Hajin walked through the viaduct repair crews on day thirty-five, checking the damaged arches before he addressed the survivors and their captains.
The thunder of artillery and the shrieks of choral vanguards were replaced by the steady clatter of tools and soft murmurs of working soldiers.
Hajin walked slowly down the central causeway, his steps careful and deliberate as his aching muscles protested every movement.
Around his chest, seven physical Rings drifted in a slow, tranquil orbit, their sovereign brilliance dimmed to a ember glow.
Beside the parapet, four royal engineers were dismantling the tempered metal braces that held the construct's chest open.
"Those braces took the strain of heaven without buckling," the lead engineer said, wiping grease from his forehead with a grin.
"You built them well," Hajin replied, placing a hand on the cool alloy crossbar. "Every bolt held firm."
