The gates of the capital opened slowly.
Not with fear.
But with anticipation.
Word had already spread—Portscape had fallen into chaos… and somehow, it still stood. Messengers had ridden ahead, carrying fragments of the story. Fragments that sounded too unbelievable to be true.
A demon army.
One hundred thousand strong.
A massacre… turned miracle.
And now—
The survivors returned.
The streets were filled.
Citizens lined both sides, stretching as far as the eye could see. Children sat on their fathers' shoulders, merchants abandoned their stalls, nobles stepped out of their carriages—all drawn by the same curiosity.
Horses approached.
Slow.
Steady.
At the front—
She rode.
Princess Aiya.
Her presence alone was enough to calm the restless crowd. Her posture regal, her expression composed, yet her eyes… carried something deeper. Something heavier.
And beside her—
A figure clad in dark armor.
Black as the night.
Elegant… yet suffocating.
A red ponytail trailed behind his helmet, swaying gently with the movement of the wind. Blue light pulsed faintly from within the armor, like something alive.
And beneath them—
One horse.
Lith.
Majestic. Proud.
Unyielding.
---
Whispers began.
"Who is that…?"
"Why is the princess riding with him?"
"Is that… a knight?"
"No… I've never seen armor like that…"
---
Behind them—
Laken rode.
Alone.
---
His posture remained straight. His gaze forward. His expression unreadable.
But his silence—
Spoke louder than anything else.
---
Enora and Rin followed closely, exchanging glances as they listened to the murmurs spreading through the crowd. They knew what this looked like.
And they knew…
What it meant.
---
They passed through the city slowly.
Not as victors.
But as survivors.
---
The palace gates opened without delay.
Guards stood at attention, their spears raised in salute as the group entered the grand courtyard. Servants rushed to take the horses, but even they couldn't hide their curiosity—eyes lingering on the dark knight longer than protocol allowed.
The palace doors opened.
The hall awaited.
---
The Emperor stood at the far end.
Silent.
Observing.
---
They approached.
Step by step.
The sound of boots echoed across the polished floor.
Aiya stepped forward first.
"Your Majesty."
She bowed.
Rin and Enora followed.
Laken stepped forward next, kneeling respectfully.
"My Emperor."
---
Kros remained still.
Watching.
---
The Emperor's gaze shifted.
From Aiya…
To Laken…
Then finally—
To Kros.
---
A pause.
A brief moment where nothing was said… yet everything was understood.
---
"I see."
---
That was all he said.
No questions.
No doubt.
Just acknowledgment.
---
He turned his attention back to Laken.
"Report."
---
Laken stood.
Composed.
Professional.
Unshaken.
---
"The demon forces, numbering approximately one hundred thousand, led by one of the Four Generals—Hekirana, the Blood Witch—initiated an inversion at Portscape."
Gasps echoed softly among the nobles.
Even they knew that name.
---
"We engaged with available forces. Casualties were… severe."
His voice tightened for a fraction of a second.
Then steadied.
---
"But the city stands. Reinforcements secured the perimeter. The enemy withdrew."
---
A pause.
---
"We survived."
---
Silence filled the hall.
Heavy.
Respectful.
---
The Emperor nodded slowly.
"You have done well."
---
He stepped forward.
Addressing them all now.
---
"You have defended not just a city… but the stability of this empire."
---
His gaze rested briefly on Aiya.
Then on Laken.
And finally—
On Kros.
---
"You will be rewarded accordingly."
---
Servants stepped forward, presenting medals, cloaks of honor, and tokens of imperial recognition. Laken received his with a firm nod. Enora and Rin accepted theirs gracefully.
Then—
The Emperor turned to Kros.
---
"You."
---
The hall grew quiet again.
---
"You stood against an army… alone."
---
Murmurs spread among the nobles.
---
"You held the line when none could."
---
His voice carried weight now.
---
"For your bravery… and your humanity… this empire owes you a debt."
---
Kros said nothing.
Just stood.
---
The Emperor smiled faintly.
---
"And the people… will know your name."
---
The Announcement
The next day—
The capital square overflowed.
Thousands gathered.
Voices loud.
Excited.
Restless.
---
"Laken!"
"Hero of Portscape!"
"Laken! Laken!"
---
His name echoed like a wave.
Familiar.
Loved.
Expected.
---
The Emperor stepped forward onto the grand platform.
He raised his hand.
---
Silence fell instantly.
---
His voice carried across the entire square.
---
"People of the empire… today we stand not in mourning alone… but in remembrance and gratitude."
---
The crowd listened.
Still.
Respectful.
---
"At Portscape, many lives were lost. Brave men and women who stood against overwhelming darkness… knowing they might never return."
---
Some lowered their heads.
Others closed their eyes.
---
"They fought not for glory… but for you. For this empire. For the peace you live in."
---
A pause.
---
"And because of their sacrifice… Portscape still stands."
---
Cheers began.
Soft at first.
Then growing.
---
"But victory was not achieved by one alone."
---
The Emperor raised his hand again.
Silence returned.
---
"Allow me to call upon those who stood at the forefront of this battle."
---
He turned.
---
"Princess Aiya."
"Laken."
"Enora."
"Rin."
---
They stepped forward.
The crowd erupted.
---
"Aiya!"
"Laken!"
---
Cheers roared.
---
Then—
The Emperor lifted his hand once more.
---
Silence.
---
"And finally…"
---
A pause.
Longer this time.
---
"The man who stood against one hundred thousand… without retreat… without hesitation…"
---
The air itself felt still.
"The Dark Knight."
Silence.
Complete.
Then—
Kros stepped forward.
Boots echoed.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each step deliberate.
The crowd watched.
Confused.
Uncertain.
"…That's him?"
"No… it can't be…"
"I thought it was Laken…"
Kros reached the platform.
And stood beside the Emperor.
The Emperor spoke again.
"When the city fell… when hope faded… this man stood alone."
Gasps.
"He held the line. Shielded the city. Faced death… and did not yield."
Some covered their mouths.
Others stared in disbelief.
"He bled… so others could live."
Tears formed.
Doubt cracked.
Truth settled.
Then—
A small voice broke through.
"Kros!"
A child.
Standing at the front.
Silence followed.
Then—
Another voice.
"Kros!"
Then another.
"Kros!"
And suddenly—
The entire crowd erupted.
"KROS! KROS! KROS!"
The name spread like wildfire.
Louder.
Stronger.
Alive.
The Emperor turned to him.
"Reveal yourself."
A pause.
Then—
Kros spoke.
"Endolin."
The armor responded.
Slowly…
The helmet dissolved.
Like shadows fading.
Like something ancient retreating.
His face was revealed.
Dark, short-trimmed hair.
Slightly messy.
Eyes—deep blue, but distant… like they carried storms within them.
Sharp features, defined but not harsh.
A faint scar traced across his cheek—subtle, yet telling.
Not the face of a noble.
Not the face of a king.
The face of a man who had fought.
And survived.
The crowd fell silent.
Then—
Even louder than before—
"KROS!!!"
And in that moment…
A new name was born.
Not just a rumor.
Not just a shadow.
A legend.
And behind him—
Laken watched.
Silent.
Not with hatred.
Not with anger.
But with something far heavier.
Understanding.