Meanwhile, in Grandins, the floating city of the demihumans.

White light bloomed inside its teleportation chamber.

Unlike Astraea's pristine starsteel halls, this chamber was carved from living stone and adorned with banners of fur, fang, and feather—symbols of the many demihumans of the past that called Grandins home.

Three figures emerged.

Ragnar.

Rovan.

Rina.

They didn't fall.

They didn't bleed.

They stood upright as the teleportation glow peeled away from their bodies, cloaks fluttering slightly as residual mana dispersed into the air.

For half a heartbeat, the chamber attendants froze.

Then—

"They're uninjured."

"But they came without anyone."

"Does it mean that the one who made the alarm blare was an enemy?"

Low murmurs spread instantly. Relief. Doubt. Confusion.

Everyone in the teleportation room knew what Ragnar and the twins' mission had been.

After all, it was rare for people to go on missions outside the demihuman domain, so if someone did, everyone knew it.

Still, since they returned victorious, several guards straightened, fists to chests in salute.

A healer stepped forward instinctively—then hesitated.

Because Ragnar didn't look victorious.

His expression was grim, jaw tight, and eyes darker than usual. There was no smile. No pride.

Only urgency.

"We need to inform the Supremes," Ragnar said immediately, his voice firm as he glanced at the twins. "Now."

The twins nodded while the attendants exchanged looks.

One of them cleared his throat carefully. "Sir Ragnar… protocol dictates—"

"I know the protocol," Ragnar cut in. "But this cannot wait."

The room sensed it then.

Something was wrong.

Ragnar exhaled slowly, forcing himself to rein in the pressure rolling off him.

"I will speak with the one supreme whom I don't need protocols to go to," he said, his tone measured now. "The Lion Supreme."

That name changed things.

The Lion Supreme was from the Lionaris clan—ancient, proud, and respected. Their Supreme was known not for brute authority, but judgment, and the one Supreme Ragnar believed would listen, as they were of the same clan.

"…This way," an attendant said quietly.

Rovan and Rina followed close behind as Ragnar was guided through the inner corridors of Grandins, stone walls giving way to higher halls, ancient runes glowing faintly beneath their steps.

None of them spoke.

Each step echoed more heavily than the last.

After a while, the attendant paused, reaching the straight hallway that led to the Lion Supreme's chamber.

"This is as far as I can go," he said, making Ragnar nod before he strode forward, the twins sticking close to him.

They were halfway down a long, open corridor leading toward the Lionaris Supreme's chamber—

When the air ahead of them rippled.

Ragnar stopped dead.

Rovan's hand went to his weapon.

Rina's breath caught.

The space before them folded inward, reality bending like water disturbed by a thrown stone.

And from that distortion—

A tall figure stepped out calmly.

Feathers brushed softly against his shoulders.

An owl demihuman.

Ash-gray plumage. Golden, ancient eyes. A long cloak embroidered with sigils of equilibrium and cycles older than recorded history.

The Owl Supreme.

The Keeper of Balance.

The corridor fell silent.

"…Supreme," Ragnar said instinctively, lowering his head.

The Owl Supreme regarded them quietly for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

"Did you meet a dragon?"

Shock froze them.

Rovan's eyes widened.

Rina sucked in a sharp breath.

Ragnar's head snapped up, staring.

"…How do you—"

But the realization came just as fast.

The Keeper of Balance.

The one who always knew when the world tilted too far.

The one who had guided the demihumans through disasters, wars, and decisions that could be disadvantageous for the demihumans—not by force, but by truth.

If anyone would know what they were here for, it would be him.

"…Yes," Ragnar said, nodding firmly.

Rovan and Rina nodded with him, expressions resolute.

"That's why we're here," Ragnar continued. "This isn't something that can be hidden. All Supremes need to hear it. Now."

He hesitated, then added honestly—

"…Will you help us? It would be best if they heard it from all of us."

The Owl Supreme didn't answer.

Silence stretched.

Too long.

The Owl Supreme closed his eyes.

And sighed.

"…I'm truly sorry."

Ragnar frowned. "Sorry—for what—?"

Before he, or the twins, could even understand why the Owl supreme was apologizing—

Their world was inverted.

Their vision flipped violently as the Owl Supreme's hands twisted—not with strength, but with authority.

There was a sharp, wet sound.

Three.

Distinct.

Snaps.

Ragnar's world went dark before pain could register.

Rovan never even screamed.

Rina's eyes widened in confusion—then everything faded.

Their bodies collapsed—but before blood could spill, the Owl Supreme stepped forward, his cloak unfurling like a shadow.

It covered them completely.

And when it lifted—

They were gone.

Not a trace remained.

The corridor was empty once more.

The Owl Supreme stood alone.

He shook his head slowly.

"…This was necessary," he murmured. "For the future of our world."

