A sharp knock echoed through the forge's stone arch.

Imani exhaled slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm before setting the forging hammer down beside the half-shaped alloy blade.

"Enter."

The heavy door creaked open, and a warrior stepped inside, clad in the scaled bronze and obsidian weave of a Lord of Sparks adjutant. He carried himself with precision, eyes down, posture straight.

Imani recognized him—a Priest's second, one of the signal-keepers assigned to long-range EM relay.

"Message from General Noh, Master Smith," the man said, bowing his head once. "Marked urgent. All Sun Bearers stationed on the Eastern Front are named."

Imani's jaw stiffened.

Urgent? For the entire Eastern Front?

His spine straightened before he spoke. "Transmit it."

The adjutant sent a pulse without another word. A surge of EM current flowed into Imani's mind, stamped with Noh's unmistakable signature. It wasn't long.

"To all Sun Bearers and all Lords of Sparks sworn to them: gather at once at Soaken Eagle Outpost. Leave no more than one Sun Bearer to hold each base. The rest move without delay.

Guardian Ridgeback Fort has fallen. No survivors.

The five-tail walks again."

Imani stood still, the heat of the forge already forgotten.

So… it had begun.

He inhaled slowly through his nose, then released the breath in measured silence. The day of their reunion—just a single sunrise away—would not come with peace, it seemed.

He knew of the creatures.

Over the past weeks, he had spoken often with the Ajnals—trading stories, listening to their accounts of ancient wars fought in forgotten corners of their world. And more than once, amid firelit conversations and quiet forge-side talks, one name had surfaced with hushed weight: the Five-Tailed Xok'al.

The ones they called… Wardens.

They had first appeared during the Xok'al Origin War, a brutal campaign in which the Ajnal and Azcoyatl—sworn enemies for generations—set aside their hatred to contain a threat neither could face alone. Together, they had pushed northward in a desperate attempt to stop the spread of the Xok'al before it consumed everything in its path.

And they had killed many. Even Wardens fell, brought down by sacrifice and strategy.

But extermination proved impossible.

The vastness of the frozen North, the unforgiving climate, and the intricate networks of hidden nests—never fully discovered—kept the core of the threat alive. The Xok'al Wardens and Commanders struck relentlessly, defending their territory with a zeal that wore even the strongest down.

In the end, the cost became too high. The allied forces withdrew under the weight of attrition and loss.

And now… after all those years buried in silence and snow… one had returned.

Imani gave a solemn nod to the Ajnal messenger, who offered a respectful bow before departing.

He turned his gaze to the half-finished blade resting on the anvil, exhaling through his nose in a sharp breath. Guess you will have to wait.

He stepped out of the forge and made his way to his private quarters, where he donned his armor piece by piece—each plate, strap, and joint shaped and tempered by his own hands.

He reached for the warhammer and shield resting against the wall. Both were his work too.

A pulse reached him then. Wang.

"You got the news?"

"Yes," Imani sent back. "How are things on your end?"

"I'm gathering the others. Maurice's squad is still out, but they should return soon."

Imani paused, recalling that Ishaam's team had been on standby for a scouting run. He sent a pulse toward the lad. "Gather your team. We're leaving."

A moment passed before the reply came, cautious but clear. "Leaving, sir? To meet the commander, the captain, and the rest?"

Imani allowed himself a faint smile. Even after everything, the boy still called Lukas commander and Arjun captain.

"No, Ishaam… we are leaving for war."

"War? Against the Xok'al?"

"Yes."

"Understood, sir. I'll assume the scouting expedition is postponed. I'll gather the team at the quarters—ready to move."

Imani sent back a brief confirmation pulse.

Shortly after, they all gathered in the main courtyard. Imani, Wang, and three other Ajnal Sun Bearers from the advanced outpost had their teams assembled and ready to move. Since Noh's orders were clear—only the Lords of Sparks and those above their rank were to respond—the Stone Jaguars remained behind to secure the base.

