The World Hunter Guild's arena had changed.
Once a training ground of stone and sweat, it was now a gleaming stadium filled with holographic monsters, automated obstacles, and stands for spectators. Leon leaned against a shadowed pillar near the upper balcony, unseen. He watched as a young hunter stood in the center of the field, blade drawn, surrounded by summoned beasts.
The crowd roared as the youth danced between attacks with precise footwork and flashing steel. The boy was good fast, confident, and clearly groomed for attention. His hair was silver, armor custom-forged, and his movements… familiar.
Too familiar.
Leon narrowed his eyes.
"He's using my style."
Not perfectly. It was more rigid, more rehearsed. But the core of it the footwork, the angles, the flow between strikes was unmistakable. It was a variation of the Ashbourne Form, one Leon had developed in his early days as a hunter.
The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium:
"There it is! Another clean sweep by Vale Arven, the rising prodigy of the Guild! Rumors say he's already cleared a triple-A dungeon at just eighteen!"
The crowd cheered. Leon didn't move.
Vale Arven. A name he'd never heard before. But the boy's weapon an obsidian longsword trimmed with silver was too familiar. It wasn't identical to Leon's old blade… but it was inspired by it.
"Built on borrowed legacy," Leon muttered.
As the match ended and Vale raised his blade to the crowd, a guildmaster stepped onto the field. Leon recognized him Darius Vane, once a was his comrade, now clad in golden robes and speaking as if he ruled the continent.
Leon's eyes darkened.
Darius clapped the boy on the shoulder and turned to the audience.
"This is the future of our Guild! A blade born from the teachings of our fallen heroes!"
Leon's hands curled into fists beneath his cloak.
"You mean the ones you betrayed."
He turned away, shadows hissing quietly at his back. The Guild had replaced him with a new face, new stories, a polished lie. But a blade no matter how sharp was still just steel in the wrong hands.
Let them cheer.
The real legend had returned. And soon, they'd remember what a true blade could do.