Chapter 76

Chapter 76
Cloaks fell to the ground like dead petals. The clang of steel echoed as swords were drawn and battle axes hefted. Some had already started swinging.
Screams tore through the plaza. Blades flashed. Blood hit the stones.
The first explosion hit the far corner of the festival grounds. A deafening cracked the air like thunder. The ground shook under my boots. Ella screamed.
I didn't even realise I was screaming too until I tasted dust in my mouth.
A wave of shadow magic swept across the plaza like a tidal surge—black and oily, twisting and shrieking with demonic whispers. Booths shattered like paper. Tables were flung into the air like leaves in a storm. Drapes and curtains ignited with unholy flame, casting the festival into a strobe of firelight and panic.
Lanterns above exploded——like fireworks gone wrong, sending shards of glass and burning oil raining down.
People scattered like startled birds. Civilians shoved past each other, trampling anyone too slow. Mothers clutching children. Old men screaming prayers. Merchants shielding their wares. Bodies—too many—already lay lifeless on the cobblestones. Some split in half. Some charred black. Blood pooled thick around the shattered tiles.
Where were the royal guards? Gone.
The royals? Vanished.
Had they been taken? Or had they abandoned the people?
I didn't have time to think.
Kael shouted something, but it was swallowed by the chaos. I saw Miss Agnes hurling a dagger, her calm shattered, her face fierce. Elvie clutched a glowing crystal, casting protective barriers over fleeing children. Felix was already moving, his axe out, carving a path through the attackers.
And me?
I stood frozen for a second that felt like an eternity—watching everything I built, everyone I swore to protect—get torn apart in a heartbeat.
Then Flare roared, his divine fire spiralling skyward in defiance. The beast within him knew—this wasn't just an attack. This was war.
Then a scream sliced through the crowd.
"DIRK ROBINSON!" A cloaked figure roared, holding a dagger to Agnes's throat. "The Lord of Demonland sends his regards!"
"NO!" I dove forward, but a burst of void magic hurled me backward. Three dark mages surrounded me instantly. Ruinfang met their blades in a flash of light.
Kael's twin swords danced like wind, deflecting blasts as he charged toward Agnes. Felix pulled Agnes's table down, crouched behind it, and began firing enchanted rounds into the mage ranks—his shots ringing with holy silver.
The air thickened with smoke and blood. Mages unleashed volleys of cursed fire. Civilians fell. Booths shattered. People trampled one another trying to escape.
I slammed my blade into one warlock's chest and turned, parrying another's strike. "GET HER OUT OF HERE!" I yelled.
Kael answered with a roar, covering Agnes with a shimmering barrier. She crawled free as the demon holding her was struck by Felix's shot—but we were cornered. Trapped on the broken stage.
They were too many.
Then—
A sound from the skies.
A roar, fierce and furious.
"Flare," I whispered.
And there he was.
A streak of crimson light descended from the clouds like divine vengeance. Flare tore through the smoke, wings ablaze with ethereal fire, and crashed into the plaza with a shockwave of mana.
Demons turned—too late.
Flare opened his maw.
Fire, like I had never seen before. Not orange. Not red. But pure white—holy fire. It consumed the dark mages, turning them to ash in an instant. Their screams were swallowed by light.
The world had turned into a nightmare. Flare—my companion, my guardian—was halfway through a devastating arc across the plaza. His divine flames erupted from his jaws in torrents of molten gold, catching a line of charging orcs mid-lunge. But what followed chilled even me to the core.
The demon beasts—no longer disguised—were grotesque mockeries of life, with bone-jointed limbs bending in impossible ways, flesh that pulsed and squirmed, and eyes like pits of void. Their transformation hadn't finished before Flare's fire found them.
Screams—high-pitched, not human—cut the air as the divine flames licked over their twisted forms. Skin blistered, fangs melted. Some didn't even get to cry out. They . Black, tar-like ichor oozed from their corpses, sizzling on the cobblestones. The summoned ones—half-beast, half-shadow—lost shape entirely, dissolving into puddles of oily sludge that steamed and shrieked when touched by Flare's holy blaze.
It wasn't enough. For every abomination that fell, more came from alleyways and hidden runes now alight with infernal energy. They had prepared this. They had planned it. The plaza had been a trap.
My pavilion caught fire next. The moment I turned to warn the guests, a stray blast of fire from Flare's wings struck the silken banners hanging above our booth. They lit up in an instant, dancing tongues of flame racing down the decorative drapes and across the crates of goods, spell scrolls, and wine.
The fire didn't care. 
Booths—brightly painted and full of family wares—were swallowed. Fine wood popped and cracked like bones. Silk vanished in a breath. The festival stage, once the centre of joy and music, crumbled under the heat and weight of destruction, its musicians long gone or dead.
Children screamed. One boy wailed beside a broken fruit cart, his face smudged with soot and tears. A woman—his mother, I guessed—staggered across the plaza, shrieking his name, clawing through smoke and falling debris.
I saw a shadow move toward her—an orc with a cleaver.
I didn't think. My body moved. I grabbed the closest throwing dagger and hurled it.
The blade buried itself into the side of the orc's thick neck, and he fell without a sound. The mother scooped up her son and ran into the smoke, disappearing like a phantom.
Flames danced everywhere, crackling madly over broken beams, singed banners, and corpses. It felt like the gods had turned away from us tonight.
That's when I saw her—Miss Agnes.
She stumbled from the haze, coughing violently. Her cloak was singed, one sleeve burnt away, and blood streaked her cheek in a harsh line. Her eyes met mine—defiant, even now.
I lunged forward and caught her as she collapsed into my arms.
"Miss Agnes! Hey, look at me." I brushed the blood away. "You okay?"
"I'll live," she rasped, eyes watering from the smoke. Her breath came in short gasps. "The people—"
"They'll be safe," I said, tightening my grip on her. I needed her to believe that. I needed to believe that. "I promise."
I turned, watching as the last merchant carts fell inwards like dying animals. One of my warriors dragged a screaming baker from under a collapsed tent. Another fought a demon hand-to-hand, blade shattered but spirit unbroken. Felix was bleeding from his arm. Elvie was shielding three kids with her own body. Kael barked commands, his blade slick with blood, refusing to retreat.
And above it all—Flare flew, a blazing comet of fury, lighting the dark with sacred fire.
We fought until the screams faded. Until the smoke choked the stars. Until the last shadow fell.
And then... silence.
We counted the bodies after.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-three names. Twenty-three lives gone. Mothers. Daughters. Friends. A craftsman who once offered me a carved pipe. A child who tried to pet Flare the day before. No war horn had sounded. No army had marched through the gates. But make no mistake. War had begun.