Supreme Spouse System.

The Inferno Duel [Part-2]

"Sorry I'm late."

That voice—low, steady—cut through the chaos like a blade. Not sharp. Just calm. Familiar. Like a breath you didn't realize you were holding until it finally hit your lungs.

The attacker snapped back. His whole stance jolted—blade twisting up, thrown off by the sudden parry. He spun around on instinct, eyes wide, expression shifting the second he saw who was standing there.

"You—?!"

His voice cracked, like something had just split open inside it. He kept his sword raised, but his grip wasn't steady anymore. His fingers twitched. His hand trembled. There was too much shock in his eyes—too much recognition—as he locked them onto the man who'd just stepped into the fight.

Leon didn't look at him. Not right away.

His gaze slid sideways, slow and measured, golden eyes burning like embers. Not flaring. Not soft. Just a quiet, simmering fury. Like a predator picking up the scent of something too familiar. He didn't blink. Didn't speak at first. But in the silence, something behind his stare cracked open—something old and ruthless, barely held back—as he finally breathed out one word:

"…You're here just in time, Captain."

From the smoke and shattered stone behind him, another figure stepped forward.

Black armor—scarred, scorched, dented. Smeared with ash and streaks of blood. But still upright. Still moving like a man who'd seen too much war and learned to walk through it like it was weather. His steps were slow, steady, deliberate. The kind of movement that didn't need to prove anything.

A shallow cut bled down the side of his cheek. The plating on his left arm had cracked clean through from an earlier strike. But none of it seemed to weigh him down. It didn't touch the weight he carried when he moved.

Captain Black.

He didn't say a damn thing.

He just acted.

A flash of silver and iron—then the crash of steel. His blade slammed full-force into the enemy's sword—the same one that had been raised against Leon just seconds before. One clean, brutal motion.

He shoved forward.

And it landed hard.

The attacker was driven back, forced to stagger, boots scraping across fractured stone. He barely kept his footing, trying to rebalance as raw strength thundered through the clash.

Then—another figure tore onto the scene.

Ronan.

He came in fast, like he couldn't afford to breathe. His cloak, tattered and half-burned, snapped behind him as he ran. His face was streaked with soot and sweat, hair sticking to his skin. But his eyes—those sharp, searching eyes—swept across the battlefield like a blade, catching every detail in a single blink.

"Lord Leon!" he called out, voice raw, shredded by fatigue.

But then he saw him.

And the second he did, he stopped.

Just stopped.

Ronan's body tensed, his legs locked for half a second before he lunged, falling into a crouch beside Leon. His breath hitched—his eyes dropped—landing hard on the damage.

His jaw clenched.

Burns ran across Leon's shoulder and down his arm, skin blistered and red. The remnants of his shirt were barely hanging on, shredded and fused into scorched flesh. Blood had seeped into the waistband of his trousers, dark and thick. There were cuts, too—some fresh, some still oozing—that had torn dangerously close to the ribs.

"Are you—?" Ronan's voice caught, breaking off before he could finish.

Leon finally turned to look at him.

Despite the wreckage carved into his body, his golden eyes held something strange. Not rage. Not pain. Just... calm. Like he was holding both fire and sky inside him, refusing to let either spill.

He gave a dry, rasping chuckle, and pressed one hand to his bleeding side.

"Ah… Ronan. Don't worry," he muttered, voice hoarse but steady. "You know what they say—blood and scars are a warrior's jewelry, right?"

Ronan hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. A faint smile touched his lips as he bowed slightly. "Yes, my Lord... I know. But—" The words caught in his throat and faded away.

Before he could continue, Leon's expression grew sharp once more. His eyes flicked toward Captain Black, authority returning to his voice.

"You're supposed to be handling the evacuation. Why are you here? Is it complete?"

Captain Black stepped forward, tone serious. "The northern and southern districts are fully cleared, my Lord. All civilians have been safely evacuated outside the city and into secure zones."

Leon nodded firmly. "And the east?"

Black continued without pause, "Evacuation is still underway. Lady Tsubaki and her groups and Lady Aria and her groups, alongside Vice-Captain Johny's squad, are leading the final groups out."

"And the west district!" Black's eyes narrowed as he added. "We're currently standing in it, my Lord."

Leon's jaw tightened, his nod slow and resolute. "Good."

But while the others moved with purpose, Ronan remained still. His brow furrowed, lips parting as if weighing every word before speaking. His hand clenched at his side.

"My Lord… there's something urgent I must tell you."

Leon's focus snapped back instantly. "What happened, Ronan?"

Ronan took a sharp breath. His chest rose—heavy with the weight of what he was about to say.

But before he could speak, a gust of wind tore through the street.

Magic.

A deep, pulsing wave of energy exploded through the air—shuddering through stone, sky, and flesh like some divine warning.

