Matruska moved first.

The spear left her hand.

BUUM—!!

Lightning wrapped in a purple aura exploded as the spear shot past the Baroness. While it was still hanging in the air beside her, in a single blink Matruska vanished from where she stood—and reappeared mid-motion, catching the spear's shaft and swinging it down into a bandit who was about to charge the Baroness.

The pressure of her aura stacked instantly. Two figures with absolute authority over the battlefield stood side by side—without a single word exchanged.

At the same time—

Valeric burst forward.

He cut past the front line, passing Lucas, who was still standing unsteadily, right hand gripping The Great Hoe.

The air split.

Valeric landed beside the Baron.

The Baron turned immediately. His brows furrowed.

"…Highblade?" His voice was low, but sharp.

"What business do you have on my land?"

Valeric dipped his head briefly, one hand to his chest.

"My apologies for the intrusion, My Lordship."

Lucas watched from a distance.

Something was different.

The Baron's posture had changed. His shoulders were straighter, his gaze hard and focused—no longer a weary head of a household, but a noble fully asserting control over his domain.

Valeric turned his eyes toward the bandits, their bodies swollen, purple veins glowing beneath darkened skin.

"That wooden stake," he said quickly but clearly,

"comes from a tree that grew in land destroyed by the Dark Dragon Myolvidaraz."

The Baron froze for a split second.

"…What?"

Valeric nodded.

"It is only natural that you would not know, My Lordship. This discovery was only confirmed a few years ago."

Valeric's aura surged. He shifted his footing, ready to strike.

But—

"Don't," the Baron ordered curtly.

His hands were already drawing the bow again.

TWANG— TWANG—!!

Crimson-colored arrows flew, slamming into the bandits' bodies—not to kill, but to cripple, to break their rhythm.

The Baron did not look back.

"Do not let my land be designated an emergency area," he said coldly.

"Put your sword away."

Valeric understood immediately.

He lowered his aura and bowed once more.

"Forgive my impudence, My Lordship."

Then he raised his head.

"In that case… allow me to explain how to stop them without killing them."

The Baron continued firing as he listened.

"The wooden stake is the source of their power," Valeric continued.

"If it is weakened, the effect collapses. They will revert to ordinary humans."

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"How?" he muttered quietly.

Valeric answered as if he had heard him.

"The stake must be shot directly," he said.

"With a strong concentration of mana. Once it is destroyed—the effect disappears instantly."

He paused, his tone hardening.

"However, rapid regeneration magic must be applied immediately afterward. Their organs will be exposed due to the forced release. Without instant treatment, they will die from blood loss."

The Baron drew a long breath.

"…Understood."

In the distance, Matruska and the Baroness moved in perfect unison.

The aura of the battlefield suddenly changed.

The Baron drew his bow once more.

But this time—

it was not crimson light gathering at the tip of the arrow.

A greenish glow—dense and heavy—coiled tightly, like the core of a living crystal. At the same moment, a luminous pattern emerged from the center of his forehead and stretched toward the back of his head—interlocking geometric lines resembling iron fencing, forming something akin to a crown.

Mana pressure surged.

TWANG—!!

The green arrow flew.

There was no explosion.

No loud sound.

Only—

a bandit whose body collapsed instantly. The wooden stake embedded in his chest cracked, the purple light beneath his skin snuffing out at once. His body shrank, reverting to a normal human size, then fell motionless.

Valeric's eyes widened.

"…I see."

He stepped forward half a pace.

"Allow me to help," he said quickly.

"I'll open a gap."

The Baron did not stop firing.

"Then," he replied flatly,

"do it."

Valeric moved immediately.

The moment his aura surged forward, Matruska and the Baroness seemed to grasp the new flow of battle at once.

Without any signal—

their attack patterns shifted.

Matruska stopped applying pressure along a single line. She began cutting off retreat paths. She no longer struck with the spear's tip; instead, she wielded it like a blunt weapon, batting the bandits and knocking them toward specific directions.

The Baroness did the same.

Her charges were no longer straight-line formation breakers. She struck, shoved, and knocked enemies down—forcing the bandits to be flung away, separated, and scattered into the areas Valeric had "opened."

The battlefield descended into chaos.

The bandits panicked.

Scattered.

Their rhythm completely broken.

Amid all of it—

the Baron barely seemed to stop moving.

His bow rose, drew, and released—again and again without pause. Green arrows, crimson arrows, black arrows rained across the field in rotation. He fired to the right, twisted his upper body, fired to the left, then snapped back to the front—because the bandits were now spreading in every direction.

One second of negligence—

and his territory would fall into chaos.

One by one, the bandits began to collapse.

As the wooden stakes embedded in their chests weakened and shattered, their giant bodies were forcibly reduced. Muscles deflated. The purple aura faded. They reverted to ordinary humans—then fell, gasping, no longer able to stand.

At the same time—

from behind Lucas, the bandits who had previously been chasing the townsfolk were knocked backward.

Not one.

Many.

They were thrown to the ground, sent rolling, or dragged along before they could rise again.

Silvara was no longer fighting alongside the local soldiers alone.

Several young knights had appeared at her side.

A young man named Karska gripped a spear with a steady hold. His movements lacked the refinement of a veteran, but every thrust landed true—pinning, knocking down, opening space.

