(Chapter 6)
The plaza that had only moments ago been a battleground was now alive with voices.
Cheers erupted, echoing through Ethille's central square as townsfolk rushed in from every direction. Where panic had once reigned, gratitude now filled the air.
"The wyvern is dead!" a man shouted.
"They saved us!" cried another, pointing toward Azre and Enix.
Azre, still clutching her side, blinked in disbelief as she was surrounded by relieved citizens. A woman ran forward, scooping up the lost child into her arms. The girl buried her face into her mother's neck, then looked up with wide eyes.
"Thank you, big sister knight! Thank you, big brother with the flaming sword!" she squeaked, waving with both hands.
Azre smiled gently despite her exhaustion, while Enix rubbed the back of his neck, visibly awkward. "Ah… it was nothin'," he muttered, looking away.
The cheering only grew louder. Children tugged at Azre's cape, and others marveled at the faint glow still lingering on Enix's blade. Then, from somewhere in the crowd—
"They make a fine couple, don't they?"
The words hit like an arrow.
Azre's eyes widened, her face flushing crimson. "C–Couple?!" she stammered, nearly choking on her own breath.
Preposterous!" she sputtered, her composure breaking in an instant.
Enix's jaw dropped. "What the hell—me and her?!" He nearly tripped over his own boots, pointing accusingly at the air. "Oi, you blind or just dumb?!"
The crowd only laughed louder. A gaggle of young women giggled into their sleeves, while an elderly man clapped his neighbor on the back.
"See the way they stood together? That's fate!"
"A knight and her flame—how romantic!"
Azre's ears burned. "Nonsense! Utter nonsense!"
Enix growled, jamming a toothpick between his teeth to hide his embarrassment. "Should've let the wyvern eat me…" he muttered under his breath.
The comedy melted into order when the sound of armored boots approached. Captain Viera strode into the plaza, her cloak sweeping behind her, eyes sharp as she surveyed the wreckage. Behind her, acolytes tended to the wounded, calming the shaken citizens.
"Azre," Viera said firmly, "you stood when you should still be resting. But I cannot fault your instincts." Her gaze shifted to Enix, lingering. "And you, stranger… your flames turned the tide. Who are you?"
Enix gave a nonchalant shrug. "Name's Enix. Just a drifter."
"Not anymore," Viera replied. "You will come to the military camp. We have questions, and you have answers."
The crowd parted as knights escorted the two away. Whispers spread like wildfire—rumors of the knight and flame swordsman who had slain a wyvern together. By the time they reached the southern camp, stories of their "bond" were already running ahead of them like wildfire.
---
The camp was alive with activity. Eldhar, Aven, Rowan, Thalia, and Nilda, though still weary from battle, emerged to meet them. Their eyes fell instantly on Enix.
"So this is the flame-spitter?" Rowan smirked, arms crossed. "Looks scrawnier than I expected."
Enix's eye twitched. "Say that again, loudmouth. I'll cook that smug grin right off your face."
Thalia stifled a laugh. "Oh, I like him already."
"Enough," Eldhar cut through, his tone steady but commanding. His gaze settled on Enix. "You saved lives today. Tell us what you know."
The camp quieted. Enix leaned against a post, arms folded, his green eyes narrowing as he replayed the battle.
"There was someone else," he said finally. "A hooded figure. Standing atop the bell tower, watching. I felt his mana surge before the wyvern appeared. He summoned it."
The knights stiffened.
"Are you certain?" Viera asked sharply.
Enix nodded. "Certain as I'm standin' here. But I didn't move on him." He smirked faintly, though his eyes were deadly serious. "Better he thinks he's still in the shadows. Let him believe we didn't notice. Makes him sloppy."
The weight of his words settled over the camp. Eldhar's jaw tightened, and Viera's eyes darkened.
"This changes everything," Eldhar said quietly. "The cult walks among us—and now they know Ethille is defended."
Azre, standing beside Enix, looked at him with a new measure of respect. He might have been brash, but there was calculation in him—wisdom born of scars.
And for the first time, she wondered if fate had not brought him here by accident.
The campfire crackled in the center of the Purge Knights' encampment, casting long, warm shadows across the weary warriors. For the first time since the clash at the plaza, there was no roar of a wyvern, no clash of steel—only the quiet hum of soldiers sharpening blades and acolytes tending to wounds.
