Standing at the backlines, along with the artillery command position, Leyla has been watching the battle raging since its beginning. While Mikan was further away, tirelessly working on healing the arriving injured along with a multitude of Gethian priests, she stayed behind, helping Rashira aim the artillery. No matter how good one was, with her inherent magic, Leyla could always pinpoint the location of the Guardian, making sure that every fired spell or shell would hit its mark.

And the more she used her gift to sense things, the more she began to feel it.

At first, she thought it was just the resonance of the pylons, keeping the magical barrier active when an enemy spell hit it from those monsters in the distance, or the thrum of the artillery pieces... But the longer she stood there, staring across the battlefield, more ways than one, the clearer it became for her. The runes on the bone-made monsters... They weren't randomly glowing across their bodies... No... They were patterns. They were threaded, linked, pulsing together with one steady beat, all of it originating from the Guardian's location, like a commanding wave being sent down, through invisible cables... Just like... Her father's Morse code.

The Guardian was not just animating corpses and then letting them loose; it was simultaneously puppeteering an army, all tied to a single net of will. She could feel it, her own bones answering faintly with each pulse, the bloodline she inherited also vibrating in answer, albeit in a much more resistant way. It was trying to protect her from the control of a stronger being... Her stomach turned cold when those waves reached her; then, when another clashed within her, she felt hot. Then something inside her whispered, albeit not like a voice she could hear... but her instincts were telling him to get away and break contact.

Finally, after coming to a decision, Leyla turned sharply and began running, not in retreat, but until she reached the central command center, where Rashira was. All around her, the Avalonian crews were reloading the cannons with CC, their hands slick with sweat, waiting in sequence for the barrels to cool down enough for another barrage, as they were glowing red-hot. Searching, she noticed Rashira standing at the far end, talking into the radio, ordering some of the halftracks to move to a new position as their shots were falling short, as relayed by the Camelot's communication officer.

"Rashira! Get me one of the artillery pieces!" Leyla shouted, vaulting the barricade, arriving, "And get me fed to Seltana on the Knight's Errand, now!"

Leyla didn't even wait for her answer, selecting one of the cooling cannons placed in the nearby vicinity, commandeering the troops there, and beginning to manually redraw the magic formation etched into the red-hot metal. At that moment, she was like her mother, touching and molding the glowing iron as if it were nothing at all.

"What?!" Rashira blinked, but also radioing as she asked, going after her, "Leyla, what in the... What's going on?!"

"I said now!" Leyla's voice cracked, but not with anger but with the impatience born from the instincts rising in her. She knew she had something... And it had to be done quickly, "I don't have time to explain! Just trust me!"

"Of course!" Something in her tone made Rashira obey, not that she was going to refuse. But she stopped asking questions... Instead, she continued calling out until she finally got an answer, "Seltana! Do you copy?! Come in!"

"What is it? Did something get through?" Seltana finally asked back, her voice distorted whenever the Knight's Errand fired from above, bombarding the horde below.

"Leyla?" Rashira asked, repeating what she was yelling while working on the formation.

"Tell us the densest horde above our own line of defense! Where is it the closest to collapse?!"

"..." Static came back at first, then Seltana's calm yet clipped voice answered, holding back her questions about why she wants to fire upon their own people. "It's at the eastern approach. Between the second and third trench. They're about to overrun the Khulmani flank!"

"Then that's where we fire," Leyla answered while her hands danced, fingers sketching new runes across the cannon in crimson, glowing strokes. Then, the moment she was done, she began pressing the CC into it, without waiting.

"Leyla, you're overloading it," Rashira warned, eyes wide as the barrel shuddered with a rising whine... it was still too hot to fire.

"I know," Leyla hissed. "But it will hold steady!"

