The map of the River Spine lay stretched across the war table, still damp from the mist outside. Threads of mana glimmered faintly across the parchment—each one pulsing with the latest scout reports.

Kael stood over it, arms folded, gaze sharp. Around him, the core of Emberleaf's forward command waited in stillness: Rimuru hovered above the map, her glow dim and thoughtful; Nyaro crouched near the tent's entrance, tail twitching; a pair of Flame Scouts stood ready with fresh intel.

The lead scout—a wiry man with soot-smeared armor—saluted sharply.

"Supply stronghold, sir. Three days old. Built on the east bank of the River Spine—natural choke point. They're reinforcing it faster than we expected."

Kael leaned closer. The mana threads shifted, outlining the fort's crude walls, haphazard wards, and clustered siege supply stacks.

Great Sage: "Structural analysis complete. Ward lattice is unstable. Defensive layering rushed. Geothermal activity beneath river segment detected—strategically exploitable."

Kael's eyes narrowed.

"They anchored their supply line too early. It's exposed."

Nyaro spoke softly. "Too many to fight directly."

Kael nodded. "Then we won't."

He looked to Rimuru. "How soon can we cook the river?"

Rimuru's core pulsed bright gold. "If we tap the heat vents right, the canyon will be soup. Steam so thick their scouts will walk into each other."

Nyaro's claws flexed. "Perfect for us."

Kael's voice was calm steel. "We don't storm this. We make them break themselves."

He began marking positions on the map with swift precision.

"First wave—Flame Scouts and Ashguard infiltrators. Set up heat redirects and vision disruptors."

He glanced at Rimuru. "Prep the grenades."

She wiggled gleefully. "Boom squad's ready."

"Second wave—Ember Guard shock units. Linked repeaters only. No banners. No flare. We move through the mist."

Nyaro's grin was sharp as a blade. "And you?"

Kael traced the center of the map with one finger.

"I'll lead the breach."

The tent held a moment of taut silence.

Then Kael's voice cut through it:

"Prepare the March."

Outside, the wind shifted. Low clouds rolled in from the river like breath waiting to be released.

The Spine would burn—not with rage, but with precision.

Night cloaked the River Spine in a shroud of stars and shadow.

Along its banks, the newly built Virelion supply stronghold rose like an angular beast—sharp-edged and squat, stone walls layered with raw warding runes that pulsed faintly in the dark. The garrison within bustled with nervous energy, torchlight flickering behind narrow arrow slits.

They had heard rumors. Of shadows at Fallowmere. Of soldiers who walked like fire itself.

Now they stood watch, twitching at every breeze.

But not even the sharpest eyes could pierce what came next.

Beneath the river's southern curve, hidden beneath a cluster of jagged rocks, Emberleaf's first strike team moved into position.

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Nyaro crouched beside the geothermal vent markings, her breath slow and even. Around her, two Ember mages traced flame-runed sigils into the bedrock, their fingers glowing with thin arcs of red mana.

Great Sage: "Geothermal flow at 87% capacity. Redirect threshold optimal."

Nyaro's tail flicked once. "Do it."

With a whispered chant, the mages completed the circuit.

The river hissed.

A great bloom of steam erupted along the water's surface, rolling in thick tendrils up the canyon walls. The sudden heat warped the air, scattering light and drowning sound. Within moments, the entire valley was smothered in a white fog shot through with ember-glow veins.

In the mist above, Rimuru's clone pods drifted unseen.

"Launching decoys," she whispered gleefully.

Her slime-thread projectors unfurled across the canyon, casting silhouettes of advancing Emberleaf troops—perfectly timed footfalls, flame-touched spears gleaming through the fog.

From within the stronghold, a panicked cry rang out.

"Form ranks! Archers—fire blind!"

Arrows hissed uselessly into the steam, shafts snapping mid-flight. Virelion's front line staggered back, their wards flickering beneath the relentless, boiling assault.

Kael's voice came soft and clear across the repeater net.

"Phase Two. Move."

Ember Guard shock units surged forward—silent shadows beneath the fog. Repeaters whispered volleys of controlled mana bursts, striking weak points in the fort's outer defenses.

