The morning after the eye's attack, the camp was a wound that would not close.
Tents were still being patched. The trench carved by the beam smoked faintly, its edges still too hot to touch. Medics moved between the injured, their faces pale, their hands steady. No one had died—but everyone knew that was Zarveth's choice, not their own.
Aurelion stood at the edge of the trench, staring east.
The eye still hung over the castle. It had not moved. It had not blinked. But something was different now. The air felt heavier. The Stain seemed to pulse faster.
He had faced Zarveth's knights. He had knelt in his throne room. He had taken a blood spear through the chest and been thrown out like garbage. But the eye—the eye was something else. It was not a weapon. It was a statement.
I see you, it said. I can reach you. And you cannot stop me.
"Aurelion."
Ami's voice. He didn't turn.
"The general called a meeting," she said. "Everyone's waiting."
"I'll be there."
She stepped up beside him. Her arm was bandaged—a burn from the blast wave. "You stood at the edge of the Stain and watched it charge. You could have died."
"I didn't."
"You could have."
He finally looked at her. "But I didn't."
The command tent was full.
Thalia. Rhea. Caelus. Dozens of party leaders. The general stood at the head of the table, his face grim. Maps were spread across the surface, marked with troop positions, evacuation routes, fallback lines.
And beside the general stood someone Aurelion had never seen before.
He was tall, lean, with sharp features and dark hair pulled back in a knot. His armor was different from the others—lighter, more flexible, designed for speed. At his hip hung a katana, its blade shimmering with contained mana.
"This is Ryuta Shinjiruka," the general said. "He arrived this morning. From Japan."
Ryuta bowed slightly. "The crossing was… difficult. But I came as soon as I heard."
Aurelion studied him. "Japan wasn't hit as hard when the continents shifted?"
"Our islands remained largely intact. We've been fighting our own war, but we've had time to prepare. To adapt." Ryuta's eyes were calm, measuring. "And to learn."
"What rank?"
"Ascendant."
The room murmured. Ascendants were rare. Ascendants from across the ocean were unheard of.
Caelus stepped forward. "You came to help?"
"I came to see this ancient king for myself. And to help end him, if possible."
The general laid out the plan.
Not a full assault—that was suicide. A trap.
"We need to lure Zarveth out of his castle," he said. "Or at least force him to commit his attention to a single point."
"How?" Thalia asked.
"We send a strike force into the throne room. Not to kill him—to annoy him. To make him angry enough to focus on us instead of the bigger picture."
Caelus frowned. "And when he focuses on us?"
"Then the rest of you have time. Time to evacuate the outer settlements. Time to reinforce the valley. Time to find a real weakness."
Aurelion studied the map. "Who's on the strike force?"
The general pointed. "You. Caelus. Ryuta. Three of our best. You'll enter the castle, engage Zarveth directly, and keep him occupied for as long as possible."
"And the knights?"
"Everyone else holds them off. It's a diversion. We draw their attention away from the throne room, give you a clear path."
Ami stepped forward. "I'm going with Aurelion."
"No," the general said. "You're Forged. The throne room is—"
"I've been there. I've survived. And I'm not letting him go in alone." Her voice was steel. "Again."
The general looked at Aurelion. He nodded.
"Fine. But you stay behind the front line. Don't engage Zarveth directly."
Ami's jaw tightened, but she nodded.
The strike force assembled at dusk.
Three hunters to face Zarveth. Caelus, blade gleaming. Ryuta, katana in hand, his stance relaxed but ready. Aurelion, his dark sword pulsing with crimson veins.
Behind them, a dozen more hunters—Ami, Kael, Thalia, others—prepared to hold the line against the knights.
No banners. No speeches. Just blades and desperation.
Aurelion looked at the eye. It stared back.
"We're not trying to kill him," he said. "We're trying to make him angry."
Caelus almost smiled. "That I can do."
Ryuta's expression didn't change. "Let's go."
They entered the Stain.
The knights were there—hundreds of them, standing in rows, their red eyes glowing. But they did not attack. They parted, as if ordered, creating a corridor toward the castle.
"They're letting us through," Ami whispered.
"Zarveth wants to see us," Aurelion replied. "He wants to see what we'll do."
They walked.
The castle loomed ahead, its towers dark against the red sky. The eye hung directly above it, its pupil fixed on the approaching hunters.
The throne room doors were open.
Waiting.
Aurelion stepped through first.
Zarveth sat on his throne, his posture relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, his cheek resting on his hand. Grave Sun stood beside him, planted through the floor, its core pulsing.
