The silence that followed was heavier than any battle cry.
Smoke drifted across broken rooftops, carried on the faint wind. The knights, bloodied and tired, stood amidst streets littered with fallen beasts—but their gazes were not on the corpses. All eyes were lifted toward Dave, the silver glow that had ended what dozens of squads could not.
Fuegoleon's boots struck the stones as he landed near the south wall. His flames dimmed as he looked to the still-smoking horizon, then back toward the sky. His jaw tightened, the weight of his thoughts evident.
"Look at him," a knight muttered nearby, voice caught between awe and unease. "Was there ever even a battle? Or just… his judgment?"
Another knight gripped his spear tighter, knuckles white. "If one man can decide the fate of hundreds of monsters with a single gesture… what place do the rest of us have?"
Asta shook his head hard, snapping himself out of the daze. His voice cracked, but his spirit burned. "No! We fought. We saved people. We stood on the line. That still matters!" His words carried more desperation than certainty, and though some nodded, others looked away.
Nozel descended with the quiet hiss of dissolving mercury. He folded his arms, his expression unreadable as his sharp eyes followed Dave's hovering figure. "The scale of that magic… it rivals, no, surpasses even the legacy of the Wizard Kings." His tone was low, more to himself than anyone else.
Leopold wiped blood from his cheek, his fists still trembling with fading flames. His voice was hushed but raw. "Brother… if he wasn't here, the city might have fallen. But if he always is here… then what are we?"
Fuegoleon placed a hand on his shoulder, firm, grounding. "We are Magic Knights. Our duty is not diminished by another's power. It is measured by our resolve to act, regardless of comparison." Yet even his voice held an edge of steel, as if the words were a shield against doubts he too wrestled with.
From above, Dave finally lowered himself toward the ground. The silver light faded entirely, leaving only his calm presence behind. He landed without flourish, his cloak settling as though nothing extraordinary had occurred. His gaze swept the survivors briefly, but he did not speak.
The knights instinctively stepped aside as he passed, some bowing without realizing, others simply staring. The air he carried was heavier than any command—silent authority, unquestionable.
Fuegoleon broke the silence, his eyes narrowing toward the shattered gates beyond the wall. "Power this vast does not move without cause. Find who orchestrated this attack. Now."
His words cut clean, pulling the captains and senior knights back into focus. Orders snapped into place once more, squads dispersing with renewed urgency.
Yet as they moved, whispers followed in Dave's wake—awed, doubtful, fearful.
"Is he even human?""Not a wizard king… but something beyond…""If monsters can't stand against him, what could?"
And in the depths of every knight's heart, one unspoken thought lingered like an ember too dangerous to voice:
If he willed it… who among us could stop him?
High above, in a tattered rooftop cloaked by shadow, hidden eyes had watched. The Midnight Sun mages, cloaked in illusion and wards, had come to witness chaos unfold, to measure the capital's response. They had expected desperation, fractured defense, knights burning through their strength while terror consumed the people.
Instead, they had seen him.
Dave.
His silver light had swept across the city like judgment itself, leaving no room for resistance, no chance for their carefully placed beasts to cause lasting havoc.
"Leader…" one mage whispered, voice trembling as he gripped his grimoire tighter, "this power—it's not… it's not something we can face yet. If even our summoned beasts were erased like nothing…"
Their eyes turned to Licht, standing at the edge of the roof, cloak brushing the wind. His usually calm expression was unreadable, but his hands had stilled on his grimoire. He had felt it too—the weight of that light, the authority behind it. It was not mere magic. It was a declaration.
Another mage swallowed hard, whispering, "Do we strike? Or… retreat?"
Licht's gaze lingered on Dave, who walked calmly through the wreckage below, untouched by dust or blood. Around him, knights moved as if orbiting something greater, their fear and awe binding them more than loyalty ever could.
For the first time, a flicker of hesitation crossed Licht's face. He turned from the battlefield, voice low but absolute.
"Not today. Pull back. To face him now would be suicide."
The mages shifted uneasily but obeyed at once, their illusions dissolving into the night as shadows scattered with the smoke.
In the ruined streets, the knights continued their work, unaware that they had been watched. Only one man looked briefly toward the rooftops—Dave, his silver eyes glinting faintly as if he had known all along.
But he said nothing.
He simply kept walking, his cloak dragging silence in his wake.
The night deepened, but the weight of what had just happened did not fade. The capital, though scarred and bloodied, still stood—a fact owed not to collective defense, but to one man.
As Dave's boots carried him through the streets, civilians peeked from behind broken doors and shattered windows. Mothers clutching children, merchants clutching their ruined wares, guards clutching spears slick with blood—all fell silent when his figure passed. Some bowed without realizing, others simply stared, uncertain if they should thank him… or fear him.
Knights parted instinctively, their conversations dying the moment his shadow touched them. Even captains, hardened by years of battle, felt the air grow heavier around him.
Fuegoleon met him near the center of the city, where the flames were being beaten back. His expression was steady, but his eyes searched Dave's face as though weighing something unseen.
"You ended the attack," Fuegoleon said, voice even but edged with gravity. "But this was no random swarm. Someone planned this. Someone attacked us."
Dave's gaze shifted to the horizon where the smoke thinned into the night sky. His voice, when it came, was calm, stripped of pretense.
"They were here."
Fuegoleon's eyes narrowed. "You sensed them?"
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