Fate To Fake: Loved by the Fallen; Fated to Kill the Divine

"...." Leo's eyes trembled.

He bit down hard on his lip, so hard it almost drew blood. His fingers clenched around the paper as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to hide the wetness forming there. Then, without saying a word, he folded the letter with care, slipped it into his pocket, and walked out of the room.

He didn't look back.

The figure silently watched him go. Its gaze lingered on the empty space Leo left behind. A soft, inaudible sigh escaped before its form flickered and dissolved into a drifting mist, disappearing without a trace.

Leo entered his room slowly, a pained expression carved deep into his face. His steps were heavy. He grabbed a glass of water and took a long, shaky breath as he leaned against the table.

He stared at the surface, his reflection trembling in the water.

He should have rested. He should have laid down and cleared his mind.

But instead—

He sat down.

And began planning.

A plan to save Ophis.

She had written that her story would end tomorrow night.

That meant he had time—barely a day... One night. Just enough to prepare.

And for that, he had to deal with Dracula.

To face Dracula, he needed to understand his own body first—truly understand it. The strength that surged inside him wasn't just raw muscle. It was something else. Something awakened.

Acting like he knew what he was doing and rushing out now would be suicide. He'd get himself killed. That wouldn't save Ophis—it would only add to the tragedy.

He clenched his fists, eyes narrowing.

He wasn't even sure if this was the right path. But still…

He sat down on the floor and slowly crossed his legs. His hands rested on his knees. His shoulders dropped.

A deep breath in.

A slow breath out.

Again.

And again.

Deep inhale...

Deep exhale...

He had to feel it. That energy before. The engine that had once given him energy to lift something heavy... The force that had surged through him and made him stronger than ever before.

He needed to find that again.

'Every single cell in your body must desire… only one thing.'

The words echoed in his mind.

That was the trigger... The condition.

For the Mana Breathwork to activate, every cell—every fiber of his being—needed to scream out for a single goal.

His chest rose and fell.

But nothing changed. Just normal breathing. No reaction. No energy. No fire.

He needed a desire strong enough to pull it out.

Something primal.

Something his body couldn't ignore.

What was it?

To save Ophis?

Of course… that was the obvious answer.

But…

It wasn't working.

His body wasn't responding.

"Come on!!" Leo's voice cracked as he clenched his fists tighter. "I need to save her… Please…"

His breathing grew faster, harder—almost suffocating.

He focused everything on that one thought: saving Ophis. But still… his body didn't move. No reaction.

No power.

Why? It was his desire, wasn't it?

Then why?

Just then… deep in the back of his mind, something echoed faintly. A voice. A thought not entirely his own.

'Is that what you truly desire?'

The question echoed again, clearer this time.

Leo froze.... His fists trembled.

Of course, that was what he wanted... wasn't it?

But then, his eyes blinked wide.

Did he?

Yes, he wanted to save her. He cared. But there was… something else. Something deeper. Something that clawed at the back of his heart more savagely than anything else.

A desire buried beneath guilt and purpose.

Something darker.... wonderful!

It wasn't just about saving her.

It was about regaining something he lost.

One that had been born the night he fell.

One that had burned into his bones when he lay broken in front of Ophis.

Ophis had seen him fall.... She had seen him broken—humiliated—crushed like an insect.

An eye for an eye... A tooth for a tooth.

His pride.

He couldn't accept that ending. Not like that.

Not after being looked down on.

Not after being treated like a bug.

His jaw clenched. A slow fire burned in his chest.

"I see…"

His voice came out low. Heavy.

"Well then…"

He closed his eyes again.

This time, there was no breath.

Just silence.

A single thought formed in the dark.

The thought of stomping Dracula's head into the ground. Crushing him... Humiliating him!!

Reclaiming everything that had been stripped away.

That vision alone was enough.

Ba-dump.

His heart skipped a beat.

Then—

SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

A strange hissing noise erupted in the room. His mouth snapped open. His teeth clenched. Air began to swirl violently around him.

It rushed in—ripping across his tongue, crawling along the insides of his cheeks, diving into his throat like a spiralling vortex. It funnelled into his windpipe and blasted straight into his lungs.

His chest stretched wide—too wide.

His ribs cracked, expanded like metal under pressure. His lungs ballooned to impossible sizes, glowing faintly.

Then—

BOOM!

They compressed—pistons slamming down like an engine forged by gods.

The air was purified, spun, twisted—transformed.

It shot into his bloodstream.

And his blood drank it like it had waited for centuries.

A tremor ran through his limbs.

His body shuddered.

Muscles spasmed. Veins surged. A deep growl rumbled from within him. It started in his gut and rolled up his throat like a storm about to explode.

His heart thundered. His skin buzzed. His bones felt like lightning had struck through them.

TTTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

The surge exploded.

Every cell ignited.

His spine arched. His fingers clawed into the wooden floor. His back bulged.

He opened his eyes slowly.

They glowed.

Reddish black deeply!!

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of Leo's house, the cloaked figure stood silently.

It didn't flinch as the air around the house began to tremble and pulse unnaturally.

It simply watched.

'Looks like he's made a decision, Master…' the figure whispered inwardly.

There was silence.

Then, a voice—deep, possessive, and filled with dangerous authority—echoed into the figure's mind.

