(A/N):
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...Outskirts of the Clover Capital...
Deep within the forest, where moonlight barely pierced the canopy—
A distorted portal hung in the air.
Members of the Eye of the Midnight Sun stood in tense anticipation, eyes fixed on its surface.
They were waiting. For a body. For victory. For the red magic stone.
Instead—Frost crept across the portal's rim.
Thin at first.
Then spreading rapidly like cracks through glass.
"…What?" one of them muttered.
The surface crystallized.
A sharp fracture echoed—And the portal shattered into nothing, dispersing into cold mist that dissolved into the trees.
Silence fell. No captive. No stone. Only failure.
"...."
"...."
"...."
At the center stood Patolli.
His golden eyes narrowed the moment he saw the frost residue lingering in the air.
-Frown
"…Ice."
He didn't need further explanation.
"It was him," Patolli said quietly.
The Clover King. Ben.
No matter how precisely they timed it—No matter how carefully they layered the distraction—He appeared. He interfered. He predicted.
One of the elves clenched his fist.
"How did he know?"
Patolli's jaw tightened.
"That is what troubles me."
The plan had been clean.
Rades would draw attention. The capital would burn. A portal would open beneath Fuegoleon.
Simple.
Yet the moment arrived—It was countered instantly.
Almost as if expected. Patolli's thoughts darkened.
'Is there a mole?'
The idea flickered through his mind like a poisonous spark.
Someone feeding information. Someone betraying them from within.
His gaze shifted across his comrades. Brothers. Sisters.
Elves who had lost everything to humanity's betrayal centuries ago.
He exhaled sharply. No.
Who would betray their own blood?
After what humans had done to the elf race—
After the massacre—After the lies—
Every elf standing there carried hatred carved into their very souls.
If they encountered a human alone—They would not hesitate.
Patolli closed his eyes briefly.
"…No," he said aloud. "There is no traitor."
Eye of the Midnight Sun Hideout...
Underground Chamber...
The chamber was dimly lit by eerie mana lamps.
At its center stood the massive stone slab engraved with ancient runes—its surface humming faintly with dormant power.
Around it lingered the human members of the Eye of the Midnight Sun:
Sally, crouched near the slab, gel tubes and strange instruments scattered around her.
Valtos, leaning quietly against a pillar, spatial mana flickering faintly.
Heath Grice, arms folded, frost drifting lazily from his fingertips.
Catherine, ash swirling around her boots like restless smoke.
They had just felt it. The portal collapse.
The plan failing. The mana connection to Rades—cut cleanly.
Silence hung thick.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—A soft, amused chuckle echoed through the chamber.
Light. Curious. Almost playful. All four froze.
Valtos straightened instantly.
Heath's frost intensified.
Catherine's ash coiled defensively.
Sally's eyes widened in manic interest.
At the entrance to the chamber—Bathed in warm golden mana—
Stood Julius Novachrono.
He smiled gently.
"My, my," Julius said, looking around as if admiring architecture.
"This is quite the gathering."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
Valtos stepped forward slightly.
"Wizard King…"
Heath's jaw tightened. "How did you—"
Sally tilted her head, eyes sparkling.
"Ooooh. Time Magic."
Julius laughed softly.
"Correct."
He glanced at the magic stone slab, studying it like a historian encountering a rare manuscript.
"I had a suspicion," he continued casually. "After tonight's little incident."
Catherine's ash thickened in the air.
"You shouldn't have come alone," she warned.
Julius's eyes shifted toward her.
Alone? The air shimmered faintly.
Time mana pulsed invisibly through the chamber, subtle but absolute.
He smiled again.
"Who said I did?"
The four of them tensed further.
Valtos' spatial magic flickered, ready to open an escape route at any moment.
Julius folded his hands behind his back.
"I'm not here to fight," he said calmly.
Which somehow made it worse.
"I simply wanted to confirm something."
His gaze rested briefly on the slab.
"And I have."
The silence grew suffocating.
"...."
"...."
"...."
None of them moved.
Because none of them were certain they could.
Julius' presence filled the chamber—not aggressively, not violently—but with overwhelming inevitability.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Now," he said pleasantly, "shall we talk?"
And for the first time since joining the Eye—The human members understood something clearly.
They were not the hunters tonight. They were the ones being studied.
There was no hesitation. No discussion.
The moment they realized conversation meant exposure—All four attacked.
Gel surged like living slime from Sally, attempting to engulf and restrain.
Ash spiraled violently from Catherine, darkening the chamber in choking clouds.
Ice spears shot forward from Heath Grice, razor sharp and merciless.
And Valtos tore open spatial distortions, redirecting angles of attack to box the Wizard King in from all sides.
The chamber erupted in mana.
Explosions. Ice. Ash. Warped space.
And at the center—Julius stood smiling calmly looking at the four who were attacking him like they were nothing.
"...."
Then he moved.
Or perhaps—Time moved for him.
His figure flickered from place to place, each afterimage lingering for a heartbeat before dissolving like a reflection in disturbed water.
