Leo stood up, his posture rigid, eyes blazing with an intensity that drew the attention of everyone on deck. The ship seemed to pause around him, as if even the wind had stilled, listening to the weight of what he was about to reveal.
"I… am a pure-blooded Lightlock," he began, his voice steady but layered with authority. "I don't have royal blood, but I carry Divine Blood. My father — Henry, or as most of you know him, King Henry — kept this secret from everyone except his most trusted soldiers."
He took a measured breath, eyes flicking toward the horizon for a moment, as if seeking strength from the endless sky. "I was found as a baby at the Rock where the Divine Light strikes. That day, my father saw twenty-three fallen Lightlocks lying on the ground—sacrifices meant to create a new protector. I… I was that protector."
A hush fell over the deck. The waves slowed as if in reverence, and even the gentle sway of the ship felt heavier, weighted by the gravity of Leo's words.
Ethan broke the silence first, his tone a mix of awe, disbelief, and challenge. "Hah… so you're just lucky with that Divine Blood of yours," he said, leaning back slightly. There was a teasing edge in his voice, but beneath it was clear respect—he could feel the truth of Leo's words resonating in the very air around them.
Helmond and Rein simply stared, mouths slightly agape, words failing them entirely. The revelation was sudden, monumental—something too enormous to digest all at once. Helmond's usual smirk was gone, replaced by a rare, quiet curiosity, while Rein's hands clenched lightly in her lap, her mind racing.
Alice, notebook momentarily forgotten, leaned forward, eyes wide. She scribbled furiously for a moment, then paused, letting the gravity of Leo's story sink in. The travelers exchanged astonished glances, sharing a silent acknowledgment of the story they were witnessing: the tale of the last remaining Lightlock, born from divine sacrifice.
For a heartbeat, the deck held only silence, each of them suspended between disbelief and awe. Slowly, the reality of Leo's bloodline settled into their minds, reshaping how they saw him—and perhaps how they saw the journey ahead.
Rein's voice trembled, words stuttering out despite her efforts to remain composed. "Now… it… it makes sense why your power is similar to theirs… but yours… yours are… completely different." Her gaze flicked briefly toward Alice, the faintest spark of jealousy igniting as she realized how absorbed Leo seemed in the story rather than in her.
Alice, oblivious to the subtle tension between them, leaned over her diary, writing furiously. "Based on everything I know about Lightlocks," she said thoughtfully, "their powers are usually limited to two main abilities: the Divine Light Blade and the Divine Light power boost. But yours… yours show so much variation and control. You're truly different."
Ethan let out a low whistle, a spark of mischief and challenge dancing in his eyes. "Well… that just makes me want to challenge you even more," he said, leaning back, tone teasing but underscored with genuine respect. He wasn't just testing Leo; he recognized the weight of his power and the rare potential it carried.
The air around them seemed charged, humming with tension, admiration, and unspoken emotion. Rein's quiet jealousy wove subtly through the group, mingling with awe at Leo's revelation. Everyone felt it—the gravity of his bloodline, the reality of the living legend standing before them.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The sea whispered around the ship, the sky stretched wide and endless above, and in that suspended silence, each member of the group processed the enormity of what they had just learned. Leo wasn't just another ally, or another fighter—he was the culmination of a legacy, living proof of sacrifice, power, and destiny.
Helmond's voice cut through the quiet hum of the ship, low but sharp, carrying an unmistakable weight. "Everyone… keep this information to yourselves," he said, eyes sweeping across the group with an intensity that made even the wind seem to pause. "If the other lands find out about Leo's bloodline, they might see him as a threat—or worse, try to eliminate him."
His gaze lingered on each member of the team, piercing and uncompromising, ensuring that they understood the gravity of his words. There was no room for misunderstanding. Helmond's caution wasn't mere strategy—it was personal. Beneath the stern tone lay genuine concern, a protective instinct aimed squarely at the last remaining Lightlock.
Leo gave a small nod, his expression calm but eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks for looking out for me, Helmond. I appreciate it," he said quietly, sincerity threading through his voice.
For a fleeting moment, the weight of responsibility lifted slightly, tempered by the presence of someone watching his back. Yet, even as he spoke, his mind betrayed him. His gaze drifted across the deck.
Rein…
She was leaning a little too close to Ethan, her laughter ringing bright and carefree over the wooden planks. The easy familiarity between them, the subtle tilt of her shoulder toward him, the way she smiled with unguarded delight—all of it struck Leo in a way he didn't expect.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation tightened in his chest. His stomach knotted, his hands clenched involuntarily at his sides. He tried to push it aside, focusing back on Helmond's protective warning, but the feeling wouldn't relent.
Jealousy.
He hated admitting it, hated how it made him feel small and uncertain, but there it was, raw and unyielding. Every laugh, every glance between Rein and Ethan, cut sharper than any blade. The earlier warmth of camaraderie and shared danger was replaced by an uneasy tension, an ache he couldn't name or control.
Leo's eyes lingered for a moment longer, watching them, heart hammering. The protective pride he felt toward his own bloodline clashed with this new, unsteady turmoil rising from within. He forced a breath, forcing his gaze to the horizon, trying to steady his thoughts. Yet even as the waves moved beneath the ship, relentless and unchanging, he realized something: he couldn't ignore this feeling—not if he wanted to understand himself, or the depth of what was stirring inside him.
The deck felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier. Helmond's warning hung in his ears, but now it was entangled with his own emotions—fear, concern, and the unfamiliar sting of jealousy. A storm of a different sort was building within him, one that no amount of divine blood or legacy could easily calm.