Chiaki's POV
It was early morning—so early that the sun hadn't fully risen yet. Only a faint, pale light clung to the horizon, barely pushing back the darkness that still lingered over the village. The sky was caught in that uneasy in-between state, where night hadn't fully let go and day hadn't quite claimed its place.
That was when it finally became clear.
The attackers were retreating.
Not charging anymore. Not shouting. Not burning. Just… leaving. Fading back into wherever they had crawled out from.
Even so, no one felt relieved.
Fortunately—if that word could even be used—the remaining magic knights and the students had managed to hold their ground. Bruised, exhausted, shaking, but alive. They had defended themselves through the night, through fear and confusion and sheer desperation.
Still, not everyone had made it.
There were reports coming in—quiet, heavy reports—that some villagers had died during the attack.
Hearing it out loud made my stomach twist.
