Rows after rows, people continued to gather beneath him.

William decided that before the number reached fifty, it would be better to transport them.

He was capable of lifting more than a hundred people at once, but overcrowding the sky would draw unnecessary attention.

Slowly, his body began to descend.

Removing his hands from his pockets, he lowered himself toward the ground.

Some of the survivors noticed him coming down and instinctively cleared space, allowing him to land softly among them.

Everyone turned to look at the young man—his calm expression completely at odds with the chaos unfolding around them.

In a clear, steady voice, William addressed them.

"I am not taking you to safety on foot. Do not panic, and do not make a sound, or you will alert the Devils. If you have children, cover their eyes. If you're afraid of heights, the same advice applies to you."

His words made it clear that there would be no walking to safety, nor any transport by carriages.

Before anyone could question him or even process what he had said, William raised his left hand.

"Ooh!"

"Ah… I'm flying…"

The ten people closest to him began to rise first, followed by another ten. Within moments, every single person was hovering a few feet above the ground.

William lifted off next, leaving the surface behind.

As his figure ascended, the others rose with him.

William wasn't trying to take them to the moon. He only needed them high enough to avoid colliding with anything. Once he reached the required altitude, he began guiding the entire group toward the town's exit.

It demanded intense concentration. He had to maintain an equal grip on every single person—any imbalance, even a minor slip, could disrupt his focus and spiral into disaster.

As a telekinesis user, it wasn't enough to simply exert Aether and be done with it. Absolute control over his mental focus was essential.

While he moved through the air toward the haven, William noticed something.

Every one of them was clinging to the person closest to them.

A husband holding his wife.

A mother clutching her children.

Brothers supporting one another.

The elderly shielding the young.

It was a strangely wholesome sight—one that spoke of unity in the face of fear.

Then William's gaze settled on a young man carrying a toddler in his arms.

He was fidgeting badly, his anxiety bleeding through so strongly that William couldn't consciously ignore his thoughts.

Don't look down. Don't look down…

The thought kept repeating in the young man's head, yet his hold on the baby remained firm and gentle.

William watched him and smiled faintly before drifting closer.

Naturally, his movement drew everyone's attention. After all, William alone held their lives in his hands—if he wished, he could end them just as easily.

The young man noticed him approaching, and before he could fully process what was happening, William spoke.

"Here. Hold me."

William extended his arm. The man grabbed it instinctively, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

Somehow, even though he wasn't falling, the young man felt as if he had found an anchor—something that would keep both him and the child safe.

William gave a small shake of his head and turned his gaze forward.

With the crowd packed so tightly, he couldn't get a clear view of what awaited them below. And so—

"Ehh!"

"Wh–What are you doing?!"

He began spreading the people apart, pushing them a little farther from one another, drawing startled cries and rising panic.

William ignored their voices and focused on the place where he intended to set them down.

There, he spotted several tents, lanterns glowing outside them, and a few figures patrolling the base.

The night sky was too dark for them to notice the crowd at first, but as William drew closer to the haven, a young man with dark brown hair finally spotted him and froze.

"Woah… what the—?!"

His startled voice immediately drew the attention of the others.

More soldiers—or rather, students—moved to the front, their expressions mirroring his shock as they saw dozens of people descending from the sky.

The young man at the front met William's gaze, and William found himself grinning in response.

As the civilians began landing one after another, the students quickly moved into action. They checked if anyone was hurt, asked if medical assistance was needed, and only then guided them toward the tents.

The one who had been staring at William finally spoke.

"Didn't think we'd meet again like this."

William chuckled.

"You just vanished after humiliating me, didn't you?"

Mark gave a wry smile in response.

He was the same person William had fought during the contest. Their clash hadn't been part of the official matches—Mark had already been disqualified by then. It was merely a spar.

Or at least, that was how it had started.

Just when William believed he had secured the win, Mark did something that left him completely stunned—and utterly defeated. William had woken up the next morning in the infirmary, with no clear memory of how it happened.

"What are you doing here?" William asked, resting his hands on his waist.

Mark let out a sigh.

"Well, our academy volunteered for this program too. As you can see…"

He paused, then added with a shrug,

"And somehow, I ended up getting enlisted."

William snorted.

"Well, at least you stopped hiding in the crowd." The first time he had seen the guy, he hadn't even noticed him.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"Not everyone likes to put on a show every time they step out of their house—"

He froze mid-sentence.

William frowned and turned toward the source of the disturbance.

In the distance, several Devils were rushing toward them.

More than ten—some half-burnt, some wounded—but every single one of them charged forward with fanatic intent, straight toward the people William had just rescued.

"This looks grim…" Mark muttered, his hand hovering near his weapon.

Not everyone had been escorted into the tents. Only the injured, children, and women had been moved inside. The remaining male civilians saw the advancing figures as well, and panic spread instantly through the group.

"What should we do now?" Mark asked, glancing at William.

The blond smirked.

"Well, I'm already infamous for putting on a show. So stand back and enjoy."

As he spoke, William slowly rose into the air.

The civilians' attention shifted from the incoming danger to the boy moving toward the Devils, as if the monsters themselves no longer existed.

William let out a slow breath and locked onto his targets.

Twelve of them. All gradeless Devils—but still strong and vicious enough to tear down an adult man with ease.

For a brief moment, he considered smashing them one by one.

Then a thought surfaced. A curiosity that had lingered at the back of his mind for some time now.

Closing his eyes, William relived a memory that could have mentally scarred a man for life.

The sensation of being peeled, torn apart, and broken by the crowd around him flooded back.

The Devils drew closer.

William remained suspended in the air, every muscle relaxed—except his right hand, which slowly rose toward his face.

He lifted his index finger.

And something began to change.

A point of distortion appeared before his raised finger.

There was no color to it, no glow, no violent surge of energy. It was simply there—a tiny, warped pocket of space where the air itself seemed unsure of how to behave.

The ground beneath the Devils trembled.

At first, it was subtle. Dust lifted. Loose debris skittered across the earth as if pulled by an unseen tide.

Then the pull intensified.

One of the Devils stumbled, claws scraping against the ground as it tried to anchor itself. Another lost its footing entirely, dragged forward with a hoarse snarl.

Panic replaced fanaticism.

They dug their limbs into the soil, bodies straining, but it didn't matter. One by one, they were ripped free—yanked toward the invisible vortex as though the world itself had decided to reject them.

A Devil was lifted off the ground, limbs flailing as it was pulled screaming toward the orb. It vanished without a sound.

Then another.

And another.

The civilians stood frozen, watching monsters far stronger than them get swallowed like insects caught in a silent storm.

The vortex grew only slightly—never expanding wildly, never roaring—yet its pull became absolute.

William's finger remained steady.

But then, suddenly, Emma's face flashed by his mind…lovingly looking at him and the spell broke.

*DHAK* *DHAK*

One after another, every devil began to fall to the ground, some twitching and not getting and some grunting but pushing themselves off the ground.

Mark clicked his tongue and took out his weapon.

'He pulled them even closer to the camp…' He charged forward, taking down already damaged Devils.

Meanwhile, William remained suspended in the air…a frown of doubt marring his face.

°°°°°°°°°°

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