Grey landed with cat‑like grace, his boots whispering over the cracked earth.
He brushed a few glowing embers from his pant's pocket and strode toward his friends, who stood rooted in place, mouths agape.
Their eyes flicked from his calm expression to the charred carcasses of the bat‑beasts and the cratered ground he'd carved.
"Hmph—destructive," he remarked casually, shoulders relaxing as he surveyed the aftermath.
"When… when did you learn fusion magic? And—is it from that book we found in the cave?" Arthur stammered, awe and confusion mingling in his voice.
"I learned it back on the planet," Grey replied, tone as steady as twilight wind. "And yes, it's from the book."
"How… how did you master it so fast?" Scarlet asked, stepping forward as residual sparks of flame danced across her sleeves. "And why the hell did you have to unlock something so overwhelmingly powerful?"
"Not my fault you couldn't read the book," Grey shrugged, tracing a swirl in the ash‑dust beneath his feet. "You all should figure out how to extract the bats' magical cores—wouldn't want those cores to go to waste."
"Who the hell are you ordering around?" Jay shouted, his water‑blade dripping in lazy arcs.
"The weaklings standing before me," Grey replied without turning, his tone icy.
"Why the hell do you keep calling us weaklings, you arrogant peasant?!" Greg thundered, stepping forward until a vein pulsed at his temple.
"I'll stop when you all surpass me," Grey answered, walking on. "Which, let's be honest, won't happen anytime soon."
"What sheer arrogance," Scarlet muttered, fists clenching so tight the veins on her forearms stood out like ropes.
"What you call arrogance, I call charisma," Vanica said softly, cheeks flushed as she emerged from the ridge where she'd been finishing her healing spells.
"Just keep quiet, you d*ck sucker" Greg lunged, but Vanica's steely gaze halted him.
"Who're you calling a dick‑licker?" she demanded, voice crisp as frost.
"You, of course!" Greg sneered.
"Have I licked yours?" Vanica shot back, tone daring as she knelt by the nearest carcass, plucking a jagged wing fragment from the earth. Calmly, she extracted its glowing core.
"Like I'd let a peasant touch my precious jewel," Greg huffed, jaw clenched.
"Like I'm dying to touch that matchstick," Vanica retorted, slipping the core into her pouch. Greg's face burned richer than the embers at his feet.
Scarlet's surprised giggle rippled into full‑throated laughter. "Haha—didn't know your precious jewel competed with a matchstick!"
"Annoying bitches!" Greg spat, lightning crackling around his clenched fists.
"Guys!" a new voice called from above, carried on rushing wings. A vast wind bird descended, feathers glinting in the dying light as Vince and Vorden dismounted with practiced grace.
"Hey, Vanica—why did you leave us back there to come here?" Vorden asked, brow furrowed in curiosity.
"I healed all the injured civilians," Vanica answered succinctly, eyes warm but wary. "I thought they would need me here—but I guess they didn't."
"Where's Grey?" Vince asked, neck snapping as he searched the clearing.
"Who cares?" Vorden shrugged, then spotted Greg's flushed features. "Why are you so beet‑red?"
Greg opened his mouth to retort but faltered under Scarlet's continued laughter.
Soon, Raze and Vince joined Vanica, moving in unison to extract the glittering cores from the dozens of shattered bat‑beasts. Their motions were efficient, practiced.
Thirty minutes later, sweat gleamed on every forehead. The core‑pouches at their waists were full, and their limbs tingled from the effort.
As they straightened, Grey strolled over, hands casually tucked into his pockets. To his left, the wind bird rested with patient wings; to his right, his friends stood in a half‑circle, pouches heavy with plucked cores.
"Shall—" Grey began, voice low, but a rising chorus of cheers cut him off.
They turned to see the rescued villagers returning down the dusty path. Their faces shone with relief and gratitude.
An old man, white‑bearded and weathered by sun and wind, stepped forward, raising a trembling fist.
"Three cheers for the Lunaria squad!" he cried, voice cracking with emotion.
"Hip, hip—hooray!" the crowd roared, hats and hands lifting in salute. Vanica, Vorden, Vince—and even Jay, Gordon, and Raze—smiled broadly, their chests swelling with pride. Only Grey, Greg, and Scarlet maintained guarded expressions.
"Thank you so much for saving us," the old man said, bowing deeply, cane clicking on the stones.
"It was nothing," Grey replied flatly, voice cool as dawn frost.
"Please—how can we ever repay you?" the old man pressed, eyes bright with hope.
"There's nothing you need to do. We did our duty," Grey said sharply.
"Now bury the dead and clear the wreckage. Reinforcements will arrive to rebuild." He gestured toward the wind bird, which flapped its great wings.
"Mount up," he added. In an instant, they were aloft, the wind roaring in their ears as the bird soared toward the horizon.
'That boy carried an aura far beyond his years,' the old man thought, watching the sweeping silhouette depart. 'Is he the one? The one that got them worried? Whatever!As long as he had helped us, I don't have any obligations to taking his life.'
High above the smoldering ruins, Grey stood on the bird's broad back, eyes drifting to distant clouds—until Scarlet's voice cut through the breeze.
"Don't you think you were too cold to them? They only wanted to thank us."
"Yeah—same thing you pulled a month ago during that bandit raid," Vanica added, tone reproachful against the roar of the wind.
"I don't owe any explanations," Grey replied flatly. "I answer to no one but myself. Most especially, I don't answer to weaklings."
"Again with 'weaklings'?" Greg shouted, frustration igniting his tone.
"Problem with it? Get stronger—or keep your voice down," Grey said coldly, gaze fixed on the shifting landscape below.
'How do I explain the strange aura I felt from that old man?' Grey thought as the wind bird bolted toward the academy. 'Something divine…almost overwhelming. I sensed the same presence at Lord Cedric's party when I humbled that noble.
Something monumental is stirring in this kingdom—and I'm nowhere near strong enough to face it.'