Imani stood at the head of a formation of eight Lords of Sparks under his command. Three of them were Climbers: Ishaam, Sari, and Josh. Of the three, Ishaam had been quite the surprise with his recent Awakening. His ability to hide completely from detection—even from light itself, rendering him invisible—had made him quite the asset, one that Imani was sure someone as smart and resourceful as Lukas would put to better use than he ever could.

He wondered, too, how The Tower arranged the Awakenings. Seven of them had gone through it last stage, and that had been thought to be the limit. They also believed it was tied to pressure, crisis, or life-and-death circumstances that pushed the body past its limits. And while Ishaam had indeed been in quite the encounter with a Three-Tail when he Awakened… why now? Would there be seven more? How did it work? He would have to wait for the others to arrive and ask, once they reunited with Lukas.

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He glanced at Wang's group, which had another three Climbers in it—most notably Maurice, another Awakened and someone with clear talent in the Body Path, already at the Second Body State. His Awakening bolstered his defense, forming minuscule scale-like structures that resisted slashing and piercing damage well, making him nearly as durable as Imani himself, even though he lacked the power-charge and counter.

And lastly, Hao. A quiet Chinese young man who had Awakened what seemed like super-enhanced hearing. Poor lad had taken days to adapt to the noise—nearly went mad—but had pulled through in the end.

As Imani's thoughts settled, the vice-commander of the outpost—an experienced Sun Bearer and Master Smith Imani knew well—stepped forward to lead the march northeast.

The journey took over twenty hours of steady marching. No rest longer than a breath. No idle chatter. As the sun cracked the horizon on the second day, the black silhouette of the Soaken Eagle Outpost rose from the distant plateau, its presence stark and imposing against the dull sky.

Imani slowed his pace as they neared.

Massive walls loomed high above, built from obsidian-layered alloy and reinforced with support struts etched in EM patterns—a hybrid of physical and electromagnetic defense. Defensive towers flanked the perimeter, each manned by Ajnal artillery specialists. He counted at least six mounted EM cannons—long-range constructs capable of downing a Xok'al from half a ridge away.

More than a dozen Sun Bearers patrolled openly along the walls and inner battlements, their presence a clear signal that this outpost was not meant to fall quietly.

At the gate, a waiting Sun Bearer stepped forward, sending a short pulse of welcome and confirmation.

"General Noh has not yet returned. I've been assigned to receive you and your forces."

The lead officer of the expedition gave a firm nod.

Imani and the rest were guided to their designated positions, fanned across the southern rampart and the inner wall clusters of the old fortress.

From there, they waited. The hours crawled by beneath the pale, unmoving sky. Northward, a pale fog curled above the land, its quiet weight only disturbed by the wind that rolled across the frozen plain, brushing the black stone of the outpost's walls with a soft but steady whisper.

A few paces beside Imani, Wang leaned forward against the rampart, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he watched the horizon.

"This reminds me of the movies I used to watch back on Earth," he said, a soft, almost nostalgic smile on his face. "You know, last stands… hopeless odds… righteous defenders on the wall. I used to eat that stuff up." He let out a quiet breath, plume fading in the cold air. "Never thought I'd end up living one. Kinda poetic."

Imani chuckled. "Well, let's just hope we're the heroes in this version of the story."

Wang snorted. "Heroes, huh? That'd be a nice change of pace. My parents wanted me to be a surgeon. Maybe a diplomat. Sent me to all the best schools. Paid a lot for all the right tutors."

He leaned back from the wall, glancing sideways at Imani.

"Pretty sure joining a death squad on a frozen alien continent wasn't part of their plan."

Imani gave him a slow nod, lips curving faintly. "That's how life is… things rarely go as planned, and yet… somehow, we always end up right where we were meant to be."

Wang chuckled, starting to reply—"Deep wor—" —but his words died the moment his head snapped toward the northern ridge.

Imani turned instantly, his expression hardening as both received the same cut-off transmission.

