Tifa's POV

  I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, my cloak whipping behind me in the wind.

  Below, the monster inside the coliseum roared—its screams shaking the ground, the walls, the sky itself. Stone cracked. Magic burst. People screamed.

  My heart pounded in my chest—not just from the exertion, but from the fear burning through me.

  I was terrified for Evan.

  But I was even more terrified for his daughters.

  He had Aisha with him. But Hope and Faith?

  They had no one.

  I vaulted onto a taller tower near the coliseum, steadying myself for a brief second as I scanned the area from above. My eyes swept the chaos—smoke, destruction, and fleeing civilians.

  If those two girls had run off—trying to get back to their father—it would’ve been toward the coliseum. Toward the worst possible place they could be.

  I couldn't let that happen.

  I moved fast—just seconds spent on each rooftop before vaulting to the next. My old assassin training made the city feel like a jungle gym. My eyes stayed low, scanning the streets, alleyways, and rooftops for any sign of them.

  And then—

  I saw them.

  Hope and Faith.

  Just up ahead.

  Relief almost washed over me—until I saw what was around them.

  A group of cloaked figures—at least twenty—completely surrounding them.

  My stomach dropped. Faith was already on the ground. Hope looked dazed, barely standing. And one of the masked figures—a tall man with a white fox mask—was raising his hand.

  My instincts flared like wildfire.

  I didn’t hesitate. I activated my Wind Voice spell mid-air, whispering my location to the others.

  Then I launched forward. But I was too late, the masked man slammed his fist down towards Hope and knocked her out.

  NO!

  I shot off the rooftop like a bullet, drawing both of my curved blades in a single motion as rage erupted inside me like a volcano.

  That bastard raised his hand against Evan’s daughters.

  He laid a hand on children.

  He was going to pay.

  “RAAGHH!” I screamed as I came down, my swords slicing through the air.

  “Woah there,” the masked man said, almost too casually, as he dodged—jumping back just in time.

  He moved fast. Skilled.

  But I didn’t care.

  After I had landed, I spun back already shifting my stance to cover the girls. My eyes darted to Hope first.

  She was unconscious. Her tiny face swollen on one side, bleeding from the nose. Her breathing was shallow, but steady.

  Then I looked at Faith. She was face-down on the ground. I couldn’t see her expression, couldn’t even tell if she was awake.

  Something inside me snapped.

  My grip on my blades tightened until my knuckles turned white. My vision blurred at the edges, but I held it together—barely.

  He hurt them.

  He hurt those kids.

  And now—He were going to pay.

  The masked creep let out a low laugh, mocking me with his silence.

  My rage boiled.

  I didn’t need words.

  Only action.

  “Looks like I’m really lucky,” the masked man sneered, arms spreading slightly in mock delight. “An elf came to intercept me!”

  I hadn’t even noticed my hood had fallen off, my black hair and my long ears now flowing freely in the wind—exposed. Unhidden.

  But I didn’t care.

  Not anymore.

  The only thing that mattered was that Hope and Faith were safe—and that this man would pay for daring to raise a hand against them.

  I raised one of my swords and pointed it straight at his masked face.

  “I don’t know who you are,” I growled, “and I don’t care what you want. But for what you did to those children… you will pay.”

  He laughed.

  Not nervous.

  Not cautious.

  He laughed like a man who thought the outcome was already decided.

  “Well then—bring it on!” he shouted.

  I lunged towards the wal to the sidel.

  My foot slammed against the wall, launching me towards him as I twisted my body mid-air, adding weight and momentum to my strike.

  My blade came down in a vicious arc toward the masked man—

  But he stepped back smoothly again.

  And then—two more cloaked figures surged forward from behind him.

  I barely recovered when one of them intercepted my strike with a short sword, steel clashing violently. The other tried to blindside me from the left, his blade aimed straight for my ribs.

  But my reflexes kicked in. I brought up my second sword just in time—CLANG!—the force of the hit shuddering down my arm, but I held firm.

  I gritted my teeth and jumped backwards, putting space between us with a quick spin as I regained my stance.

  The masked man chuckled again. “You do realize you’re outnumbered, right? Ten to one. And while I do keep a few Elven servants around, a free-range one like you would fetch far more on the slave market…”

  He tilted his head.

  “Especially a half-breed.”

  My fingers twitched on my hilt—but I didn’t take the bait.

  He was trying to rattle me. Distract me. Get me angry enough to slip up.

  I’m not falling for it.

  I could feel more of them coming in. I was surrounded—but not alone.

  Lucy and the others were on their way. And Lucy… she wasn’t a Grandmaster Mage for nothing.

  I just have to hold them off until they get here.

  Without breaking eye contact, I smoothly slid both swords back into their scabbards.

  The masked man raised an eyebrow.

