The team returned to their residence within the obsidian stronghold—more a fortress than an inn, nestled deep into the heart of the ant city's volcanic bedrock. The air still pulsed faintly with the echo of their latest battle. The weight of Leon's near-defeat hung over them all, even as silence settled in.
Leon lay on his cot, shirtless, chest bandaged. Roselia sat beside him, methodically dabbing a salve onto the worst bruises while the others gave him space.
"How long until you think you can stand again?" she asked quietly.
Leon grimaced as she touched a cracked rib. "A day. Maybe two."
"You're lying," she muttered, not unkindly. "It'll be three."
He didn't argue.
Across the room, Naval was seated cross-legged, meditating. Roman stood like a silent sentinel at the door. Milim paced restlessly, twirling a mana spark between her fingers, occasionally stealing glances at Leon's injuries.
"So," Milim finally asked, breaking the silence. "Who is Rank One?"
