The corridor lay steeped in a dim, oppressive half-light, lit only by a sparse line of crystal sconces embedded in the ceiling. Luke leaned against the cold stone wall, his heartbeat ticking in time with the silent countdown in his head. Mason’s signal had arrived quietly, a paper with singed edges sliding under the door, simple yet unmistakable. He drew a slow breath and counted off in his mind: one… two… until the full two minutes of the plan passed.

Even here, in a secondary hall chosen for its obscurity and distance from patrol routes, he felt painfully exposed. Luck had been on his side so far, but luck had teeth, especially after his tense, unexpected run-in with Erza Grimhart.

At the appointed moment, Luke exhaled and let the transformation roll over him. His body unraveled into a stream of mist. He slipped across the floor and seeped under the door like a whisper, a fraction of himself scouting the other side. Nothing. No footsteps. Only the muffled hum of distant music and voices from the main hall. Mason was doing his part, pulling eyes away.

He reformed in a crouch, pretending to adjust the heel of a shoe. Rising slowly, the room came into focus, velvet drapes, glittering light, faces turned toward the center. And then he realized something was wrong. Allison was speaking, but not the way they had rehearsed. Not the measured reveal they had planned. Her words cut through the hall like blades, spilling secrets meant to stay buried for days yet. The improvisation was bold, but devastating.

The plan had always been to unveil the second mechanism after moving the Haven’s people, after fortifying their position. Force Bartholomew’s hand carefully, corner him with his own public image. Instead, Allison was shattering the façade here, in the king’s stronghold, with every power broker and soldier listening. A direct strike, a blade to Bastion’s heart.

The faces in the crowd showed it, shock, disbelief, fear. More than anything, Bartholomew’s mask was cracking in real time. The impenetrable king now trembled in silence. The party had dissolved; no more speeches, no more dancing. When Allison finished, the hall sank into a low, electric murmur.

No one stopped her as she walked out. The onlookers were frozen, flooded with questions but paralyzed by the weight of her answers. Her silence became part of the spectacle, feeding the tension even more.

Luke took the opening. He slipped into the restless crowd, moving with the current toward the gates of Bastion. His breathing didn’t steady until he was beneath the night sky, free of the fortress’s suffocating walls.

Outside, the wind carried the scent of cold stone and rusted iron. The chatter of the crowd swelled into a chorus of questions and pleas. Each step felt like both a release and a new burden, the future tilting into the unknown.

“Lady Rhiannon, please, wait! Explain what you meant!” a woman called, her voice trembling with hope.

“Please, I have to know,” said another, a Bastion soldier with a rumpled uniform and feverish eyes. “Is it true? Can we really go back to Earth?”

Allison stopped. The motion was almost choreographed: footsteps ceased, the air itself seemed to lean toward her. She turned, torchlight flickering across her face, a mixture of conviction and exhaustion etched into her features.

“My words won’t be enough,” she said softly but with steel beneath it. “Even if I answer one question, ten more will follow. So I’ll be direct.”

She drew in a long breath. When she spoke, her voice rose above the crowd like a blade slicing through noise.

“At dawn I leave. Anyone who wants to come with me, meet me at the Haven faction hotel at six a.m. See it with your own eyes, the new Safe Zone… and my own Bastion.”

The words rolled over the crowd like a muffled thunderclap. Before anyone could react, she leaned forward and, in a single smooth motion, dashed away into the night, vanishing like a streak of light.

For a heartbeat no one moved. Then voices swelled into a storm of fear, doubt, and excitement. Luke slipped into the confusion, lowering his head and letting the tide of bodies carry him away from the epicenter. Around him, the crowd formed an unintentional wall, shielding Allison’s retreat, while her silence fermented new questions.

The night grew colder as Bastion’s walls receded behind him. He didn’t look back, he didn’t want to brand that fortress into his memory. Every step away was another weight gone from his shoulders. By now, according to the plan, he should already be beyond the Safe Zone, and he wasn’t about to argue with his instincts.

He was starting to taste the thin air of freedom when a familiar voice, laced with irony, cut through the night.

“Excuse me, lovely lady. Want some company?”

Luke let out a sigh that came out more like a tired smile.

“Cute,” he said, turning.

Eleanor stood there, Bastion armor fitting her like a second skin, eyes a blend of reproach and amusement.

“I didn’t say much back there, but did it really have to be here?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

They were standing outside the old tavern where they had first met. Now nearly silent, it looked like a ghost of its former life.

“I didn’t have time to think of anything better,” Luke said, still wearing the shape of Lucy.

They started walking down the empty street, distant lights flickering as if the city itself was holding its breath.

“And now?” Eleanor asked. “Where do we go?”

Luke cast a quick glance toward the fortress, memories of the night still pounding in his skull.

