The spell Gabriel had just unleashed indeed came from his Grimoire—but it wasn't a spell he had created himself.
It was, rather, a legacy left behind by the previous wielder of the pale white Grimoire.
The proof was clear: every spell Gabriel had crafted himself was inscribed and activated using German, whereas this recent spell used the native language of this world.
Gabriel recalled the first time he had carefully read through the Grimoire.
Inside, there were four spells that were not his own creations. These spells were already recorded within the Grimoire.
Though not his, each possessed power that could not be underestimated.
The effects of these spells were extraordinary, capable of reconstructing any magic the Grimoire's user had witnessed and manifesting it as if the spell belonged to the user themselves.
And the spell Gabriel had just used was none other than Yuno's.
After dealing with the bandits, Gabriel didn't say a word.
He simply raised his middle and index fingers toward the sky.
The Grimoire, now in digital mode, responded immediately—its pages flipping backward rapidly before coming to a stop.
[- Dark Matter Magic: Healing All Creation -]
In the next instant, a pale light spread gently. Cuts, bruises, and lingering pain across the villagers' bodies vanished as if the damage had never existed.
At the same time, the magical ropes binding them—spells cast by the bandits—cracked, then shattered and evaporated completely.
This wasn't part of the spell's primary effect, but the result of Gabriel's Dark Matter manipulation, embedded to dismantle the structure of the binding magic.
Faces that had been filled with fear now turned to relief, and many couldn't help but shed tears of gratitude.
A moment later, an elderly man mustered the courage to step toward Gabriel, his body still trembling slightly.
Whether from lingering tension or the sheer incomprehensibility of the figure before them, the elderly man stammered.
"M-Mr. Magic Knight… as the village head, allow me to express our deepest gratitude," he said earnestly. "May I… know your name?"
Gabriel's gaze lingered on him briefly, then he replied tersely, "Ash."
The next instant, his figure vanished.
Not in a flash of light, nor a gust of wind—but as if his very existence had been erased.
Through Gigan, Gabriel hacked their perception, making the villagers' eyes and minds believe he was still standing there… until their awareness caught up with reality.
The village head and the people gasped in shock.
Then Gabriel's voice returned—softly echoing from every direction, like a whisper carried on the night wind.
"The pale mist… watching the stars."
After that, silence once again enveloped the village.
***
Gabriel's journey to his original destination had taken roughly ten minutes.
Now, he stood—or rather, sat—in the capital of the Clover Kingdom—more precisely, within the residence of one of its prominent nobles: Damnatio Kira.
Inside the man's room, shrouded in darkness, Gabriel perched atop a pale throne crafted entirely from Dark Matter Magic.
He read a book calmly, as if the room belonged not to anyone else but to him, as if the space itself bowed to his presence.
The way he sat radiated an air of mystery and absolute authority—like the entire situation was under his control, yet without a hint of tension.
Gabriel leaned lazily against the throne, his left hand supporting his head while his right flipped the pages of the book without touching them.
The sheets moved on their own, guided by subtle and precise Dark Matter Magic manipulation.
Both of his legs were crossed, his posture seemingly indifferent, yet it exuded an invisible pressure, as if his mere presence made the surrounding space reluctant to breathe.
On the other side, after spending some time in the room, Gabriel finally decided to create an outfit for his Ash persona—entirely formed from Dark Matter Magic.
Ash's costume consisted of a white shirt layered beneath a black Rain Cloak, adorned with silver ornaments, and pitch-black gloves covering both hands.
As an additional disguise, Gabriel manipulated Dark Matter to obscure his face, making it impossible for others to recognize him.
A faint, subtle smile appeared on his lips.
Moments later, the door to the room opened.
The figure he had been waiting for from the very beginning finally appeared. Damnatio Kira stepped in, his expression cold and controlled.
His short black hair was neatly combed back, complementing sharp eyes that radiated the decisiveness of a judge.
His posture was upright, clothed in formal noble attire that reflected the dignity and authority of the law he upheld—a man accustomed to judging, not being judged.
In his right hand, Damnatio held a set of scales.
The room's door slowly closed behind Damnatio.
For a moment, he halted his steps.
