After his brutal and brilliantly executed victory over the Fleshglass Echo, Leon took a well-earned moment of rest. The obsidian arena was quiet now, the crowd dispersing, their reverent hum still echoing through the deep corridors of the Temple. Roselia and the others regrouped with him, bringing water and nutrient vials native to the Ant domain—bitter, but revitalizing.
Leon leaned back on a low stone bench, his breathing still slightly heavy, the Shell Reverb still humming faintly through his bones. The aftershock of Shatter Echo left subtle vibrations along his arms and spine. His mastery was evolving—51% now—and with it, the tempo of battle itself bent more and more to his rhythm.
An elder approached—not one of the combatants, but a spiritual figure among the Obsidian Ants. His armor was ceremonial, carved not from stone but from calcified memory-shells layered in iridescent patterns. His antennae twitched as he offered Leon a scroll sealed with resin and runes.
