Offers began to pile up one after another.

"We can guarantee rapid promotions."

"Our instructors include former Rank 8 awakeners."

"They'll have priority access to rare resources."

The words sounded impressive, almost overwhelming.

Mike's parents exchanged a glance, then smiled calmly.

"Thank you for your interest," Mike's father said, his tone polite but firm. "But they'll decide for themselves."

Lily's parents nodded as well.

"They're still young," Lily's mother added. "We won't choose an organization for them. When the time comes, they'll decide where they belong."

The surrounding adults paused for a moment.

Then most of them smiled, understanding the message.

"Of course."

"That's fair."

"We respect that."

Some stepped back, while others stayed nearby, clearly waiting for a future opportunity.

Mike let out a quiet breath.

"This is tiring," he muttered.

Lily smiled faintly. "That's what happens when people realize you're valuable."

"Obviously, they're still testing us," Mike said, rolling his eyes as he looked at Lily. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have backed off so easily."

Lily shrugged. "Yeah, but it's still better this way. If we showed too much, we might get locked up and used as living treasure troves."

Mike nodded. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

Before either of them could say more, the music in the hall slowly faded.

Conversations quieted, one by one, until the vast hall fell into an expectant hush.

A figure stepped onto the raised platform at the front.

City Lord Arnold.

He stood tall, dressed in formal attire reinforced with subtle defensive enchantments. His presence alone carried weight—not oppressive, but impossible to ignore.

Candace moved to stand beside the platform, along with several other high-ranking officials.

Arnold's gaze swept across the hall, lingering briefly on the younger awakened, on the families, on the survivors.

Then he spoke.

"Citizens of Lionheart City," his voice carried clearly without amplification, "friends, allies, and heroes of this great city."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"Today's banquet is not merely a celebration. It is a moment of remembrance—and acknowledgment."

The hall fell into complete silence.

"Yesterday, Lionheart City faced a threat that should never have reached our streets," Arnold continued. "Mad fanatics, driven by chaos, attempted to turn our home into a blood-soaked offering."

Others nodded as he continued.

"They failed."

A ripple of restrained applause spread through the hall.

"They failed because ordinary citizens stood their ground," he said, "because awakened answered the call… and because some among us exceeded every expectation."

His gaze shifted—subtly, but unmistakably—toward Mike and Lily's direction.

Many people followed his line of sight.

Arnold raised a hand, calming the room once more.

"We will speak of honors and rewards shortly," he said. "But first, let us acknowledge the cost of survival—and the resolve that carried us through."

The banquet hall remained silent, every ear fixed on the City Lord's words, as the true purpose of the gathering in Lionheart City finally began to unfold.

Arnold paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

"For every victory," he continued slowly, "there is a price."

The lights in the hall dimmed slightly as a projection array activated above the platform. Names began to appear in the air—rows upon rows of them.

Fallen awakened.

Civilians.

Guards.

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd. Some lowered their heads. Others clenched their fists.

"These are the citizens who did not return home," Arnold said, his voice steady, but heavy. "Mothers. Fathers. Sons. Daughters. Comrades."

The hall was silent again.

"Lionheart City will remember them," he said. "Their names will be engraved into the Hall of Resolve, and their families will receive lifelong support from the city."

A few quiet sobs could be heard.

Arnold bowed his head for a full ten seconds.

The entire hall followed.

When he straightened, the atmosphere had changed—somber, engulfed by sense of loss.

Many were crying most likely their friends or family members who died.

"But remembrance alone is not enough," he said. "We honor the fallen by ensuring their sacrifice was not in vain."

The lights brightened again.

"The fanatics were not acting alone," Arnold continued. "Their cells were hidden. Their movements were coordinated. This was not chaos—it was intent."

Murmurs spread through the hall.

"Lionheart City will not wait to be tested again," he declared. "From this day forward, security protocols will be elevated, underground networks dismantled, and any trace of fanatic influence eradicated."

"There will also be rewards," Arnold continued, his voice firm, "for those who report hidden fanatic followers and their helpers."

That single sentence sent another ripple through the crowd.

Some exchanged glances.

Others straightened unconsciously.

"Anyone who provides verified information," Arnold said, "information that leads to arrests, disruption of cells, or the prevention of future attacks, will be protected by the city and compensated accordingly."

The implication was clear.

Silence would no longer be safe.

Loyalty to Lionheart City would be rewarded.

Arnold let the words sink in before shifting the tone.

"Now," he said, his gaze sharpening, "it is time to recognize those who stood where others could not."

Arnold let the silence linger for a heartbeat longer, then nodded to the officials beside him.

"First," he said, "we honor those who answered the call without hesitation."

A large crystal display behind the platform lit up, names appearing one by one.

"Captain Rorik of the East Watch—who held the outer barricade despite overwhelming numbers."

Applause rose as a broad-shouldered man stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and accepted a medal infused with protective runes.

"Medic Arwen Feld—who treated the wounded for twelve consecutive hours without rest."

More applause. Another name. Another figure stepping forward.

Squad leaders.

Independent awakened.

Support mages.

Scouts who had carried warnings through burning streets.

The hall filled with steady, respectful clapping—not thunderous, but sincere.

"These individuals," Arnold continued between recognitions, "did not act for glory. They acted because this city is their home."

One by one, heroes were acknowledged.

Some received medals.

Others were granted resource vouchers, city privileges, or temporary rank promotions.

A few were offered direct commendations from the City Lord himself.

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