NOVPUBThe runes beneath the citadel thrummed.
Goblins gathered in ranks—three dozen, then six, then nearly a hundred. Not chaotic, not snarling. Disciplined. Quiet. Hanz reforged their armour in the dungeon's forge: matte black iron layered over chain, each set marked with a single sigil pressed over the chest—
A tree made of fire.
Branches curled upward like tongues of flame. Roots twisted downward, clawing the black.
It wasn't a banner.
It was a warning.
Leonhardt stood at the centre of the circle as the mana surged upward. The air thickened. The wind died. The glyphs beneath their boots ignited in red, then white, then violet.
Dia flinched beside him, but the chain held.
"Don't look away," he said calmly. 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢
The world bent.
And the light swallowed them.
They reappeared in silence.
No noise. No flash. Just presence.
The outskirts of Astrea stretched ahead—charred fields, broken trees, the far-off outlines of slum walls barely visible through the smoke. Ash floated in the air like dust caught in a beam of sun. Somewhere beyond, the nobles were already tightening their grip on the inner rings. They couldn't see him yet.
But they would.
The goblins stood still for a moment. Then they moved.
Ranks snapped into formation.
Blades drawn.
Eyes forward.
The black tree flared red on every chestplate as the sun caught the edge of the hill.
Leonhardt walked to the front.
The wind pulled at his cloak.
Dia stood behind him, panting softly, the mana having rattled something loose in her legs. Her chains dragged through the dirt. She said nothing. Her thighs were still wet.
[This is unnecessary, Leon.]
Ifrit's voice flickered in his core.
[You could take the city quietly. You don't need to march like a warlord.]
'I know.'
Leonhardt's voice was calm, and he didn't find any problem with Ifrit's voice.
She guided him and kept him on the path.
He was sure that, should he stray from this path too far, it would be her fire that would guide him back so that he wouldn't stray too far.
(But it's so beautiful~ All your little monsters, dressed like knights. Look at her—your pet's about to fall over just from standing beside you.)
Dravanna's voice coiled sweetly, cold and proud. The complete opposite of Ifrit, but the pair of them didn't speak often, it seemed they wanted to judge his choices, the path that Leonhardt wanted.
——
Leonhardt knew that in the future, this moment would hold significant value to those who lived in the Astrea basin. Maybe even those who lived outside, it would be the day monsters drove back humanity.
Though...
To the humans, this would be written as a tragic and horrific day, where they burn in rage and desire to get revenge on Leonhardt and his monsters.
However, to the goblins, a race oppressed and treated like cannon fodder...
Wasn't this a revolution, the moment their race shone bright, like a shooting star, as they defeated a human city through their power alone?
"To humans, I am a filthy villain... and goblins, their hero and king." He couldn't help but find the duality of perspective amusing.
Ash drifted in lazy spirals across the open road.
The gates of Astrea hung broken—one side blown inward, the other half-collapsed under its weight. The scent of smoke and iron coated the wind, clinging to skin, hair, and armour. Somewhere inside, a woman screamed. Somewhere else, a bell rang once and fell silent.
Leonhardt stood at the head of the goblin ranks, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the other holding nothing at all.
He didn't need a banner.
The fire tree burned on every chest.
Smoke curled around his ankles like it knew him.
Behind him, the goblins watched quietly. No chanting. No battle cries. Just the weight of what was about to happen. Blades rested against shoulders. Shields hummed with bound runes. They were ready.
Dia stood shackled at his side, silent, face tilted down, the mark still glowing on her neck. Her breath had steadied—but only because she'd stopped fighting what she was.
Leonhardt looked up at the gate.
"Funny," he muttered. "I always pictured a wall."
Griv stepped up beside him, posture proud, one hand adjusting his cravat despite the bloodstains on it.
"It's still a gate, my lord," the goblin said, ever polished. "Just no longer theirs."
"I was being sarcastic, Griv."
"Y-Yes sire, of course." The goblin scratched his behind while chuckling.
"Do you hear that?"
Griv tilted his head. "Screaming?"
"The sound of humans killing each other," Leonhardt said. "Gods, they really do save me the trouble."
[Leon, you're smiling again.]
Ifrit's voice flickered—warm, tense, watching.
[Don't enjoy this too much. You're not invincible.]
