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---
The town felt quiet.
Just quiet in the way places became when people were waiting for something bad to happen.
Soldiers moved along the walls more often now.
Doors were shut earlier.
The air itself felt tight.
Fern walked through one of the upper streets with Stark beside her.
Her expression was calm as usual.
Stark's was not.
He kept glancing at the walls.
Then at the road.
Then at the sky.
Then back at Fern.
"She's still in jail," Stark said.
Fern nodded.
"Yes."
"That's bad."
"Yes."
Stark frowned.
"You sound way too calm about it."
Fern looked ahead.
"I'm thinking."
"That's what calm people say."
Fern ignored that.
A cart rolled past them carrying spears and bundled arrows.
Two soldiers followed behind it, speaking in low voices.
Stark watched them go.
'Yeah. This is getting worse.'
He looked back at Fern.
"So."
Fern looked at him.
"So?"
"How do we get Frieren out?"
Fern was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "We could speak to Graf Granat."
Stark immediately made a face.
"The same Graf Granat who threw Frieren-sama in jail?"
"Yes."
"The same one who got angry because she tried to kill the demons?"
"Yes."
Stark folded his arms.
"That doesn't sound promising."
Fern kept walking.
"It's still the best option."
Stark groaned.
"I liked it better when all I had to do was swing an axe."
They turned a corner.
The upper district was busier than the rest of town, but even here, nobody lingered. Guards stood posted near intersections. Messengers moved between buildings with hurried steps.
Fern looked toward the manor.
"Graf Granat is suspicious already."
Stark blinked.
"Of the demons?"
"Yes."
"So maybe we just tell him Frieren was right."
Fern nodded once.
"That's the idea."
Stark scratched his cheek.
"And if he doesn't listen?"
Fern thought for a second.
"Then we break her out."
Stark stared at her.
Fern looked back at him.
"What?"
"…Nothing."
He looked away.
"It's just weird hearing you say that so casually."
Fern's face did not change.
"Frieren-sama would approve."
They kept walking.
Then Fern slowed slightly.
Stark noticed at once.
"What is it?"
Fern's eyes shifted toward the edge of town.
"The demons."
He frowned.
"What about them?"
"They're moving."
Stark's hand drifted toward the axe on his back.
The pressure in the air was subtle.
He couldn't sense mana like Fern could.
But he could feel danger.
And that feeling was getting stronger.
Fern kept her gaze forward.
"We need to hurry."
This time Stark didn't joke.
"Yeah."
They headed for the manor.
The town around them kept preparing for war.
---
Far beyond the walls, on a rise overlooking the domain, Aura stood alone.
Her army waited below.
Rows upon rows of dead men.
The wind moved through the empty field and tugged softly at her hair.
Aura smiled as she looked toward the town in the distance.
The barrier still shimmered faintly around it.
A thin wall of temporary resistance.
Her fingers rested lightly on the scales she carried.
There was comfort in their weight.
In their certainty.
Humans always looked different before a massacre.
Some prayed.
Some shouted.
Some ran.
Some pretended to be brave.
But in the end, they all bled the same.
Aura's smile deepened.
"It's been a while."
She spoke to no one.
The dead below her gave no answer.
That was one of the things she liked about them.
No lies.
No speeches.
No pleading.
Only obedience.
She looked toward the distant walls again.
Soon the barrier would fall.
Soon the gates would open.
Soon the streets would be filled with screaming.
The thought pleased her.
A town had a rhythm when it died.
First came disbelief.
Then panic.
Then chaos.
Then the silence afterward.
Aura closed her eyes for a moment and imagined it.
Armor splitting.
Horses collapsing.
Stone streets turning red.
A father trying to shield his child.
A soldier trying to stand after his legs were gone.
Humans were always so dramatic when they died.
Aura opened her eyes again.
"I wonder how many this one will be."
The wind answered with silence.
She smiled at that too.
---
Inside the town, in one of the rooms given to Aura's envoys, Lügner stood by the window.
Linie was nearby.
As always, she was quiet.
The room stayed silent for a while.
Then Linie spoke.
"I can't sense Draht anymore."
Lügner's expression did not change.
"He's dead."
Linie looked at him.
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
He looked out at the street below.
"That elf killed him."
Linie nodded once.
"She's dangerous."
Lügner was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "Draht was careless."
Linie tilted her head slightly.
"He was confident."
"He was an idiot."
Linie accepted that without comment.
Below them, soldiers were gathering.
Lügner noticed it.
"So."
Linie followed his gaze.
"They know."
"Yes."
Lügner's voice stayed calm.
"Graf Granat has likely realized what we are planning to do."
Linie looked toward the door.
"Will that be a problem?"
"Only briefly."
He adjusted one glove.
"The barrier falls as soon as we force his hand."
Linie's eyes shifted back toward the window.
"Aura-sama is close."
"Yes."
Lügner's expression hardened slightly.
"That means this farce is nearly over."
Linie was quiet.
Then she said, "I wanted to fight the red-haired warrior."
Lügner glanced at her.
"Stark?"
She nodded.
"He moves like Eisen."
Lügner looked away again.
"And the girl?"
"Strong."
"How strong?"
Linie thought for a moment.
"Very."
That answer lingered in the room.
Lügner did not smile this time.
The elf had killed Draht.
The young mage was dangerous.
The warrior had traces of Eisen in him.
Annoying but manageable.
For now.
Lügner looked out toward the distant edge of town.
"What matters," he said, "is that the barrier falls before matters become troublesome."
Linie nodded.
"I understand."
Neither of them spoke after that.
There was nothing else to say.
---
The road shook under a blur of motion.
Shamrock ran with a grin on his face.
His coat snapped behind him in the wind as he tore down the road at blinding speed, feet striking earth in a rapid rhythm that barely seemed human.
The repairs to his outfit had held up well.
After the fight with Ubël, he had stopped at a nearby village.
An old woman there had taken one look at his torn coat, clicked her tongue, and told him to stop ruining good clothing.
Then she had stitched it back together anyway.
She had even fixed the torn sleeve.
And fed him.
Shamrock had decided she was a great woman.
Now the custom outfit of the Continental Magic Association sat cleanly on his shoulders again, hood bouncing lightly behind his neck, sword secure at his side.
He leaned forward and ran faster.
Fields blurred.
Trees flashed past.
A cart driver on the road barely had time to shout before Shamrock was already gone.
His smile widened.
The cuts from Ubël still stung.
Good.
It made the whole thing feel real.
His first real fight outside the city.
And he had survived.
No.
More than that.
He had won.
Probably.
Close enough.
Shamrock could feel it now.
Something big.
Something waiting.
His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword as he ran.
'Aura.'
That name alone made his blood move faster.
A Demon General.
A real one.
The kind people remembered.
The kind history wrote down.
Shamrock grinned.
"Just wait."
His voice was carried off by the wind.
He lowered his body and burst forward again.
---
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