Supply carts erupted in brief flashes of blue flame. Ward pylons overloaded with crackling force.

Rimuru's mana grenades—slime-sealed orbs of unstable energy—landed with muted plops, releasing localized detonations of light and concussive force.

"Boom," she whispered. "Splash. Splat."

Virelion's defenders could barely regroup. Half-blind, scattered, and disoriented, they stumbled into false signals and vanished into the fog.

And through it all, Kael advanced—measured, silent, eyes blazing.

Not a siege. Not a slaughter.

A lesson.

The courtyard of the Virelion stronghold was chaos wrapped in fog.

Archers abandoned the walls, arrows spent in blind terror. Mages scrambled to reinforce ward pylons that sparked and sputtered with overloaded sigils. Supply crews screamed orders no one could hear.

And through the mist walked Kael.

Blazebinder hung loose in his right hand, its crimson blade gleaming faintly through the steam. Ember Guard shock units flanked him in staggered formation—blades drawn, repeaters slung low, steps soundless.

Not a charge. A hunt.

At the inner gate, a reinforced ward lattice hummed weakly—its pulse erratic from the redirected river heat. Great Sage's voice flowed through Kael's mind:

"Structural stability compromised. Flame Vortex Lance—optimal breach method."

Kael's eyes narrowed.

He raised Blazebinder.

A slow breath in. Mana surged through his core, coiling around the blade in a vortex of crimson and gold. The air crackled.

Then—release.

"Flame Vortex Lance."

A spiraling torrent of searing flame burst forward, twisting in a controlled arc. The ward lattice shattered like spun glass, the gate behind it folding inward with a groan of molten metal.

Ember Guard flowed in behind him.

No battle cry. No wasted motion.

They targeted weak points—ward anchors, command tents, munitions stockpiles. Each strike calculated, every shot coordinated through flame-linked repeaters.

In less than eight minutes, the stronghold's inner courtyard was theirs.

Kael strode to the center, Blazebinder sheathed, eyes sweeping the battered remains of the garrison.

Among them knelt the Virelion commander—a grizzled veteran named Captain Halvek, his pride bruised but his spine unbroken.

Kael approached, voice calm.

"Your soldiers will be treated. Your wounded—given care."

He paused.

"But your pride will not be."

Halvek looked up, shame and fury warring behind his eyes.

"You could have burned us."

Kael's gaze held steady.

"I didn't come to burn," he said softly. "I came to correct."

Dawn was breaking by the time the last Ember Guard unit withdrew from the River Spine stronghold.

The fog lingered—less dense now, curling in faded ribbons around scorched ward pylons and shattered gate iron. Virelion's remaining soldiers huddled in the far courtyard, stunned but untouched. Their wounded had already been stabilized by Emberleaf medics working under silent orders.

Kael stood alone in the heart of the courtyard.

Before him, a steel plate—clean, unmarked—rested against a toppled supply crate. In his hands, Blazebinder hummed softly, flame condensed to a fine tip.

He knelt and began to carve.

Not with haste. Not with fury.

With precision.

Each stroke burned deep into the steel's surface, the letters glowing crimson before cooling to blackened etchings.

When it was done, Kael stood.

The message was simple:

I haven't come to conquer. I've come to correct.

At the edge of the courtyard, Captain Halvek watched warily as Kael approached.

"You'll leave us alive?" he asked hoarsely.

Kael met his gaze. "I want your king to read that plate."

Halvek swallowed hard. "He'll respond."

Kael's voice was steel wrapped in quiet fire.

"Good."

With that, he turned.

Rimuru hovered beside him, glowing bright with satisfaction. "Boom. Splash. Splat. Very satisfying."

Kael allowed the faintest smile.

"Tell Great Sage: message phase complete."

Great Sage: "Psychological ripple detected. Enemy command network destabilized by 14%. Siege force redistribution imminent."

As Kael mounted his horse and led the Ember Guard toward the next staging point, he cast one last glance at the steel plate gleaming in the morning light.

A promise. And a warning.

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