A tired-looking waitress took their order—two bowls of simple chicken broth and a plate of grilled vegetable skewers.
When the food arrived, they ate in comfortable, surprisingly normal silence.
"The broth in Nairn is better," Lencar thought casually, taking a slow sip from his wooden spoon. "Gorn uses far more garlic. This tastes like it was boiled with a single onion and a lot of hope."
Mariella looked up from her bowl, a genuine, bewildered amusement breaking through her tough street-rat persona. She was an assassin trained to kill without remorse, currently taking orders from a man who wore a wooden mask and possessed god-like magic, and they were sitting in a dirty diner critiquing soup.
They spent the next twenty minutes talking about entirely unrelated, mundane things. Lencar asked about her initial transition from the Diamond Kingdom, and she shared a few brief, carefully curated stories about the harsh training camps. He didn't press for details, merely listening and offering quiet nods of understanding. It was a grounding exercise. He wanted to ensure her mind was sharp and steady before the chaos began.
When their bowls were finally empty, Lencar wiped his mouth with a rough napkin and set it on the table.
He turned his head, looking out the small, smudged window of the eatery. He checked the position of the sun in the sky, noting the angle of the shadows stretching across the cobblestones outside. The morning had bled fully into the early afternoon. The War Merits Conferment Ceremony was drawing near, which meant the Magic Knight Captains were already gathering at the headquarters.
The trap was fully armed.
Lencar's demeanor shifted entirely. The relaxed, casual energy vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating focus of a man who was no longer observing the world, but preparing to manipulate it.
He turned his gaze back to Mariella.
"The Peace of capital is finished," Lencar stated, his voice dropping to a low, serious register that left absolutely no room for debate. "Things are about to get exceedingly messy in this capital. You need to leave the city. Right now."
Mariella frowned, setting her wooden skewer down. She leaned forward over the table, keeping her voice to a harsh whisper. "Leave? Leader, you told me to establish a vantage point outside the walls, but leaving the city entirely before the event even begins? I won't be able to see the tactical deployments clearly from that far away."
"You will see enough from the hills," Lencar insisted, his eyes hard and uncompromising beneath his illusionary face. "The scale of what is about to happen will not be contained to a single street or a single building. The entire city is going to become a battlefield."
Mariella shook her head, genuine confusion battling with her strict discipline. "I don't understand. I trust your intelligence, but... a full-scale battle in the Royal Capital? Today? The Wizard King himself is currently residing in the central palace. The nine Magic Knight Captains are all gathered in one location. What kind of force could possibly put a city with that level of concentrated, monstrous magical power into turmoil?"
It was a perfectly logical question from someone who didn't possess canonical knowledge of the future. To anyone else, attacking the Clover Kingdom capital on the day of the Star Awards Festival was tactical suicide. It was like walking into a dragon's den while all the dragons were awake and hungry.
Lencar allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips. It wasn't a smile of joy, but a grim acknowledgment of the violent tragedy that was rushing toward them.
"You will know soon enough, Mariella," Lencar said softly. "The arrogance of the strong often blinds them to the knives in the dark. The people attacking today do not care about survival; they only care about vengeance. And that makes them incredibly dangerous."
He leaned back in his chair, gesturing toward the door.
"Get out of the city limits," he ordered firmly. "If you wait until the screaming starts, the gates will be sealed, the spatial barriers will engage, and it will be incredibly hard to get out later. Go. Now."
Mariella looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. She found none. The absolute certainty in his voice overrode her own tactical doubts. She knew better than to question a direct command from a man who could fold space and build mountains.
She offered a single, sharp nod. "Understood. I will move to the high ridge to the east and await your signal. Be careful."
Mariella stood up, throwing a few copper coins onto the table to cover her half of the meal. She turned and walked out of the eatery, her posture instantly reverting to the slouching, careless street boy as she vanished into the crowded festival streets.
Lencar remained at the table for a few more minutes, ensuring she had a head start. He finished the last sip of water in his cup, paid the remaining bill, and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight.
He was alone in the capital.
He began to walk. He didn't head immediately toward the central noble districts. Instead, he took his time traveling around the middle rings of the city. He used the opportunity to study the layout of the capital in intricate detail. He memorized the width of the main avenues, the placement of the defensive watchtowers, and the flow of the civilian traffic. He noted the blind spots in the alleys and the structural weak points in the stone bridges spanning the city's canals.
He was mapping the battlefield. When the zombies started rising and the spatial portals opened, he needed to know exactly how to move without getting bottlenecked by panicked crowds or blocked by collapsing buildings.
The festival was reaching its peak. The crowds were thicker here, closer to the central plaza where the Magic Knights were expected to make their public appearances.
Lencar was navigating a particularly crowded intersection near a large, ornate fountain when a sudden, loud burst of familiar shouting cut through the ambient noise of the crowd.
"I'm telling you, I'm going to be the one standing on that stage next year! Just watch me!"
The sheer volume and the utter lack of social grace could only belong to one person.
Lencar paused, stepping near the edge of the fountain to avoid the flow of foot traffic. He looked across the plaza.
There they were.
Asta was marching down the street, his chest puffed out with ridiculous pride, wearing the distinctive, slightly tattered black robe of the Black Bulls. He looked exactly the same as he had in Hage—loud, energetic, and completely unbothered by the strange looks he was receiving from the polished citizens of the capital.
Walking beside him, radiating an aura of calm, detached superiority, was Yuno. He wore the pristine, elegant golden robe of the Golden Dawn, his four-leaf grimoire resting securely at his hip.
Lencar couldn't help but smile. Despite the sheer, terrifying power he had amassed, and the dark, bloody path he had chosen to walk in the shadows, seeing the two boys from the Forsaken Realm walking through the Royal Capital gave him a strange, profound sense of nostalgia.
But as Lencar's eyes tracked over Yuno, his smile suddenly froze, hardening into a tight, stiff line.
Hovering just above Yuno's right shoulder, flitting around his ear like a hyperactive, glowing green hummingbird, was a tiny, translucent figure with delicate wings. It looked like a miniature girl made entirely of compressed, glowing wind magic.
Sylph. The Spirit of Wind.
Lencar stared at the tiny elemental spirit, feeling a sudden, heavy weight settle in his chest.