Chapter 288: The Night Silver City Cried
The Night Silver City Cried
The night sky shook like it was holding back tears behind the smoke.
The white warhorse came thundering down the hill, fast and furious, its silver mane tearing through the ash-choked wind like a blade of moonlight. On its back, Leon leaned low, his cloak flaring behind him, golden eyes locked on the horizon—burning, broken. Silver City—his city—wasn’t sleeping anymore. It wasn’t even silent. It was drowning in fire, glowing orange like a candle gripped too tight in a storm.
The skyline that once stood quiet and proud was twisted now. A living nightmare. Towers were being swallowed whole, flames clawing up their sides like something alive, angry. The heavens above were cracked open with smoke—thick, writhing black and red, churning like it had teeth. Every breath stank. Burned wood. Melted stone. Fear.
Leon’s jaw clenched as he pushed the horse harder, his heartbeat hammering up into his throat. His eyes narrowed toward the thickest column of smoke—eastern sector.
"Already... fire’s spreading," he muttered, voice low, tense, like it was choking on fury. No way this was natural. This wasn’t a wildfire. This was a strike. A message. This was war.
His warhorse slammed down over the cobblestone as he charged into the city’s central market, hooves echoing through the chaos. The closer he got, the more the horror came into focus.
The city gates had been thrown wide. Flooded. A tidal wave of people—terrified, broken—spilled out in every direction. Screams climbed higher than the flames. Glass shattered. Children wailed. Mothers held them tight, teeth clenched around panic. Old men stumbled through it all, their steps shaking like leaves in wind.
Buildings were folding in on themselves. Some already piles of ash and ruin. Others leaning, groaning, waiting to fall. A broken cart was overturned in the square; goods scattered like corpses on stone. The horses that pulled it? Gone. Somewhere behind, a tower groaned, cracked, and fell. Its collapse hit the earth like a death knell—deep, final.
Leon pulled the reins hard. In one clean motion, he dropped from the saddle. His boots slammed down heavy on the stone. He didn’t have to say a word. His presence was enough.
His silver-armored soldiers were already there—moving, yelling, forming lines in the chaos. Directing. Protecting. A young guard noticed him, wide-eyed and pale, sweat on his face. Still, he tried to bow mid-panic.
"Duke Leon!"
"No time for that," Leon snapped, sharp and steady. "Give me your report."
The soldier straightened, breathing hard. "East and west districts—they’re going under fast! Southern’s gone, northern’s barely hanging on. We’ve lost contact with some patrols—evacuations are underway, we’re sending people outside the walls, into safe zones, but the fire—!"
"I see it," Leon cut in, voice cutting through everything—the screams, the smoke, the fear. He stepped forward, his voice rising. "People of Silver City! I am here!"
Dozens of faces turned. Ash covered, tear-soaked, broken with fear—but they looked at him. And in their eyes, something flickered.
Hope.
"Duke Leon!" someone cried. "Our Lord has come!"
"Please help! Please—save us!"
He raised one hand, commanding silence without shouting. When he spoke, his voice rang through the smoke like a bell.
"Don’t panic! My people—listen to me! I will protect you. You have my word. Trust the guards. Follow them. Do exactly what they say. They will lead you to safety!"
The chaos trembled... then, for a moment, it softened. The people weren’t calm, not really. But they started moving with purpose instead of terror. That was all they needed. Not control. Just faith.
The soldiers moved faster now, bolstered by their Duke’s voice. They set up shields. Cleared paths. Pulled people toward safety with the kind of strength that comes only from belief.
Leon didn’t stop. No posing. No grandstanding. He was already moving again, boots crushing burnt rubble as he stepped deeper into hell.
His hands didn’t hesitate. He pulled aside smoking debris, grabbed hold of a half-collapsed elder and lifted him up with one arm.
"T-Thank you... Duke Leon..." the old man murmured, tears cutting clean tracks through ash on his face.
Leon just nodded. Didn’t waste breath. Threw the man over his shoulder and pushed back through the smoke.
He reached a nearby guard and lowered the man into his arms. "Get him to a safe zone. Move."
"Yes, my Lord!" The soldier caught him gently and took off.
Leon turned back toward the wreckage. Eyes scanning. Searching.
Then it came. That voice.
"HELP ME!! SOMEONE—PLEASE, MY BABY—WE’RE TRAPPED—!"
