Chapter 468: Discipline II
Just pure motion.
She was on him in less than a second—her gauntleted fist slamming toward his chest.
Leon activated Shell Reverb: Echo of Origin at the last instant—but it only slowed her. Not stopped.
He shifted his footing and redirected the blow to the side—countered with a Spiral Reverb that sent shockwaves through the platform.
Vel'Zhara twisted midair, absorbed the pulse, and struck again from above.
No wasted movement.
No flair.
Every motion meant to kill.
Not disable.
Not teach.
Kill.
Leon gritted his teeth. He used Karmic Loop, only to realize—
It didn't activate.
The floor blocked it.
"Your echoes won't help you here," Vel'Zhara said, sweeping his leg and knocking him into the air. "This trial is not about your tricks."
Leon crashed to the ground, rolled, and came up bleeding from the side of his mouth.
Still, he smiled.
"Good. I was tired of relying on them anyway."
She rushed again.
And this time, Leon didn't defend.
He advanced.
He met her strike head-on, using pure movement. No Shell Reverb. No Origin Pulse. Just the raw, fluid tempo of the Drift Alignment form he'd developed back during the Temporal Duel.
His arm bent around hers.
Locked her shoulder.
Pulled her forward.
And elbowed her square in the side.
It was a small hit.
But it connected.
Vel'Zhara backed off, blinking once.
Then she nodded—just once.
And raised her hand.
"I've tested hundreds," she said. "Most use power. Some use legacy. You used choice."
Then she bowed.
[Acknowledged]
[Trial Complete – Floor 617 Cleared]
Title Earned: The Unyielding Step
Reward: Sovereign Recognition Token (1)
Reward: Access to Vault of Echoed Wills
Next Floor Unlocked: 618
The bridge reformed.
Leon's team ran to meet him.
Roselia was first. "You're limping."
Leon wiped the blood from his chin. "She nearly shattered my spine."
"Yeah," Roman said. "I could feel the hits from here."
Kael crossed his arms. "And you still smiled through it."
Leon just shrugged.
Milim clapped him on the back. "Well then. Tower respects you now, huh?"
Leon glanced over his shoulder.
Vel'Zhara was gone.
But the throne remained.
And it was empty.
"No," he said.
"I respect myself now."
And with that, they turned to the gate of Floor 618—
Where the Tower's whispers had begun again.
But this time, they didn't sound like tests.
They sounded like invites.
Floor 618 – The Courtyard of Claims
The gate hissed open without resistance, revealing a stone pathway leading into a wide, sunlit courtyard.
But it wasn't peaceful.
Not even close.
It was quiet, yes—but the kind of silence that came before something dangerous. The air was still. Too still. No wind. No birds. No mana in motion.
And at the center of the courtyard?
A massive stone table, cracked and scorched from battles long past.
Laid across it were dozens—no, hundreds—of weapons.
Swords. Spears. Warhammers. Bows.
All of them glowed faintly, thrumming with dormant power.
Not a single one was mundane.
Each had belonged to a champion who had tried to claim the Tower's highest seats. Some had made it far. Some had fallen early. But all had left something behind.
Roselia whispered, "This… this feels like a weapon graveyard."
Milim narrowed her eyes. "No. It's a choosing ground."
Naval looked toward Leon. "What does the Tower want from us here?"
Leon stepped forward slowly. He already knew.
[Welcome to Floor 618 – Courtyard of Claims]
Zone Type: Oath Selection Trial
Objective: Choose a Path of Intent
Note: Once selected, it cannot be undone.
Rule: Each team member must claim their battle legacy.
Reward: Trait Evolution + Weapon Bonding
Warning: Cowards will be rejected.
As they reached the table, the weapons began to glow brighter.
Not all of them. Just a few—each one reacting to a different team member.
One pulsed silver and blue near Roselia's side. A tower shield, engraved with thorned wings.
Another burned crimson near Roman—a twin-blade set, curved like twin fangs.
For Leon, however… no weapon glowed.
He frowned.
Then walked the length of the table.
And at the very end, half-buried in cracked stone, was something different.
Not a weapon.
A chain.
Just one. Black. Heavy. Forged from some unknown alloy that shimmered between shadow and light.
He reached for it—
And the moment his fingers brushed the metal, the system boomed.
[Intent Lock Confirmed: Will of Command]
Path Chosen: The Bound Sovereign
Trait: Chain of Judgment (Unleash sealed power through trial-based command)
Effect: Gain control over a battlefield through influence, not just power
Secondary Effect: Unlock access to Binding Sigils and Restriction Pulse
Weapon Bonding: Chain recognized as Sympathetic Artifact – Evolves with user growth
Limitation: The chain will never strike first. It only answers challenge.
Leon lifted it.
It felt right.
Heavy—but not a burden. Like it was waiting for someone who wouldn't abuse it.
Someone who would earn obedience instead of taking it.
Roselia stepped back with her shield strapped to her back, now pulsing with a new core rune.
Roman spun his twin blades once, and for a second—just a second—they shimmered with a crown-shaped aura.
Milim cracked her knuckles. "I didn't even touch mine and the hammer just floated into my hand."
Kael, oddly, stood with nothing.
Naval raised a brow. "You not choosing?"
Kael smiled faintly. "I already have my legacy. It's just not here."
Leon nodded once.
And as the team gathered near the center again, the courtyard trembled.
At first they thought it was another test.
Until the voice came.
Not from the system.
Not from the floor.
But from above.
From the next gate.
"You've taken your first step," the voice said.
It was deep. Calm. And terrifying in how ordinary it sounded.
"I will see you at Floor 620."
Roselia tensed. "Who was that?"
Kael answered.
"Someone who wants the Tower to have kings again."
Leon looked up at the next gate. It hadn't opened yet.
But the Tower was waiting.
And now, it was no longer just testing.
It was preparing him.
Because beyond Floor 620… the Tower didn't filter challengers by power anymore.
It filtered them by intention.
And only those who knew why they climbed…
Would be allowed to rule.