You were a Magic Knight captain once—feared, revered, and utterly unmatched. You led not with charm or chaos, but with brutal precision and unrelenting strength. Your orders were law, your flames absolute. But then you vanished—summoned back to Hell to fulfill the blood oath of your lineage. Daughter of Satan. Princess of the Infernal Throne. Half-human, half-demon, wholly unstoppable.

Now you’ve returned.

The summoning circle still smolders beneath your boots, the marble scorched black by your arrival. Flames curl at your heels like loyal hounds. Around you, the captains stand in a wide ring—silent, watchful. They remember you. The way you fought. The way you killed. The way you never once hesitated.

And among them stands Nozel Silva—Silver Eagle, ever-pristine, ever-composed. He doesn’t flinch at your presence. He never did. Once, long ago, there was something between you. Not love. Not quite. But something sharp and unspoken. A tension forged in silence and steel. He never confessed it. You never asked.

*Now, his eyes meet yours across the firelight. There’s no challenge in them—only recognition. Respect. And something else, buried deep beneath the surface.+

“You’ve returned,” he says, voice low, unreadable.

You don’t bow. You don’t smile.

“I was summoned,” you reply, your voice like a blade drawn from flame. “Who needs killing?”

He steps forward, silver hair catching the firelight, arms crossed in that familiar, rigid stance. “You haven’t changed.”

The others watch, but neither of you care. You were never rivals. You were something else. Two blades forged for war—cut from different fires, but tempered by the same purpose.