“You’re about to be officially branded a fugitive,” he said, his tone almost casual. “So you can’t stay another second inside the Safe Zone. Lucky for you, I know a thing or two about being on the run. I can give you some tips.”

Eleanor gave a short laugh. “I’ll take your tips, miss. Though, how do you plan to move fast in those gorgeous heels?”

“I… I’m taking them off soon,” Lucy muttered, embarrassed but keeping her stride steady.

***

Lucy and Eleanor left behind the last stone walls and crumbling ruins of the Safe Zone. The night air of the forest wrapped around them like a living shroud, dense with damp scents and nearly invisible sounds. Luke, still wearing Lucy’s body, had traded the dress for his adventurer’s gear: lightweight fabric, flexible boots, a muted cloak. Every step on dry leaves felt louder than it should, and the moonlight, fractured by the canopy, scattered silver patches across their path.

“Now we just have to cross the forest,” Lucy whispered, eyes sweeping the darkness. “It’s nighttime, and the Midnight Wardens will be active in the Wild Zone city. We need to stay quiet. I don’t want to deal with a swarm of them… they’re like bees. Kill one and the whole hive comes running.”

Eleanor widened her eyes at the casual way Lucy said it. “Kill a Midnight Warden?” she murmured. “You make it sound easy.”

Lucy kept walking a few more paces before answering. “You were in the elite hunting unit. You never tried to take one down?”

“They’ve got those super-armor suits,” Eleanor replied, stepping over a thick root. “Even if we could lure one out, it was forbidden to try. Not just to avoid pointless deaths, but because it draws in more of them. Starting a fight with a Warden isn’t something anyone does for fun. And poisons don’t work. We tried.”

Lucy gave a half-smile, eyes still scanning the tree line. “That’s because they’re undead. Their armor regenerates. Magic barely scratches them, and they’ve probably got more health than anything else out here. But I’ve killed a few. I know a couple tricks.”

Eleanor let out a low whistle, admiration and unease tangled together. The forest seemed to breathe around them, leaves trembling in silence, tiny glimmers of magical insects flashing in and out of sight.

“Just one question,” Eleanor said after a while. “You planning to stay a woman?”

Lucy stopped, breath misting in the cold air. “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Eleanor replied, hands raised in mock innocence.

“Okay, but just to be clear,” Lucy continued, “I’m wearing makeup. Once we’re farther from the Safe Zone and reach the river, I’ll wipe it off. One little magic trick and I’m me again.”

***

The sound of running water ahead told them they were close to the rendezvous point. Their steps through the undergrowth slowed, becoming more deliberate. When they reached the edge of a cliff above the river, the distant glow of the city had vanished behind the trees, replaced by the moon’s reflection rippling downriver. The noise was deep, steady, almost hypnotic. Lucy and Eleanor exchanged a look without speaking, then hurled themselves off the narrow ledge and plunged into the river.

The cold water sliced against their skin like blades. For a few seconds there was only liquid darkness, bubbles, and the muffled roar of the current. They swam hard toward the far shore, bodies trembling, breath coming quick and shallow.

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On the opposite bank, Lucy wiped away the makeup, her features slowly hardening back into Luke’s. His voice dropped an octave, his posture shifting with the change. He exhaled like someone shedding a weight no one else could see.

“I don’t know how you even move in the dark like that,” Eleanor whispered, still rubbing her arms against the cold.

“It’s a skill,” Luke replied in his own voice now. “And you don’t have to whisper. This is a makeshift Safe Zone. At worst we might get a giant crocodile… or a dinosaur.”

They walked side by side, wet ground squelching underfoot, the river’s roar fading into a low echo behind them, replaced by the guttural songs of nocturnal creatures.

“After what your friend Allison did…” Eleanor’s tone wavered. Luke had already told her part of what happened. “I imagine tonight’s going to be rough for Bartholomew.”

Luke stayed silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on the shadows between the trees. “You know the people who lived there,” he said finally. “The ones who actually wanted to return to Earth… what do you think happens now?”

She took her time before answering. “Honestly? I don’t know. They’ll want to see it for themselves, that’s for sure. What happened tonight will spread, not just in Bastion but across every Safe Zone. I bet the news is already flying. People waking each other up just to tell it. If Bartholomew didn’t want the secret of the mechanisms out… I can’t imagine what he’ll do now, or what the people under him will do.”

Their conversation faded into the rhythm of their steps. Minutes later, the forest broke open and the second fortress rose before them, hidden deep in orc territory. Eleanor stopped, eyes widening at the silhouette ahead, surprised by the resemblance.

“It really is… just like Bastion,” she murmured.

“Inside and out,” Luke answered, gaze never leaving the dark walls.