On the other side, Veska, a female knight wielding a bare blade. Her strikes were clean and efficient, focused on disarming rather than killing. She moved in sync with Silvara, sealing openings and securing the rear line.

A formation began to take shape.

The battle started to come under control.

And in the midst of all that—

Lucas simply stood there.

Still.

The Great Hoe remained in his hands, but it felt heavy and… irrelevant.

He was standing right in the middle of the battlefield—yet doing nothing.

Useless.

His gaze was empty, his thoughts spiraling.

This world… was strange.

Too alien.

Mana-charged arrows. Lightning, lances. Armored horses that could speak.

Auras that could crush one's breath. Battlefield decisions that determined the fate of ordinary people in mere seconds.

All of it felt distant.

Lucas was a modern man, standing amid metaphysical forces that were so often nothing more than fantasy—an escape from reality.

----

Before anyone realized it, the bandits collapsed one by one.

The Baron was moving far too fast.

His arrows never stopped, and every opening was sealed the instant it appeared. In a short span of time, the battlefield that had been chaotic grew quiet—leaving only a single figure still standing.

Kuyiras.

He was clearly different.

More agile. Stronger than the other bandits. He managed to tear himself free from the black arrows meant to bind him, forcing his way out through sheer brute strength.

But then—

the Baroness suddenly burst forward.

With a sharp maneuver, she cut across his path and appeared directly behind Kuyiras.

At the same time—

Matruska drove her spear into Kuyiras's thigh.

His movement stopped for a split second.

Long enough.

Valeric came in from the side.

His strike was fast and cold—the edge of his sword sliced through Kuyiras's eye without hesitation.

A roar of rage echoed.

Then, the Baroness smashed into Kuyiras with a full-bodied charge, like a steel bull unleashed without restraint.

The massive body was sent flying, his chest left exposed, his vision gone from the blade of a Rosevelt.

And as the finale—

the final arrow flew.

It pierced straight into Kuyiras's chest.

All sound fell away.

The chaos was finally over.

Lucas stared at the battlefield, now finally silent.

Bodies lay scattered. Auras faded. Dust slowly settled.

He let out a breath, then shook his head faintly.

"…Man," he muttered without thinking,

"this could be peak anime ending."

He didn't realize—

Karska and Veska were already standing fairly close behind him.

Veska frowned slightly and turned to Lucas on reflex.

"…Anime?" she repeated flatly.

Lucas froze.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"…Ah," he said briefly.

"Nothing."

Lucas only noticed the gaze when he turned toward Veska.

On the other side—

Silvara's brows dipped slightly.

Her stare was sharp. Too focused to be mere coincidence.

Lucas drew a slow breath.

He looked away, trying to act normal.

That face, he thought.

I don't want to overthink it, but…

Yet one thought slipped through anyway, uninvited—

…Is she jealous?

---

Karska, standing beside Veska, immediately reprimanded her.

"Veska," he said in a low but firm voice. "That was disrespectful."

Veska glanced aside briefly, then lowered her gaze without arguing.

Karska then stepped half a pace forward and bowed neatly.

"My apologies for my companion's impropriety, Young Master."

Lucas looked at him for a moment.

So stiff, he thought.

His body was still exhausted, his head heavy, but he drew a breath and put on a slightly cynical expression—pretending to be Lucian.

"It's fine," he said flatly, then glanced at Veska.

"Just don't do that again."

He dismissed The Great Hoe.

Karska nodded deeply. "Understood."

Beside them—

Silvara instead wore a faint smile.

Veska and Karska shared the same thought when The Great Hoe disappeared:

Why can a farming tool become a soulbound weapon?

And with that, the chaos of that midnight finally came to an end.

The Baroness and the Baron breathed a sigh of relief, while the Crowseals of Grimhelt moved in to secure the bandits.

Lucas looked weak and drained. He still wanted to stay there, but he felt a bit embarrassed after the Baroness kept treating him gently in front of so many soldiers.

In the end, he went home with Silvara. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep while Silvara carried him on horseback.

It made things difficult for Silvara. She rode her horse at a slow pace, occasionally steadying Lucas, until she finally used wind magic to bind Lucas's hands, forcing him to cling tightly to her waist so he wouldn't fall.

Moments before drifting off, he kept wondering what had truly caused a couple this powerful to end up as fringe nobles, living in hardship.

When Silvara arrived, she did not want to wake Lucas. Liona came with another maid, helping to lower Lucas's body.

Silvara carried Lucas like a knight carrying a princess from a fairy tale. With every step, her heart pounded hard. And when she finally laid Lucas down on his bed—

Idiot… what am I even thinking?

Her face flushed, her gaze drifting to Lucas's neck, her fingers twitching as if eager to move there on their own.

Silvara turned away. Her face felt hot as she muttered,

I can't choke him right now, if his real face doesn't show because he's asleep…

She swallowed. And then walk away.

-----

In the morning.

Lucas woke up.

The fuck?

He felt a surge of electricity flooding through his body. Then heat spread outward—his wrists burned, stinging, like open wounds sprinkled with salt.

The pain surged through his entire body.

"AAAAGHHHHH…."

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