Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 694: The Price of the Final Blow

The Price of the Final Blow

Leon’s gaze sharpened. "You are bold for men in chains."

only something hollow and steady. "We are already dead."

The words landed heavily.

Rex swallowed. Max looked away for a moment, jaw working. None of them denied it.

Leon stepped closer. The air shifted with him—subtle, but undeniable. Authority carried its own weight.

"Do not mistake my interest for mercy."

Lux held his ground, but his shoulders squared as if bracing for a blow. "Then what is it?"

"Opportunity," Leon answered.

The temperature in the room seemed to dip, as though the walls themselves leaned in to listen.

"You want to die killing Gary," Leon continued, voice low but clear. "You want your last breath to mean something."

Rex’s fingers curled into fists. Max’s eyes darkened.

"I can kill him," Leon said.

The brothers stiffened. "I can subdue him. I can end him."

Out rushed the words, jagged and quick - pride surging in Rex long before care had time to step in. Clanking followed each shift of his arms, bones pressing against metal like he was somehow back in that old skin, the fighter he once wore.

Leon just sat there, eyes wide open. Not a single flicker. His gaze stayed fixed, unshaken. Seconds passed like that. Nothing moved. Not even his lashes.

"But if you wish to be the ones who deliver the final blow... then you need strength."

Calm came his voice. Quiet, never raised. Never pushing. Sure, that’s all.

A hush came through the room. Not something meant to test you. Just how things stood, clear and plain.

A pause hung in the air, just past breath. He held it there.

"And strength is not free."

Falling silent, the words rested like stones in the space they shared.

A flicker passed behind Max’s eyes. Not defiance, not respect - just quiet assessment, like an old soldier sizing up a rival on the battlefield. His gaze held still, testing distances. What he saw was not a throne, only tactics.

"If you restore our cultivation," he said slowly, choosing each word with care, "we will serve you."

Lux’s gaze jerked his way.

"Brother - " His voice carried a sharp edge. Not just caution. A tremor ran beneath it.

His eyes stayed away. With just one motion of his arm, calm yet steady, he answered.

"Let me speak."

Fists tight at his sides, Lux bit down until the quiet took over. Air rushed through his nostrils like wind through a crack.

Back toward Leon stepped Max.

Yet Max did not look away. One rule had to be followed, he said while holding Leon’s gaze

A small smile touched Leon’s mouth.

"There it is."

For a moment, amusement touched his voice. Just barely.

Rex shifted, chains scraping against marble. "You speak of strength like it’s coin to be traded," he muttered. "You’re asking old men who have lost everything to entrust their final purpose to you."

A small break slipped into his voice at the end, even as he fought to keep it steady.

Frozen on him, Leon’s stare stayed locked.

"Tell me your condition."

Stillness instead of jokes. A slow breath rather than rush. Space given, not earned.

The silence thickened.

Out there, the tiny hiss of the lamp grew heavy, its light trembling over worn skin and ancient rock. Floating particles stayed still, as if waiting.

Footsteps broke the silence as Max moved ahead, metal scraping stone. That noise stretched out, far past normal.

"If you help us regain our strength..."

Now his voice carried less sharpness. Underneath lingered a weight - unfiltered, bare.

His eyes stayed on Leon. Not breaking. Just watching.

"You must swear that when the time comes... Gary dies by our hands."

Something about those letters left a bitter sting on the tongue.

Lux breathed harder, each breath louder than before. Fists clenched now, so tight the skin turned white at the joints.

"Not yours," he added, stepping closer to his brother’s side. "Not your generals. Not poison. Not schemes."

Up went Rex’s chin, a spark of pride glowing through weary eyes.

"No political executions. No quiet disappearances. No shadows doing your work."

Max’s jaw hardened.

"We want to look him in the eye," he said. "We want him to know who ended him."

A beat passed.

"Not yours," he added, his voice steady but carrying something heavier beneath it. "Not your generals. Not poison. Not schemes."

Rex’s jaw tightened before he finished quietly—

"By us."

Leon stood there.

Still.

Calculating.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Even his breathing seemed measured, controlled, deliberate.

Behind his calm expression, thoughts moved like a storm.

Monarch Realm.

Ancient bloodlines.

Forbidden forests.

Element crystals.

A world history rewritten.

And now—

Three broken Guardians asking to become weapons.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Max swallowed first. His shoulders were squared, but there was tension in the way his fingers curled at his sides. "We failed," he said, voice rough but unflinching. "Not because we were weak... but because we chose the wrong side."

The second brother let out a slow breath. "We guarded secrets for generations. Power that could shift empires. And we thought protecting it meant staying neutral." His lips pressed thin. "Neutrality is just cowardice dressed as wisdom."

Rex lifted his eyes to Leon again. "We won’t hide behind that anymore."

Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Expectant.

Leon’s gaze drifted over each of them in turn. He wasn’t looking at their faces. He was measuring their resolve. Testing the fractures in their pride.

He could use them.

He could discard them.

He could absorb their knowledge slowly.

Or—

He could bind them properly.

Max stepped forward half a pace. Not enough to challenge. Just enough to show intent. "We are not asking for forgiveness," he said. "And we are not asking for trust."

Rex’s voice followed, low but firm. "Use us. Test us. Chain us if you must."

The third brother gave a faint, humorless smile. "But don’t ignore us. We know things no one else does. About the forests. About the crystals. About what’s coming."

That made Leon’s eyes sharpen slightly.

"What’s coming?" he asked, almost idly.

Max held his gaze. "War that won’t care about borders. Bloodlines waking up. The Monarch Realm stirring again."

A faint pulse of energy rolled through the air, subtle but unmistakable. The three brothers felt it—Leon’s power reacting to the word Monarch.

Leon’s golden eyes lifted slightly.

Cold.

Interested.

Calculating.

"Is that all?" he asked softly.

The three brothers exchanged a glance.

Max inhaled.

"No."

Leon’s faint smile returned.

"Then speak."

And the air in the room tightened once more.