The scream was pure pain, cutting through the fire and the noise like a blade. Leon’s head snapped toward it. There—barely standing—was a house swallowed in fire, its frame shaking, ready to collapse. Flames roared from the windows. The roof caved in with a crack like bones snapping. Smoke poured out like it was alive, dying in pieces.
"SOMEONE PLEASE SAVE US!" she screamed again.
Leon didn’t hesitate. He moved. Fast.
But just before he could reach the building, a soldier jumped in front of him, wide-eyed, panicked. "My Lord—no! You can’t go in—it’s suicide! That place is about to fall! The fire’s too strong—let us go instead of you—!"
Leon’s eyes blazed. Not metaphor. Not exaggeration. Actual gold, lit like fire, pierced straight through the heat. His voice dropped, cold, sharp. "You don’t decide what I can or can’t do."
He stepped around the soldier without waiting for a reply. " You Save the others. I’ll handle this."
The soldier froze for a second, then bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord... but please, come back safe..."
Leon didn’t answer. He just kept walking.
The closer he got, the hotter the air became. Thirty meters away, and it hit him like a wave—too hot. Not normal. Wrong. The fire... felt angry. Felt alive. His body jerked back before his brain even processed it. Every instinct in him screamed. The flames weren’t just burning—they were hunting.
He took another step. Gritted his teeth. Heat whipped at his skin, biting like it wanted blood. Flames twisted higher, snarling, hungry.
"Tch... Think, damn it... I can’t go in like this..." His eyes scanned the wreck, fast, frantic. Looking for a crack, an opening, anything.
Then—
A voice, soft and sharp in his mind.
[Host... have you forgotten something?]
That voice. Calm. Familiar. The system.
He blinked. "...System," he breathed. His brow furrowed. "What the hell do you mean I forgot something?"
[Host, are you forgetting you purchased the Water Grimoire during your journey? You can cast a water spell to suppress the flames.]
Leon blinked. Realization slammed into him like ice water. "Shit... The Water Grimoire—fuck! I—damn, I forgot in all the chaos—"
He exhaled hard, jaw tightening. "Thanks, System."
[Anytime, Host.]
No more hesitation. He raised his hand, tapping into the water element’s energy. Fingers flicked, lips moved, the spell rolled out.
[Aqua Bind – Tide of Clarity!]
Blue light shimmered in his palm—then surged outward, a wave bursting toward the fire. The crowd behind him held their breath.
Then—
FWOOOOOM!
The fire screamed. Flames shot higher, louder. The moment the water touched the fire, it didn’t die—it fed it. Grew it. The water vanished in a hiss of steam, thick and choking.
Leon threw up his arm, shielding his face from the scalding fog. His eyes narrowed through the haze. "What... the hell?"
[Host. This fire has been rune-enhanced. It’s not natural. Someone placed reactive runes with the explosion which runes active— when someone try to suppression magic or water spells. The fire’s been set to spread when suppressed.]
Leon’s fists clenched. "So someone planned this... Made it so the fire would grow... no matter what we do."
From somewhere inside the blaze, a woman’s voice—barely—still cried out.
He closed his hand. Tightly. "When I find the bastard behind this... I’ll burn their soul myself."
"Damn it!"
He turned inward, searching for answers. "System! What do I do? I need a way through!"
[You have one option, Host. A tri-elemental spell—Earth, Water, Wind. It may disrupt the runes. But—]
"But what?"
[Once you cast it, your mana will be drained. You won’t be able to fight or cast any spell or defend yourself for at least ten minutes. You’ll be defenseless. Ten minutes of vulnerability. If you’re attacked in that time... you might die.]
Leon’s breath stuttered. "Ten minutes..."
[If they strike then—you won’t survive.]
"...Tch." His gaze flicked up, toward the sky behind the smoke. But what if no one comes? What if he can just save them... and disappear? Just make it back alive?
He shut closed his eyes. Tried to breathe. The three grimoires—blue, yellow, green—pulsed in his mind like hearts.
But then—
[Host, pause and think. Really think. What are you doing? And why? Think of your wives. Think of what their faces would look like if they knew. You’re gambling your life like it’s nothing. What happens to them if you don’t come back? Can they survive that pain?]
Leon froze.
And then... they came. One by one.
Rias, with that teasing smile hiding something deeper. Mia, soft-eyed and always worried. Syra, fierce and proud but never once ashamed to love him and all of his women.
Their faces. Their tears.
He clenched his jaw. ""...Damn it... Don’t lecture me, System. I know. I fucking know."
His voice cracked. "But if I let someone die right now... that’d guilt still kill me."
[You need to calm down first, Host.]