The villagers, still kneeling in the town square, looked up at the boy standing at the tip of the golden staff.
There was something unreal about him—his figure framed by the last traces of clearing mist, arms crossed, hair fluttering gently in the wind. He stood barefoot atop his weapon as if weightless, yet the ground beneath his presence felt heavier, steadier.
For the first time that day, the villagers didn't feel helpless.
"It's the Magic Knights...!"
A cry rang out from the crowd.
"They're here to save us!"
"I knew they'd come...!"
All eyes turned toward Saru, but some villagers noticed the others too—Asta with his massive black sword resting on his shoulder, Magna burning with fire in his eyes, and Noelle standing firm, the emblem of House Silva shining on her cloak.
But before the warmth of hope could spread too far, a cold voice returned, chilling the air once more.
"...How dare you throw off the schedule."
The voice rang out from the steps of the old church, smooth and emotionless.
There he sat—a man draped in a long, dark coat flecked with frost. An open grimoire floated beside him, pages gently fluttering despite the still air. His pale blue eyes watched the villagers like insects through glass, his gaze flicking toward the clock tower.
"In three seconds..." he said, raising his hand slowly, "...everyone dies."
With a whisper of magic, the grimoire glowed, and the page turned.
From the open sky above, a deafening crack resounded as mana condensed and shimmered. A titanic spear of pure ice formed in the air—its tip wide as a wagon, its body as tall as a two-story building. Its deadly point was aimed straight at the golden staff where Saru stood.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment.
"SARU! WATCH OUT!!" Magna roared from the wall, panic gripping his voice.
Noelle gasped, already raising her wand, unsure of what to do.
Even Asta flinched, his feet ready to launch—but there was no time.
And yet... Saru didn't move.
He stood still, staring up at the descending spear.
Then, just before impact, he whispered—
"Don't worry."
A soft golden glow began to gather around his right fist, shimmering like starlight.
And in the very next instant—
BOOM!
With a sharp exhale, Saru cocked his arm back and threw a single punch upward.
His fist collided with the massive ice spear—and the entire structure exploded on contact.
Shards of glimmering frost burst in every direction, scattered by the sheer force of his strike. The sound was deafening, like glass shattering across the sky. Splinters of the spear rained down harmlessly, sparkling like snow in the sunlight.
The villagers flinched.
Then silence fell again.
Saru stood atop his staff, golden light fading from his knuckles. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched in irritation.
Then he raised his voice, eyes locking on the caster of the spell.
"I was trying to be calm today," Saru muttered darkly. "But you've officially pissed me off."
His tone was low, dangerous—and nothing like the cheerful boy from before.
"I hate people who make others afraid," Saru said, the wind catching his wild, untamed hair as his voice echoed across the misty village.
With a sharp movement, he leapt from the tip of his golden staff and landed on the stone road with a solid thud. As his feet touched the ground, the staff shrank back to its standard form, slipping into his hand with a metallic hum—still faintly vibrating, almost as if it too was eager for the fight.
Saru didn't miss a beat.
"Asta! Magna!" he barked, his eyes locked on the cloaked figure seated on the church steps. "Handle the nobodies—I'm going to beat the snot out of that popsicle-faced freak!"
Magna's eyebrow twitched, his grin flaring wide as he shouted back, "HEY! Who the hell are you barking orders at, you damn monkey?!"
But despite his yelling, Magna stepped forward, his grimoire already glowing as it floated beside him. The flames around his body sparked in response, trailing heat in the cold mist.
Asta laughed as he joined him, swinging his massive blade onto his shoulder. "Hehe! Doesn't matter who gives the orders—just means I get to swing this thing around!"
He looked over to Saru with a fired-up grin.
"Let's go, Saru! Last one to knock out their guy buys the other lunch!"
"Oh, you're on, broccoli head!" Saru shouted back, eyes burning with challenge as he charged toward the enemy mage.
Behind them, Noelle stood frozen, her fingers trembling slightly as they clutched her wand. Her grimoire hovered beside her, unopened.
She bit her lip.
"I... I can't even perform a proper spell..." she muttered under her breath, shame curling in her chest. "What am I supposed to do here...?"
The others were already rushing into action without hesitation, their strength blazing before her eyes. And yet—she could only stand there, fidgeting, helpless. The cold mist made her shiver, but it wasn't just from the temperature.
"I'm a royal... I should be better than this," she whispered, heart pounding.
But even so... something inside her stirred as she watched the three boys stand between the villagers and the danger, without fear.
Her eyes flicked to Saru.
The boy who had been all mischief and teasing just hours ago now looked like an entirely different person—shoulders squared, steps certain, staff glowing faintly in his grip like it was alive. He didn't hesitate. He didn't waver.