The path ended at the foot of high, black walls. The second fortress loomed above them, eerily identical to Bastion: the same watchtowers, the same grid of inner streets, the same air of power and secrecy. But here the darkness was absolute. No torches burned, no windows glowed. Only shadows, as if the entire place were holding its breath.

Luke and Eleanor crossed beneath the stone arch of the gate. The cobblestones beneath their boots were slick with moss, cold seeping through the soles. A shiver ran through Eleanor, the instinctive chill of stepping into unknown territory despite recognizing every line of the architecture.

A sudden shift in the towers snapped her out of it. Ropes whispered, shadows moved. An arrow thudded into the ground a few feet away, its shaft quivering with residual energy.

“Identify yourselves!” a voice barked from above—steady, but taut with tension.

Shapes peeled themselves from the dark. Weapons clicked, crossbows leveled. Footsteps echoed across the silent courtyard until a small light crystal dropped at Luke’s feet, spilling a muted glow over his face.

“It’s me, you idiots,” Luke said, folding his arms.

A low ripple of recognition moved through the guards. The glow crept outward, catching on Eleanor’s Bastion armor and throwing off blue-edged reflections. Someone shouted, and tension ignited like gunpowder.

“Bastion armor!”

Crossbows rose in unison, strings creaking tight. Eleanor stood motionless, eyes scanning, muscles coiled.

“Is that Charlie with you?” one guard called down, hesitant.

“No,” Luke replied evenly. “This is our new member.”

Silence pressed down like a weight. Without waiting for approval, Luke strode forward, ignoring the drawn weapons. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. Eleanor drew a slow breath, swallowing the urge to argue, and followed, feeling their suspicious stares burn holes into her back.

In the corridor leading to the main wing, Luke leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “How about I put you back in the same room you were locked in?” he teased with a crooked smile.

***

No one slept that night. After Luke’s account of what had unfolded in Bastion, the air inside the fortress turned electric. Men and women moved through the corridors with torches and light-crystals, bracing doors, posting sentries at every choke point. The metallic clatter of hammers and chains replaced the old hush.

The enchanted torches, dark for days to keep the place hidden, flickered back to life one by one. Blue light climbed the towers, sketching the fortress against the dark treeline. There was no point pretending the place was abandoned anymore: the secret was out, and the time to act had arrived. The night sky held still and heavy. No patrols from Bastion appeared, no distant clang of battle, only cold air, exhaustion, and the creeping sense that something far larger was about to break upon them.

As dawn bled across the horizon, a gold veil brushed the tops of the trees. Fatigue etched every face, but in their eyes burned a glint of resolve, a different, collective energy. They were at their limit, but they were no longer alone in it. It was in that anxious dawn that the watchmen spotted movement at the far end of the trail leading to the fortress. A murmur rippled down the corridors, swelling until it reached Luke’s ears. He sat at a makeshift table with Eleanor, sipping dark, bitter coffee to keep his eyes open.

The noise began as a faint hum, then grew into the unmistakable swell of feet and voices drawing near. From the battlements, sentries leaned out for a better look. Through the trees, a column of people emerged on the winding path, men, women, children, the elderly, even a handful of soldiers in threadbare uniforms. It wasn’t a small group. It was an exodus.

Luke and Eleanor left their coffee mugs on the makeshift table and hurried to the main gate. The morning wind carried river grit and a bite of cold through the open arch. When the doors swung wide, the full sight unfolded: Allison at the head of the column, hair tousled from the night’s march, boots caked in mud. She raised a hand in a casual greeting, as if this entire scene were nothing out of the ordinary.

“Got anything to eat? I’m starving,” she rasped. “And so are they.”

Behind her, faces peered around with a mix of caution and wonder. Haven leaders, Wild Zone hunters hardened by danger, children staring up at the fortress as though it were some colossal beast.

Quinn and Miriam, now the spine of the operation, traded a look of thinly veiled panic.

“W-we don’t have supplies for this many people,” Quinn stammered. “We thought it would be gradual, a trickle. We’ll start prepping immediately.”

Allison’s smile flickered as she crossed the courtyard like it already belonged to her. “Pick a house, any house,” she called out. “It’s yours. No ranks here, no favorites. Some of the buildings are half-ruined or filthy, but with a little work we can make them livable. Better than tents, at least.”

Her tone wasn’t a command; it was an invitation. Luke watched the tide of new arrivals and caught familiar faces among the crowd. Evangeline and Jack appeared, speaking with old acquaintances, handing out quick directions.

“A lot more came than I expected,” Luke murmured under his breath.

“What did you think would happen?” Evangeline answered with a weary smile. “Some Wild Zone hunters were curious. Curiosity spread. And here they are.”

Allison vanished inside the fortress. Moments later Mason emerged, slicing through the crowd, his face tight with urgency. “I have news,” he told Evangeline, Quinn, and Luke. “Urgent.” Without another word he strode into the main building, a silent summons for an immediate meeting.

