Cane extended his senses. Since the rescue mission in Hybacus, a small spiral of Cold Iron had fused to his starmetal—permanently altering his abilities.
Now, he could feel it all.
Every sword, every spear, every chainmail ring on the battlefield lit up in his mind's eye. Armor hummed. Blades sang. The enemy was iron and fire, and Cane could see them.
"Brammel. Jonas. Aim for the edges," Fergis said, brushing soot from his hands. "Leave the middle to me."
The fire mage had spent hours carving a complex rune onto the flat rock outside the command tent—sectioning it off and snapping at anyone who got too close.
Brammel and Jonas exchanged a look, then adjusted their aim slightly without comment.
A war horn cried from the valley. The ground trembled.
The enemy charged.
A wall of heavy cavalry—one hundred wide, four ranks deep—thundered toward Topoc Hill, shaking the earth.
Cane tapped his command bracer.
Captain Cain: Wait for it… FIRE CATAPULTS.
Both catapults fired in unison.
Twin arcs of steel and flame smashed into the flanks of the cavalry. Fire and sulfur erupted, engulfing horses and riders. Screams rang out as the edges of the charge collapsed in chaos.
Then Fergis stepped into the center of the rune.
Azar pointed skyward.
The rune beneath him blazed to life—glowing, shifting, rotating in layers of ancient runic-magic no first-year cadet should have known. But Fergis wasn't like the others.
A column of white flame shot from Azar, piercing the clouds, incinerating them in an instant.
SKYFLAME.
The flames didn't stop at the clouds. They punched back down—a column several meters wide, blasting into the center of the enemy formation.
Riders and mounts vanished—gone—instantly incinerated. The ground itself detonated with a massive shockwave, pulverizing bones, flipping riders into the air, and vaporizing steel.
What remained of the charge collapsed in confusion. A few dozen survivors limped away, dragging wounded mounts, leaving behind only smoke, charred earth, and silence.
Fergis dropped to his knees, body spent.
Zio ran to him, catching him just in time. "Holy shit, Firekiss. That was—amazing!" She grinned, holding him up. "I thought I was flashy!"
Cane blinked, stunned. "How many times can you do that?"
"Just the one. The rune's single-use." Fergis looked pale. "Gonna need a minute in the ringworld."
Cane accessed the ringworld, sent him in, and pulled him back moments later, fully restored.
Fergis exhaled. "Okay. That worked. Now comes the hard part."
Zuni Command
Across the battlefield, Field Marshal Havoc surveyed the smoldering carnage.
"Locust. Prepare to engage."
Black eyes narrowed as he scanned the obliterated valley. That wasn't just a mage attack—it was amplified. Rune-enhanced. Deliberate.
"Commander…" Locust hesitated, still staring at the craters. "That strike—it felt like death falling from the sky. If they can do that again—"
"They can't," Havoc snapped. "If Telamon himself were over there, we'd know it. That was a one-time trick."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
There was something else.
The battlefield was saturated with fire mana. Not dense, not powerful—just… everywhere. As if the land itself had soaked in spellwork like a sponge.
Like someone had been seeding the field.
"Begin the assault," Havoc said, voice low and certain. "Before they pull another miracle out of the sky."
"Scouting report, Field Marshal!"
A young Zuni scout knelt before Havoc, sweat beading on his brow.
"Go ahead…" Havoc raised a hand to pause Locust mid-sentence.
"We've located the enemy Legion. They've split into two groups, hidden in the canyons on either side of Topoc Hill."
Havoc's jaw clenched. His dark eyes flashed.
"I see. A trap—they're waiting to encircle us. How far out?"
"Fifteen minutes to the hill, sir."
"One company is going to hold the hill for fifteen minutes?" Havoc barked a cruel laugh. "We'll be dug in and skinning their commander by the time they arrive. Locust!"
Locust hadn't moved. The report confirmed what he'd already suspected.
"The hill gives them a tactical advantage," he said. "But numbers will break them."
"Exactly. Divide your Legion—delay the reinforcements. Once we've taken the hill, retreat to my position. We'll crush anyone who follows."
Havoc slammed a mailed fist into his palm. "Ready my drake. I'm taking direct command of the remaining two Legions. Topoc Hill will fall. Then tomorrow—we march on their capital."
Locust saluted and turned to leave, but unease gnawed at him. Something about Topoc Hill felt wrong. Those who approached it returned hollow-eyed—if they returned at all.
"As you say, Commander."
Topoc Hill
"Incoming!" Cane's voice cut through the wind. "Horse archers, followed by spearmen!"
Hundreds of riders crested the ridge, bows raised and charging hard.
Below, Fury held their ground.
