Roselia trained beside him most often, her bladeplay synchronizing effortlessly with his now-elevated Shell Pulse tempo. Sometimes, they didn't speak for hours—just moved, sweat, adapted. Trust built not through words but through rhythm.
Naval, reserved as ever, helped tune Leon's senses with silent sparring—focusing on the unseen, the subtle motions, the slight tells. His style, all faint breath and displacement, proved the perfect foil to Leon's explosiveness.
Roman ran simulations, clashing golems made from volcanic ore to test Leon's endurance and counter-strategy. And Liliana? She took a scholarly role, helping Leon theorize what might lie in the next tiers above—even scrying echoes of distant domains, collecting scattered pages of Ascender lore.
But Milim—wild, wonderful Milim—she was the one who never let Leon sit still too long.
