The Uninvited Guest

"Please..." Leonardo muttered, barely audible as he staggered back. This time was different.

Adelaide paused, her hand raised for another strike—this one aimed directly at his face. The next hit would kill him.

Leonardo's mind raced, searching for something—anything—to exploit. Nothing.

Using Adelaide's mental instability was off the table. Too many risks. He wasn't ready to gamble on her unpredictable emotions.

"Leonardo," she said softly, almost sweetly. "Would you like to say something before—"

Wham!

He slammed his hilt into her side with everything he had. The surprise strike gave him a few precious seconds. He scrambled to his feet, limping heavily, blood streaming from his thigh.

"The pain channelling doesn't even work!" he growled through clenched teeth.

His only shot now was to reach the other side of the mansion, where Anna and Elara were supposed to be sleeping.

They had to be there. The only thing pushing him forward was the memory of Anna tinkering with his attachment skill an hour ago. She'd managed to dull his pain—slightly. But it was far from perfect. He felt every stab of agony.

He stumbled through the hallway, leg dragging behind him. The corridor stretched endlessly, mocking his pace.

"I told you not to run," Adelaide's voice echoed behind him. It slid through the air like smoke, thick with menace. The heat she exuded crept through the mansion like a fever.

He spotted the staircase ahead—closer than the one leading to the first-floor bathroom. His instincts screamed: run.

"How much energy does using your attachment skill take?" he wondered. Elara had collapsed after a few barriers.

Maybe Ascendants were immune to normal Rasvian limits. Maybe the manifestation was just... useless.

"Perfect defense, my boot," he hissed, dragging himself up the stairs. His trousers were soaked with blood. He was running out of time.

"I'm scared of this woman," he thought, heart pounding. The memory of her blast—the pyramids, their shifting shapes—all burned into his brain. If she'd charged it one more second, his leg would've been gone.

She kept coming. Brutal. Relentless. Her skill wasn't even flashy—but it didn't need to be.

He reached the top, panting. The staircase opened into a wide, barren room. The attic.

"There has to be another door," Leonardo thought, eyes scanning. He gripped the banister, dragging himself forward.

A shot rang out. He turned just in time to see her, climbing the stairs, sword glowing.

"Why the sword?!" he spat. A blast struck his hand. He crumpled with a cry. Even from afar, the blade's heat was unbearable.

It radiated power like it had been forged in fire and never cooled.

"Why do you run, Leonardo?" she called, her tone almost amused. "I don't enjoy chasing you."

"Neither do I," he snapped, cutting her off.

Summoning the last of his strength, he stood again. His eyes locked onto a window across the room, not too far off from where he stood. If he could just reach it...

But he couldn't. Not fast enough. His mind calculated, and the answer was clear—he wouldn't make it.

He swore under his breath and made the only decision that made sense.

With his good leg, he charged the window, blade raised. He swung hard.

Glass shattered. Scattered shards flew.

Then—rough fingers clamped his collar.

Adelaide.

She yanked him back like a ragdoll, glass flying as they hit the floor. His weight was nothing to her as she continued holding him.

"Leonardo..." she cooed, brushing hair from her face. "Whatever your plan was, it's useless. Let me tell you something: skills are everything in this world. Say it with me—everything."

She smirked, then added, "Well... maybe not everything. I don't count those people."

Her voice drifted, like she was enjoying some private joke. Her sword rose again, glowing, deliberate. She was savoring this.

Red hair floated around her like a firestorm. Her gown—some twisted mix of noble finery and battlefield attire—flowed with menace.

The sword shimmered, jewels glowing, the heat warping the air. It wasn't a weapon anymore. It was part of her.

Leonardo's brain screamed: Think.

Every fiber of his being demanded escape—even the afterlife would be better than this.

"My sword..." he murmured.

"Your sword?" Adelaide repeated, puzzled. "Compared to heat-bearer? A feeble thing." Her voice dripped condescension, eyes gleaming.

Leonardo glanced down. The ground was empty—no servants, no staff. The whole estate was eerily silent, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Then—movement. A woman passed by below, eyes glued to her phone. A servant? An assistant?

He couldn't see much. Just her outline and the device in her hand.

Desperation surged. Leonardo acted.

"Don't translate," he muttered, eyes locked on the phone.

Adelaide was too busy talking, too focused on her own theatrics to notice.

"ìwọ ni àkọ́kọ́ tó fà á tí mo bẹ̀rù ẹ tó béẹ̀ tí mo sì ṣì ń bá Altan pàdé Ṣùgbọ́n, mi ò fẹ́ kú nísinsin yìí," he whispered in Yoruba, hoping to confuse her. His voice trembled with urgency and fear.

"What?" Adelaide blinked, thrown.

Leonardo's hilt smashed into her jaw with all he had left.

She dropped him instantly, reeling, hand to her face.

"That hurt," she muttered, wincing. "Second time today, you know."

Her tone had lost its charm.

Leonardo didn't wait. Every nerve screamed as he lunged, driving her backward.

The window was suicide—he wouldn't survive the fall. But a few seconds? That, he could buy to run down the stairs again.

A blast ripped through his leg. He fell, screaming through clenched teeth.

"Did you think I needed heat-bearer to kill you?" Adelaide drawled, rising like a phantom in the window's light. Her blade shimmered, crimson and ready. "I'll admit, coming back and confessing your lie... admirable."

"We can still—" Leonardo choked, dragging himself upright. Legs shaking. He wouldn't die on his knees.

Adelaide's laugh was ice.

"Don't worry. It'll be quick. The heat will sear your nerves first. You won't feel a thing once your skin melts."

If I die, I die fighting.

He roared, raw and primal, as fire roared toward him.

The flames swallowed his scream. Skin blistered. Tears vanished in the heat. The mine's collapse flashed through his mind—the same terror, the same helplessness.

Not like this. NOT LIKE THIS!

He swung his sword in one final, desperate arc.

Steel met flesh.

A red line opened on Adelaide's arm. Blood hit the floor. The fire faltered.

Leonardo collapsed, broken and burnt. Fingers twitching. A faint blue glow pulsed in his chest—[Adaptive Evolution]—trying to repair what was beyond fixing.

The world dimmed, closing in like a collapsing tunnel.

"Ronald…" he rasped. The name burned like ash on his tongue.

Adelaide loomed, her boots hissing against the scorched floor.

"Did you really believe you were a hero, Leonardo?"

"Not... yet," he whispered.

"My daughters will miss you."

A chime rang softly in his ear.

[Welcome to the 20th Realm of Awe. Leonardo Salvius Nox.]

His charred lips parted. "...Huh?"

[You are Dead]