After the demonstration, work resumed as if the sea hadn’t tried to swallow them whole.

Gaius and Ludger were the first to return,their faces carved into matching masks of quiet determination.

The bridge stretched out before them, half-shrouded in mist. Even from the coast, the damage was obvious: jagged gaps, broken railings, collapsed spans. But when Ludger sent his mana into the structure, what he found was… interesting.

“Stone’s fractured along the joints,” he muttered, crouching to run a hand along a blackened seam. “But the coral pillars…” He tapped one with his knuckle. The sound rang clear and strong. “Not even a crack.”

Gaius nodded, tracing the same pattern. “The sahuagins didn’t touch them. Either they can’t, or they won’t.”

“They hit everything else,” Ludger said. “If they avoided these, it’s deliberate.”

He crouched lower, pressing his palm against the coral’s surface. Mana rippled out, scanning its density. The response was strange—organic, but dense, like stone woven with living tissue. “It’s absorbing mana. Slowly. That’s why it didn’t shatter.”

Gaius gave a low hum. “I would imagine that is self repairing since the coral is also alive and connected to the parts still submerged.”

They exchanged a look that said everything. Then they turned back toward the camp to report.

Lucius and Varik were already at the office of the ironhand, a map of the archipelago spread across the table. The two men were deep in discussion, the kind that balanced between planning and argument.

Lucius looked up first. “How bad is it?”

“Recoverable,” Gaius said, wiping grit from his gloves. “Stone sections are damaged beyond quick repair, but the coral pillars are intact.”

Ludger added, “They didn’t even try to destroy them. My guess is they recognize it as something of their own elemental nature.”

Lucius frowned, fingers tapping against the map. “That explains why the bridge failed before where it did.”

Varik folded his arms, the faint glint of steel in his gaze. “Meaning they were trying to trap us on the outer spans. Not random aggression.”

Lucius nodded grimly. “Exactly.”

The commander leaned closer over the map. “Then we’ll need to adapt. A direct push across the bridge is suicide. They’ll destroy the stone or the timber under us and leave the coral standing as monuments to our failure.”

“And your suggestion?” Lucius asked.

Varik’s eyes flicked up. “The Silver Talon Order has the morale and experience to deal with this kind of narrow battlefield. We have ships fitted for siege mana cannons, and formation mages capable of underwater combat. With our support, you could take the island cleanly—cut off their reinforcements before they regroup.”

Gaius crossed his arms, brow rising. “That’s generous, coming from someone who’s been watching more than fighting.”

“It’s logical,” Varik said evenly. “You need a fleet. I have one.”

Lucius tilted his head, wary. “And what would your order ask in return?”

Varik didn’t hesitate. “A share of the labyrinth rights. Ten percent of all expedition gains—cores, relics, mana cores, whatever’s recovered.”

Ludger frowned. “You’re asking a lot for an offer we didn’t request.”

Varik’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m offering victory. Without us, you’ll bleed men for every meter of sand.”

Lucius’s jaw tightened. “Ten percent is steep. That labyrinth falls under House Hakuen’s territory—and by extension, House Torvares’s oversight.”

Varik’s tone remained polite, but there was iron under it. “So decide what matters more: titles or survival. In the end, the empire will benefit the most from getting this.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to feel.

Gaius exhaled through his nose. “Well, I’ll give you this—you negotiate like a proper Imperial soldier.”

Ludger looked at the map again, tracing the line of coral foundations that led toward the island. “He’s not wrong. We’ll need sea support to reach it again.”

Lucius folded his arms. “I’ll speak with Lady Torvares. If we accept, it’ll be under strict terms.”

“Of course,” Varik said with a small, measured smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As the room fell quiet again, the sound of waves filtered through the walls, calm for now, but beneath that calm, Ludger could still sense movement. The sahuagins hadn’t stopped. They were waiting.

By the time everyone regrouped at the base, the sun had already dipped below the horizon.

The combined forces of the Lionsguard, Ironhand Syndicate, and House Hakuen’s soldiers filled the area in front of the base with low chatter and the clatter of armor.

Dinner was simple, roasted fish, bread, and dried fruit, but no one complained. Everyone knew what waited beyond the sea.

Lucius arrived not long after the first plates were served, cloak still damp with salt, the faint glow of a mana lantern following him. The conversations died almost immediately as he approached the long table where Ludger, Arslan, Viola, Gaius, Freyra, Kharnek, Rathen and the others sat.

“Evening,” Lucius greeted, voice level but carrying authority. “I know everyone’s tired, but we need to discuss the next step.”

He placed a rolled map on the table, pinning it open with a steel mug. The archipelago’s jagged outline gleamed under lantern light.

“The bridge,” he began, “will take at least half a year to complete—longer if we keep suffering attacks. We can’t wait six months. Not with those creatures still breeding out there.”

Arslan nodded slowly. “You’re thinking of a preemptive strike.”

Lucius met his gaze. “Indeed. We need to take the island before they rebuild their numbers and reinforce the place. Whoever’s controlling them won’t stay quiet forever.”

He glanced toward Arslan and Rathen. “To succeed, we’ll need coordination. The Lionsguard, the Ironhand Syndicate, and the Silver Talon Order—all of us working as one.”

Rathen’s expression didn’t change, but there was satisfaction in his eyes. “A joint assault, then.”

“Correct,” Lucius said. “Ironhand will handle ground and supply logistics. The Lionsguard will lead the forward assault and bridge stabilization. The Silver Talons will handle sea support and underwater interference.”

