Inside the Storage room,
Drip... Drip...
Blood dripped from Leo's body in heavy, sluggish drops as he leaned lifelessly against the cold wall. His trembling hand gripped the staff lodged into his stomach. The crimson liquid trailed down his torso and soaked into the floor, forming a thick, dark pool beneath his feet.
Crimson and cold...
Step... Step...
Footsteps echoed into the silence.
A man with jet-black hair stepped inside the ruined storage room. The door had been flung open violently, letting light pour over the dust-choked floor. The room was nearly empty, save for cobweb-covered corners and forgotten boxes, their contents long rotted away. It was clear no one had stepped in here for years—until now.
The man's sharp eyes scanned the room before settling on the broken figure of Leo. The boy's head was slumped forward, hair shadowing his face, body unmoving.
The man let out a long sigh as he stood in the doorway, a bitter look curling on his lips. "Tch... I can't believe it's come to this," he muttered, more to himself than to Leo. "You really are making me do dirty things, Master."
He scratched the back of his head, his expression shifting into a mix of frustration and something strangely soft—like guilt fighting annoyance. "Sigh... Sorry, kid. But this is your fate."
He walked toward Leo and gripped the staff that had impaled him. His fingers tightened around the staff, and he spoke again in a quieter tone, like a whisper meant only for dying ears.
"In your next life, try not to look at the things that should never be seen."
Without waiting for a response, he pulled the staff from Leo's stomach in one swift motion.
Chuckle...
Thuck!
Leo's body slid downward, collapsing into his own blood with a dull sound. The red pool rippled around him, staining his clothes even further.
The man lingered for a moment, staring at Leo's fallen form. His sharp gaze didn't miss the faintest twitch of the boy's fingers—subtle, but there.
"Tch. Still clinging to life, huh?" he murmured, a tired shake of the head following. "Doesn't matter. Either way, you won't survive."
He turned his foot, about to leave, but then his foot froze mid-step.
A faint shifting sound met his ear—the soft brush of dust being moved.
His eyes dropped down.
There, beneath his foot, the floor's dust had shifted slightly, revealing a carved mark... a small word.
"Hm?"
He rubbed the floor with the edge of his boot, brushing away more dust.
His eyes suddenly widened.
Below the dirt, a delicate but precise curvature came into view—etched into the ground.... A shape... A pattern... Familiar.
'Wait... isn't that... the summoning circle that calls us?' The thought hit him like a hammer, and his breath caught in his throat.
The blood continued spreading across the floor, creeping over the carved lines.
"....S....."
The man's head jerked up, eyes locking onto Leo's face.
The boy was still alive—barely. His eyes had cracked open, the dull gleam of indifference shining through as blood spilled from the corner of his lips. His mouth parted slightly, just enough to release a faint, dry whisper, barely louder than a breath.
"...Summon..."
Suddenly—
The magic circle beneath him lit up with an explosive green glow. The entire floor pulsed as if waking from centuries of slumber. In a blink, the blood was sucked into the lines like veins feeding a heart.
The man's body tensed all over. "YOU DARE!!" he roared, his voice trembling with rage.
Without hesitation, he lifted his staff high and swung it down, aiming directly at Leo's head, ready to crush his skull and end it before the summoning could complete.
Sssshhh----
Thuck!
The staff stopped.
Inches from Leo's forehead, the weapon was caught mid-air—halted by something invisible, unshakable.
A sudden chill swept through the room.
Green smoke hissed from the circle and rose like mist from the earth, swirling in the air with quiet majesty.
And then—
"Pathetic."
A voice rang out—cold, commanding, and divine.
The air trembled as if time itself paused to listen.
The man's eyes widened in horror. An unseen force struck him with violent force, hurling his body across the room and through the shattered door like he weighed nothing.
BOOM!!!
Leo, dazed and barely conscious, blinked as his vision blurred between blood and light.
From within the glowing circle, the smoke thickened and twisted, taking form—tall, graceful, terrifying.
A woman stepped forth, as if the light had given birth to her.
