Supreme Spouse System.

Leon, Buried in Fire

A heavy dusk sank low, blanketing the war-shattered horizon.

Just past the broken gates of Silver City, the once quiet plains had warped into something else—something bleak, emptied out. A graveyard of silence. Of ruin. The air felt too thin, too fragile, like if anyone breathed too hard, it'd just crack apart. Survivors huddled everywhere—men, women, kids, the old—crowding close like staying near someone might somehow keep the nightmare from snapping back. Their clothes were torn, scorched, charred to black. Some didn't even seem to notice. Just… standing there. Shaking.

Soot and blood clung to their skin like war paint. Eyes hollow, faces smeared in ash. Some wept without a sound. Others didn't even seem to know the tears were falling. A few had burns blistering across their faces, arms wrapped in cloth that did nothing but stick to the wounds. Many just held one another, like if they let go, even for a second, everything would collapse. Some didn't move at all—frozen in place, staring through the smoke, still trapped in whatever hell they'd run from. Mothers clutched babies against their chests, trying to shield them from the cold wind rolling in, a wind sharp with the bitter stench of charred wood… and burned flesh.

All around them, soldiers in silver armor stood watch, a circle of steel drawn tight. Their spears jutted upward like a dead forest, rigid and sharp. Faces streaked with sweat and dust, their bodies locked in tension, every set of eyes flicking again and again toward the shattered city gate. The evacuation had worked… but the price clung to every breath they took.

And at the front of it all—eight women, standing like visions too unreal, too beautiful for this broken world.

Rias stood tall, her crimson hair lashing behind her like a torn banner whipped by the storm. Her red eyes burned—not with magic, not with fury—but with something colder. Dread. A dread she wasn't trying to hide anymore. Beside her, Aria stood straight-backed, composed on the outside, not moving a muscle. But her violet eyes betrayed her. They shimmered, not with power—but fear. A tight, silent fear buried too deep to speak.

Cynthia stood close, her face stuck in something that looked almost like calm. Blank. Distant. But her fingers told the truth—wrapped so tightly around her staff, her knuckles had gone bone-white. Like she needed the weight of it just to stay upright.

The twins—Syra and Kyra—hadn't moved an inch. They stood like statues caught in the wind. No pain on their faces. No fear, no shock. Just… nothing. Still as stone. But their bodies were too stiff. Too locked up. Like they were holding something back. Something shaking under the surface.

Mia stood a little apart, off to the side—small, pale, quietly trembling. Not a full shake. Just enough that you'd notice, if you looked long enough. Her black eyes kept scanning the horizon, again and again, like maybe—just maybe—someone she loved might come out of the smoke.

Tsubaki stood behind the rest, blood streaked across her cheek, armor dented, her braid half-loose in the wind. Her shoulders sagged. Worn down. But still… she stayed standing. Tall. Her hand gripped her sword like nothing else mattered, like if she let it go, she'd break right there. And Lira… silver-white hair cascading down her back like moonlight, blue eyes locked on the burning gates—those eyes shimmered with something she didn't say. Maybe couldn't.

Behind them stood the rest of the maids—fewer now. So many fewer. The once-pristine uniforms were torn to shreds, soaked in soot, in blood, but not a single one had lowered her head. They stood close, shoulder to shoulder, like they'd been sewn together by the fire. Lilyn, the head maid, stood with one arm around young Chloe. Her hand gripped the girl's wrist hard, fingers tight enough to say what words couldn't—You're still here. I'm not letting go. Just ahead of them were five more—Fey, Rui, Lena, Mira, and Mona. They formed a final line, the last ripple of Silver City's fading grace. They were still beautiful, but that beauty felt different now—softer, sadder. Like a flower pressed in ash. The ones who were gone… no one said their names. No one had to. Their absence rang out louder than words ever could, like a bell tolling through smoke.

And in front of them all—Vice-Captain Johny.

His armor used to shine—mirror-bright, almost too much to look at. Now it looked like it had been dragged through hell. Smoke had dulled every inch, and the fight had scraped the rest down to nothing. Dust clung to the joints, packed tight into cracks that hadn't even been there yesterday. His jaw was locked. Didn't move. Lips pressed into a line so tight; it barely looked like a mouth at all.

The sword hung low in his grip, tip buried in the dirt—like he wasn't sure lifting it again would change anything. Or if it even should.

He stood there, just a few steps ahead of the women, frozen. Motionless. His eyes didn't blink. They just stayed locked on the burning skeleton of what used to be his city. Out there, fire still crawled along the rooftops, dragging down houses, chewing through towers that once looked like they'd never fall.

Silver City—his home—was burning.

And all he could do was watch.

And then, when all had nearly surrendered to their own thoughts, it happened—

The gates of Silver City creaked.

From somewhere deep inside the city—through smoke, ash, and ruin—two shapes started to emerge. Distant at first. Barely more than shadows against the firelit sky.

A voice rose from the crowd. Hoarse. Urgent. "Look! Someone's coming!"

Dozens of heads snapped around. Hearts froze mid-beat.

The shapes came closer with every step. Two men. Their armor scorched, cloaks torn to shreds, soot stuck to their skin like it had grown there. Their breath came in heavy, dragging bursts. Limbs heavy. Faces set.