"They are here—"

For a breathless moment, only the wind moved, whispering over the ramparts. Until—

"All units, prepare for war!"

Imani sensed the pulse from the fort's commander. The entire outpost exploded into action—shouts rising, boots pounding, weapons raised.

Imani closed his eyes for half a second, his fingers twitching as the forge memory faded completely, replaced by battle instinct. He sent a sharp pulse across different channels, reaching Ishaam, Sari, Josh, and the other Lords of Sparks under him.

He turned his gaze to the horizon.

The snow shifted in the distance. Not the wind—something deeper. Steadier. A sound beneath sound. He couldn't see them yet, but the vibration had changed. Something was coming. No... many.

Slowly… they emerged.

From the folds of the ridge to the east and west, from the half-buried gulleys, from behind the veils of mist—the first wave crept into sight. Dozens at first, then more. Much more.

Their movement wasn't chaotic. Not a charge. They flowed. Like water around rock. Hundreds, then thousands, crawling over each other, moving in tightly packed ripples that shifted course mid-run, without signal or sound.

A coordinated, living horde.

Imani didn't blink.

Beside him, Wang had gone still, lips parted slightly, staring.

The EM cannons above fired before the command was given.

The projectiles cracked through the air—pure kinetic force wrapped in spark-fed cores. Each cannon manned by half a dozen channelers and loaders working in tandem. The explosions hit hard. Thunder rolled over the snow. Bodies flew—black chitin split and blood and limbs scattered across the front. Dust and limbs and torn earth.

Imani breathed in. For a moment, it looked good.

Then… it didn't.

The swarm didn't stop. It bent. Shifted. Divided. Like it had expected the barrage. The next volley landed lighter. The third, lighter still. The creatures had thinned their own ranks mid-run—some dropping back, others veering wide.

Imani's eyes narrowed. Too clean to be coincidence. The coordination was centralized. They had a leader.

"Adjust cannon angles! Track the flanks!"

As the commander's pulse spread across the fortress, the teams moved fast—but the wave was close now. Close enough to see their eyes. Close enough to hear claws raking over stone and frost in a sickening, rising rhythm.

And then the tails fired.

Hundreds of projectiles launched upward in staggered arcs, whistling through the air before slamming against the base's outer barricades. Shields held the first few. Then started collapsing under the fifth.

"Prepare to engage! Shields up!"

Imani activated his capacitor nodes even before the order finished echoing, his heart thudding as the current surged from the central node in his chest, racing through the armor's conductive pathways. Sparks arced across his shoulder, feeding into the warhammer now humming in his grip.

The Ajnal's core technique—one he had already pushed beyond 9%: Heart of Spark.

A screech pierced the sky. Then another.

The first of them had reached the base.

They climbed fast—legs gripping the cracks between stones, claws anchoring into steel. One launched over the edge and was met with a sword through the throat. Another barely got its foot inside the battlement before Imani caved its ribcage inward with a single swing, sparks crackling in the air.

Imani turned. Another group had breached the courtyard.

"I got this," Wang said as his mech armor clicked in place, and he accelerated, finishing the group in an instant before they could even react.

Imani scouted the surroundings. They had breached too fast, too easy.

He cursed as he started moving, aiming to finish the three-tail Xok'al quickly, leaving the two-tails for Ishaam, Maurice and then rest.

He blocked a strike with his shield, using the energy from the impact and redirecting it into a single elbow bash that cracked the creature's skull with a sickening crunch.

But his movement flowed to the next, the arc of his hammer trailing from low to high as it bashed another on the chin, shattering all above.

Projectiles hit his chestplate from the back, but he had allowed it, letting the kinetic force charge his body.

He did not release yet as he moved with surprising speed across the carnage, finishing one after the next.

Until—he felt it.

A strong EM domain slammed into him, forcing his heavy armor to buckle—but he held firm.

The first Commander Xok'al had emerged.

But just as he raised his warhammer, ready for the fight, his eyes widened.

A very familiar pulse touched his mind.

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