  Then I reached behind my back and drew my silver bow.

  Evan had taught me a lot about the bow—techniques, footwork, breathing. And thanks to him, I’d grown into a far more capable archer than I ever was a swordswoman.

  The moment I drew it, the masked man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

  “Damn it! Everyone with shields—get in formation!”

  Three of his goons immediately stepped forward, hoisting massive tower shields in front of him. Iron plates locked together with a heavy clank, forming a wall between me and my target.

  I didn’t flinch.

  Instead, I planted my feet wide—rooted like a tree—and pulled several arrows from my quiver.

  This was one of the techniques Evan drilled into me personally.

  A skill he called MultiShot.

  But that wasn’t all he taught me.

  “What’re you gonna do now, huh?!” the masked man mocked. “Come fight us face to face if you dare!”

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  I stared at him, calm and steady.

  “I don’t need to,” I said simply.

  I raised my bow—not at them, but toward the sky—and loosed the first volley of arrows.

  Then the second.

  Then another.

  The sharp whistle of arrows cutting through the air echoed above the rooftops.

  The goons instinctively looked up. Confused. Tense. The masked man shouted something, but it was too late—

  The shieldbearers reacted. They did exactly what I wanted.

  They raised their shields. When they noticed the arrows coming straight down towards them

  Exposing the lower half of their bodies.

  Amateurs.

  By the time they realized their mistake, I had already fired my next volley.

  The arrows hit hard—right into their knees and thighs, punching through gaps in their armor. Some screamed and fell, others stumbled back as blood splattered across the cobblestones.

  A few more masked followers who’d tried hiding behind the shield wall went down as well—struck in the arms or sides.

  They wouldn’t die from it.

  But they definitely weren’t getting back up anytime soon.

  “You bitch!” the masked man roared. “I was gonna be lenient! But now—! Now you’ve left me no choice!”

  He took a step forward, full of fury.

  I said nothing.

  I simply raised my hand… and pointed upward.

  He glanced up just in time to see the first of the original arrows—the extra volleys I’d fired into the sky earlier—come raining down.

  They missed most of their targets, but two more of his men dropped like sacks of bricks, one howling in pain as an arrow pierced his shoulder.

  “DAMN IT!” the masked man screamed. “Everyone—ON THE OFFENSIVE! I ain’t letting her get away now!”

  I gritted my teeth, drawing another arrow, preparing for the storm to come.

  But then—

  A cold whirl of wind swept past me, carrying frost on its breath.

  And in the blink of an eye, a massive wave of ice surged across the ground from behind me, racing forward in a jagged line. It crackled and hissed as it passed beneath my feet, chilling the air.

  It hit the shieldbearers head-on—and froze them solid.

  Their armor frosted over. Their boots locked in place. They didn’t even have time to scream before they were statues of iron and ice.

  “What the—WHAT?!” the masked man shouted in disbelief, stumbling back.

  I glanced back—just in time to see them.

  The others had arrived.

  Luna stood front and center, and it was clear she was the one who cast that massive icicle wave. The frost still lingered in the air, curling around her boots like mist from another world.

  Her expression?

  Fury.

  Raw, silent fury.

  Everyone moved without hesitation. They ran straight to Faith and Hope.

  Lucy dropped to her knees and gently scooped up Faith, cradling her in her arms like fragile glass. Luna slid beside Hope, magic already forming around her fingers as she pressed a hand to the girl’s cheek.

  Oswald stood tall beside me, staff drawn and eyes focused. His magic hummed in the air, ready to strike at the first sign of movement.

  “Sorry we were late,” Oswald muttered, never taking his eyes off the enemy.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said, pulling another arrow from my quiver. “You came at the perfect time.”

  I kept my bow ready, but my gaze flicked back toward the girls—just for a second.

  Faith stirred a little. No bruises, no signs of damage. She was scared, but safe.

  Hope... Hope had taken the worst of it. Her face was still swollen from the masked man’s attack. But Luna—thank the stars—seemed to know healing magic. A faint, soft light pulsed from her hands as she worked, eyes filled with focus and rage.

  Healing magic? That’s Rare.

  “A Silver Daemon, huh?” the masked man muttered, voice oily. “Looks like one of you survived when we wiped the rest off the face of the world.”

  I froze.

  “You... what did you say?” I whispered.

  I turned my head—and saw Luna.

  Her eyes.

  They weren’t just angry.

  They were murderous.

  While holding Hope, her hands trembling—not from fear, but restraint. Her aura began to twist and darken around her like a storm cloud, visible to the naked eye, a shroud of rage made manifest.

  “You know,” Luna said, her voice low, shaking, dangerous, “ever since I arrived in this kingdom... I’ve been pissed off.”

  The ground beneath her boots cracked from the pressure of her mana.

