As his voice—harsh as the frigid wind sweeping across the frozen crater—rang out, everyone held their breath.
Hugo met those fierce eyes and recalled the moment last night when he had thrown firewood onto a dying bonfire. Just as the flames had flared back to life, the sharp gaze he was seeing again for the first time in a while now blazed with a hunger as if it might consume him whole.
Of course, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t foreseen this. He had simply hoped Leonardo wouldn’t catch on.
Leonardo, however, took Hugo’s prolonged silence as confirmation of his own suspicions. Once convinced, he didn’t need a reply. Instead, he began listing the conclusions he’d drawn, each one sounding like a demand for explanation.
“You wanted to see if I’d recklessly burn through mana I couldn’t control.”
“...”
“You thought the water would make me easier to rein in. So, even though you’d already arrived nearby, you just stood there watching instead of stepping in—right?”
His lips twisted into a sneer.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice your mana?”
For all the heat in his gaze, the voice spilling from his mouth was cold as ice.
Flynn shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Leonardo’s frigid fury and the Commander’s unshaken calm.
It had been Flynn who kept pressing Leonardo to act when he’d been hesitant to intervene, giving him looks that pleaded for help.
And yes, the Commander had told them to wait and watch when they’d arrived—but that was because the battle was already raging, not because he’d set out to test him from the start.
Flynn knew the Commander was always mindful of Leonardo’s unstable control, always worrying over it.
So he thought: if he hadn’t created the situation that forced Leonardo into the water in the first place, this anger wouldn’t exist—and it wouldn’t be aimed at the Commander. The thought left him with a needless weight of guilt.
“Blaine, that’s because—”
Just as Flynn began to explain, the 8th Platoon leader—who had been silently watching Leonardo vent his anger at her superior—spoke abruptly, cutting across the growing tension.
“Leonardo Blaine, I acknowledge that you greatly aided in rescuing our platoon members, and I’m grateful. But your current words are deeply disrespectful, and you’re clearly mistaken.”
Leonardo’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting toward her. Flynn, too, fell silent, looking her way. She met Leonardo’s eyes head-on and continued, her voice steady.
“The Commander’s involvement in battle is for the purpose of subjugating the Elder Millie Peninsula. It is not something you have the right to criticize as if his intervention were a given. He refrained because he judged it to be within our capabilities to handle. Even if he had been testing you, that would have been a calculated measure for the safety of all. Refrain from any further disrespect toward the Commander.”
Leonardo’s brows twitched. He asked, his voice like frost:
“So you’re saying that even if I find out I’m being tested, I should just swallow it in silence for the so-called greater good?”
The air went still again. Leonardo let out a humorless laugh, laced with disbelief.
“And what? ‘Necessary for safety’? What, do you think I’d kill you all?”
“Blaine!”
Her voice rose sharply, her glare cutting at him for the sarcasm, but Leonardo ignored her completely, his eyes locked solely on Hugo as if demanding he speak for himself.
Meeting that gaze, Hugo exhaled quietly, then finally broke the silence.
“I won’t make excuses.”
Several members’ eyes widened at the Commander’s voice. Even Flynn and the platoon leader looked faintly surprised.
In the frozen air, Hugo went on evenly:
“It’s true—I tested you.”
“Ha—”
Leonardo couldn’t decide whether to thank him for admitting it outright or to laugh at the absurdity. But he bared his teeth in a glare and demanded in a low voice:
“Why was that necessary? Do you still think I’m lacking?”
Watching the tightly coiled agitation in him, Hugo turned briefly toward the platoon leader.
“Platoon Leader Russell, thank you for speaking on my behalf. But this time, I want to speak to Leonardo directly. Would you give us a moment?”
Russell glanced between them. When Hugo’s eyes told her it was fine, she gave a short salute and stepped back, signaling the others to follow.
The 8th Platoon withdrew until they were far enough not to hear a word. Only then did Hugo return his gaze to Leonardo—still glaring—and say:
“Leonardo, my concern wasn’t that you’d harm the members intentionally. It was that something could go wrong even if you didn’t mean it. What just happened was a safe opportunity to confirm that. As you said—if you’re in the water and your control falters beyond your ability to rein it in, I can take over.”
Hugo’s tone was calm, but Leonardo’s hostility only burned hotter.
“I said I don’t need that. I said I’d handle it myself!”
The force of it hit like an unchecked blaze. Hugo closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
“I’m sorry, but I disagree. When I observed your underwater combat, I caught multiple moments where your mana control was unstable—and one was dangerously so. You must have felt it too.”
At that, Leonardo recalled the instant when the monster’s venomous stinger went for the platoon leader and he’d instinctively launched a long-range attack. He’d thrown up a barrier immediately, bracing for the large-scale impact he expected.
Yet the underwater blast and whirlpool had been much smaller than he’d calculated.
Sensing Hugo’s faint mana then, Leonardo had known instantly that he was nearby—watching, dampening the explosion, testing him.
It hadn’t felt like protection. It had felt like deception.
“Even without your interference, I could have stopped it. I’d already cast a barrier—there was no real danger.”
“Well, I disagree.”
Leonardo’s expression tightened at the unwavering reply.
Hugo had intervened in other moments as well: when the monster slammed into the lake wall, he had softened the impact with water resistance; when Leonardo destroyed it, he had dampened the shock so the others wouldn’t be caught.
But he didn’t list those things now.
Leonardo’s anger, however, wasn’t only about being doubted or tested.
He bit his lip, words threatening to spill, then ran a hand roughly through his hair. Forcing his ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ voice steady, though it trembled with restrained emotion, he said:
“You said you’d try to trust me.”
Hugo flinched faintly. That slight tremor in Leonardo’s voice made it clear his contorted expression wasn’t fueled by anger alone.
Leonardo met his eyes, forcing the words out.
“If you said you’d trust me—then even if no one else did, you should have. You should have trusted I wouldn’t harm them. That I—”
How much I tried not to hurt them.
He swallowed the rest. Agrizendro might not realize it, but from the moment he’d entered the water, he’d done everything to ensure no one was injured—destroying enemies cleanly, erecting a barrier when the monster hit the wall, detonating the last one only after confirming it had no acid inside, all to minimize the blast.
But like Hugo, he chose not to list those things aloud.
Hugo’s expression grew faintly complicated.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
But Leonardo’s emotions surged past restraint, spilling over.
“If you couldn’t trust me, why remove the handcuffs at all? No—why bring me here?”
“...”
“You should’ve just left me rotting in a cell.”
“Leonardo.”
His name came in a deep, stern voice, making him flinch—but he bit his lip harder.
I’m the only idiot here. The only one who thought there was a bond. In the water—where I’m most vulnerable—I was on edge, afraid my mana might catch someone else. And all the while, he was watching, measuring me, never truly trusting. I’m the only one who trusted. Like a fucking fool.
Hugo stepped forward, but Leonardo retreated a pace. Seeing this, Hugo halted and said:
“It’s true I tested you. But it wasn’t because I doubted you. I trusted you—that’s why I took off the cuffs and put you in charge of the rear.”
It was a calm explanation, but the golden eyes fixed on him twisted with incomprehension.
“Then why do it at all?”
