Great! Here's a revised and polished version of Chapter 3: Leo the Panther, expanded
Leo, known among humans as The Panther and to the elves as Fanghyr, was no ordinary assassin. At eighteen years old, he already ranked among the deadliest members of the Order of the Night—a shadowy brotherhood whispered of across nations. Unlike most of his comrades, Leo was not born into the Order. He was found.
It was Alexandre the Claw, one of the legendary "Midnights," who discovered the infant alone in the Forbidden Forest. At first, Alexandre considered leaving the child behind. He was an assassin, not a savior. But something in the boy's eyes—or perhaps something in Alexandre's soul—refused to walk away. Against the wishes of the other Midnights, Alexandre brought the child into the Order and raised him as both son and student.
Leo grew swiftly, molded by steel and shadow. At fourteen, he was promoted to the rank of Fang, a decision met with the rare unanimous approval of all Midnights. For unlike any assassin before him, Leo was born with a legendary power—Devourer.
With Devourer, Leo could carve out pieces of space itself, whether with his daggers, claws, or fangs. He could rend air and matter, erase distance, and vanish into folds of reality. More than that, he could transform into a midnight panther—a creature of lean muscle, black fur, and silent fury. In that form, he possessed heightened speed, strength, and senses that continued to evolve with each passing moon.
Now, at eighteen, Leo was a myth made flesh. Bards sang tales of the boy who single-handedly dismantled a rogue mage cabal. Kings and queens whispered his name with awe and fear. The elves, ever curious, tried many times to capture or study him. So too did the Order of the Sun. All failed.
—
A narrow stream marked the boundary between Magnitia and the Forbidden Forest. Leo stepped lightly across it, landing on the other side without a sound. Cupping water in his hands, he drank, then stood still, eyes closed.
"I know you're there," he said.
From the trees emerged a tall elf with ivory skin, clad in green robes that shimmered faintly with runes. His face was calm, but his heart beat faster than it should have.
"Your senses live up to the songs," the elf said. "Though… I didn't expect you to be so young."
Leo gave a tired sigh. "If you know me, then you know I don't have time for flattery. Not many creatures can track me. So why are you here?"
The elf hesitated, then spoke. "Bandits are attacking my village. I was told you could help."
Leo turned slowly, one blue eye fixing on the elf's face. His expression didn't change, but the temperature around them seemed to drop.
"You're lying," he said flatly.
The elf blinked, startled.
"I can hear the stutter in your heart," Leo continued. "And my instincts never lie."
He stepped forward, his gloved hand gesturing lazily toward the trees. "You weren't sent for help. You're bait."
The elf's calm facade cracked. He sighed, then drew a massive silver greatsword from its scabbard. The blade shimmered, its hilt shaped like a snarling wolf.
"So the rumors are true," the elf muttered. "You can smell lies."
"Not quite. I notice subtle changes. Body temperature. Eye twitch. Breathing. Besides… you reek of desperation."
The elf lunged.
He feinted left, then came down with a heavy right slash. Leo blocked the strike with his right dagger and countered immediately, slicing across the elf's chest with his left blade. Blood splattered the grass, and the elf grimaced but pressed on. He spun, swinging downward with a roar, but Leo was already gone—sidestepping and slicing deep into the elf's exposed armpit.
Too fast! the elf realized, his sword suddenly heavy, his arm sluggish from the wound. Leo didn't slow. He slashed again with his right, then cracked the elf across the temple with the hilt of his left. The elf stumbled, barely parrying the blow, before collapsing to the ground.
Desperate, the elf rolled aside just as Leo's foot stomped down, leaving a crater where his head had been. He scrambled to his feet and charged, aiming for a vital stab.
Leo shifted—but too late.
The elf changed direction mid-attack, slashing upward with a deceptive underhand strike.
It might have worked… if Leo hadn't kicked him square in the ribs.
Crack!
The elf flew through the air, crashing into a tree. Blood erupted from his mouth. Bones snapped. The tree groaned.
He broke my ribs… with a single kick? the elf thought, dazed and disbelieving. What kind of monster did they train?
Leo approached, spinning a dagger between his fingers, casually admiring the blade.
The elf smiled through bloody teeth. "Foolish human," he whispered. Let's see how you handle real magic.
He began to chant in Elvish, summoning ancient power. As he neared the final word, he extended his hand.
"PYRIA!" he cried.
A blinding flash surged forward—
—and was met with silence.
A sharp cry echoed through the forest.
Leo stood still, his dagger dripping red. The elf crumpled to the ground, screaming, clutching the stump of his severed arm.
Leo sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the blade clean.
"Still stains… even with Devourer," he muttered. "That's the eighth time I'll need to polish this today."
He approached the elf, crouching beside him with a predator's grin. One shining azure eye glowed faintly.
"Who sent you?"
The elf shivered. "You're… you're a beastman."
Leo chuckled. "What gave it away? The claws? The eyes? Or these bad boys?" He bared his canines.
"Answer the question before I see how many pieces you come in."
The elf spat blood on Leo's cloak, laughing.
"Never. I'll die for a great cause."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Suit yourself."
Silver claws extended from his gauntlets. With a swift, savage motion, he carved the air—and the elf's body with it.
Blood soaked the tree behind him. The elf's body fell in five neat, bloody pieces.
Leo sighed again.
Messy work.
He turned toward the river to wash his hands, the smell of blood and bile clinging to his gauntlets.
Let me know if you'd like to add more lore, details about Alexandre or the Order, or expand the fight scene further.