His gaze immediately fixed on the unfamiliar figure seated atop the pale throne—a throne that had clearly never existed in this room before.
Dark Matter whispered softly, merging with the shadows of the chamber, yet showing no hint of destructive intent. Only… presence.
Damnatio showed no sign of shock. No shout, no backward step.
Yet his eyes hardened, his body tensed in trained vigilance, like a judge confronting an anomaly that had yet to be codified in any law of mana.
Then, a calm voice resonated from the darkness. "Good evening… Empty Judge."
Damnatio lifted his head slightly, staring straight at the figure on the throne.
"This is my residence," he said flatly, with full control. "And I don't recall inviting anyone tonight. Who are you?"
The figure slowly closed his book.
A faint, subtle smile appeared on his face—not mockery, not friendliness. Only a calm too profound to measure.
"Ash. The Pale Mist… that watches over the stars."
Silence fell once more. Yet the Kingdom's Judge still could not grasp the purpose behind the arrival of the unfamiliar youth.
From his very presence alone, it was clear he was no ordinary person. The boy had penetrated the residence undetected—passing through guards and servants as if they had never existed.
Moreover, the Mana radiating from him was cold, yet perfectly controlled—calm, yet oppressive.
"So," Damnatio said flatly, his eyes never leaving the figure before him, "what is your purpose, Ash the Pale Mist, in coming to my residence?"
Gabriel regarded him without rising, without altering his posture in the slightest.
"You know, Empty Judge," he said calmly. "In the Clover Kingdom system, injustice runs rampant."
He closed the book completely.
"Many nobles discriminate against the common people. Power is used not to protect, but to oppress."
The pale gaze fixed squarely on Damnatio. "My question is simple," Gabriel continued. "Why do you not side with the people?"
"What reason do you have to keep siding with the nobles?"
The atmosphere stiffened.
"Isn't a country meaningless without its people?"
"And without a country, noble titles are nothing but empty names."
Damnatio furrowed his brow.
Not out of anger, but because he finally understood the direction of the conversation.
He exhaled softly.
"So," he said slowly, his voice still cold and controlled, "you've come to reprimand me?"
He stepped forward a single pace.
"Or, more accurately… to complain about legal decisions that don't align with your ideals, Ash the Pale Mist?"
His gaze sharpened.
"If you think the law moves based on sympathy, then you're in the wrong room."
"And if you think a judge chooses sides based on feelings—" Damnatio paused briefly, then continued in a cold tone, "then you still don't understand how a country survives."
"Heh," Gabriel chuckled softly, as if genuinely amused. "It seems the Empty Judge has misinterpreted my words."
He lifted his gaze slightly, the faint smile still lingering.
"No matter. It's… rather amusing. Entertaining, even."
His voice returned to calm.
"But let me clarify your understanding. My purpose is not to complain—ideology holds no sway over the Pale Mist that watches the stars."
For a moment, the room felt colder.
"I'm merely curious," Gabriel continued. "You humans—mortal creatures, all of you."
His gaze fixed directly on Damnatio.
"Then… why do you categorize yourselves?"
"Lower. Higher."
His smile faded, replaced by a hollow calm.
"Why?"
Damnatio didn't answer immediately.
He studied Gabriel in silence, as if weighing not the words, but the presence itself. Then, with measured steps, he stood upright—neither retreating nor advancing.
"Because a nation is not built on absolute equality," he finally said.
"Humans are all mortal," Damnatio continued, his voice dry and composed, "yet their abilities, responsibilities, and roles are never the same."
He adjusted the fold of his cloak.
"The law does not categorize people to satisfy egos," he stated. "It categorizes to prevent chaos."
His gaze sharpened.
"The people need structure. Nobles exist to bear that responsibility—whether they are worthy or not."
"Without a hierarchy, power would only fall into the hands of the most brutal."
Damnatio paused for a moment, then added with a sharper tone:
"And as a judge, my duty is not to choose who is morally right."
"But to ensure the system keeps functioning."
He stared directly at Gabriel.
"You question why humans create ranks."
"I answer—because without them, the law could never stand."
Silence once again filled the room.
Yet it was clear: for Damnatio Kira, order mattered more than idealized justice.