Fate/Thorns of Glory

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"Not all kings wear crowns. Some wear scars too deep to be seen."

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The summoning chamber was dim. The air smelled of myrrh and iron. A ritual not unlike others—but colder, deeper. Twisted with contradiction.

Holmes drew the circle, shaped not from reverence but reality. Not with offerings, but with memories. Scars.

Each line of the summoning circle carved a moment from forgotten pages:

—The tyrant's voice in senate chambers.

—The glare of a boy who took a city with nothing but fire.

—The final scream before a wall of enemies.

Sion fed the ritual the truth, line by line. "Not the warm king. Not the idol. Call the one who bled. Call the one who was hated. The one who chose to burn, not be loved."

The chant echoed.

And the world shivered.

The lights died, then turned violet-blue, casting long shadows across the room. Silence—until the circle pulsed. Once. Twice.

Then it cracked open.

A gust of wind blew outward, petals and ash dancing. And then—

He appeared.

Barefoot, elegant, standing tall.

Leonas.

The real one.

His robe was Greco-imperial, flowing white edged with silver patterns. His long silver-white hair framed a face too beautiful to be divine, too cruel to be kind. His eyes—narrow, regal, gleaming with cold fire.

He looked like a villainess from an old gothic tragedy. But real.

He didn't speak. He merely existed.

Ritsuka's breath caught. Mash instinctively stepped back. Even Gordolf, watching from the monitor, fell silent.

He looked at them, then turned to the screen where the fake utopia bloomed—sunlight-drenched Akrytos with smiling citizens and golden streets. At its center: a statue of him.

Smiling. Gentle. Peaceful.

Leonas stared. Still. Unmoving. Until—

A slow smirk, sharp as a blade.

His voice was low, velvet, wickedly composed.

"I hate lies."

"How dare these insects forget their king."

"I'll burn their heaven to ash."

The temperature in the room dropped. Magic spiked.

Something ancient and furious had awoken.

Da Vinci whispered, "That's… him."

Holmes smiled grimly. "The true King of Thorns."

He stepped forward.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty."

Leonas didn't even look at him.

Instead, his eyes stayed locked on the screen.

And somewhere in Akrytos …

…the marble statue cracked a little more.

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The villain has returned. And the fairy tale has begun to rot.

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End of Arc I: The Return of the King