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The Icarus Wing.
Golden wings burst from Leon’s back, their speed and endurance terrifying to behold. Even the airships of Jugend that had once left him in awe couldn’t hope to match his shadow, which also meant that no vessel of current civilization could ever keep up with him.
He moved just below the speed of sound only because of the overwhelming air resistance. If he pushed, he could go even faster.
His maneuverability rivaled lightning bolt itself, beyond even the reach of most Aura Masters. Al Razzaz wouldn’t dare claim he could seize Leon outside the range of his blade. Perhaps only Varg, who had ascended with the extreme martial art, Sirius, might stand a chance.
However…
“Dammit, why can’t I get away from him?!” Leon shouted in frustration.
That suffocating presence clung to his back. Darkness blotted out the twilight sky, a warped mass whose only shape was hatred and rage.
The Black Pharaoh, a traitor who buried his own kingdom and an exiled king damned to wander forever, was coming.
“He wasn’t this fast before…!”
Leon’s choice to break away from Amarh as quickly as possible and head for the barren wastes had been correct. Had Leon left just a single minute later, Nephren-Ka would have plowed...
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