The entire town of Veinburgh was alive with movement and tension. Upon the walls, soldiers and volunteers stood like sentinels, eyes narrowed against the rising dust of battle. The clang of metal rang through the air, mixed with the whistle of arrows and the low rumble of clashes below the walls.
On the ground, runners moved swiftly through the organized chaos, hauling quivers of arrows and crates of weapons. Groups worked together to resupply the fighters, sweat glistening on their brows as they moved back and forth, carrying loads around.
The wounded were many. The tents originally meant to shelter refugees had been converted into makeshift infirmaries. Groans and cries of pain echoed inside, mingling with the barked orders of doctors.
Inside one of the tents, flashes of healing light pulsed softly. The air was warm and smelled of blood, sweat, and antiseptic herbs. Allie, the young Awakened, knelt beside a soldier with a deep gash in his side. Her hands trembled as golden light bloomed from her fingertips, the wound slowly knitting together under her touch.
Beads of sweat clung to her pale face. Her lips were drawn tight, and her eyes drooped with exhaustion. Each burst of healing drained her further. Her breaths came out shallow. She swayed—but didn't stop.
Outside, despite the losses, it was clear that the town held the upper hand. The Warriors of the Association carved through the Rust with practiced ease, and the trained soldiers maintained their formation with discipline.
In the town hall, the Mayor, Frank, and his officials were gathered around a long wooden table littered with a map of the town. Various people were reporting on the situation on all three sides of the town, pointing out key areas on the map.
Currently, the reports concluded there was no immediate problem.
An older official stepped forward, his brow furrowed with suspicion.
"Mayor," he began, his voice low and cautious, "although we seem to have the upper hand… something feels wrong. Why would the Dawn Order send the bandits to attack so recklessly? Their strategy is flawed. They don't even have any Awakened on their side. It's hard to believe this is their true strength."
Frank's fingers drummed against the table as he glanced at the official.
"You think it's a diversion?" he asked.
"I fear there's a conspiracy behind this," the senior official muttered. "We've read the reports about the attacks they carried out in other regions. All of them were insidious and brutal. But now, it seems like they're sending these bandits as fodder. Perhaps they're planning something else?"
Frank's jaw tightened. He, too, felt that something was off. But they couldn't guess the enemy's thoughts. He had already ordered Elric's capture. The Vice Mayor had been intercepted while trying to escape through a hidden passage beneath the manor—thankfully, they had anticipated his betrayal. Yet the bandits continued their assault with blind aggression, as if expecting success despite their disorganized forces. What exactly were they depending on?
Besides Elric, was there someone else in town who was on their side?
He casually looked at the people in the room. He couldn't tell if any were pretending, or if concern had truly taken root in their eyes. Still… what if there was a traitor among them, just waiting for them to lower their guard?
"You're right," Frank said grimly. "We can't afford to be complacent. Double the watch on the town perimeter and report immediately if anything unusual happens. Increase patrols inside the shelter and make sure no one is stirring up trouble."
He turned toward a nearby officer.
"Secure the underground shelter. Reinforce the barriers. If the situation turns, we'll retreat there and hold until reinforcements arrive tomorrow."
The officer saluted sharply and rushed off.
Whatever happened, they had to be ready. He suddenly remembered the explosion in the prison.
"By the way, has the survey of the shelter been completed? Did you find anything?"
The officer assigned to that area answered, "Mayor, don't worry. The shelter hasn't been tampered with. We've already surveyed it three times to be sure."
Frank nodded. That was a relief. They still didn't know the identity of the Awakened who died, but Frank suspected a connection to the Dawn Order. Still, why did they act like that? Why reveal themselves? And what of the person who killed that unidentified Awakened? Who was it? What was his/her purpose?
Though Frank wanted to investigate, it would have to wait. From what happened in the prison, that person possessed terrifying explosive power. Which meant they were dangerous.
"Everyone else, move," Frank barked. "We have the advantage, but that doesn't mean we've won."
The officials scrambled to carry out their duties. Frank stood silently for a moment, his hands clenched behind his back, staring out the tall window where smoke curled in the distance.