She was radiant. Unreal.
A young woman with long, flowing platinum hair that floated as if suspended in water, glowing softly like moonlight. Each strand shimmered, moving with a life of its own. Her skin was pale and flawless, smooth like sculpted ivory. Emerald green eyes stared ahead—cold, ancient, utterly detached—glowing faintly with power as if they saw through time itself.
She wore a gleaming set of armour that hugged her slim yet strong frame, crafted with elegance. It was etched with floral patterns and radiant runes that pulsed with green light. On her hand, a wooden sword—plain, but pulsing with overwhelming power. Sparks of yellow crackled in the air around her, and tiny green flames floated like lost souls, orbiting her body in reverence. [Imgincmt]
The moment she appeared, the air felt heavy, holy.
Leo could hardly breathe. His eyes trembled as he looked at her. Was she even real?
Awe washed over him. Not the kind born of beauty alone—but of something greater.
It was like witnessing a miracle.
The woman waved her hands at Leo, as the green smoke flew towards him... straight towards his wounds.
His body was healing. The gaping hole in his stomach sealed shut as threads of green light wove his flesh back together, layer by layer, restoring what was lost in a matter of seconds.
The woman stood above him, still, unmoving.
Her gaze fell to Leo.
For a long moment, they stared at each other.
Leo couldn't move. Couldn't speak. He didn't even know if it was fear or reverence gripping him.
She slowly parted her lips. Her voice was clear, low, and chilling—yet regal, like a queen addressing a subject unworthy of her presence.
"Are you worthy to be my Master?"
Leo's mouth opened, but no words came.
He wasn't just speechless—he was stunned to the bone.
Where the hell did she come from?
Why was she wearing armour like a warrior from another world?
What in the world was this glowing aura surrounding her—this feeling of being in the presence of something not human?
His mind raced, but none of it made sense.
Just then—
"Oi! You haven't told me you're the Master?!"
A sharp, serious voice rang out from outside the storage room. The young woman turned her head slowly, her platinum hair glimmering under the pale moonlight. The metallic clang of her armour echoed with every graceful step as she exited the broken room.
Her emerald eyes fixed on the man holding a staff, now standing in the open. Her gaze, sharp and judging.
"You raised your weapon against a man who had no defence," she said calmly, yet with unmistakable contempt. "Have you abandoned all sense of Pride... or were you simply born without it?"
The man let out a short, low chuckle, as if amused.
"No, no. You're misunderstanding me, Beauty. I never claimed to be Pride," he said, his smirk widening. Then, his tone darkened, his eyes gleaming. "I am Greed."
His staff spun once in his hand with a light hum of power.
"And judging by your attitude, your strength, and that sword—" he pointed with his chin, "you must be Pride."
The young woman didn't flinch. Her lips curled slightly—not into a smile, but into a faint expression of disdainful pride.
"Names are meaningless," she said, her voice calm but regal, "What matters is the vow I carry... and the will I wield. But if you must call me something..." She stepped forward slightly, her aura pressing down like invisible chains. "...Then yes. Call me Pride."
Greed's eyes briefly flicked toward the ruined storage room. Leo was limping out, staggering with each step, pale from blood loss but still standing.
Greed raised an eyebrow, scoffing softly. "Tch... I still can't believe a mere child managed to summon Pride. Hah—"
Tuck!
Before he could finish, the cold edge of a wooden sword rested against his throat.
Greed's expression twitched. The blade hadn't been there a second ago—she'd moved in an instant, faster than the eye could follow.
"Beauty, you really shouldn't strike while someone's speaking," he muttered with a strained grin, nudging her sword away with the end of his staff.
Pride didn't smile.
"Then do not speak," she said flatly, and stomped forward.
In a flash, she was in front of him again.
This time, her sword pierced forward, aimed straight at his chest.
Thuck!
Greed twisted his body just in time. The wooden blade scraped along his ribs, sending a flare of pain through him—but it missed his heart. Sparks of green and gold erupted from the contact, flashing like the breath of a battlefield come alive.
