POV: Yoshiya Hazeru and Omina Mizuraga
The forge-fires never slept in Korvath. By dawn, the courtyard was a living engine of iron and breath—soldiers marching, blacksmiths hammering, and mages reinforcing armor with runes that pulsed faintly in the rising light. The smell of smoke and oil mixed with the sharper tang of steel polish.
Yoshiya watched the movement like a man listening to the heart of a creature too vast to understand. Every clang, every barked order carried the pulse of something larger than any one person—a war machine being wound tighter and tighter. He could almost feel the tension beneath his skin, as though the air itself had grown too dense to breathe.
Across the yard, Omina sat on the steps of the guild barracks, methodically checking the edges of her twin blades. Her movements were unhurried but deliberate, each motion a quiet ritual. She said nothing, yet Yoshiya understood what her silence meant. The calm before the storm always suited her best.
The courtyard buzzed with organized purpose—until the sound broke.
A shout from the northern gate snapped the rhythm in half.
"Gate! Someone—two figures incoming!"
Every head turned. The guards raised their spears, and the clangor of work died into a wary hush. Against the morning glare, two silhouettes staggered through the threshold, their shadows long against the cobbled path.
The first figure leaned heavily on a greatsword as if it were a crutch. His armor was torn, blackened at the edges, each plate streaked with dried blood and soot. The once-proud crest of Ostoria had been burned away. Behind him walked a smaller figure—slim, limping, yet upright with surprising steadiness. Her left sleeve was torn clean through, revealing the deep burn marks along her arm.
It took a moment before recognition rippled through the crowd.
"Kaito?" someone whispered.
"The Demonblade…" another murmured. "He's alive?"
Yoshiya's breath caught in his throat. The last report had said Kaito's squad never returned from the northern frontier. Seeing him now was like watching a ghost drag itself out of the battlefield.
But what truly unsettled him was the woman at his side—Anzuyi Bizen, the quiet guild officer who had vanished months ago during an escort mission gone wrong. She looked nothing like the timid cleric he once met in Reflynne. Her eyes, sharp and cold, scanned the courtyard like she no longer expected safety anywhere.
Yoshiya was the first to move. His healer's instinct pushed him forward, steps brisk but cautious. "Get them aid!" he called to nearby medics, motioning to clear space. "They're both wounded—bring the salves and stretcher!"
But before he could reach them, Kaito lifted a gauntleted hand—not in greeting, but command. "We're fine," he rasped, voice rough as gravel. "Where's Yaguro?"
The name struck the air like a hammer.
A moment later, Yaguro—the branch manager of the Korvath Guild—emerged from the main hall, his heavy coat unbuttoned, half-dressed from being roused early. Beside him followed Mayor Tamaki, her expression tight with fatigue and curiosity. The two exchanged a brief glance as they approached the gate.
"What's the meaning of this?" Yaguro demanded. "You were declared missing beyond the northern ridge."
Kaito's reply came slow and low. "Then mark me found." He turned slightly, letting Anzuyi step forward. "She'll explain."
The shift in attention seemed to weigh on her like an invisible chain. For a heartbeat, her lips trembled—then she steadied herself, standing straighter. Her voice, when it came, was hoarse but deliberate.
"The northern region… it's not what we thought," she began. "The ogres aren't acting of their own will. They're controlled—conditioned."
Tamaki frowned. "Controlled by what? Magic?"
"By design," Anzuyi said. "Valerian design. The corruption isn't random—it's engineered. The ogres have been… modified, their mana forcibly aligned through alchemical grafting. Their blood carries sigils of obedience."
A murmur ran through the courtyard. One of the officers scoffed. "That's impossible. You're saying someone's breeding intelligent corruption?"
Anzuyi met his gaze, eyes cold. "Not breeding. Manufacturing. I saw the lab myself." Her hands tightened, knuckles whitening. "They use living subjects to refine the strain—humans, beastkin, anyone they can get. I was one of them."
The words hit like a hammer. Silence spread, wide and heavy. Even the soldiers at the perimeter lowered their weapons, unsure what to do with the truth bleeding into the open air.
Yaguro's face darkened. "You're saying Valeria's experimenting on people? Using them as conduits for corruption?"
"Yes," Anzuyi said. "And the ogres' attack patterns… they're not random aggression. They're field tests. Someone's measuring the results."
Tamaki's composure cracked, just slightly. "Then the coming offensive—"
"Will fail," Anzuyi interrupted. Her voice cut clean through the courtyard noise. "If you march now, you'll be feeding them exactly what they want: data. Every casualty strengthens their formula. Every battle makes their corruption smarter."
The mayor went pale. Yaguro ran a hand over his face, muttering under his breath before turning sharply to Kaito. "How far has it spread?"
Kaito's eyes, hollow with exhaustion, met his. "Far enough that the soil itself feels wrong. The corruption doesn't just infect flesh—it stains the land. Leave it long enough, and Korvath will start to rot the same way."
That was enough to break the illusion of stability. The officers began to argue in low, panicked voices. Plans from the war council—the grand strategy to reclaim the northern front—crumbled in real time.
Yoshiya watched it all, silent. Around him, the air felt heavier, darker. He could see the tremor in Kaito's stance, the way his hand still clung to the greatsword like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Anzuyi, too, seemed on the edge of collapse, though she hid it behind an iron mask.
He stepped closer, motioning to the medics again, softer this time. "Let them rest," he said to Yaguro, who finally nodded grimly.
As the two survivors were guided toward the infirmary, the courtyard slowly returned to motion—but it was no longer the same rhythm. The hammering at the forge now sounded like a heartbeat stuttering under strain.
Omina approached Yoshiya, her expression unreadable. "They came back from the north," she said quietly. "But they didn't return whole."
Yoshiya followed her gaze toward the retreating figures. Kaito's silhouette was unsteady, Anzuyi's smaller frame beside him like a shadow refusing to fall.
He felt something shift inside him—not pity, not fear, but the sober realization that the war they'd been planning for had already changed shape before they even began.
In his mind, he found the words he couldn't speak aloud:
We thought we were preparing to fight an army. But they've already been fighting something far worse.
And as the first cold wind from the north brushed against the courtyard, carrying with it a faint, metallic scent, Yoshiya understood—Korvath was no longer the stronghold it once was. It had become the front line of a war that no one yet knew how to win.