He turned, beginning to walk away.

Then paused.

As if hearing a voice only he could perceive.

His head tilted slightly.

"…Yes," he said quietly. "I know."

"They were only three people."

His golden eyes dimmed, as if they were heavy with centuries of burden.

"But their deaths may help save the entire world."

The air rippled again.

And the Keeper of Balance vanished—

Leaving the truth buried beneath silence.

Of course, whatever he did would only delay things for a while—he knew that.

But that was all he wanted.

Because he was sure that the time he had bought was enough for things to settle down.

..........................

Back in the forest, after the booming clash had faded, the sky slowly returned to its normal state.

Blackened clouds dispersed, scorched air cooling inch by inch as the colossal shadow above the city folded inward.

Scales receded like melting night, wings collapsing into light, until Kael's massive form condensed—compressed by will rather than force.

A heartbeat later, he stood once more as a man.

Boots touched stone.

The impact was soft, controlled, and almost gentle as Kael descended into the heart of his town.

Silence greeted him.

Not the fearful kind.

The heavy kind.

Evethra stood first, crimson eyes still burning faintly, her hands clenched tightly at her sides as if she feared he might vanish again.

Lyra was beside her, pale but steady, relief and dread tangled in her expression.

Alenia leaned against a broken wall, arms crossed tightly, jaw set as she tried—and failed—to mask the tremor in her breath.

Druvarn, Darian, and Vaelen stood shoulder to shoulder like warriors who had seen countless battles, and yet now everything they knew looked painfully small.

Aldric stood apart.

Frozen.

He stared at Kael as if looking at a god who had decided—on a whim—to walk among mortals.

His back was straight—his expression blank, but something fundamental had shifted.

When Kael's golden eyes briefly flicked toward him, Aldric immediately lowered his gaze, hand to chest in instinctive respect.

He hadn't known that Kael was a dragon.

And now that he did, nothing could ever be the same.

At the edge of the square, Marthis lay unconscious, unaware of everything and ignored by everyone.

Kael, on the other hand, exhaled slowly.

The silence weighed on him more than the battle had.

No one spoke at first.

Because they all felt it.

The distance.

Not physical—but absolute.

They had all seen it now.

Kael hadn't fought alongside them.

Despite doing what he could to make them all stronger, they still needed him to protect them.

Like a wall.

Like a storm held back by choice.

Lyra's hands trembled slightly as she clenched them. "We… we couldn't help at all," she said quietly.

Evethra bit her lip, eyes burning—not with fear, but frustration. "We were liabilities," she whispered. "If we were stronger—"

Kael raised a hand.

They fell silent immediately.

He looked at them all—really looked.

And for once, he didn't smile.

"Enough," he said calmly. Not harsh. Just final. "This isn't the time for that."

They stiffened.

"I won't lie to you," Kael continued. "They will return."

The words landed like stones.

"Stronger ones," he went on. "Smarter ones. This wasn't a probe—it was confirmation."

He glanced toward the horizon, where the city's barrier still shimmered faintly.

"I don't know if I'll win next time," he admitted. "And even if I do… I might not be able to protect this place while doing it."

That was the moment fear truly set in.

"So we leave," Kael said.

All eyes snapped to him.

"We abandon this town," he continued evenly. "Every single person who came here—everyone who put their faith in me—comes with us."

That was when Druvarn raised his hand. "Did all of them escape?"

He and a few others had been able to catch a glimpse of the fight, yet it was all too fast to say anything, so everyone was somewhat curious as to what had happened.

"Yes, except the human twins," Kael replied. "They are dead."

He paused, then added flatly. "Their bodies should be near the barrier."

He turned to Druvarn. "Retrieve them. Keep them in prison."

"For what purpose?" Druvarn asked.

Kael's eyes flickered. "To grow stronger."

Druvarn nodded without further question.

"There's a place," Kael continued. "Far from here. A clearing I saw long ago while flying. Wide. Fertile. Hidden."

He looked at Alenia. At Evethra. At the people who had chosen to believe in him without ever knowing what he was.

"I'll teleport everyone there."

They tilted their heads.

Teleport everyone?

"That means we move now," Kael said. "No delays. No debates."

His gaze sharpened. "Gather everyone. Tell them only this—that I'm moving them somewhere safe."

No one argued.

They moved immediately.

..........................

Within a minute, the town was moving again, as messengers ran through the streets.

People emerged from homes still shaken by the distant echoes of battle. They saw the broken sky, the cracked ground—and Kael standing uninjured at the center of it all.

That was enough.

They didn't ask why.

They didn't demand explanations.

If Kael said move, they moved.

Families gathered. Supplies were grabbed. Children were lifted into arms.

Fear was there—but trust outweighed it.

High above, unseen by all but Kael—

The world shifted.

And the dragon prepared to move his people.

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