The cannon screamed like a beast as it fired, but it didn't crack. The spell flew in a low arc and then burst over the eastern flank in a blossom of violet light, right above their own troops. It did not explode in the way their previous spells did, but it became a pulse of distortion rippling outward from its explosion in the sky. Then, almost instantly, the rampaging skeletons froze mid-charge. No matter where they were or what pose they were in, all of the creatures froze in place at once. Their runes were still glowing, they were still standing or in mid-swing of their claws... but now they were frozen like statues.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent as the soldiers were shocked at the scene before their eyes. Then, one of them yelled, and the line of Khulmani soldiers surged forward, driving spears into the glowing runes, attacking with whatever they had to break them. Immediately noticing the change, the present Avalonian elites leapt over the trench walls, their bone-forged weapons smashing them to pieces before the spell Leyla used would run out, allowing them to move once again.

"Whatever you did... It worked," Rashira whispered, as if afraid speaking too loud would break the miracle she just witnessed.

Leyla didn't answer yet; she just swayed, bracing herself against the cannon's side, her breath coming in harsh gasps. Her veins were bulging out from under her skin, and when looking at her, they glimmered faintly beneath, as if even her bones were humming with a particular kind of vibration. Ignoring it, she forced her teeth together until the shiver subsided and straightened up.

"It is only temporary," she rasped, wiping her mouth, "Seltana! Where's the next choke?"

"Already transmitting!" Seltana didn't hesitate with her answer, "Northwest line, the Sarian-reinforced trenches. They won't hold another minute; they lost too many Avalonians."

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"Swing it!" Rashira barked to the gunners. "Move that barrel, hurry!"

The artillery groaned on its struts as it was hauled around, people hurrying to reconfigure their targeting. On the other hand, Leyla was already rewriting the runes on another cannon, while the crew yelled out Rashira's orders.

"Fire!"

The artillery roared behind her again, and another blossom of violet haze had rained down on the battlefield, this time over the Sarian trenches. Just like before, the undead creatures got frozen in space, allowing the soldiers to break them apart. Literally.

"Leyla!" Rashira yelled, seeing Leyla barely standing up, trying to head to the third cannon.

"I'm fine!" She grunted, "In war, there is no time to rest... We need this or we will lose the river and will have to retreat... Until the Guardian falls, we can't afford that!"

... .... ......

The world was growing increasingly distant. It was... a weird feeling, but it was how Arthur felt himself in that moment. He was at one of the pylons, helping the mages to keep the barrier up, especially whenever a beam-spell from one of the truly massive monsters hit them... But, whenever their magic dissipated, a deep vibration answered in turn, coming from within his marrow, as if his bones themselves had started to ring like warning bells.

After the last such attack, for a moment, he staggered against the earthwork wall close to him, clutching his temple. There was something trying to get into his head, but Mikan's blood tattoo was helping it suppress the feeling... But... It was getting eroded. And this time around, Arthur knew it wasn't the Vasas, as this thing was without pure consciousness. It was just... Reacting to his bones, trying to control him like it controlled the undead. It was the nature of this spell, he realized... and it had to be the Guardian's magic which was so strong, it cut through everything, including Mikan's spell.

And then... a new feeling struck him. One that was familiar. The moment the blood on his body weakened enough, he could hear it even clearer than ever before.

"You hear me now."

The voice was not loud, yet it filled his skull, and the moment he became aware of its presence, Arthur stiffened.

"I assume… You are Zah'Ratil," he whispered, though no one around him heard.

"Yes. So your father did tell you... I'm glad. I know you did something to close me out, and I understand the fear you must have felt... But I am not here to hurt you. Please... trust me. I am here to help! I felt the danger you are in, and I already know what's happening."

"Know how?" He scoffed, not liking the sudden call to his mind that had previously only been accessible to his sister.

"I know this spell. You are currently fighting an undead horde of beasts, are you not?"

"Y...yes..."

"A puppeteer-type beast is no joke. I never had guessed one would be let through by the Gods' Formation... For beginners, they are the most challenging type to fight, but we have learned to deal with them. Knowing the trick makes it much easier."

"Then teach me that trick," he muttered under his breath, "If you have something, give it now."

There was a sudden silence, and Arthur could have sworn he felt Zah'Ratil smile on his end.

"I would have done so even if you didn't ask, child. I need you to survive... Now, look closer. Let your blood flow, don't try to suppress it! You feel the resonance, don't you? The way each rune is etched into your being, thrumming with the puppeteering magic's nature? What you feel is your natural resistance to its influence."