All three men turned, instincts sharp.

Up ahead, in the middle of the broken street, three black-hooded figures reappeared. Silent. Swift. Moving like shadows with eyes.

Then—another figure dropped behind them. A cloak fluttered around him, the edges ragged and burned from some earlier blast. He landed soundlessly, riding the last breath of that dying wind. The magic he'd used had cleared the space around him—like the street itself bowed away.

The air stilled.

His hood slipped back.

His face was pale—too pale. Smooth, eerie, unnaturally perfect. His jet-black eyes caught the dim firelight and shimmered with something twisted.

And when he smiled… it was the kind that made skin crawl.

His gaze slid to Ronan and Black, both now flanking Leon.

"Well, well," he murmured, voice soft and laced with venom. "Looks like the pet dogs came running to protect their master. Saves us the trouble of hunting them down."

He chuckled. Cold. Delighted.

Behind him, the three other figures laughed too—low and mirthless, their voices echoing down the shattered street.

Leon didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

But his presence… shifted.

He stepped forward slightly, and the air around him thickened. His aura pressed down like a storm front rolling in. Beside him, Black and Ronan matched the motion—shoulders squaring, weapons tightening in their grip.

Ronan leaned in, voice low. "We'll deal with him, Lord. But listen to me. We must leave Silver City. Now."

Leon didn't take his eyes off the enemy. "Why?"

Ronan's voice dropped to a grim hush. "The Silver City's underground… is rigged."

Leon blinked once, sharply. "Rigged?"

"Yes, Lord. Rigged. The entire underground beneath Silver City is laced with over fifty high-grade explosive runes. All of them hidden deep in the sewer system—positioned beneath civilian areas. Beneath your mansion too."

Leon's chest clenched, his blood running cold.

"What… the hell are you saying, Ronan?" he murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

But before Ronan could answer, the enemy leader let out a high, chilling laugh. "Oh? So, you found out. Sneaky little rat."

Ronan didn't stop.

"Lord, you remember—after our talk earlier, I left the mansion with an elite force. We moved toward the southern district, and when we reached the front of the Iron Mug tavern... I saw our patrol soldiers lying in the street, looking dead."

Leon's eyes narrowed, disbelief and dread creeping in. "Sleeping gas?"

Ronan nodded once, eyes dark. "Exactly, Lord. I investigated and realized they were knocked out using some kind of enhanced sleeping gas. I entered the tavern to search for more... but it was empty. Strangely silent."

He paused, then added grimly, "That's when the explosion shook Silver City. A blast so strong, it made the entire district tremble. My soldiers and I rushed out to understand what had happened—but even behind the tavern, the impact had left its mark. Everything shook from the force of it. But then… behind the counter, we saw something."

Leon remained silent, his gaze fixed, listening intently.

"There was an opening. A secret passage. My gut told me something was hidden beneath, so I followed it. At the bottom, I found a hidden door in the floor. It led to a massive underground basement… completely empty."

Ronan took a breath, his voice tight.

"But the runes… they were everywhere. Etched into the walls, the floor—ancient, complex… and worse, the basement connects directly to the sewer system. They've placed runes at every hundred-meter mark. All of them linked to a time-based enchantment."

Leon's blood ran cold.

Black hissed through clenched teeth. "That's—insane." A curse slipped under his breath. "How much time do we have?"

Ronan's face had gone pale. He hesitated for a moment, then answered grimly, "From what I calculated… at best, ten minutes. Maybe less."

Just then, a chuckle echoed nearby. The enemy leader stepped forward, voice amused. "Well, well... looks like the rat sniffed out the trap. I really underestimated you, Lord Ronan."

Leon's jaw tightened. "You're planning to erase Silver City… from the map."

The man's grin widened, casual and venomous. "Exactly. Took you long enough to understand, Your Grace. But yes—that's been the plan all along."

Leon's fists clenched in fury.

Behind him, Captain Black and Ronan ground their teeth, the weight of realization hitting them hard.

But something else gnawed at Leon. If they had already detonated ten runes… why not set off the remaining fifty all at once? Why delay?

His eyes narrowed, voice steady but sharp. "If it's a timed rune… why haven't you triggered all of them already?"

The enemy shrugged, smug. "They require energy. Blood. Chaos. Destruction feeds them. Once the city falls into enough ruin… the runes draw in the energy, and then—boom. And tonight, not just Silver City— the entire Moonstone Kingdom will shake."

Ronan and Black exchanged horrified glances.

Leon's expression darkened further. But then the leader's voice grew smoother, almost purring. "Oh, Duke Leon… I see it now. That look in your eyes—you recognize this setup, don't you?"

Leon's golden eyes flickered. In the depths of his memory, something old stirred. Yes. He did.

"I know these runes…" he murmured. "Runes of devastation."