Solflare: The Painter's Secret-Chapter 66: STORM, L. VS. GRACE

"Is that the only thing you’re using for your match?"

Leon looked down at himself, then back at Zoe. "Yeah. Why? Is it bad for the match?"

A faint, unreadable smile touched her lips.

"No, it’s not. You can use that." She shook her head, grabbed her own datapad from the table, and walked to the door without waiting for him.

Leon hesitated, then left without going for his own datapad and followed her out of the room. His footsteps remained the only thing echoing in the silent hallway.

The lobby was a different world. Students milled about, their morning chatter a low roar. As Leon and Zoe descended the last stair, dozens of eyes turned toward them.

"Is he finally leaving Alchemania?" a voice snickered, followed by a short burst of laughter.

Leon ignored it, but a tiny laugh tore at his lips. He closed his eyes and cracked them open within a second. Then, the wall near the entrance drew his attention like a magnet pulling steel.

The crater his fist had made was still there, the spiderweb of cracks radiating outward. He tore his gaze away and followed Zoe out of the main doors.

The scent of wet grass and distant decay from the fruitful trees and the flowing air filled him whole. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

When he opened them, Zoe was already ten paces ahead. He hurried to catch up, waving for her to pause and stop.

As he halted beside her, she wordlessly pulled the scuffled datapad from her pocket and handed it to him.

"Why did you leave it there?" she asked in a tone that implied he was careless, while her eyes looked sideways, as if the words were meant for someone at her left.

Leon’s mind raced as he took the device and placed it in the pocket of his trousers.

’Did she take it while I was in the shower? I didn’t see her near the bed after I came out. And she didn’t go near it before we left either. So how?’ thoughts boomed in his mind as he became unnerved more than if she’d snatched it openly.

As they approached the granite trial hall, the atmosphere changed. Students clad in combat gear streamed toward the building, their faces set with grim anticipation.

"Why not the old trial ground?" Leon turned toward Zoe.

"It collapsed months ago."

Leon nodded silently and shifted his gaze forward.

Fingers pointed at them as Leon and Zoe neared the vast red entrance. Although whispers cut through, Leon’s senses were locked on the door like a time bomb.

A chorus of cheers, jeers, and collective gasps rolled out to meet them like a wave when Zoe yanked the door open.

The roar of the crowd hit Leon like a physical force as he stepped into the trial hall. A wave of sound struck his chest and vibrated in his teeth.

He followed Zoe through a river of bodies, thick air that had the scent of sweat, and the coppery tang of blood.

Scanning around, he found an empty seat wedged between two broad-shouldered boys who didn’t even acknowledge him. Their attention remained fixed on the square platform below.

"There is a seat here," Leon said, but brushed it off when he saw Zoe walking toward another seat that was in the middle of the ladies with thick bodies and breasts.

He couldn’t focus on the fights. Unfamiliar names got called while bodies clashed in flashes of light and the spray of blood.

Focusing on the platform, he saw a slim lady with red hair command the earth to swallow her opponent, a girl who had multiplied into dozens of fading echoes.

The multiplier fell and got carried away by the silent, white-robed figures he’d seen in the hallway.

Two hours flashed by quickly. Then, a sudden silence fell on every seat, causing every intake of breath to stop.

"NEXT MATCH: STORM, L. VS. GRACE."

Whispers cut through the silence like a hissing tide. Heads swiveled, necks craned. Leon felt the heat of a thousand stares.

When he stood up and tilted his gaze across the sections nearest him, the whispers died in throats, smothered by the direction of his look.

Walking to the platform was like moving through a tunnel. The granite steps were cool under his boots.

As he stepped onto the rune-etched stone, the barrier shimmered into place behind him and sealed him in.

No cheers rose, but he could see faces in the front rows, flushed with a kind of outraged disbelief.

After a few moments, roaring applause greeted his opponent as she entered the arena.

"She looks taller than I expected," he whispered as he stared at the map of silvery scars crisscrossing her arms and neck.

’Why is my opponent a lady?’ Leon thought as confusion overrode his focus.

"Hey, handsome," Grace said in a voice that carried through the fading applause with ease.

She brought out her pinky finger to her lips and licked it slowly, in a sarcastic, predatory gesture. "Do you remember me?"

Leon squinted, his mind scrambling. ’The face... the exaggerated gesture...’ he thought as he began remembering her bit by bit.

’Yeah, that’s her.’ His face lightened when he realized she was the first lady who had cut in front of him with a smile and a promise seven months ago.

Leon’s expression didn’t change, but something tightened behind his eyes.

The lady dropped the act instantly as the countdown shimmered at the sides of the barrier. Her posture snapped into a combat stance.

She thrust upward violently and hung in the air for a while. From her back, two massive, feathered wings erupted with a sound like tearing canvas.

It beat once and sent a concussive blast of air across the platform that kicked up dust and made Leon brace himself.

"Whoa!"

In an instant, a single, razor-sharp feather detached and shot toward him like a dagger. Leon sidestepped, but the tip grazed his chin and drew a thin, stinging line of blood from him.

Dust swirled into a miniature tornado as she dove in a blur of movement.