Attacks passed through nothing.
Ice pierced empty air.
Ash devoured illusions.
Gel splashed across stone.
Valtos' portals snapped shut on phantoms.
Each time an attack should have landed—Julius was already somewhere else.
Still smiling. Still composed. Sally's eyes widened.
'He's not dodging late—he's already gone before we even finish casting…'
Heath clenched his teeth.
'This… this is the Wizard King?'
Catherine's ash faltered.
'We can't even touch him.'
Valtos' breath tightened.
'Spatial magic… useless? Impossible…'
Julius reappeared at the center of the chamber, hands folded calmly.
"Now, now," he said lightly. "No need to be so dramatic."
The four froze instinctively.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Julius' golden eyes sharpened—just slightly.
"To handle you," he continued, voice gentle yet absolute,
"I alone am more than enough."
He raised one hand.
"Time Magic: Chrono Stasis."
The air shifted. Not violently. Not loudly. But completely.
Invisible lines of time snapped taut around the four of them.
Their bodies halted mid-motion.
Gel froze mid-drip.
Ash hung suspended in air.
Ice halted inches from the floor.
Valtos' spatial distortions froze like shattered glass.
They stood—Imprisoned in stillness.
Only their eyes could move.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Panic flickered there. Shock. Humiliation.
Julius walked between them casually, observing like a scholar examining preserved specimens.
"Fascinating magic," he murmured thoughtfully.
He stopped before the stone slab.
"And yet," he added softly, "misguided."
Behind him, the four human members of the Eye stood frozen in time itself.
And for the first time—They truly understood the difference between a Magic Knight, Magic Knight captain…
And the Wizard King.
In a flash of golden mana far from the capital,
Julius Novachrono vanished from the hideout—taking with him the four immobilized human members and the magic stone slab itself, all sealed within Chrono Stasis.
Clover Capital...
Back in the capital—Smoke thinned.
Civilians were escorted to safety.
Magic Knights moved with discipline now that the chaos had ended.
Ben stood at the center of the western district, issuing calm instructions.
"Secure the perimeter. Account for casualties. Anyone whose property was damaged—record it. We'll begin repairs once the Wizard King returns."
The knights nodded and dispersed.
-Nod
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—Footsteps approached.
-Thud. -Thud.
-Thud. -Thud...
Charlotte Roselei arrived first.
Without a word, she stepped close. Too close.
She began inspecting him—hands brushing across his shoulders, his arms, checking for wounds.
"Are you injured?"
She asked, voice firm but eyes worried.
Ben blinked. "I'm fine."
From the other side—
Nebra Silva stepped in smoothly.
"Are you sure?" she asked, tilting her head.
"That transformation—what was it called?"
Ben sighed lightly. "Jak the Freeze."
Nebra nodded thoughtfully, though her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary trying to maintain her face before her brothers.
Across the street, Nozel Silva approached with Solid and other knights.
Nebra straightened instantly. Composed. Proper.
Clingy behavior in front of her siblings? Absolutely not.
Especially not her older brother.
Then another voice—
"Your Majesty!"
Noelle Silva stepped forward addressing him as majesty instead of sensei since they were in public.
Her eyes scanned him anxiously.
"Are you okay?" she asked quickly.
Ben looked at her, expression softening slightly.
"I'm fine," he replied. Then he tilted his head. "Are you hurt?"
Noelle froze.
"...."
"…W-What? No!"
A faint blush crept onto her cheeks.
"I handled my side properly."
Her voice dropped slightly at the end.
Nozel noticed. His eyes narrowed subtly.
First Nebra. Now Noelle. Blushing. He said nothing.
"...."
But he noticed everything.
And then—
The ground seemed to warm.
Mereoleona Vermillion stepped into view.
Flames flickered faintly around her boots.
Her eyes did not move from one thing—Charlotte's hand.
Still brushing lightly across Ben's shoulder.
The air shifted.
Mereoleona stopped in front of them.
"…Finished checking him yet?" she asked casually.
Too casually. Charlotte's hand froze mid-motion caught off-guard by the question.
Several nearby Magic Knights suddenly found the sky extremely interesting.
Even Fuegoleon Vermillion and Leopold Vermillion stiffened slightly.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Leopold blinked like something is clicking in his mind.
"…Wait."
Fuegoleon's eyes moved slowly between Ben and his sister.
A thought formed. Unwelcome. Impossible.
And yet—Persistent.
'Could it be…?'
The wild lioness who rejected gatherings. Who avoided nobles.
Who burned through expectations—Tamed? By their King?
Leopold swallowed he wanted to ask them but his instincts warned him not to.
-Gulp
"...."
Fuegoleon kept his expression neutral. But internally he was screaming—
'How?'
That was the only word echoing in both their minds.
How?
Meanwhile, Ben stood in the center of three visibly flustered women, one openly territorial firestorm, and several increasingly suspicious brothers.
He exhaled quietly.
-Sigh
"...."
The undead attack had been easier than this.
And the night—Still wasn't over.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)Thanks for reading the chapter!
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