Captain Black. And Ronan.

Rias took a step forward before she even realized she had, her lungs tightening as her crimson eyes locked onto them. Her heart slammed hard, thudding against her ribs.

"…Is that…?" she breathed out.

"It's them," Aria said softly. Her voice low. Strained. "That's Captain Black… and Ronan."

The two walked through the last of the drifting smoke, like soldiers carved out of flame and steel. They moved fast, urgent, like time itself was after them. Their cloaks hung in ruins, and their faces were a mess—streaked in soot, cut, bleeding. But something was off.

They were alone.

They hadn't even made it halfway across the field when it hit.

And then—

BOOM!!!

A thunderclap, no—a roar. So loud it stopped every breath cold. It wasn't just noise. It was fury, it was force, it was the end of something. Behind them, Silver City exploded.

In one savage instant, the heart of the city was just… gone—ripped apart by a detonation that roared straight into the sky, fire clawing up like it wanted to tear the heavens down. A massive mushroom of flame surged upward, like the rage of some vengeful god. The ground heaved as the shockwave blasted out—like a titan had punched the earth.

The air changed. Turned hostile. Violent.

The ground cracked. Screams broke loose. Guards stumbled back, some dropping entirely. The blast didn't just echo—it struck. A hurricane of heat and rage that slammed into everything it touched. Even the trees in the far-off Silver Forest bowed under the pressure. And farther still, even the Moonstone Kingdom would feel the tremble.

Ash began to fall.

Dark, soft, endless—like cursed snow drifting down from a sky that had already given up.

People threw their arms up, trying to block their faces. The air was thick—ash, smoke—choking every breath. Coughs broke out everywhere, raw and scraping, voices shredded from too much screaming. Though now… no one was really screaming anymore. Just broken breathing. Just hollow eyes staring up like they already knew.

Whatever little hope was left—it died right there.

The streets were madness. Everything trembled. Bodies were flung—hurled like limp dolls, caught in the hands of something ancient, something ruthless.

Rias dropped to one knee, gasping, her hand clutched tight to her chest like she could stop her heart from coming apart.

Aria hit the dirt hard. Teeth gritted, jaw locked. Her crimson hair whipped into her face, lost in the storm of ash and wind.

Mia screamed. Loud. Raw. Full of panic and terror that wouldn't let go.

Kyra stumbled, her knees nearly buckling before she grabbed Syra's arm—clinging like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

And Cynthia… didn't move at all. She Couldn't. She just stood there frozen, her staff shaking in her hands, knuckles white, eyes stretched wide with something past fear.

Tsubaki moved on instinct. She threw her arms around Lira, pulling her in close, shielding her from the searing heat—like her body alone could hold back the fire.

The whole world trembled—then went still.

Only silence remained.

But it wasn't peace. It was the kind of silence that felt like punishment. Even the wind refused to blow. No birds sang. Only the distant, haunting crackle of flames eating through what remained of Silver City. Smoke curled into the sky. The sun dimmed behind ash, casting the world in a strange, mournful gray.

Someone's voice cracked through the quiet. "W-Where's… Lord Leon?"

The words landed like a knife.

Rias's face went pale. Her crimson eyes widened with dread. Without thinking, she turned and broke into a run toward Black and Ronan.

"Where is he!? Where's Daddy!?"

Aria's voice pierced the air next, tight with fear. "Darling…?" Her words faltered, caught halfway as though her breath had abandoned her.

Black and Ronan stumbled to a stop, shoulders heaving from exhaustion. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The hollow look in their eyes told the story—one of despair and disbelief.

Silence.

"Where is Leon!?" Tsubaki marched up to Captain Black and grabbed him by the collar, her voice a thunderclap of desperation.

Aria came to her side; gaze locked on Black's face. "Darling… Where is he?"

Mia's whisper barely made it past her lips. "Leon... please... no…"

Rias turned sharply toward Ronan, her voice splintering. "Answer me! Where's Daddy?!"

Still, nothing. No words. Just a heavy silence.

Then, slowly—agonizingly—their heads dipped.

Both men sank to their knees.

Black's voice cracked the air like dried leaves beneath boots. Hoarse. Weak.

"He... he's still in the city."

Time seemed to stop.

A gasp swept through the women like a wave of ice.

Rias's crimson eyes widened, her body locked in place.

"WHAT?!" Her scream tore out, raw and trembling. "What do you mean he's still inside?!"

Ronan's lips quivered, while Black bowed his head lower, unable to meet their eyes.

And then, finally, Ronan spoke—his voice slow and heavy, like each word was carved from grief itself.

"He… He bought us time. Told us to leave first… said he'd follow after. But… he never came."

Rias stumbled back as if the air itself had struck her.

"No… no, no, no—" she murmured, her voice cracking as her head shook violently. Tears flew, flung by her anguish.

She spun toward the burning city, eyes wild. "I'm going! I'm going back in—to find him!"

Her feet shifted, ready to run.

But before she could move—

A hand seized her wrist.

She gasped, and twisted around—rage flashing in her eyes.

It was Lira. Standing there, her silver hair ash-dusted, eyes gleaming with tears. Her grip trembled, but it didn't loosen.

"Rias… stop."