing to fend off Leon's relentless assault, his remaining hand gripping his sword as if it were an extension of his soul. Every strike came with a shout, a cry filled with passion and fury, as if each swing carried the weight of the world.
"You think this world can't change?" Sebastian's voice boomed through the hall as his sword slammed into Leon's, the impact sending vibrations up their arms. "You think people can't change? That we're all doomed to live under the boot of power like yours?"
Leon's blade deflected Sebastian's strike, but the force behind it was immense, sending him stumbling back a step. His heart raced—an emotion he hadn't felt in years, anger and frustration simmering just beneath his calm façade.
"You're wrong!" Sebastian shouted again, his voice raw, filled with a righteous fury. "This world isn't about control, Leon! It's about hope! It's about the possibility that things can be better, that we can be better!"
Sebastian's eyes were alight with a fire Leon hadn't seen in years, a fire that had long since burned out within himself. Each time Sebastian spoke, it was as though the weight of the truth behind his words struck Leon more deeply than any blade could. His mind was racing now, trying to understand, to rationalize. But as Sebastian's sword met his again, Leon felt it—doubt.
Sebastian pressed on, his strikes growing stronger, faster. His one-handed swordplay was fierce, filled with the kind of desperation only those with nothing left to lose could muster. Each swing carried the weight of his ideals, each parry screamed of a will that would not be extinguished.
Leon fought back, but he was no longer in control. The once-unshakable king, whose heart was colder than the steel in his hand, felt something else creeping into his chest—a spark of fear.
"You always believed the world was static, didn't you?" Sebastian's voice was strained, but his words struck deep. "That it's all predetermined. That we're just puppets to fate, to power. But you're wrong, Leon. People can change! The world can change!"
Leon gritted his teeth, his strikes growing more erratic, less precise. For the first time in years, his emotions were bubbling to the surface, slipping past the icy mask he had worn for so long.
"You're a fool," Leon spat, his voice filled with frustration. "This world bends to those who have the strength to control it! It always has! You think hope is enough to stop that? To stop the inevitable?"
Sebastian met Leon's sword again, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Leon's heart pound in his chest. "It's not about stopping it, Leon. It's about changing it. It's about making the world better, for everyone!"
Leon's mind reeled as their blades collided again, sparks flying as the two masters of the sword fought with everything they had. But something had shifted. Leon was no longer in control of the fight. Sebastian's determination, his will, was overpowering him. Each strike carried the weight of a truth Leon had refused to acknowledge for so long.
With every swing of his sword, Sebastian's voice echoed through the throne room. "We don't have to live like this, Leon! We don't have to live in a world ruled by fear and bloodshed! We can change it!"
Leon's vision blurred for a moment as his sword clashed against Sebastian's once more. He had fought hundreds, no, thousands of battles, and never once had he let his emotions get the better of him. But now… now, he felt it. Anger. Rage. Desperation. And something deeper—something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years: regret.
With a roar of frustration, Leon swung his sword in a wide arc, his movements fueled by anger. "You think you're some kind of savior? You think your hope will save this world? You're nothing, Sebastian! Nothing but a naive fool!"
Sebastian met the strike head-on, his blade crashing into Leon's with a deafening clang. "Maybe I am a fool," he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "But at least I'm fighting for something real! Something worth fighting for!"
Leon's breath came in ragged gasps now, his sword heavy in his hand. For the first time in years, he felt… vulnerable.
And then it happened.
In a final, desperate move, they both lunged at each other, swords raised, their hearts pounding in unison. The sound of their blades slicing through the air was deafening. The world seemed to slow, the weight of everything between them coming to a head in that single moment.
Silence fell.
Sebastian's sword had pierced Leon's chest.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The shock of what had just happened washed over them both. Sebastian's hand trembled as he stared at his blade, still embedded in Leon's body, the blood slowly pooling around the wound. His eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat.
Leon's face, so often cold and unreadable, softened for the first time in years. His grip on his sword loosened, and the blade clattered to the ground, the sound echoing through the empty hall. His body sagged, his knees buckling beneath him as he slowly fell to the floor.
"So… this is it," Leon whispered, his voice barely audible. "The end…"
Sebastian knelt beside him, his heart heavy, tears welling in his eyes. "Leon…" he whispered, his voice shaking. "I… I didn't want it to end like this."
Leon's breath was shallow, his eyes unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling, the weight of his life pressing down on him in his final moments. "Maybe… you were right, old friend. Maybe… the world can change."
A single tear escaped Sebastian's eye, falling onto the cold stone floor beside them. "I'm sorry, Leon," he whispered, his voice filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry…"
Leon's eyes fluttered shut, his body growing still. His last breath escaped his lips in a quiet sigh.
And just like that, it was over.
Sebastian remained there, kneeling beside the man who had once been his closest friend, his greatest rival, and his most bitter enemy. Tears streamed down his face, his heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened. He had won. He had stopped Leon. But at what cost?
"I'll make it right," Sebastian whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I'll make the world right. But not like this… Not through blood and death."
That day marked the death of Leon Winter, the man who had once held the world in his hands. A man who had lived as a monster and died as something much more tragic—a lonely, broken soul.
The world would never forget his name. Nor would it forget the tears that had fallen in the aftermath of his death.
And so, in that silent throne room, where power had once reigned supreme, the story of Leon Winter came to an end.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone