The thunderlight faded from the wrecked battlefield. Leon slowly stepped forward, flicking off the lingering arcs of lightning from his hand. Kaiser came up beside him, standing shoulder to shoulder as they stared ahead at the empty field.

Neither of them showed much expression. Though just moments ago Kaiser had been shaken by Leon stepping into the realm of the divine, now that he’d steadied himself, he knew—even an attack of that apocalyptic scale wouldn’t be enough to deal fatal damage to Atos.

As the dust cleared, Atos staggered up from the deep crater, dragging his ravaged body. He hunched his back, raising his right hand high into the air. The cursed sword, which had been knocked away by Kaiser’s lightning, seemed to sense Atos’s call. Across nearly ten meters, it turned into a streak of violet light, slashed through the sky, and landed perfectly into his grasp.

"I thought you'd at least show some surprise," Kaiser said quietly.

Leon shook his head and replied in a low voice, "I’ve always had a long-standing standard for judging whether I’ve actually won a battle."

The battlefield was tense and solemn, but Kaiser didn’t mind taking a few extra seconds to hear this ‘standard’ Leon spoke of.

So he asked, "And what is that?"