Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 484: Under the Night’s Breath

Under the Night’s Breath

The courtyard was nothing but wreckage when Leon landed.

The air split open around him as his boots hit the cracked stone, a burst of mana flaring from the impact like a silent explosion. Dust rippled outward in a violent ring, scattering broken spears, burned banners, and shards of shattered marble. The moonlight caught the haze, turning it silver and ghostlike.

Then came the sound—

**Boom. Boom. Boom.**

A deep, sickening rhythm, like a hammer pounding through the earth itself.

Leon straightened slowly, the vibration crawling up through his legs. The ground trembled beneath his feet again, each impact heavier than the last.

He took a breath, slow and deliberate, his golden eyes narrowing as he scanned the chaos ahead. The sound wasn’t random. It had a pattern. Rage had rhythm, and this—this was someone’s fury made physical.

Another strike. The earth jumped.

Dust fell like rain.

Leon frowned, stepped forward. The courtyard sloped downward toward a crater—freshly carved, still steaming with mana. From its heart came the rhythmic pounding. He moved closer, cloak dragging through ash. Each step echoed in the silence between those crashes.

**Boom.**

He reached the edge—and froze.

Inside the crater knelt a woman.

Short black hair clung to her sweat-slick neck, her body trembling with each brutal motion. Her fists came down again and again on something that barely resembled a person anymore. Blood soaked her forearms, her dress torn, spattered crimson. The scent of iron filled the night.

Leon’s chest tightened. He knew that figure.

"Natsha," he breathed.

He didn’t want to believe it, but his eyes left no room for denial.

His voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.

"Natsha! Stop!"

But she didn’t even flinch.

Her fists kept falling. Each hit sounded like stone breaking—wet, heavy, final.

Leon gritted his teeth, mana tightening around him like coiled heat. "Natsha!" he roared this time, his voice echoing through the hollow courtyard. "I said stop!"

Still, she didn’t.

Her shoulders quivered, her movements wild and uneven, like she wasn’t even present in her own body.

Leon inhaled sharply, then descended into the crater in a flicker of gold light. Dust burst upward as his boots hit the ground beside her.

"Enough," he said, stepping forward.

No answer.

She kept striking.

He reached her—grabbed her shoulder. His grip was firm, commanding, backed with mana that rippled through the air. "I said stop it!"

Natsha stumbled, dragged back by the sheer force of his pull. She froze for half a heartbeat, breath ragged, eyes wide with madness and grief. Her body trembled against his hold—small but burning with the energy of someone who’d just come back from hell and wasn’t sure if she’d left a piece of herself behind.

The thing she’d been beating lay still.

Leon looked down.

What was left was... unrecognizable.

A body, or something that used to be one. Torn flesh, crushed bones, golden hair matted with blood. The faint shimmer of a once-pristine dress—white now soaked red.

And then Leon saw the face. Or what remained of it.

He exhaled through his teeth, eyes hardening.

The head maid. The same woman who’d murdered Natsha’s sister.

Natsha had killed her—but not cleanly. Not even quickly. It was vengeance stripped of mercy.

The crater was silent now, save for Natsha’s ragged breathing. She stared at the corpse with empty eyes, her lips trembling.

Leon said nothing for a moment. He only looked at her—really looked. The hollow stillness behind her gaze, the way her hands twitched even as blood dripped from her knuckles. Then, quietly, he laid a hand on her shoulder again.

"Natsha," he said, voice low. "Come back."

No reaction.

He squeezed slightly.

"Come on... it’s over."

She didn’t move.

So he shook her—not roughly, but firmly enough that her head lifted. Her eyes flicked to him slowly, unfocused, then sharpened as reality clawed its way back.

"Leon...?" she whispered, voice cracking.

He met her stare with quiet steadiness. "Yeah. I’m here."

She blinked once, twice, her mind trying to catch up. Then, suddenly, her face twisted—not in confusion, but fury. "That bitch—" she hissed, twisting toward the mangled corpse. "She killed my sister—she—!"

Leon caught her before she could move. Both hands on her shoulders now, holding her still. "You already killed her, Natsha. It’s done. Don’t lose yourself."

Her breath hitched. Her eyes darted from the body to his face.

Blood splattered across her skin, her lip trembling. Then—finally—she stopped resisting.

Leon’s tone softened. "Breathe."

She did—barely. A sharp, shaky inhale that cracked halfway through. Then another. The fury began to drain from her limbs, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

When she looked down again, she finally *saw* what she’d done.

The silence stretched.

Her breath broke into uneven gasps.

And then, slowly, her shoulders slumped.

"...I really did it," she whispered. Her voice was so small it almost disappeared under the night wind. "I really killed her."

Leon said nothing—just stayed there, one hand still steady on her arm, grounding her.

Her eyes glistened. A tear fell, splashing on the bloodied dirt. She stared at it blankly, as if unsure it was hers. Then another rolled down her cheek.

Leon tilted his head slightly. "Natsha. Why are you crying?"

She tried to laugh—but it came out hollow. "Because..." She rubbed her eyes roughly, smearing blood across her face. "Because today... I became an orphan."

Leon froze. The words hit him harder than he expected.

Something in his chest tightened—a dull, buried ache.

He wanted to say something, but nothing felt right.

So he just stayed there, silent.

Natsha’s breath steadied after a moment, though her eyes still shimmered with tears. She lifted her gaze to him. The madness was gone now, replaced by something quieter... something painfully human.

"Leon," she said softly.

He looked at her, waiting.

She swallowed hard, trembling faintly. "Can you... do something for me?"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

Her lips parted. Her voice was fragile, barely above a whisper.

"Kill me."

Leon stiffened, staring at her. "What did you say?"

"Please." Her tone didn’t waver this time. "Kill me."

He blinked, trying to read her face—but her expression was terrifyingly calm. Empty of despair, yet full of surrender. The kind of peace that comes when someone has already walked through every emotion and found nothing left at the end.

"Natsha..." His voice lowered. "You don’t mean that."

She gave a faint, tired smile. "I do. There’s nothing left for me now. My sister’s gone. My purpose is gone. And you saw what I just did." Her eyes flicked toward the corpse, then back to him. "There’s no redemption after this."

Leon’s jaw tightened. He stepped closer, voice firm. "You think dying fixes that?"

"No," she said. "But it ends it."

The words hung between them, raw and heavy.