The days in the Kingdom of the Cyclopes began to stretch in a different way.
It was not an empty wait. It was a pause filled with calculation.
After the first audience, the king made it clear that he would need to consult the nobles before deciding about the magic stone. I accepted without contesting. Forcing anything there would be a political and strategic mistake. If I wanted their trust, I needed to respect the process.
Even so, every morning that dawned reinforced the same truth: the Fourth General was alive. And he might already be moving.
The cyclopean capital was different from any other place I had ever visited. Everything there was made for larger, wider, heavier bodies. The streets were broad, the doors tall, the columns thick like towers. The sound of the cyclopes' own footsteps echoed with real weight, even when they walked normally.
I walked with Liriel beside me as we watched a group of soldiers training in an open square.
They used enormous swords, some almost my size. The movements were direct. No unnecessary flourishes. Every strike seemed designed to split something in half with absolute efficiency.
"They value objective strength," Liriel commented.
"And discipline," I added.
Rai'kanna observed with a different kind of attention. As the princess of the demi-dragon kingdom, she understood military structures.
"They train in heavy formation. A nearly impenetrable front line."
Lyannis analyzed the magical patterns engraved on their armor.
"The enchantments are simple, but durable. Focused on resistance."
Elara kept her eyes attentive to the details of the terrain.
"They fight thinking about territorial defense. Not exploration."
Vespera stayed silent for a while before concluding:
"They don't hunt threats. They wait for the threat to come to them."
The observation made sense.
The Kingdom of the Cyclopes did not have a central guild like other kingdoms. Their adventurers were affiliated with external headquarters. The internal structure was focused on protecting their own lands, not expanding influence.
That explained why I had never faced a cyclops in the guild tournament. They simply did not need to prove anything to anyone.
Over the next few days, I explored other parts of the capital.
I visited the industrial areas, where the forges worked almost without stopping. The heat was intense, even from a distance. Enormous hammers struck giant anvils, creating a constant rhythm that seemed to sustain the city itself.
A cyclops master craftsman allowed me to observe up close.
Their forge was different. It did not rely only on ordinary fire. Ancient inscriptions were carved into the ground, channeling energy into the metal while it was shaped.
"Our steel is not only heated," the craftsman explained. "It is aligned."
The word stayed in my mind.
Aligned.
"Aligned with what?" I asked.
"With purpose."
I left there thinking about the magic stone.
If it was an ancestral artifact, passed from generation to generation in the royal family, then it was not just an object of raw power. It was something that probably required compatibility.
At night, we talked at the lodging house.
There was no explicit anxiety in the group. But everyone knew we were there for a single reason.
"True immortality is rare," Lyannis commented once while organizing notes. "It usually involves an external bond."
"Anchor," said Vespera.
Elara crossed her arms.
"Or a contract."
I looked at Liriel.
She remained thoughtful before speaking.
"If he is truly immortal, it does not mean he cannot be defeated. It only means the common method does not work."
Rai'kanna placed her hand on the table.
"Then we need to discover what sustains that immortality."
That was it.
Not destroy the body.
Break the bond.
I began to observe the cyclopes with a different perspective.
They valued heritage, continuity, lineage. The magic stone was a symbol of that continuity. Perhaps its power was connected to breaking or reinforcing bonds.
The days continued to pass.
I trained every morning on the rocky slopes near the city. The uneven terrain required constant balance. Rai'kanna trained with me, exchanging controlled strikes. Elara tested precision on distant targets. Vespera maintained light aerial surveillance. Liriel practiced control of luminous energy, still restricted against demons. Lyannis analyzed magical flows around the region.
Even while waiting, we were not idle.
During one of the training sessions, I stopped for a moment and looked at my own hands.
If the Fourth General truly was immortal, then facing him directly could be useless without something that broke that condition.
The stone was a hypothesis.
Fifty percent.
Half a chance of working.
Half of being only legend.
I have faced worse odds.
But this time, it was not only about winning.
It was about ensuring that no one behind me would be struck.
In the afternoon, we walked to a higher part of the city, from where it was possible to see the cyclopean mountains stretching as far as the eye could reach.
The dry climate carried fine dust through the air. The sky seemed wider there.
"They are solid," Elara commented while looking at the rocky formations.
"The mountains?" I asked.
"Their decisions."
It made sense.
The council of nobles would not make a decision on impulse. Every vote there represented tradition.
If they refused, I would have to consider another strategy.
If they accepted, I would have to prove that I deserved their trust.
That night, I felt something different.
It was not the mark of the General.
It was expectation.
Not anxiety.
Preparation.
I looked at each of them while we rested.
They trusted my decision to come here.
Without hesitation.
That meant I could not allow mistakes through recklessness.
The next day, while we once again watched the cyclopean training, a royal messenger approached.
He stopped in front of me and made a formal bow.
"The council is still deliberating," he said. "But the decision is close."
I nodded.
"Understood."
He withdrew.
I took a deep breath.
The strategic waiting was coming to an end.
I had used each day to analyze culture, structure, military strength, and to reflect on the nature of the enemy waiting for me in the south.
Now it remained to know whether the Kingdom of the Cyclopes would bet on me the same way I was willing to bet on that stone.
I looked at the rocky horizon once more.
If they trust me,
I will accept the responsibility.
And if the stone truly is the key,
then this waiting will have been the first step toward breaking something everyone believed to be eternal.
The dry wind passed between the mountains.
And I knew.
The next decision would no longer depend only on me.