By then, Arthur had closed his eyes, and once he focused, he indeed felt it. Threads, countless threads, as if a spider had sprayed its silk all over the battlefield... all of it was connected to the horde attacking them, originating from a single point.

"It's… indeed puppetry," he breathed, "But... how could I do anything about it?"

"You can," Zah'Ratil continued, "Controlled magic is more powerful and precise than any monster's tricks. By studying the nature of these types, we had taken control of the very first of their kind back in our prime days. It was how we... tamed them first."

"Then how do I break it? Is there a way to destroy the strings?"

"There is," He felt Zah'Ratil's attention shift, probing, weighing him, "But destroying them won't do much, as it has ample resources to reform the threads. I can feel it had fed on a lot... The best method would be to take the strings into your own hands and use his puppets to fight back. Why waste your people's lives when you can make the puppeteer fight his own?"

"That..." Arthur swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry, "…You're saying I can control them?"

"Yes. That blood in your veins will allow you to do that. It's like... Like seizing the reins from a drunk rider. You can wrench them away and redirect the horse. Let me teach you how..."

Arthur trembled at the offer as the thought itself was somewhat terrifying. Should he do it? Should... he attempt it...? But then he heard how the men screamed in the trenches in the distance, and how another line buckled as skeletal beasts surged in, only to be met by a shieldwall...

"Show me." His voice was resolute, throwing caution to the wind, "If I can do it, then show me how."

"Trust in your heritage," Zah'Ratil's presence within him grew heavier, becoming even clearer than ever before. "First, you must anchor yourself. Follow my spirit's guidance. Connect your mind to your marrow, from where your blood originates. The runes you were born with are part of you; they are not ordinary ones. They are the bases of magic, directly inherited from the God of Magic, Wayland himself. These runes are the first ones that created our world. They are primordial... breathe with it and draw the magic in the air into your body. They will allow you to overtake it... Just... Let the pulse in your bones match the pulse in theirs. Then you will connect... and trust yourself. You have the stronger will."

Arthur obeyed, no matter how weird it felt, steadying his breath despite the chaos around him. Slowly… he sensed it. His skeleton began to shake in the same frequency, and even without seeing it, he could tell that the runes inside his body were pulsing in a corresponding frequency, making it... painful... but bearable.

"Damn…" he whispered. "It's like... I'm also a monster..."

"No, you aren't. The method is similar... but perfected. Now, extend your will out towards them. Select one for now... One you can touch and reign in. Claim your control over his puppet..."

Arthur did as he was told, and in his mind, his soul stretched outward, brushing against the control of the Guardian. At once, the moment the Guardian noticed his interference, an incredible pressure slammed into him, like a punch to the gut. The Guardian's will resisted him, with such intensity he almost reeled back from the attempt.

"Hold!" Zah'Ratil yelled in his mind, "Do not yield! Do not beg! You are one of our children, you do not ask for control, not from a beast! They are worse than animals, so you take it! Pour your will into the blood and into your magic, drown the foreign will with your own!"

Pushing, Arthur gritted his teeth, sweat running down his face. He could feel his heart hammering in rhythm with the runes inside his body, his own blood rushing and churning. He pushed harder, forcing his own will onto the prey he selected, until he heard a snapping sound... And the resistance was gone.

At that moment... one of the beasts, towering over the backline of the horde, stopped moving... and Arthur could see through its hollow eyesockets.

"Good…" Zah'Ratil's voice was proud and reverent, "Very good... Now stand... and let it rampage..."

Without much effort, Arthur could feel his magic powering up, transferring from his being to the beast, and he let loose a breath attack, as if he himself was the monster. And this one was not aimed at the shields... Instead, what everyone saw was that one of the behemoths began burning away their own, attacking the others, and rampaging like a crazed monster.

"Do you see now, boy?" Zah'Ratil whispered, slowly disappearing from Arthur's mind, "You are not their prey... You are born to be their king... You are born to be their alpha... their God..."

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