He knew, because this level of power was nothing compared to real demons or the true dangers in the human kingdom.
But it was too late to stop.
Leonhardt gazed back at Dia, whom he strapped to a huge wooden board, chains fastening her in place as Asuka, wearing a full plate armour, covering her face, carried her roughly, banging the board against things, most likely on purpose.
(Let him enjoy it, Ifrit.)
Dravanna's purr slid beneath his skin.
(Go on, Leonhardt. Show them what a villain really looks like.)
"Hahaha..."
Leonhardt released a dry laugh, neither agreeing nor denying their words, and stepped forward.
Just one step.
The goblins behind him moved as one, rows shifting forward with eerie coordination, boots thudding against earth and stone. No orders. No raised hand.
They followed because he walked.
And they would not stop until he did.
A child ran screaming from a burning building ahead. A knight chased her.
Leonhardt tilted his head.
Then raised one hand and pointed.
"Take the city," he said, tone mild. "Kill everything that tries to stop you."
The knight didn't see the spear that took him through the throat.
But the girl did.
And her eyes—wide, tear-stained, terrified—locked on Leonhardt.
He didn't smile.
He just walked past her.
And let the world start falling.
——
Endo POV
Meanwhile, inside the floor of The Last Call vibrated—just slightly, but enough to set off warnings for the group.
Endo set down his glass.
Outside, the screams hadn't stopped in hours. The slum gates were already gone. Smoke filtered through the ceiling beams. Somewhere north, something exploded.
He didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Just stared at the drink in front of him. Amber, two fingers deep. Smooth, expensive. From a bottle he'd been saving for a war or Erina's wedding.
"Damn it..."
He guessed this counted.
Behind him, chairs scraped. Someone coughed up blood. One of his lieutenants stumbled through the side door, bleeding from the side, eyes wild.
"Boss, it's—"
"I know," Endo said.
"They're inside the ring. It's not the guards anymore. It's something else. They're not human."
Endo turned slightly.
"The goblins?"
The man nodded, eyes wide. "In armour. They don't speak. They don't shout. They just—kill."
What made Endo frustrated was that he let Ace, Queen and Heart take some time off. Well, he sent them to investigate the capital outside the basin, since they were planning to leave.
Now, only the slum hires and thugs used for simple tasks remained.
Once the knights attacked, he knew something went wrong.
Endo exhaled slowly. He didn't ask for confirmation.
He didn't need it.
Dia was gone.
The City Lord was dead.
And someone had made sure it looked like he pulled the strings.
He tapped his ring against the side of the glass once. "Where's the girl?"
"Which—?"
"My daughter."
Because he didn't trust Leonhardt, he sent Dia and a few other people mixed in with traders to watch Erina's actions to keep her safe.
He couldn't believe how stupid he was to think this happened so fast.
The man hesitated.
Endo turned.
"Tell me."
"We heard back from the traders," the man said, swallowing. "They said she made it to Arlet. The Church sent knights to question her—hard. Then she disappeared."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Endo closed his eyes.
You knew something was wrong. That bastard was too quiet.
He'd sent Dia.
He'd sent people to watch her. People trained, loyal. Hidden in plain sight.
And they still lost her.
"She vanished?" he said quietly.
"They said the paladins cornered the village. No one's seen her since. Not even the priest who hosted her."
Endo's jaw clenched.
This wasn't a war.
It was a purge. A stage play.
And he was already painted in blood.
He moved to the window, brushing aside the cracked shutters. Out in the smoke-blind street, he saw them—figures moving without urgency, armour marked by strange emblems. A black tree on fire.
Goblins.
Organized. Equipped.
Marching.
He had no plan for this.
He couldn't stop this.
And his daughter might already be—
It was him.
There was only that annoyingly handsome monster...
Endo's heart became cold.
He lost.
At that moment, Endo abandoned his daughter, because there was no chance to save her from those monsters... Soon, they would burn the city.
Thus...
"Get the survivors below," he said. "Through the sewer gate. Take tunnel three. Not five."
"Boss—"
"Five's flooded. Three gets you to the basin wall. Go."
His voice didn't rise.
But when he turned back, his eyes had lost all warmth.
"And tell the rats down there," he added, "if they see a man with silver eyes and a fire emblem—"
He reached for the gun under the bar.
"Don't talk. Don't fight. Just run."