He fought because people were afraid.
And he hated that.
Noelle looked down at her wand.
"…I want to fight too."
"We hadn't heard that members of the Magic Knights would be coming. Are they on some sort of... unofficial mission?" one of the cloaked mages muttered, standing just behind the Ice Mage. His face was hidden beneath a ragged hood, voice hushed with unease.
"How did they even break through our mist barrier?" another asked, his tone sharp with disbelief. "That magic should've kept everyone out."
The Ice Mage remained seated on the stone steps of the old church, his expression as cold as the aura swirling around him. His grimoire hovered beside him, pages turning slowly as frost collected on the nearby stones.
"The Black Bulls," he said, voice low and venomous, "crude heretics who don't fit in with the rest of the Magic Knights. Filthy rats scraping through shadows." He narrowed his eyes. "Five minutes. That's all we need. The worthless villagers know nothing. We'll finish them quickly… and then hunt for what we seek."
But just as the final word left his lips, a golden blur appeared before him—fast, deliberate, dangerous.
Saru landed hard, eyes blazing, his staff already spinning in his grip with a faint, radiant glow. He didn't waste time. The playful glint in his eyes was gone—replaced by the sharp, burning fury of a warrior ready to strike.
However, before he could unleash the first blow, a wave of thick mist erupted from the side. One of the cloaked mages had cast a trap spell, and Saru was suddenly engulfed by a choking white fog.
"Got him—!" the mage smirked.
But then—
WHOOSH!
Asta crashed through the mist like a cannonball, sword already swinging with wild force. With one clean slash, the enchanted fog was ripped apart and dispersed into the air.
"He's cutting through our magic?!"
"That sword—!" the cloaked mages recoiled in horror.
"Yep!" Asta grinned, slamming his foot into the ground. "My sword eats your dumb tricks for breakfast!"
"Fireball Frenzy!!" Magna's voice exploded behind him as a volley of blazing fireballs erupted from his grimoire, pelting the mist mages. The cloaked figures scattered, barely able to defend as Magna dove in, fists glowing with mana.
"You want a piece of the Black Bulls? COME GET IT, LOSERS!!"
The fight between Magna, Asta, and the mist mages was swift and loud—a flurry of slashes, explosions, and angry yelling. Within moments, three of the cloaked enemies were unconscious or fleeing, their spells disrupted by Asta's sword and overwhelmed by Magna's relentless attacks.
But Saru was already facing the true threat—the Ice Mage.
"You dare interfere," the man growled, rising to his feet, frost crackling across the steps. "Why do you value these… filthy beasts?"
Saru didn't flinch. "You mean the villagers? They're not beasts. They're people."
The Ice Mage's grimoire flared. "Then let's see you protect them."
He raised both hands, and dozens—no, hundreds—of massive ice shards materialized in the air above the village. The wind turned razor-sharp. Each shard was poised to strike like a spear falling from the heavens.
Saru spun his staff, gripping it tightly in both hands. The golden light shimmered around him, his stance firm.
"I don't need to worry about protecting the villagers," he said, grinning as he snapped his staff outward like a barrier. "Because I've got someone on my team who can do it better than me."
He turned slightly and shouted, "NOELLE! I LEAVE THE VILLAGERS TO YOU!"
Noelle's breath caught in her throat.
"M-Me?" she whispered, watching from behind as the shards began to fall. "He's trusting me…? To protect them?"
Her legs shook. Her wand trembled in her hand. The grimoire beside her glowed faintly, untouched.
"They're all counting on you, Princess," Saru called over his shoulder, still deflecting smaller shards with his spinning staff.
Noelle clenched her fists, staring at the terrified villagers behind her—old men, children, mothers clutching infants.
"I'm a royal… I should've been able to do something long ago," she thought, heart pounding. "But I never could. I always failed…"
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"But now… someone's counting on me."
The pages of her grimoire suddenly began to flip on their own. A brilliant blue glow erupted from it, swirling into her hands.
Her eyes widened.
"This spell—!"
The wind howled.
The shards descended.
And Noelle screamed, "Sea Dragon's Cradle!!"
Water burst forth from her wand, roaring like an ocean wave. It wrapped itself around the villagers in a protective sphere—pure, powerful, and controlled.
The massive ice shards crashed into the barrier and shattered on impact, unable to pierce through the swirling water.
The villagers gasped, safe within the shimmering shield.
Noelle stood panting, staring at her own magic in disbelief.
"I… I did it," she whispered.
Saru grinned, deflecting the last few shards with his staff before turning his gaze back to the Ice Mage.
"Told you," he said. "We're not just a bunch of misfits."
He twirled his staff once, planting it firmly into the ground. His aura flared.
"Now it's just you and me."