When the sun rose, he saw Plague City.
In the original script, he should have stormed this place with justice and glory, completely overthrowing the Plague Church's rule.
Now that the Plague Church had been overthrown, an even more terrifying enemy had taken root here.
Leon wore a black cloak and slipped quietly into Plague City.
His disguise was meaningless. Other than wandering Undead, there was not a single living being in Plague City.
Fortunately, his strength had increased greatly, allowing him to suppress his aura and avoid drawing the Undead's attention.
At the center of the city stood a massive temple. A hole had been punched through its dome, and sunlight streamed through it, casting a patch of light on the ground.
A sword was embedded in the steps before the temple gates.
It was his beloved Little Sword, the heaven-bestowed divine artifact—Free Will!
Leon's eyes lit up. He swooped down, landed at the temple entrance, and reached for the sword.
The blade was wedged tightly in a crack in the stone, but that was nothing to his current strength.
Leon gripped the hilt and pulled upward.
The sword gave a soft hum and came free at once.
But... the blade was covered in rust, the wings on the crossguard were broken, and several chips marred its edge.
There was no light, no power. It looked like nothing more than a broken sword.
Leon froze. He turned the sword over and over, unable to believe his eyes.
This was Free Will, the fated divine artifact bestowed upon him by heaven, the holy sword capable of resisting a Spatial Storm.
How had it become like this?
His spiritual power entered the blade. It was empty inside, containing nothing at all, as though it were merely an iron sword.
"You're here."