"You brought friends this time," Zarveth said. His voice was calm, almost bored. "How thoughtful."
Caelus stepped forward. "We came to return the favor."
Zarveth's eyes flickered. "The favor?"
"You sent your eye to watch us. We came to watch you."
Zarveth laughed. It was dry, cold, utterly without humor. "Watch, then."
He raised a hand.
The throne room doors slammed shut.
The knights outside began to move.
The hunters assigned to hold the line engaged immediately.
Ami heard the clash of steel behind her as she pressed against the wall, her blade ready. Kael fired over her shoulder, each bolt finding a knight's eye. Thalia's party formed a defensive ring around the throne room entrance.
"Don't let them through!" Thalia shouted.
The knights pressed.
Inside, Aurelion, Caelus, and Ryuta faced Zarveth.
The ancient king rose from his throne.
Not quickly. Not dramatically. He simply stood, as if the act of rising was beneath him. Grave Sun lifted from the floor, floating at his side, its core blazing.
"Three of you," he said. "Against me."
"Three is enough," Caelus replied.
Zarveth smiled.
The sword shot forward.
Aurelion barely deflected it. The impact drove him back, his arms screaming. Grave Sun spun in midair, turned, and shot toward Caelus.
Caelus dodged—but the blade curved, following him, tracking his movement.
"It's telekinetic," Ryuta said. "He doesn't need to hold it."
"Then we take away his attention."
Ryuta attacked.
His katana moved faster than Aurelion had expected—a blur of silver and light, each strike aimed at Zarveth's hands, his throat, his eyes. Zarveth didn't block. He didn't need to. The air around him twisted, and Ryuta's blade passed through empty space.
Spatial distortion.
"You're fast," Zarveth said. "But speed means nothing if you cannot reach me."
Aurelion lunged.
His blade met Zarveth's blood magic—a shield of crimson that erupted from the ancient king's palm. The impact sent a shockwave through the throne room.
Caelus attacked from the other side.
Grave Sun intercepted him.
The three hunters pressed, their blades finding no purchase, their strikes deflected by blood and shadow and warped reality. Zarveth didn't move from his spot. He simply watched, his hands making small gestures, each one redirecting their attacks.
"You are persistent," he said. "I'll give you that."
He raised a finger.
A spear of blood lanced toward Ryuta. He dodged—barely. The spear embedded itself in the wall behind him, smoking.
"But persistence is not victory."
Outside, the knights were winning.
Ami fought back to back with Kael, her blade finding gaps in their armor, his pistols keeping the horde at bay. But there were too many. For every knight that fell, two more took its place.
"We can't hold much longer!" Thalia shouted.
"We don't need to hold," Ami replied. "We need to give them time."
Inside the throne room, Zarveth's attention shifted.
Not toward Aurelion, Caelus, or Ryuta. Toward the door.
Toward the hunters fighting the knights.
He raised a hand. A sphere of crimson energy gathered in his palm. Aurelion saw it—saw where it was aimed.
"No," he said.
Zarveth didn't look at him.
He fired.
The sphere shot through the throne room doors, past the defenders, into the corridor beyond. Ami heard it coming—felt the pressure before it arrived.
"MOVE!" she screamed.
She dove.
The sphere struck the wall behind her, exploding into a shower of blood-red shrapnel. Hunters fell. Knights crumbled. The corridor became chaos.
Aurelion turned to Zarveth. "You—"
"I warned you," Zarveth said calmly. "I am not here to play fair."
The battle continued.
Aurelion, Caelus, and Ryuta fought with everything they had. Blood magic. Spatial distortion. Grave Sun dancing between them like a living thing.
But they could not touch him.
And every few minutes, Zarveth would look away—toward the door, toward the corridor, toward the hunters holding the line—and strike.
Another sphere. Another spear. Another scream.
Ami saw one of Thalia's hunters fall. Then another.
We're dying, she thought. We're dying and he's not even trying.
The order came through the comm.
"Fall back. Now."
Caelus grabbed Aurelion's arm. "We're done."
"We haven't—"
"We've lost enough. We're done."
They ran.
Zarveth watched them go.
"Come back anytime," he said. "I enjoy the company."
They emerged from the Stain at dawn.
Seven survivors from the corridor. Three from the throne room. Two dead. More wounded.
The general met them at the command tent. "Did you learn anything?"
Aurelion looked at the eye. At the castle. At the throne where Zarveth still sat, still watched, still waited.
"He's not invincible," he said. "But he's patient. And he knows we're scared."
"What do we do?"
Aurelion touched the scar on his chest.
"We get less scared."