  “I’ve been pissed off at Aisha. I’ve been pissed at the Cultists—you monsters who butchered my people without remorse.”

  Her hair fluttered slightly despite the still air. The dark aura pulsed again.

  “But most of all…”

  Her voice cracked—just for a moment.

  “I’ve been pissed off at myself. For not being strong enough. For not doing something sooner.”

  The masked man smirked and clapped sarcastically. “Well well... look at that, we’ve been found out. Big oops. Guess we’ll have to correct that mistake... by killing all of you.”

  Luna’s POV

  I will kill them.

  I will kill them.

  I WILL KILL THEM ALL!

  The only thing I could feel was rage.

  Unending, all-consuming rage.

  My mana boiled inside me—violent and unstable—twisting itself into something darker than I had ever touched before. I could feel it surging, crawling beneath my skin like wildfire, begging to be released.

  And in the middle of that storm—

  In the middle of my hatred—

  A sound reached me.

  Soft.

  Fragile.

  A small, broken whimper.

  I looked down.

  Hope.

  She was still in my arms, her body still and warm. The bleeding had stopped. The swelling on her face had faded with the healing spell—but her small frame trembled as she whispered,

  “Please... don’t fight...”

  Her voice was barely more than a breath.

  “Papa said... never to hurt anyone... otherwise he’ll be sad…”

  And with that, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

  As if disappointing her father hurt more than anything those monsters could do to her.

  I felt something snap—not from rage this time, but from grief.

  My vision blurred again, but not with power.

  With memory.

  A child—smiling.

  Running through the halls of the castle.

  A laugh that echoed in my ears even now.

  A life that never got the chance to grow.

  Gone.

  All of them. My friends. My comrades. My family.

  Slaughtered.

  While I—

  I was asleep.

  Dreaming of peace while the world I loved burned around me.

  I had done nothing.

  I clutched Hope tighter, trembling. The weight of her tiny body felt like it could crush me.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks before I realized they were even there.

  “I don’t...” I choked, voice cracking. “I don’t sniff... I don’t know what to do…”

  I buried my face into her shoulder, trying—failing—to keep myself together.

  I was strong. I was trained. I was feared.

  But here?

  Now?

  I felt helpless.

  “Luna…”

  Lucy’s voice came softly from beside me.

  She was kneeling too, holding Faith close to her chest. Her expression was calm, but her eyes—her eyes were burning with the same pain I felt.

  I looked up, and in front of me—Tifa stood tall, her bow singing with every shot. Precise. Controlled. Focused.

  Beside her, Oswald’s mana flared like a barrier of light, shielding her from counterattacks, holding the line with unshakable calm.

  They were fighting.

  Protecting.

  Doing what needed to be done.

  And me?

  I stared at my shaking hands.

  “If they’re fighting and protecting...” I whispered, “then what am I doing? What can I do?”

  I looked down at Hope again.

  So small.

  So innocent.

  So brave.

  “I... I don’t know what to do anymore…”

  The battle raged around us.

  But all I could hear was a child’s voice, whispering not to hurt anyone.

  Not to make her Papa sad.

  I had completely given up.

  My arms trembled, cradling Hope’s limp form. My legs refused to move. My thoughts spiraled into silence.

  My body had stopped listening to me.

  I didn’t know what to do anymore.

  Just like before…

  Everyone was getting hurt.

  Everyone was dying.

  Tifa and Oswald were fighting at the frontlines, side by side, doing everything they could—but even their movements were slowing, overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

  And me?

  I just sat here.

  Again.

  What’s the point?

  What’s the point of standing if I can’t protect anyone?

  What’s the point of surviving if I’m only watching the people I care about die in front of me?

  Maybe... it’d be better if I just died with them.

  At least then, I wouldn’t have to live with the shame of being helpless.

  I’m sorry, Mother...

  I couldn’t become the queen you believed I’d be.

  I’m not a pillar.

  Not a symbol of hope.

  I’m just a weak, pathetic girl who thought she could carry the weight of a kingdom.

  ...

  ...

  ...

  And then—

  When I was at my lowest, when the last flicker of light in me had almost gone out—

  Her voice came through.

  Loud. Casual. Bright.

  “Hallo~! Can you hear me, Luna? This is Aisha!”

  Her tone was annoyingly chipper. “Evan and I just beat the giant monster—he totally destroyed it, by the way—and now we’re heading to the Magician’s Library! See you there! Peace!”

  My eyes widened.

  My head snapped toward the coliseum in disbelief.

  “...The giant monster,” I whispered, barely able to speak. “It’s dead. Evan killed it.”

  And yet—even in that tiny voice, everyone around me heard.

  The battlefield paused. For just a moment.