CLANG!
A powerful strike from above—Pride had leapt into the air, descending like divine judgment.
Her sword came down with brutal force on the staff he had barely managed to raise. The impact drove it down—and in that same breath—
CRACK!
Her heel slammed into his face with precision.
Greed was hurled backward, crashing through old crates and debris. Dust exploded into the air. The ground beneath him fractured from the force, leaving a shallow crater where he landed, groaning.
He slowly sat up, spitting out blood and wiping his bruised mouth.
"Tch... You're faster than I expected. Especially for someone swinging around a wooden toy," he grumbled, though the smirk never left his face.
Pride advanced slowly, her wooden sword hanging low at her side. Her emerald eyes were still as cold and emotionless as winter ice.
"Wood or steel—victory lies not in the blade, but in the hands that wield it."
Greed clicked his tongue and glanced between her and Leo, who stood nearby, swaying on his feet and watching with a bewildered, overwhelmed stare.
"Hah... So this brat really is your Master, huh? Guess I don't need to kill him after all." Greed took a step back, his figure beginning to fade into the shadows. "For now."
His grin returned with a mischievous lilt.
"Hehe~ Bye bye, Beauty~"
Pride's eyes narrowed. She raised her sword, preparing to pursue.
"Coward! Running away?!"
But—
"L-Let him go," Leo's voice came, weak and raspy.
Pride halted, blinking as she turned to look back at him.
"Are you sure?" she asked without turning her expression. "He's wounded. I could end him now."
Leo exhaled and shook his head slowly, using the wall for support.
"First of all... Who the hell are you? What were those light show attacks?! Is this... cosplay or some weird dream?" He paused, then threw his hands in the air. "No, wait—forget that! WHERE THE HELL AM I?!"
His voice echoed with frustration and confusion. He knew who he was—Leo, a bartender—and also something else. Something secret. Something even he didn't dare speak aloud.
But this place...
This room, these people, this power—it didn't match anything in his life.
He glanced around, heart racing. His surroundings felt both unfamiliar and... strangely familiar. As if he'd seen this in a dream—or a memory buried far too deep.
'Wait... did someone kidnap me?' he thought, panic flaring. 'Those four women... one of them kissed me and then—killed me?!'
Pride tilted her head at his outburst, clearly confused.
"What are you babbling about?"
But then she suddenly stiffened.
Her eyes darted upward.
She stepped in front of Leo protectively, raising her sword and glaring at the rooftop above them.
"Show yourself!" she commanded.
Leo squinted up, but his vision was still hazy. "Is it him again...? That Greed guy?" he rubbed his eyes, 'Why are my eyes still blurry?' he wondered.
But Pride shook her head slightly.
"No... it feels different."
Her grip tightened on her sword, a low growl escaping her throat as her eyes locked on the shadows above.
Then—
"It seems you've managed to summon Pride... Leo," a smooth voice echoed.
A woman dropped down from the roof with fluid grace, landing before them.
Leo blinked, eyes wide.
She had dark brown, wavy hair cascading to her waist, and wore elegant noble robes. Her presence was refined—mature—almost royal. Her eyes met his with a strange familiarity. [Imgincmt]
Leo frowned. "Wait... Do I know you?"
The woman tilted her head, surprised. "Looks like you've forgotten..." she said softly, almost disappointed, before her gaze flicked to Pride.
'Impossible,' she thought to herself, glancing at the sky where the pale moon shifted ever so slightly—then back at Pride with narrowed eyes.
Pride's brows furrowed.
Just then, a white-haired man stepped out from the shadows behind the brown-haired woman, his face calm and unreadable.
Pride didn't hesitate. Her sword raised instantly, pointed straight at him.
But the man ignored her.
"He ran off again," he muttered, clearly referring to Greed.
The noble woman clicked her tongue in annoyance. Then her attention shifted fully back to Leo.
"It seems we should talk... before anything else," she said, eyeing the sword still aimed in her direction.
Pride's shoulders tensed, but after a moment, she slowly lowered her weapon.