The return was not gentle.
Reality folded inward like a wounded animal trying to protect its heart, and Lunaria felt the pressure of space reassert itself around his body. The abyssal cold vanished, replaced by air that tasted of ozone, scorched mana, and something unmistakably human—fear mixed with hope.
He stood once more beneath the open sky.
Hunters College sprawled below him, illuminated by emergency lights and hovering mana constructs. The gardens where he had been taken were no longer gardens at all—only a vast scar of shattered stone and burned earth, ringed by active barriers and elite hunter units standing at full alert.
The S-ranked hunters formed a loose perimeter around him, their presence oppressive in its sheer density. Each of them was a calamity made human, mana rolling off their bodies like invisible storms. Yet none of that pressure was directed at Lunaria.
If anything—
It curved away from him.
"…He's really back."
"…No corruption."
"…Unbelievable."
Whispers spread through the assembled hunters, officers, and instructors. No one stepped closer without permission. No one raised a weapon. They watched him as one might watch a phenomenon—something that had survived where logic said it should not have.
Lunaria stood quietly at the center of it all.
His ribbon was gone.
Not cut this time—simply lost somewhere between worlds. His moonlight hair fell freely down his back, faintly stirred by residual mana currents. His posture remained composed, hands folded lightly in front of him, expression serene despite the scale of attention pressing in from every direction.
[Status: stable.]
[External threat: neutralized.]
[Psychological strain: minimal.]
"…Thank you," Lunaria whispered, unsure who he was thanking—the system, the hunters, or the world itself for giving him back.
The man in the long coat—S-rank Hunter Commander Aurelion Rook—stepped forward first. His presence alone silenced the murmurs. His eyes, sharp and battle-worn, searched Lunaria's face with an intensity usually reserved for assessing enemy commanders.
"You were taken by a city-threat extraction force," Aurelion said evenly. "You returned without corruption, without collapse, without resistance."
Lunaria inclined his head slightly. "I didn't struggle."
Aurelion's jaw tightened. "You could have."
"Yes," Lunaria agreed calmly. "But then this city would be gone."
That answer struck harder than any display of power.
The winged S-rank—Seraphine Valecrest—folded her luminous wings behind her, gaze narrowed not in suspicion, but in something closer to awe.
"You chose restraint over survival instinct," she said. "That's not normal."
Lunaria met her eyes gently. "I'm still alive."
Silence followed.
Then the silver-haired S-rank—Eidolon Kass—spoke, his voice quiet yet carrying effortlessly across the ruined garden.
"The demons called you a key," he said. "Do you know what they meant?"
Lunaria hesitated.
For the first time since his return, something uncertain flickered across his expression.
"…No," he admitted. "But they weren't trying to kill me."
"That's worse," Aurelion muttered.
Eidolon's gaze sharpened. "They were studying you."
[Warning.]
[Existential classification risk: increasing.]
Lunaria felt it then—the subtle shift in how the world looked at him. Not just the hunters. Not just the S-ranked beings standing nearby.
Reality itself.
"…I don't like that," Lunaria murmured.
Aurelion turned to the surrounding command staff. "Clear the area. Medical lockdown. No recordings, no leaks."
Some protested. Most didn't.
Orders moved fast when S-ranked hunters spoke.
As the perimeter widened and the crowds were ushered away, Lunaria finally felt the tension ease slightly. He exhaled softly, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
"…You can put me down now," he said politely.
Aurelion blinked, then realized Lunaria was still being subtly supported by overlapping mana fields—cradled unconsciously to prevent shock or collapse.
"…Right," he muttered, signaling for the fields to retract.
Lunaria's boots touched the ground fully.
He swayed once.
Seraphine was there instantly, steadying him with a firm but careful grip.
"Easy," she said. "You may not feel it yet, but what you went through—"
"I know," Lunaria replied softly. "I'm tired."
She released him slowly, studying his face.
"You don't look afraid."
Lunaria smiled faintly. "I was."
That honesty disarmed her more than bravery would have.
---
The sealed chamber beneath Hunters College had not been used in decades.
It was designed not as a prison, but as a neutral ground—a place where power could exist without tearing the world apart. Ancient runes lined the walls, layered upon each other in dizzying complexity, built by civilizations long gone who had learned the hard way what unchecked strength did to reality.
Lunaria sat at the center of the chamber on a simple stone bench.
No restraints.
No bindings.
Just quiet.
The S-ranked hunters occupied the outer ring, not encroaching, not distant either. They were close enough to respond instantly—but far enough to show trust.
Aurelion broke the silence.
"The demons did not act impulsively," he said. "That extraction force was planned. Calculated. Risking open war."
Seraphine crossed her arms. "Which means Lunaria isn't just valuable. He's irreplaceable."
Lunaria lowered his gaze.
"…I don't want to be," he said quietly.
Eidolon watched him closely. "That may not be your choice anymore."
[Psychological pressure detected.]
"…System," Lunaria murmured internally. "Am I dangerous?"
[Answer: contextual.]
"…That's not reassuring."
[Clarification: you are dangerous only when you choose to be.]
He breathed out slowly.
"I didn't fight back," Lunaria said aloud. "Not because I couldn't. But because if I did, everyone would suffer."
Aurelion's eyes narrowed. "That means your power scales catastrophically."
"Yes," Lunaria replied calmly. "And I don't know how much."
The room grew colder.
"That's why they want you," Seraphine said softly. "A weapon that refuses to fire."
Eidolon tilted his head. "Or a lock that keeps something sealed."
Lunaria looked up sharply.
"…Sealed?"
Eidolon met his gaze. "You don't generate chaos. You absorb alignment. Mana, fate, probability—they settle around you. That's not a trait. That's a function."
[Hidden attribute hypothesis: confirmed.]
Lunaria's fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform.
"So I'm not just surviving," he whispered. "I'm… stabilizing."
Aurelion nodded grimly. "Which means if you fall into the wrong hands—"
"I won't," Lunaria said gently.
The certainty in his voice cut through the room.
Everyone looked at him.
"I won't let them use me," he continued. "And I won't let this city burn because of me."
Seraphine studied him for a long moment. "You're eighteen."
"Yes."
"You shouldn't have to make decisions like this."
Lunaria smiled, soft and distant.
"I've been making them for longer than that."
Silence followed—not heavy, but respectful.
Finally, Aurelion straightened.
"Then we adapt," he said. "You will not be treated as a normal student anymore."
Lunaria's heart sank slightly.
"…I was afraid you'd say that."
"You will still attend Hunters College," Aurelion continued. "But under direct S-rank protection. Limited missions. No unsupervised exposure."
Seraphine added, "And no more hiding what you are."
Lunaria looked down at his hands.
"…I liked being unnoticed."
Eidolon's voice softened. "That era is over."
The chamber lights dimmed slightly as mana settled.
Above them, the city continued to heal, unaware of how close it had come to being erased—not by demons, but by the quiet boy who had chosen not to fight.
Lunaria stood slowly.
"If the world is going to look at me," he said softly, "then I'll give it something gentle to see."
Aurelion raised an eyebrow. "And when gentleness isn't enough?"
Lunaria's eyes lifted, moonlight silver and calm.
"Then," he replied, "I'll dance."
[End state updated.]
[World-level attention: locked.]
[Trajectory: irreversible.]
Outside, the night sky cleared completely for the first time since the dungeon break.
And far beyond mortal sight, ancient forces shifted uneasily.
Because the world had not just chosen Lunaria Vale back.
It had begun to revolve around him.