Rowan sat with his boots propped against a crate, gesturing wildly as he retold the plaza battle for what must have been the fifth time.
"And then the flame-swordsman—this guy—" he jabbed a thumb at Enix, "actually ate the beast's fire! With his sword!"
Thalia rolled her eyes. "Rowan, you make him sound like a feast hall bard."
"It's true! well I'm not there myself.. But hey!! that's what all the people in town says, so I'm sure it is true."
Rowan shot back with a slim trace of hesitations on his face as, he grin.
"He looked like a bloody dragon himself, swinging that thing around."
Nilda interrupts. "Because that's what the people in town also says, right!!"
Enix groaned, lying back on a hay pile with his arms behind his head.
"Can't a guy save a brat without becoming gossip for the whole damn camp?"
"Afraid not,"
Nilda teased gently.
"Heroes don't get to pick their stories."
The group's laughter was interrupted by soft footsteps. Seraphine approached, clad in a simple dress, her expression timid but warm. She bowed her head.
"I heard… the wyvern was defeated. I had to come."
Her eyes lingered on Azre, shimmering with gratitude.
"And I wanted to thank you all—especially you, Lady Azre. And you…"
She turned shyly to Enix.
"The flame swordsman."
Enix sat up, scratching his cheek awkwardly.
"Don't… don't call me that. Just Enix."
Seraphine smiled, a little more brightly than before.
"Then thank you, Enix."
Rowan leaned close to Thalia, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear,
"Told you, she's already smitten."
Thalia elbowed him so hard he wheezed.
Azre's, face slightly flushed, cleared her throat.
"Lady Seraphine, we should be thanking you. Without your warning, none of us would be here to laugh at Rowan's nonsense."
Seraphine's eyes brimmed.
"You're too kind, Lady Azre…"
For a moment, there was warmth. A fragile sense of family forged in battle.
---
Later, as the camp settled, Azre found herself walking alone beneath the lantern-lit rows of tents. She spotted Enix sitting by himself on a barrel, staring up at the moon with that ever-present toothpick shifting between his teeth.
"You fight recklessly," Azre said, breaking the silence.
Enix tilted his head, smirking faintly. "You watch people recklessly. That scream of yours—thought you were gonna burst a lung."
Azre folded her arms, scowling. "I was saving a child."
"And I saved the child." His grin widened just to annoy her.
Azre huffed but sat beside him anyway, armor clinking softly. They stayed quiet for a long while, watching the flicker of torches against the dark sky.
Finally, Enix spoke, voice low. "Back there… that kid, cryin'. I almost walked away."
Azre turned, surprised by his honesty.
"Reminded me too much of myself," he admitted. "And of the one guy who didn't walk away when I needed him most. My mentor." He tapped the sword at his side. "Incinerator used to be his."
Azre studied him, her usual sternness softening. "Then he would be proud of you today."
Enix looked at her, green eyes flickering with something unreadable. "…You think so?"
"I know so."
They said nothing more, but the silence between them no longer felt heavy.
---
Elsewhere in Ethille, two old friends sat together in the dim glow of a tavern. Eldhar and Aven nursed their drinks, the weight of years between them.
"You're sure about this?" Eldhar asked quietly. "Retirement?"
Aven smiled faintly, lines of fatigue clear on his face. "I've carried the banner long enough, old friend. My sword arm grows heavy, and my heart… heavier still."
He took a slow breath, staring into the amber liquid of his mug. "You remember why I joined the knighthood? I never told anyone. Not truly."
Eldhar leaned forward, listening.
"My village burned," Aven said softly. "Bandits, years before Daath's cult ever stirred. My wife and son were inside. I survived, they didn't. I swore I'd never let another soul suffer the way I did. That's why I became a knight. Not for glory, not for crowns. For them."
His voice broke, but he smiled through it. "And now, I think they'd want me to rest. To stop chasing death and start living—for once."
Eldhar's chest tightened. He reached across the table, gripping Aven's forearm. "You were the heart of this brotherhood. Don't think for a moment your watch was wasted."
Aven's eyes glistened as he nodded. "Then let this be my last duty. I'll carry your report to the King myself. Ragnafiore must know what we face."
The two men clinked mugs, a farewell without words. When Aven departed at dawn, Eldhar stood in the street to watch him go, hand raised in a silent salute as the sun rose behind his old friend.
For the first time in years, the Purge Knights would march on without him.