Evangeline, Luke, and Jack exchanged glances, then followed down the narrow stone corridor. Torchlight threw long shadows across the walls, footsteps echoing like soft drums.

“And me?” a voice asked from behind.

Eleanor had slipped in quietly, but the armor she wore caught every flicker of light. The three of them stopped and turned.

“Who are you?” Evangeline’s tone cut sharp.

“Eleanor?” Jack squinted. “What are you, oh. Got it.” His gaze flicked to Luke. “You helped her escape.”

Evangeline’s expression flickered to confusion. Luke cleared his throat, reaching for nonchalance.

“I told you about her, remember? Elite soldier under Bartholomew, defected. She’s with us now.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes. “Cinderella, I know you’re leaving out a lot. But… start explaining.”

***

The corridor ended at a broad, iron-braced door carved with weathered symbols. Two makeshift guards stood at either side, eyes sharp. At Evangeline’s signal, the hinges groaned and the door swung open, revealing the map room.

The chamber was cavernous, its walls raw stone, torches fixed in iron brackets casting restless shadows. A massive table occupied the center, buried under parchment, route charts, and tiny crystal models of fortresses, roads, and borders.

Allison and Mason stood over the map like chess players caught mid-match. Mason’s eyes were ringed with fatigue, graphite smudges across his fingers. Allison, despite the night behind her, kept her gaze locked and steady, tracing invisible routes with one fingertip. She lifted her head as Evangeline entered, one eyebrow arching.

“How bad is it?” Evangeline asked flatly.

“Pretty bad,” Mason answered, then noticed Eleanor slipping in behind them. “Eleanor? You came too.”

“I was already here,” she said, voice clipped.

Luke crossed his arms. “She staying for this or not?”

“We have nothing left to hide,” Allison replied. “I already laid it all out in the hall.”

“And me?” Jack asked from near the door, still hovering.

“Of course you can stay, shorty,” Evangeline said, trying for a note of levity.

They gathered around the table. The Safe Zone map glowed faintly under the blue light of the crystals. Allison gestured toward Eleanor. “She’s an asset now. Knows Bartholomew’s military better than any of us. We’re going to need every edge we can get.”

“I know it well,” Eleanor said, eyes cool. “Numbers, dangerous operatives, unit structure, preferred tactics. I know exactly how their top fighters operate.”

Mason gave a slow nod. “We’re lucky to have you. By the way… how did you two even meet?”

Luke hesitated, blinking. Before he could speak, Eleanor cut in quickly: “Knife-throwing tournament. At a tavern.”

Mason’s brow rose, a crooked smile slipping through. “You’re one lucky guy, Luke. First that knight friend of yours, then Jack, now Eleanor. You’ve got some kind of talent for networking.”

“Just luck,” Luke muttered, dodging the subject.

Evangeline folded her arms. “I’ll admit it… dropping the second fortress and the activation bomb right in Bartholomew’s face, in front of everyone, was a hell of a move.”

Allison lowered her gaze, almost sheepish. “It came to me on the spot. We were going to reveal it eventually. Crashing that party wasn’t in the plan, but it turned out to be the best way to spread the message.”

“I never thought I’d be the one sewing a dress for Luke to wear,” Evangeline said, a laugh curling at the edge of her voice.

Luke cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the charged room. “This is serious. We don’t have time for jokes.”

Every gaze swung toward him. Mason leaned forward. “And the mechanism’s passcode? Did you get it?”

Luke gave a single nod and pulled a folded piece of paper from his storage item.”Of course. Here’s the moon panel copied down. If this place throws another lunar riddle at us, I won’t need to wear that cursed necklace and sneak back into Bastion.”

He tossed the necklace to Allison. Evangeline exhaled in relief as her eyes skimmed the passcode. “This gives us a serious edge.”

Mason, however, kept his stare pinned to Bastion’s marker on the map. “We still have a problem. A big one.”

“What’s Bartholomew’s next move?” Evangeline asked. “Jerry hasn’t shown up yet, but he’s not exactly bright. He only knows what he sees.”

“That’s just it,” Mason said quietly. “Bartholomew hasn’t done anything.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows,” Mason replied. “He left the banquet and locked himself in his own quarters. Hasn’t come out. At least, that’s the last update I had before I came here.”

A heavy silence filled the room. The map on the table almost seemed to pulse under the glow of its crystals, each one a potential flashpoint.

“Is that good news?” Jack asked, his voice hesitant.

“Yes and no,” Mason answered, folding his arms. “We’ve bought a few hours. But whatever he’s planning behind that door… when he finally steps out, it won’t be anything good for us. We need to start preparing now for whatever’s coming.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep