The mist drifted like a thin veil around Lencar's steps as he carried Fuegoleon's unconscious form through the spatial fold. They emerged back into the outskirts of the Royal Capital — specifically, the fractured plaza where the Captain had originally vanished.
It was quiet here now.
Too quiet.
No undead left.
No explosions.
No screaming.
Only the still, heavy air after catastrophe.
A perfect location.
Lencar approached the lip of the crater left by the earlier spatial attack and gently lowered Fuegoleon onto the intact stone beside it — deliberately placing him just far enough away that it seemed like the spatial magic had expelled him violently.
He wasn't staging a scene.
He was preserving a story.
The one the world needed to believe.
He knelt beside Fuegoleon for a moment.
Just long enough to be sure the Captain's breathing had steadied slightly — shallow, pained, but steady.
Only then did he lift his recreated grimoire.
Reverse Replication had reconstructed it perfectly.
The same mana signatures.
The same page density.
The same scorch marks on the spine.
He placed it carefully in Fuegoleon's hand.
"…This belongs to you," he whispered.
Not dramatic.
Not emotional.
Just a quiet truth spoken into the air.
The Captain's fingers didn't move, but Lencar adjusted them gently so the grimoire rested naturally in his grasp — the way someone collapsed might clutch it instinctively.
He rose to his feet.
The mist around him shifted, thinning at the edges.
He had accomplished what he needed.
Fuegoleon Vermillion would live.
Unaware.
Untouched.
Unknowing.
His grimoire returned.
His path preserved.
Lencar glanced once more toward the horizon — toward the distant ruins where he knew Asta, Noelle, and Leopold were frantically searching. Their mana signatures flickered like torches in a pitch-black world.
They were close — too close.
He couldn't linger.
Lencar stepped back into the mist, drawing it tight around himself like a curtain.
His fingers traced another spatial sigil — small, precise, invisible to anyone without Replica-enhanced perception.
The air hummed once.
And he vanished.
The plaza fell silent.
Fuegoleon's unconscious form lay motionless on the stone — blood pooling dark beneath the stump where his arm used to be, grimoire resting beside his fingers.
The stillness felt unnatural.
But it wouldn't last.
Because just as Lencar disappeared back into the Grand Magic Zone, three voices erupted in the distance.
"Asta! I feel something—!"
Noelle's voice cut through the ruined streets, high and urgent.
Asta sprinted beside her, breathing hard, sweat dripping into his eyes.
"There! Up ahead!" Leopold shouted, flames sparking wildly from his hands.
Asta didn't hesitate.
He leapt over a collapsed rooftop, boots landing on shattered cobblestone, and then—
His heart almost stopped.
"No… way…"
Fuegoleon.
Unconscious.
Bleeding.
Collapsed on his side.
His grimoire beside him.
Noelle gasped so sharply she nearly choked.
"F—Fuegoleon-sama!"
Leopold didn't scream.
He couldn't.
His legs simply gave out, and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside his brother.
"B–Brother… wh–what happened to you…?!"
He reached for him — but his hands shook so violently that he couldn't bring himself to touch him at first.
Asta dropped to the ground, eyes wide, grief and fury colliding in his chest.
"He's… alive, right?! He's gotta be!"
Noelle kneeled on Fuegoleon's other side, placing a trembling hand above his chest.
She nodded slowly.
"H–He's breathing… shallow, but steady."
Leopold's hands clenched until blood welled beneath his fingernails.
"But his arm… his ARM—"
Noelle squeezed her eyes shut.
"It was torn off by the spatial magic."
Asta gritted his teeth, fists shaking.
"That guy… that masked guy… HE DID THIS—!"
"No," Noelle snapped sharply.
Asta turned, shocked.
Noelle's voice trembled, but her eyes were sharp.
"That masked person didn't hurt him."
Asta blinked.
"Huh? But he—"
"No."
She shook her head fiercely.
"His mana… the residue… the way this place feels… Asta, these are signs of the SAME spatial mage who attacked earlier."
Leopold lowered his head.
"They teleported him… mutilated him… and spat him back out."
His voice cracked.
"There was nothing we could've done."
Asta clenched his jaw, anger mixing with helplessness.
"But then… who was that masked guy…?"
Noelle shook her head.
"I don't know. But he kept his distance. He didn't attack us. And—"
She touched the ground.
"The mist earlier… it didn't feel malicious."
Asta frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…"
Noelle's voice softened.
"It was a spell to hide something. Not harm something."
Leopold didn't care about any of that.
He finally forced himself to put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Brother… I swear… I'll get stronger… strong enough to protect you like you protected me."
His voice broke.
Noelle's throat tightened.
Asta put a hand on Leopold's back, steady and sincere.
"We'll get him help. Together."
They lifted Fuegoleon carefully.
His body was heavy with unconscious weight, but his expression remained calm — as if even near death, he refused to lose his composure.
Noelle looked around the empty plaza.
"She's right… someone else was here," Asta muttered.
"But they're long gone now."
The mist was gone.
The presence gone.
The air still.
Nothing remained except the damage and the Captain.
Asta looked one last time at the ground — at the faint circular pattern where the mist had gathered.
"…Whoever did this… they were fast."
Noelle nodded slowly.
"Too fast."
Leopold lifted his brother carefully.
"Come on… we have to get him to the healers now."
They left the plaza behind — unaware that they had walked through the wake of an Arcane mage whose power was beginning to surpass even captains.
The storm screamed overhead as Lencar stepped out of the spatial fold, boots touching the familiar jagged stone of the Grand Magic Zone.
Here, the mana pressure was so intense that even captains would hesitate to stand still for long.
But Lencar stood perfectly calm.
The fire mana from Fuegoleon still flickered faintly inside him, adjusting, settling, aligning with his Replica system. His grimoire glowed softly beside him, pages turning themselves with quiet, rhythmic precision.
A new page pulsed with faint golden light.
The Captain's spells.
Every sequence.
Every rune.
Every flame.
Perfectly copied.
Lencar exhaled slowly.
"…Arcane Stage."
His voice was quiet, but for once, there was weight beneath it — not pressure, not strain.
Something like realization.
And something like burden.
He lifted his head toward the storming sky.
"Asta… Noelle… Leopold…"
His gaze softened behind the mask.
"You three are growing too."
Wind tore at his coat, ripping the mist from his figure — but he didn't dissipate.
He simply turned away.
There was more to do.
More to prepare for.
More to understand.
And as always—
He would do it alone.
Quietly.
In the shadows.
The world would never know the truth behind the Captain's return.
Or the fire that now lived inside an anonymous, masked boy standing in a storm that was never meant to be gentle.
Lencar stepped into the shadow of a twisted rock spire.
The darkness swallowed him completely.
And the Grand Magic Zone rumbled on.