The defensive line held.
No one relaxed, but panic faded. Fighters adjusted their positions. Mages conserved mana. Undead patrols moved in steady patterns, watching the streets beyond the perimeter.
Time passed.
Then—far above the city, a massive surge of power erupted.
Everyone felt it.
Golden light spread across the sky like a second sun.
Mike looked up.
"Did we win?" he mumbled as the final decision lay in the hands of those top dogs only when they win can they truly win.
High above the city, the fight had ended.
John stood at the center of a shattered plaza, his body covered in wounds. Blood ran down his arms and legs, but his back was straight, his eyes burning.
Around him lay eight masked enemies.
Six were dead.
Their bodies were torn apart, cut down by his own hands.
The floating Island they fought on was completely devasted, once an VIP place to live now its in ruins.
Only two remained alive—both restrained, pinned to the ground by golden energy that bound their limbs and sealed their mana.
John laughed, breath heavy.
"Six," he muttered. "Heh... guess that’s my limit for today."
He looked at the two survivors, eyes cold.
"Now let’s just kill the others."
The air trembled.
Golden, molten-like light erupted from his body and spread across the entire city in an instant.
From the sky, countless golden swords formed—thousands upon thousands.
Then they fell.
Each blade struck with perfect precision.
Masked fanatics across the city didn’t even have time to scream. The swords pierced through heads, hearts, and cores, ending them instantly. Each blade of his was perfectly targeted.
In less than a second—
It was over.
Silence spread through the city.
The remaining defenders stared upward, stunned.
"It must be the Mad Bull... the Golden Tyrant, John Mercer," someone whispered.
Mike blinked, even more surprised.
"That guy can fight?" he thought.
The last time Mike had met him, John didn’t look like a "Mad Bull" at all.
"...Maybe he’s secretly a battle maniac," Mike muttered, finally relaxing a little.
Then—
Two figures descended from the sky.
One landed with heavy authority, the ground cracking slightly beneath his feet. The other touched down lightly, surrounded by a faint twilight glow.
City Lord Arnold.
And the Twilight Priestess, Tina.
The moment they appeared, everyone straightened instinctively.
"You all did great," Arnold said loudly, his voice carrying across the area. His gaze paused briefly on Lily, who simply nodded in response.
Then he turned to the crowd.
"You can relax now," he continued. "You’re free to leave and return to your homes... if your homes are still intact."
There was a brief silence.
Then Arnold spoke again, his tone firm but sincere.
"We will rebuild the city within a day. Until then—thank you. Every one of you, for protecting this city."
He bowed.
A deep, formal bow.
The defenders froze in disbelief.
A city lord... bowing to them?
Then smiles spread through the crowd.
Some waved their hands awkwardly.
Others laughed and said it was fine.
A few simply nodded, pride and relief clear on their faces.
"Compensation will be given to all of you based on the number of masked fanatics you killed," Arnold announced.
The moment he said that, the mood changed completely.
Excited murmurs spread through the crowd. Faces lit up with anticipation as people began mentally counting their kills.
Those who had fought hard stood taller.
Those who had hidden behind others avoided eye contact, jealousy written clearly on their faces.
Many eyes turned toward Lily.
Whispers followed.
Just how powerful would her rewards be?
After all, she was the one who had killed the most fanatics by far.
Then some people glanced at Mike as well.
His contribution was second only to Lily’s—and unlike her, he had done it while moving across multiple zones, rescuing civilians and crushing enemies wherever he went.
For most of them, it was clear.
These two would be receiving rewards on an entirely different level.
After the announcements, the tension finally drained away.
People began to disperse in small groups. Some searched for family. Others helped carry the wounded. The undead patrols slowly withdrew, fading back into Lily’s control as the city settled into an uneasy calm.
Mike didn’t stay.
He turned and walked away quietly.
Lily followed soon after, gathering her family as well.
Misty was still shaking.
Earlier, she had seen the massive troll-like monster Lily’s undead had crushed—its twisted face burned into her memory. She clung to her father’s arm, hiding her face, her small body stiff with fear.
"It’s okay," her father said softly, trying to smile. "Children forget things easily."
But worry was written clearly on both her parents’ faces.
Mike also looked worried as he looked at Misty in his father’s hand.
Misty—usually playful and curious—was silent now, buried against her father, too afraid to even look around.
Mike didn’t say anything.
They left together.
Lily’s family joined them, deciding it was safer to stay as one group for the night.
Their destination was Jordan Mansion.
The gates opened quickly when they arrived.
Candace rushed out the moment she saw them.
She let out a long breath of relief.
"...It’s good you’re alive," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I wanted to come save you, but... we were also surrounded by strong people."
"By the time I finished dealing with them, the battle here was already over," she added quietly.
Mike only nodded, his gaze briefly sweeping over the street outside, where the bodies of Rank 4 and Rank 5 masked figures still lay scattered.
He didn’t blame her—nor did he rely on her.
That was why he had called Roselia to protect his family.
"By the way," Mike said, turning slightly, "this is Lily, and these are her parents."
Lily and her parents greeted Candace politely, and Candace returned the greeting with a composed smile.
"They’re the other three guests I mentioned to Jordan that day," Mike added.
Candace nodded in understanding. "We already had rooms prepared for them as well," she said.
Mike nodded once.
With that, they all went inside.