The battle did not truly end.
It ebbed.
Like a tide retreating after tearing the shore apart, leaving wreckage, silence, and bodies behind.
Asta stood at the center of the ruined plaza, chest rising and falling hard, fingers still clenched around the Demon-Slayer Sword. The roar of combat had faded, but his ears rang with phantom echoes—clashing spells, shouted commands, the scream of twisting space.
The Eye of the Midnight Sun was gone.
The danger had passed.
His body didn't care.
Asta took a step forward.
The world tilted.
Another step—and his knees buckled without warning. His grip slackened, and the massive sword slipped from his hands, crashing against broken stone with a dull clang.
"Asta—?"
Noelle turned just in time to see him fall.
"Asta!" Mimosa cried.
She was already moving, sprinting across the fractured plaza as Asta collapsed forward, hitting the ground hard. Dust puffed up around him as his body went limp, muscles finally giving out after being pushed far past their limit.
Mimosa dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering for a heartbeat before steadying.
"He's exhausted," she said quickly, breath tight. "Completely drained."
Asta's breathing was shallow, uneven. Sweat soaked through his clothes, his arms trembling faintly even in unconsciousness. Anti-magic residue flickered weakly around him, unstable but fading.
"He didn't stop," Leopold said quietly, standing a few steps back. The flames around his fists were gone now, leaving only soot and raw skin. "Not even once."
Noelle knelt beside Asta, fists clenched in her skirt, jaw tight.
"…Idiot," she muttered under her breath, voice shaking despite herself. "You don't have to carry everything."
Mimosa opened her grimoire, forcing herself to breathe steadily.
"Plant Magic — Recovery Bloom."
Soft green light spread outward as glowing vines unfurled beneath Asta, cushioning him, feeding restorative mana directly into his exhausted body. The warmth was gentle, careful—designed to stabilize, not overwhelm.
Slowly, Asta's breathing evened out. The tension in his shoulders eased.
"He'll be okay," Mimosa said softly. "He just… pushed himself too far."
Around them, the plaza settled into an uneasy quiet.
Magic Knights moved through the ruins in small groups, checking rubble, supporting the wounded, extinguishing lingering spells. The ground was scarred beyond recognition—cracked stone, collapsed walls, scorch marks etched deep into the capital itself.
Then—
"…Captain."
The voice came from the far edge of the plaza.
Nozel Silva turned sharply.
A Magic Knight stood frozen in place, eyes fixed ahead, face pale.
Nozel followed his gaze.
And stopped.
Fuegoleon Vermillion lay partially buried beneath fallen stone, his crimson cloak torn and soaked through. One arm was gone—cleanly severed. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and unmoving against the broken ground.
For a moment—
No one spoke.
Even the residual mana in the air seemed to still.
Nozel's mercury, which had been hovering faintly around him, went completely motionless.
The temperature dropped.
"…So that's it?" Solid Silva scoffed suddenly, the sound jarring in the silence. "The great Crimson Lion captain? Taken out like this?"
Nebra lifted a hand to her lips, eyes sharp with disdain. "Honestly. Losing an arm and collapsing? Embarrassing. I expected more from a Vermillion."
Leopold's head snapped up, fury flashing across his face.
Noelle turned sharply, eyes wide.
Charlotte's briars twitched violently at her feet.
Nozel moved.
He was in front of them in an instant.
"Silence."
The word wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It cut through the plaza like a blade.
Solid flinched visibly.
Nebra froze mid-expression.
Nozel's eyes were no longer merely cold.
They were absolute.
"You will not speak," he said quietly, voice carrying across the ruins, "about something you were not present to witness."
Solid swallowed. "B-Brother—"
"You were not here," Nozel continued, his voice rising for the first time. "You did not fight. You did not bleed. You did not stand against the Eye while this capital burned."
Mercury surged around him, sharp and heavy.
"You were thrown far away by the enemies," he said flatly. "Both of us."
Nebra's face flushed. "We were teleported by the space magic that suddenly—!"
"Enough."
The word slammed down like judgment.
Nozel's voice echoed across the plaza, carrying authority that left no room for rebuttal.
"You dare mock a man who faced an enemy none of you could even perceive? You dare belittle someone who lost an arm defending this city while you were nowhere to be found?"
His gaze burned.
"You have no right."
The plaza was silent.
Even the wounded seemed to hold their breath.
Nozel turned slightly.
" You will have punishment for this transgression."
Mercury lashed outward in controlled arcs, wrapping around Solid's and Nebra's limbs—not crushing, but binding tightly, cold and unyielding.
"For the next month," Nozel said coldly, "you will report directly to reconstruction duty. No combat missions. No noble privileges."
Solid's mouth opened—then closed.
"You will rebuild what others defended."
Nebra lowered her gaze, teeth clenched.
"Yes… Captain," she said tightly.
The mercury released them.
Nozel turned away without another word.
His steps carried him toward Fuegoleon.
Charlotte followed, expression grave.
"…He's alive," she said quietly after a moment, sensing faint mana. "Barely."
Nozel stopped beside the fallen captain, looking down at him.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"…You held the line," he said softly. "Even without your flames."
Nearby, Mimosa exhaled in relief as Asta stirred slightly, eyes fluttering.
"He'll recover," she said gently. "Eventually."
Noelle nodded, watching him, hands clenched but steady now.
The capital was scarred.
The enemy had escaped.
But the people still stood.
And for now—
That was enough.