𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 - 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘

LÉA DUBOIS FELT THE SHIFT SECONDS BEFORE THE RIFT IN TIME AND SPACE APPEARED. The temperature in the room dropped, the pressure increasing for a brief moment while the sorceress' ears rang to the silent tune of the world's fabric being ripped apart. It was curious, the way the Kinzoku opted to announce themselves so blatantly.

It was all for the sake of theatrics and dramatism, a ploy to trick other shamans into believing their otherworldly peers were somehow Gods blessed. It wasn't a lie, either, yet it somehow still managed to infuriate the Frenchwoman, making her blood boil every time she felt the slight pull.

Still, the woman pursed her lips, smoothing down the fabric of her tube skirt before the world in front of her flickered. The break was a clean slice of ominous darkness, a rift in space which bled gold like the morning sun. It was over in less than a second, and, by the time Kinzoku Asahi materialized out of it, Léa was already standing.

Asahi didn't greet her – he didn't need to, not when he'd already announced his presence through the most elaborate performance he could pull. It was a habit of his, one he'd been gracious enough to pass down to his heirs and any and all sharing his bloodline.

Léa's smile didn't waver, her expression the picture of compliance. The woman nodded towards the comfortable armchair in front of her desk, but Asahi didn't take the seat, instead choosing to pace around her office like a caged lion.

Léa's lips thinned, yet her face never betrayed her thoughts. The woman inhaled sharply, slowly making her away around the desk until she was leaning against the cool mahogany. The sorceress was quiet, hands digging into the wood while she supported herself against her desk, eyes trained on the wall in front of her while also carefully keeping track of each step the Kinzoku took.

"Tell me, Asahi... must we always meet like this?" The Head of the Magistrate asked, a sly smile playing on her burgundy lips. "Just the two of us, surrounded by our painted sins."

Léa's lips thinned, her expression cold and unreadable as she nodded towards the paintings hanging from the wall of her office. The collection had grown since the last time Asahi made the trip, the usually barren panelled walls now covered in a perfect array of art, ranging from the late 16th century to the Middle Ages.

Some of the works were familiar, like the Armada Portrait or the very poorly restored Spanish Fresco that looked like a deformed monkey. Interesting choice. Asahi thought as he carefully made his rounds through each and every one of them, a curved smile on his lips.

There was history among these walls, the kind of history that could survive through the ages and civilisations. It was hard to tell – at least for those who called themselves mortals and who lived within the happy confines of their world – but these paintings were marred with Cursed Energy. They were conduits, in a way. A bridge between pieces of a forgotten past and an uncertain future. That's why Léa liked to collect them, keeping them contained and bound within the walls of her office.

They were also a trophy in her eyes, a mark of just how much she'd extended the power of The Magistrate over the years. Everything about Léa Dubois was terrifyingly planned, a perfect concoction. If he had been anyone else, standing beside her would have been daunting. Alas, Asahi was a legend himself, and the stories he bore in his veins were as strong as the ones pained on these canvases.

The King of Sorcerers let out a loud cackle, the sound reverberating through the walls like thunder.

"And here I thought you were above all of the theatrics. Turns out you're like every pompous ass who has ever held the title of Head of the Magistrate."

Léa's eyes sharpened as she whipped her head towards him, her smile fading momentarily as the words continued to echo. Something about her expression shifted, all of the sharpness and hard edges of her features turning soft and malleable as the woman relaxed.

"You dare call me out for being dramatic?" The Frenchwoman feigned, a somewhat indignant look on her face. "I'm not the one who walks around flaunting the title of King of Sorcerers."

It was a simple jab, a meaningless comment that was supposed to be funny and light-hearted. Except nothing about Léa was ever casual. That woman was a sorceress, a huntress who had honed her skills to perfection, and every move on her part – every word out of her lips – was deliberate.

The sorceress expected a reaction, and as she watched Asahi's eyes turn hard and angry, Léa realized that's exactly what she was going to get. Reading him was becoming easier and easier, especially when he held himself like an open book, allowing his emotions to cloud his judgement and rule over his head. Men were so easy to manipulate... if Léa ever got bored of running The Magistrate, she'd gladly hunt them for sport.

To her surprise, Asahi's reaction was controlled, almost as if he knew exactly what kind of gaming she was trying to play.

"Now, don't be coy, darling." He smiled, all teeth and golden candour in his under expressive eyes. "We both know that name is not something I acquired lightly..." Asahi paused, the gold in his eyes turning hard and cold, like the thunderous clouds of a storm caught in resin. "I earned it. With the sweat of my brow and the blood on my hands."

He said it easily, like he meant every single word coming out of his mouth. Léa paused, mulling over her next words while she surveyed the puppet master in front of them. Both of them were great at pulling the strings, but no one could do it quite like her. The Frenchwoman was a menace, a true strategist, always ten if not twenty steps ahead of everyone else. Asahi might have carved his empire with his bare hands, but Léa forged hers with the wit of her mind.

The Head of the Magistrate cocked her head to the side, tongue pocking out from her lips as an amused expression slithered in.

"Yes, but it was never your blood, was it?" Léa laughed, the sound coated in bitterness before her gaze flickered to the Armada Portrait in front of her. "Funny how that works, isn't it? You want to be king, yet you're not willing to make any real sacrifices."