The trenches near the base of the hill were lined with sharpened stakes and shield walls. The Fury soldiers crouched, shields lifted high, eyes locked forward. Until now, none of their enemies had survived to tell what Fury could do.
Now they would see it firsthand.
The horse archers loosed their first volley.
Arrows hissed through the air.
Shields held. No one flinched.
Then—fire.
Half the Fury line rose from cover, hands alight with flame. In perfect unison, they stepped forward and unleashed their wrath.
FURY!
The word ripped across the valley as walls of fire engulfed the oncoming cavalry. Screams followed. Horses screamed and stumbled, riders thrown as flame and fear detonated in the heart of the charge.
The first wave fell back in panic.
Without missing a beat, the second Fury line moved forward into position.
FURY!
The second shout landed like a hammer. Even riders untouched by the fire couldn't steady their mounts. The charge broke.
From high above, Field Marshal Havoc watched in disbelief.
"An entire company of mages?" he whispered. "No wonder they were chosen to hold Topoc Hill."
He activated his command device.
Commander Havoc: Spearmen. Advance.
In the outer ring of defense, Runner Belzi took her place at the front.
Five meters away, the first wave of Zuni spearmen surged up the hill.
Platoon Sergeant Davon raised his hand—then dropped it.
Belzi stepped forward, fire mana flaring at her fingertips.
Flames erupted from her hands in a wide arc, blasting the front ranks of the Zuni formation.
Shields raised just in time. They lived—but scorched skin, ragged breath, and the acrid stench of burning cloth filled the air. The line faltered.
Belzi fell back, and the second row of Fury stepped forward with measured precision. More fire. More shields breaking. More terror.
The charge stalled—but more Zuni spearmen pushed from behind, unwilling to retreat.
The hill burned, and the line held.
Cane moved like a shadow through the chaos, fully stealthed. He darted through broken lines toward Rally Point Alpha. For the first time, Fury was on its heels.
The Zuni kept coming.
Mana was running dry. Fury soldiers, once unstoppable, were down to blades and grit. But even spent, they fought like cornered demons—flaming swords dancing as they dug in.
At the perimeter, Davon stood tall, unmoved. The oldest platoon sergeant in the Legion had been chosen to hold the outermost defenses for a reason. Even as the line frayed, he remained a pillar of calm.
"First line—fall back to Alpha. Take the wounded. We'll hold until you return."
Not far off, Runner Belzi scowled. Her position had frayed at the edges, and with two of her teammates down, she was suddenly alone.
"Shit…"
FURY.
She threw flames at the trio of spearmen advancing on her, then rifted five meters to the left and unleashed another searing blast.
Her gift—continuous rifting—made her a nightmare to fight. She danced between strikes, launching fire and blinking away before retaliation could land. Alone, she held.
But her mana drained fast.
Cane reached Alpha and immediately activated the ringworld. The battered and burned were whisked away. For a moment, only the howling wind filled the breach.
The line—bent.
Then it buckled.
Belzi's cap was half-off, her face bloodied. She parried a spear and countered with a blast of flame, setting the attacker ablaze. She rifted again—only to reappear into a trap.
A waiting spearman lunged, plunging a blade into her side. She stumbled backward, screaming as she incinerated him with one final torrent.
Another enemy stepped forward.
Belzi raised her sword, teeth gritted, blood running down her arm.
Then—
FURY!
The shout shook the air.
The ringworld flared.
Mana-charged soldiers returned, pouring back into the trenches. They slammed into the breach like a wave, pushing back the tide.
Davon reached Belzi, dragging her behind the line.
"Next group—fall back to Alpha."
A breath. One heartbeat of quiet. Davon stood tall again.
Above, Havoc circled.
From the saddle of his drake, he snarled. "Why hasn't the line fallen yet?"
He scanned the field. Still no sign of Locust. But… something caught his eye.
An entire group of soldiers—appearing from nowhere—filled the weakening line.
Magic? No—something more.
"I'll handle this myself," he growled.
The drake dove, wings slicing the sky. Straight toward the fallback zone.
But before he could strike—
A column of white fire erupted from the Command Tent.
Not Fury's flame. Something else.
Havoc yanked the reins just in time as a barrage of fireballs shot upward—dozens in rapid succession. The air turned molten.
The drake veered off, screeching in protest.
On the hill below, Fergis stood, calm and unshaken.
The ground around him bubbled like a volcano ready to break.
"Leaving so soon?" he shouted, fire spiraling around Azar. "Coward!"
Cane watched, heart pounding.
He sent Belzi and the next group into the ringworld. Every second in there bought life—but the price was steep. There were three fallback points left. Mana was nearly gone.
And still they came.
Cane exhaled.
"We have to hold."