The town did not sleep that night.
Lanterns burned longer than usual, and quiet conversations filled the streets as people stepped out of their homes, drawn by fear, relief, and curiosity. Word spread quickly—there had been an attack, but it had failed.
Frank stood near the square, watching the townsfolk gather. Some looked at him with gratitude. Others with awe. A few with fear.
Heroes, he realized, were not just admired. They were noticed.
Leo stood beside him, rubbing his sore arm. "They're all looking at you."
Frank exhaled slowly. "That's what worries me."
A man approached—a shopkeeper whose stall had once been vandalized. "You saved us," he said quietly. "If you hadn't prepared… we don't know what would've happened."
Others followed. Nods. Soft words. Thanks whispered like fragile glass. Frank accepted them silently, but inside, something heavy settled in his chest.
Because for every grateful face, he saw something else.
Fear.
That night, as the crowd dispersed, Frank climbed to the rooftop alone. The moonlight washed over the town, calm now—but only on the surface. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear of the enemy, but from the weight of responsibility.
The cloaked leader's words echoed in his mind.
This was never about winning. It was about measuring you.
"They'll come again," Frank murmured to himself. "And next time… they won't miss."
Footsteps approached behind him. The man in the coat—the one who had trained him—stepped out of the shadows.
"You stood well tonight," the man said.
Frank didn't turn. "People could've died."
"But they didn't," the man replied calmly. "Because you prepared. Because you chose to stand."
Frank clenched his fists. "And now they're watching me. The enemy. The town. Everyone. What if I fail next time?"
The man's voice softened. "That is the cost of standing. Once you do, you cannot return to being unseen. A hero does not choose safety—he chooses responsibility."
Frank finally turned to face him. "Then tell me this… does it ever get easier?"
The man shook his head. "No. But you get stronger."
Below them, the town slept uneasily, unaware of how close it had come to ruin. And beyond the rooftops, far past the edge of the lights, the true enemy watched—silent, patient, and smiling.
Frank straightened his back. Fear was still there, but it no longer ruled him.
If standing meant being targeted…
If protecting others meant being tested…
Then so be it.
He looked out over the town he had chosen to defend and whispered the words that now defined him:
"I will stand."
And in the darkness, the wind carried a new whisper—no longer mocking, no longer doubtful:
"There he stands… and now, he cannot turn back."