Rathen chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread. “We’ll need some magic cannons, and plenty of them. That island’s no flat ground. It’ll fight back.”

“Already accounted for,” Lucius replied. “I’ve sent for engineers from home. They’ll arrive in two weeks.”

Viola leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. “Then it’s settled. We strike before winter.”

Lucius nodded, but his expression softened. “You’re sure? You could return home before then. I know your grandfather’s waiting.”

Viola’s gaze dropped briefly to her scarf fluttering in the wind, then she smiled faintly. “I can’t stay here forever. I’ll help prepare, but when the fleets are ready, I’ll have to go. Grandfather will want a direct report, and I don’t trust half the couriers between here and the capital.”

Ludger listened quietly, arms crossed, until she finished. Then he spoke, tone measured but firm.

“There’s another problem.”

Lucius looked up. “What is it?”

“Leaving this place unguarded,” Ludger said. “Mom  and the twins are still here. If we move every capable fighter to the front, they will be unprotected.”

He glanced toward Arslan and Viola, voice steady but colder now. “I’m not leaving them exposed just because everyone seems to be working together. We’ve seen how alliances break when gold or glory’s involved.”

Rathen grunted in agreement. “He has got a point. Half the coastal routes are still crawling with smugglers and black market traders. If word spreads we’ve shifted forces south, someone’s bound to take advantage.”

Lucius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. We can’t strip Lionfang bare. But we can rotate detachments—small defensive teams stationed at intervals along the trade route and the coast.”

“Do it,” Arslan said immediately. “And I’ll leave a few of my friends behind to protect them.”

Ludger gave a short nod. “Good. Then we move only when the defense lines are ready.”

Rathen tapped his gauntlet against the table. “That will take time.”

“Not as much as rebuilding half the bridge,” Gaius muttered dryly. “We’ll manage.”

Lucius smiled faintly. “Then it’s settled. We prepare both fronts—the home defense and the assault force. When the next tide turns, we strike.”

The flickering firelight cast long shadows over the table as the men and women exchanged glances—northerner, noble, mercenary, and mage alike. For a rare moment, all of them were united by one thing: the island waiting beyond the sea.

Ludger leaned back, silent, watching the flames dance in his reflection on the steel mug. Plans were good. Coordination was better. But his instincts whispered the same warning they always did.

The following days bled into a rhythm. The entire southern coast transformed into a hive of controlled chaos—soldiers training, engineers reinforcing the defenses, mages inscribing runes along supply crates and hull frames. Everyone had a task, and no one wasted a second.

Ludger and Gaius went back to the bridge every morning. The pillars rose one by one again, stronger and broader, their coral foundations pulsing faintly with mana as the earth magic fused with the living material.

It was exhausting, repetitive work—raising, shaping, stabilizing—but Ludger preferred it that way. It kept his mind quiet as his skills improved faster as well. Still, there were things even focused labor couldn’t make him ignore.

Every time he looked toward the beach, two familiar figures were at it again—Arslan and Viola.

He paused one afternoon, watching from the bridge’s edge as the pair clashed under the open sky.

Both of them were using Overdrive, but in entirely different ways. Arslan’s was speed incarnate—short bursts of raw muscle and momentum, a blur of steel that looked more like a storm than a duel. Every movement was an attack waiting to happen, relentless and suffocating.

Viola’s, on the other hand, burned brighter, each strike deliberate, her aura flaring like molten gold with every swing. She fought heavy, her Overdrive feeding power into each blow, hammering Arslan’s guard with frightening weight. When she blocked, the ground itself quaked.

Their swords met again and again, throwing sparks that scattered like fireflies. Neither gave an inch.

“Overdrive duels,” Gaius muttered beside Ludger, not bothering to hide his smirk. “You’d think they’d get bored after the fifth round.”

“They won’t,” Ludger said, eyes still on the fight. “She’s trying to match him.”

“Match him?” Gaius scoffed. “Looks like she’s trying to beat him and prove a point.”

Ludger didn’t argue. He could see the truth in every swing. Viola’s form was sharper than before, more grounded, more disciplined. Each exchange she pushed closer to Arslan’s tempo.

Arslan blocked another heavy strike and countered with a lightning-fast flurry, his sword flashing through the air in a dozen arcs before Viola’s blade locked his down with a ringing clang.

The collision sent a shockwave through the beach, rattling the scaffolding around them. She grinned through the strain, eyes fierce. Arslan only laughed, proud and unbothered.

Gaius chuckled low. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she plans to join the assault.”

Ludger said nothing for a moment, just watching her reset her stance, shoulders rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.

“…She is,” he said finally. “That’s what all this is.”

Gaius gave him a sidelong look. “And you’re not stopping her?”

“She’s Viola,” Ludger said quietly. “Telling her not to fight would just make her go first. She is probably just waiting for permission from her grandfather, I saw her sending a letter after the meeting.”

The old mage snorted. “You’ve got a point.”

Ludger turned back to the bridge, placing his hands against the coral and channeling mana through the structure again. The pillar rose higher, smooth and seamless, sunlight glinting off its damp surface.

Still, even as the stone obeyed his will, part of his mind lingered on the clang of steel in the distance—the sound of Viola and Arslan’s Overdrives colliding again and again.

She’s getting stronger, he thought. Maybe strong enough to survive what’s coming.

He exhaled through his nose, steadying the mana flow. “Then we’d better make sure this bridge is ready for her to cross.”

“Already on it,” Gaius said with a grin, hands glowing faintly with geomantic light.

And together, master and apprentice went back to work—raising the road that would soon carry them all straight into the heart of the storm.

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