Chapter 73: The Absent Anchor

A sudden, sharp series of thudding knocks aggressively rattled the wood of the entryway door, instantly fracturing the silence of the luxury guest suite.

Leo’s eyes snapped wide open. He lunged upright on the mattress, his chest heaving rapidly as a cold bead of sweat traced down his sharp jawline. He automatically tracked the digital system timer pulsing in the upper periphery of his vision.

[SURVIVAL DEADLINE: 08:59:45 REMAINING]

The afternoon sun was already dipping low over the high white stone walls of Zhelora, casting long, unyielding shadows across the plush carpet. Gritting his teeth against the pressure in his chest, Leo swung his long legs off the bed frame, walked over to the entrance, and twisted the brass deadbolt.

The door swung inward, revealing Alistair Roslav standing on the marble walkway. The purple-haired older prince had completely discarded his cynical, mocking posture from the arena lines. He wore a pristine, relaxed casual designer shirt, his sharp violet eyes carrying a genuine layer of friendly respect as he looked up at Leo.

"Oh, you woke up finally," Alistair said smoothly, a relaxed, easy grin tracing his handsome jawline. "I was beginning to think our palace beds were too comfortable for you. I hope you are not feeling tired anymore from the warehouse ambush?"

Leo hesitated for a second, his fingers tightening slightly against the doorframe as he forced his voice into a calm, disciplined rumble to mask the frantic drumming of his pulse. "No... no, I don't feel tired much, Alistair. I am recovering quite quickly."

"Perfect," Alistair chuckled warmly, stepping past him into the spacious center of the room with absolute, unbothered high-society etiquette. He turned around slowly, crossing his arms as his gaze locked onto Leo’s exceptionally broad shoulders. "To be completely direct with you, Leo... I came here because I want to learn swordsmanship from you. I want you to train me."

Leo blinked his dark eyes in total surprise, a wave of profound confusion rushing through his intellect. "Train you? Look, Alistair... I'm really not a professional instructor. The styles I use are just... raw instincts."

"Don't be so incredibly humble, brother," Alistair laughed out loud, his voice carrying a rich, appreciative depth that completely shattered his previous haughty pride. "I saw you out there on the arena sands. Every single soldier in the royal army saw how you flawlessly spun past Prince Felipe's elite guard and dismantled his defenses with pure, brutal dominance. Your skill levels are entirely out of range. I won't take no for an answer, okay? Don't deny me this request."

Leo let out a long, grounded breath, his mind reeling as he tried to calculate the situation. Trapped between a death-penalty clock and a royal prince begging for combat lessons, he had zero cards left to play. "Fine... okay. I'll show you a few tricks later."

"Excellent!" Alistair's violet eyes flashed with an intense, happy satisfaction, and he playfully patted Leo’s uninjured shoulder. "Come downstairs to the central courtyard plaza after you get properly refreshed. And don't worry about any distractions, Eleanor isn't even inside the palace today, so she won't be around to disrupt our training sessions all day."

The exact microsecond the words left Alistair's lips, the air inside the guest wing turned entirely sub-zero.

Leo’s body went completely rigid. A sudden, terrifying wave of anxious panic hit his chest like a physical blow. He stepped forward aggressively, his dark eyes narrowing into razor slits as he stared down into the prince's face. "Wait... what do you mean by that, Alistair? What do you mean she's not here?"

Alistair blinked, a highly comical, teasing smirk suddenly tracing his lips as he noticed Leo's sudden, intense agitation. "My, my... look at that face. Do you honestly miss her already after just a single morning? That is remarkably sweet. But you'll have to maintain your royal patience. Our mother forcefully decided that the engagement preparations were completely delayed, so she dragged Eleanor onto a private jet lines at dawn. They flew out to another country's fashion sector to complete the custom gown shopping."

Leo felt a visceral, spine-chilling horror pool straight into his stomach, his entire system going completely numb. Another country?

"When..." Leo’s voice cracked slightly under the sheer, crushing pressure. "When exactly will they come back?"

"They won't return until tomorrow morning," Alistair grinned mischievously, turning on his heel to walk back toward the corridor exit doors. "So the palace is entirely ours for the day. Take your time getting ready."

Leo stood frozen in the center of the floorboards, the regular ambient sounds of the palace completely fading into absolute nothingness in his ears. His mind was in a complete, chaotic storm. Eleanor was gone. She was entirely out of range. The System mandate was absolute: he had to physically claim her before midnight tonight, or his heart would permanently stop beating in reality forever. But she was thousands of miles across the big ocean, completely locked away until tomorrow.

There was absolute zero path to clear the threshold. He was dead.

Snap. Snap.

Alistair stopped near the doorway, frowning in serious concern as he snapped his fingers right in front of Leo’s glazed, vacant eyes. "Hey. Leo? Are you truly okay over there? Your face is completely pale... and you are sweating entirely through your clothes. Is your shoulder wound acting up again?"

Leo caught himself, forcing his dark gaze to soften as he wiped the raw panic off his face. He let out a low, strained rumble of a laugh to mask his internal terror. "Yeah... I'm fine, Alistair. Don't worry. I just... I'm just not feeling very well suddenly. A dizzy wave."

Alistair's expression shifted into a look of deep, genuine care and gentle warmth. He lowered his hand, offering a disciplined nod of agreement. "I understand. You threw your own chest into the line of danger to save my life yesterday, Leo. Your physical body clearly needs standard recovery rest. Forget the swordsmanship for today. The grand engagement festival is the day after tomorrow anyway, so we can practice some other time. Rest flat on the bed, okay?"

With a final, supportive pat on Leo’s broad back, Alistair stepped out onto the concrete walkway and closed the door behind him, the lock clicking shut with a definitive, heavy echo.

The room plunged back into an absolute, suffocating silence.

Leo draggedis feet back toward the bed, collapsing heavily onto the edge of the mattress. He clutched his forehead tightly with both hands, his fingers digging deep into his messy chocolate-brown strands as he stared blankly down at the floor tiles.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He ran through every single idea inside his mind. The translucent neon-blue screens remained entirely transparent, rendering absolute zero advice, zero target updates, and zero shortcut commands. The stupid program had gone completely silent.

.....

He looked toward the window, watching the setting sun fully sink below the horizon, painting the sky in deep, lonely amber and violet hues. He picked up his smartphone from the nightstand, clicking the interface button to check the time.

The screen flipped sharply to 07:00 PM.

Less than five hours. He had less than five hours left on the death penalty clock, and his target was sitting on a private jet in another hemisphere.

"I give up," Leo whispered quietly into the empty evening air, a long, deeply exhausted sigh escaping his lips as he let his body drop flat across the sheets, closing his dark eyes tight.

The human side of him was completely, thoroughly broken. The endless weight of the drama, the constant threat of execution, the space warriors, and now an intergalactic war timeline... it was entirely too much for a normal nineteen-year-old student to calculate. He didn't want to run, and he didn't want to fight anymore. He was just so incredibly tired of it all. As the final minutes began to bleed away into the dark night sky, Leo surrendered to the heavy, absolute silence of the room, completely ready to let his countdown hit zero.