  The masked man snarled. “*No… That’s not possible. How could our Lord be slain by a mortal?!”

  But it was true.

  The weight in my chest lifted—just enough to breathe.

  Hope sparked again.

  Evan... was still here.

  Still fighting.

  My friends—Tifa, Oswald, Lucy—were still here, still giving everything they had.

  Even Hope… even Faith…

  Injured, unconscious, they were still fighting in their own way. Still holding on.

  And me?

  I’m still here too.

  ...Since when did I forget how to fight?

  I am not just anyone.

  I am Luna, heir to the throne of the Silver Daemons.

  I am no longer a frightened child, clinging to others for protection.

  I am no longer the girl hiding behind dreams of a safer world built on isolation and control.

  I am a Queen.

  And a Queen does not falter when her people are watching.

  A Queen does not give up.

  I smiled—finally—a real smile. Not one weighed down by guilt or failure.

  But one forged in resolve.

  My heart lit up like fire. The weight on my shoulders didn’t vanish, but I stood under it willingly.

  I would not be the selfish brat who wanted to lock everyone away just to feel safe.

  I would stand with them.

  I would lead them.

  I looked ahead with clarity.

  Hope and Faith were still unconscious—one in my arms, one in Lucy’s. Just seeing them like that made my blood boil, but right now… their safety is everything.

  Tifa and Oswald were still holding the line—but I could see the cracks. They were being slowly overwhelmed. More and more cultists were pouring out of the alleyways, shadows spilling into the streets like venom.

  We were running out of time.

  There was only one option now.

  We had to retreat.

  Evan and Aisha were already heading toward the Magician’s Library. If we could regroup with them—and call for backup—then we’d have a real chance. Not just to escape, but to fight back. To strike hard, and end this.

  “Everyone!” I shouted, standing tall with Hope in my arms. “We’re going to retreat!”

  “What?” Tifa snapped, spinning around mid-shot.

  I held her gaze firmly as I rose to my feet.

  Hope was still unconscious, but her breathing was steady. The swelling had faded. Her tiny hands were clutching my cloak like a lifeline.

  She was safe.

  I looked down at her gently. “Hold onto me as hard as you can, okay?”

  She nodded, just the faintest movement—like a little squirrel curling into my arms.

  “Evan and Aisha are regrouping at the Library,” I called out. “We’re going there now!”

  “I know the way!” Lucy shouted, already sprinting ahead with Faith in her arms. “Everyone—follow me!”

  “Tifa! Oswald! Fall back!” I commanded. “I’ll put up a wall!”

  They didn’t hesitate. In perfect sync, they leapt away from the front line, landing beside me just as I slammed my foot into the ground.

  CRACK!

  A massive wall of ice erupted from the earth—towering high and wide, sealing off the alley and cutting off pursuit. The cultists on the other side howled in frustration, their footsteps skidding to a halt.

  It wouldn't hold forever—but it didn’t have to.

  Just long enough.

  “Alright! Everyone, move!” Lucy shouted again, her voice strong, fearless.

  We all nodded and took off behind her.

  A soft voice stirred in Lucy’s arms.

  “W-What happened?” Faith mumbled, blinking as she stirred awake.

  Lucy looked down with a smile. “Oh, Faith! You’re awake. Just hold onto Aunt Lucy as hard as you can, okay? Don’t let go.”

  Faith blinked groggily, then nodded and clung to her tightly.

  “O-Okay…”

  We ran—feet pounding across cobblestone, breath sharp in our lungs.

  Behind us, the screams of cultists erupted like thunder beyond the ice wall.

  “YOU IDIOTS!” the masked man roared from somewhere deep within the chaos. “STOP THEM—NO MATTER WHAT! WORD MUST NOT LEAVE THIS PLACE!!!”

  Yeah.

  That ice wall definitely pissed them off.

  “Wait—Sensei!” Oswald shouted, glancing sideways at Lucy as we dashed through the alleyways. “Why are we running?! We could’ve taken them on!”

  “Idiot!” Lucy snapped mid-sprint. “Did you forget Shishou’s very first lesson!?”

  “Absolutely not!” Oswald replied proudly. “He said—‘Sometimes it’s better to run away than to solve your problems!’”

  Lucy nearly tripped. “That’s not what he meant, moron!!”

  “Wait—so are we not ignoring the cultists forever?”

  “It’s the opposite!” Lucy barked. “It’s about pissing off the enemy and making a tactical retreat! Just wait and see!”

  {Author’s Note: One thing’s for sure… Evan’s personality is definitely starting to rub off on them.}

  We took a sharp turn and kept moving.

  And finally—after what felt like a hundred winding streets and near-misses—we saw it.

  People were still running around, Chaos was still everywhere and there weren’t any soldiers to quell the outrage.

  We only had ourselves.

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