—
Meanwhile, countless miles from Veinburgh town, a large convoy thundered down a dirt road.
Carriages and riders moved at breakneck speed, horses kicking up clouds of dust. Two units of soldiers flanked the carriages—each unit fifty strong—armored in dull steel, their blue cloaks fluttering behind them. Two Awakened warriors rode at the front, leading the charge.
One was a man riding a black steed, with long red hair that looked like fire in the night. His black eyes narrowed as they traveled. Beside him was a woman on a brown steed, her long hair wrapped in a shawl. Her lithe figure and fairy-like face were breathtaking in the moonlight.
Dust settled as they rode along the muddy road.
The man, Austin, turned to the woman riding beside him.
"We've been traveling for a whole day as fast as we can, but at this rate, we'll arrive late in the morning. I think we should pick up the pace. Can you manage it?"
His wife, Gracey, turned toward him, the shawl on her head fluttering.
"Yes, I can manage. But it'll drain me. I won't be able to help in the battle."
Austin thought for a moment and nodded. "That's fine. I'll protect you. The important thing now is to get there as soon as possible."
Gracey nodded, and her steed suddenly slowed down. The two waited for the convoy to catch up.
Then, Gracey lifted her hands, arching her palms upward. The air fell silent, as though the world itself paused to listen. A soft hum rose around them, and golden light spilled from her fingertips—warm and radiant, like sunlight caught in glass. The light twisted and danced, forming fleeting shapes before scattering into sparks.
The ground beneath them shimmered, and with a gentle pulse, a glowing platform of light bloomed beneath their feet. The startled horses neighed and surged forward, yet instead of galloping on earth, their hooves drifted just above it, carried by unseen force.
Behind them, the carriages and steeds followed, lifting smoothly into the air. Their entire convoy floated above the trees, soaring higher as the forest below shrank into a sea of green. No longer slowed by rocky roads or winding paths, they moved swiftly—like golden streaks cutting across the sky. The wind rushed past, and the horizon bent with their speed.
Time passed in silence. The stars began to fade, giving way to the soft colors of dawn. From their high path, the outline of Veinburgh appeared in the distance, its rooftops catching the first blush of morning light.
Gracey slowly lowered her hands, and the glowing platforms began to descend. The golden light unraveled, falling away in gentle motes that vanished upon touching the ground. The horses and carriages landed softly at the crest of a hill.
As the last spark of her magic faded into the morning mist, the town of Veinburgh stood quietly before them, wrapped in the calm embrace of first light.
From afar, the town was strangely still. Smoke hung in the air, but there was no sound of battle—no clash of swords, no war cries, not even the beat of war drums.
Austin, cloaked in dark green, dismounted. His hand rested on the hilt of a long, carved blade at his hip.
"It's quiet…" he muttered.
The rest of the group exchanged glances. Nervous shifting of feet, tightened grips on weapons—it was clear they all felt it.
"Could it be… we're too late?" one of the soldiers asked.
"There are signs of battle," Austin said, pointing toward broken siege weapons and scorched earth outside the walls. "But no enemy banners. No movement on the walls, either…"
As he surveyed the town from afar his face turned grim. He looked at Gracey's exhausted, pale face, and guilt tugged at him.
"Stay here for now. I'll go check the situation. If the town's already fallen, we attack as ordered."
Gracey nodded. "Then go. Be careful," she said worriedly. But she couldn't stop him—it was their mission.
Austin nodded and headed toward the western forest to avoid being seen by the enemy. Under the cover of the trees, he followed the blueprint of the town in his mind, heading toward a hidden tunnel.
He thought of the things they had brought in the carriages. If things came to the worst, he had been ordered to use them. They were crystals filled with deadly runes—capable of annihilating the entire town. However, using them would likely harm innocent people. Still, the Association believed it was necessary. It was better to kill those people now than allow them to be used as nutrients to strengthen the Dawn Order.
"I hope I don't have to use them," he murmured, then opened the tunnel leading to the back of the government office.
When he emerged at the end… what greeted him left him astounded.