'Protect him. Even if it costs you your life, my Champion.'

****

Next Morning,

Inside Leo's room, the air felt thick and humid.

Leo sat unmoving in the same meditative posture he had held since the night before. He hadn't shifted even an inch. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his skin glistening with sweat that dripped down his neck. The wooden floor beneath him was soaked—dark, warped, as if he had been sitting in a pool of water.

Even though he'd managed to inhale the mana on the first try the night before, he refused to grow overconfident. Again and again, he repeated the breathwork, each cycle dragging deeper into his muscles and bones. Gradually, his body began to understand it—accept it—as something natural rather than forced.

He needed to be certain it hadn't been a fluke.

So he kept going.

Over and over.

A shaky exhale escaped his lips, fogging the air in front of him.

Leo sighed, his chest rising as he gasped slightly. A sharp heat flared inside his ribs, swelling like a furnace. Without even realising it, his chest glowed faintly beneath his skin—each breath fanning the ember into a small sun, a hot engine roaring inside him... all night!

Now it slowly cooled down.

His throat was dry, scratchy from so many hours of controlled breathing. Slowly, Leo opened his eyes and forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled at first, stiff from the lack of motion. He staggered a little but caught himself against the desk before he could fall.

"Steady…" he murmured to himself, forcing balance.

Moving carefully, he reached for the glass of water he'd left out the night before. He tipped it back, swallowing every drop in a single gulp. It wasn't cold, but as it ran down his throat, he could almost feel it extinguishing the heat that had been burning inside him all night, sending a wave of relief that made him shudder.

A long sigh left his lips, curling into a faint haze in the air like steam off quenched iron. He clenched and unclenched his fist experimentally.

It was strange—he really was stronger. He could feel it in every movement. Whether it was the mana breathwork or something else, he didn't know, but even standing still, there was a subtle power thrumming through his veins.

After doing all night... something must have happened to his body.

"That's good," he whispered to himself, voice hoarse but satisfied.

He glanced at his arms, noting how his biceps looked slightly tighter, more defined. A small, satisfied smile curled on his lips. He headed toward the training hall, eager to put his growing power to the test.

He needed to test it. To see if this strength was really different or not.

Standing in front of the old punching bag, Leo took a steadying breath. He raised his fist and punched, just with normal force.

The bag swayed gently on its chain, creaking a little. He nodded to himself, satisfied.

Then, he stepped back, closed his eyes, and took a slow, deliberate inhale, feeling the mana coil tightly into his chest.

This time, he locked that heat, that energy, inside his chest—like a trigger he could pull.

He let it surge outward as he punched.

Thuck!

His fist tore straight through the leather bag, splitting it open. Sand poured out in a slow cascade onto the floor.

Leo blinked at the hole in disbelief, then glanced at his own hand, curling his fingers slowly.

"…Holy shit," he whispered with a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He shook out his knuckles and turned toward the wooden training dummy. Picking up a stopwatch from the shelf, he clicked it on. He'd let his body move how it wanted, relying on muscle memory and instinct rather than conscious thought.

His movements flowed automatically. His body remembered every basic strike and form.

It was like letting the water flow freely rather than being controlled.

Thud!

Thud.

Thud!

Thud.

His strikes landed in clean, precise bursts, echoing through the quiet hall. His breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping down his temple as he moved.

"Ha… Ha…" he panted between swings, sweat flicking from his chin. "Five minutes…"

He glanced at the stopwatch and nodded to himself.

Not bad.

Taking a brief pause, Then, he closed his eyes again and inhaled—deeper this time. The power coiled in his chest, thicker than before.

Then,

Thud! Thud Thud! Thud Thud! Thud!

Thud! Thud Thud! Thud!

Each impact hit faster and sharper than the last, until his lungs burned and his vision fuzzed around the edges. He stumbled back, coughing hard.

"Cough—cough—"

He glanced down at the stopwatch and let out a breathless laugh.

"Two minutes…"

His grin widened into something fierce.

"Man… this doesn't just boost strength—it's ramping up my speed, too. What a monstrous technique…"

He wondered, for a moment, what his old world would have done if they'd discovered something like this. What wars could have been won. What tyrants might have been created.

And in this world… it was the same. Power like this would make anyone dangerous... For common people!

He let out a long, steady breath, feeling some of the tension slip off his shoulders. He was as ready as he could be.

Now he needed to clear his head.

He walked to the bathroom to wash away the sweat and grime from the night. After cleaning up and doing his usual morning routine, he changed into fresh clothes. His reflection in the mirror looked different somehow—sharper around the eyes.

Before leaving, he walked through the living room, casting a glance toward the kitchen and Raphael's closed door.

"Looks like she's busy in the hospital," he murmured with a thoughtful expression, "being a doctor must be a painful...hmm..."

He also looked for the cloaked figure but it seems it was not in the house.

He turned away, pulled on his jacket, and stepped out into the morning air. He locked the door behind him carefully, making sure everything was secure.

Then he started walking.

The next destination was...

Valra's house.

Since they'd exchanged numbers over lunch, talking, it hadn't taken much effort to get her address when he called.

And when he finally arrived…

"…It's big," he muttered under his breath, unable to hide the awe in his voice.