​The first gunshot shattered the morning stillness in the backyard of Castle Zero.

​Bang.

​A glass bottle perched atop the stone wall exploded into shards. The fragments scattered across the ground, glinting under the violet light emanating from the castle walls. Riri lowered her Glock 26. Her hands were small, but her grip was firm. She turned to Kancil, her eyes sparkling.

​”Hit.”

​Kancil folded his arms over his chest. His dark blue jacket was slightly damp with morning dew. “Good. But you’re still taking too long to aim. An enemy won’t give you that much time.”

​Riri nodded quickly. “I’ll keep practicing.”

​”Loy, your turn.”

​Loy stepped forward. He held a Glock 19—his hands trembling slightly. Not out of fear, but because he was still adjusting to the weight of the weapon. He raised the pistol, aiming at the second bottle. One breath. Two. Three.

​Bang.

​The bottle shifted, but it didn’t break. The bullet had only grazed the rim.

​Loy lowered the gun, his shoulders slumping. “I still can’t do it.”

​”You can’t do it yet, not that you can’t do it at all.” Kancil stepped closer, patting his shoulder. “Try again. But this time, don’t hold your breath for too long. You’re just making yourself tense.”

​Loy nodded. He raised the pistol again, his breathing more rhythmic this time. He took aim and squeezed the trigger.

​Bang.

​The bottle shattered.

​Loy turned to Kancil, his eyes brightening. Kancil gave a curt nod. “There it is.”

​Riri ran over, tapping Loy’s arm excitedly. “You did it! I told you so!”

​Loy rubbed the back of his neck. “It was just luck.”

​”Luck or not, a hit is a hit.” Kancil picked up two empty bottles from the ground and reset them on the wall. “Now, while moving. Riri, you first.”

​Riri was already running before Kancil finished his sentence. She lunged to the left, rolled across the dirt, then sprang up and fired. Bang. The bottle exploded. She didn’t stop. Bolting to the right, she vaulted over a small rock, landed on one knee, and aimed at the second bottle. Bang. Shattered.

​Kancil nodded slowly. Fast. Natural. But overconfident. He made a mental note—he would have to teach Riri more patience and risk assessment later.

​”Loy.”

​Loy took a breath. He began to move—to the left, slowly, his steps hesitant. He aimed. Bang. A miss. He kept moving, this time to the right, trying to emulate Riri’s fluidity. Bang. A hit. But his movements were stiff, like a robot newly learning to walk.

​Kancil watched without a word. The boy needed more time. But he didn’t give up. That was what mattered.

​Inside the castle, Dayat stood by the window of The Heart of Logic. He held a coffee mug, steam still curling from it, carrying that familiar, bitter aroma.

​Beside him stood Dola. Her white cape draped over her shoulders. She was able to stand unaided now, though she still leaned slightly against the wall. Her electric-blue eyes stared out at the backyard, tracking every movement of the children.

​”They are progressing,” Dola said. Her voice was still soft, but the rasp of the previous week had faded.

​Dayat took a sip of his coffee. “Riri is too fast. Loy is too slow.”

​”But they are progressing.” Dola turned to Dayat. “That is what you told me once, when I was still learning to be… this.”

​Dayat offered a faint smile. “You still remember that?”

​”I remember everything.” Dola looked back outside. “You said, ‘It’s okay to be slow, as long as you keep moving forward.’ I didn’t understand it then. I do now.”

​Dayat didn’t respond. He simply looked at Dola—the woman who was once just lines of code on his phone, now standing beside him as his wife. The distance from there to here… it was insane.

​The door behind them hissed open. Dalgor entered, his limp significantly less pronounced than before. The tablet in his hand displayed a diagram of the castle’s systems—a web of blue and red lines that only he and Dola truly understood.

​”Master,” he greeted. “The conductor cables are all in place. Two hundred meters, exactly as planned.”

​Dayat turned. “Any issues?”

​”None. The connections are seamless.” Dalgor stroked his beard. “But without Mana crystals, all of this is just decoration. The main reactor is still dormant.”

​”I know.” Dayat sipped his coffee again. “I’ll head to Terragard. But not just yet.”

​Dalgor nodded. He didn’t ask why. He had learned that Dayat had his own reasons for every decision.

​Dola suddenly spoke. “Dalgor. Did you double-check the connections in the west?”

​”I have, My Lady. Everything is stable.”

​”Check them again.”

​Dalgor looked at Dola for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, My Lady.” He turned and left, his pace faster than before—perhaps because he didn’t want to keep Dola waiting.

​Dayat glanced at Dola. “You don’t trust him?”

​”I trust him,” Dola replied, her gaze returning to the window. “But trust does not guarantee the absence of error. I am merely ensuring our safety.”

​Dayat didn’t argue. He knew she was right. Too much was at stake.

​Lunethra knelt before her clay pots on The Terrace of Equilibrium. Her hands touched the soil—cold, damp. The sprouts had grown taller now. Some were even beginning to unfurl small, pale-green leaves.

​She smiled. You’re growing. You’re actually growing.

​But something was bothering her. It wasn’t the plants; it was the air. There was a faint scent—like meat beginning to rot, but so distant it was almost imperceptible. She frowned, turning toward the forest. The mist moved lazily as usual. Nothing seemed out of place.

​I’m overthinking, she told herself. She shook her head and returned to her plants. The tiny leaves waved gently in the breeze. She failed to notice the black speck at the tip of one leaf. The speck that had been no larger than an ink dot yesterday was now the size of a fingernail.

​In the forest, Kancil led a combat simulation.

​”I am the enemy.” He stood in the center of a small clearing among the blackened trees surrounding the castle’s safe perimeter. “Your task: protect each other. Do not let me touch either of you. If you land a hit on me, you win.”

​Riri and Loy stood opposite him, about five meters apart. They exchanged a look.

​”Go.”

​Kancil moved. Fast. He wasn’t the strongest fighter, but he was agile. He lunged toward Loy, who immediately panicked and retreated. But Riri had already moved from the side, attempting to intercept Kancil’s path.

​Kancil stopped abruptly, spun, and leaped toward Riri. Riri dodged—too slowly. Kancil’s hand almost brushed her shoulder.

​Bang.

​Loy’s shot hit a rock near Kancil’s feet. Kancil jumped back, grinning. “Good. You protected her.”

​Loy nodded, his face brightening slightly.

​They continued the drill. Kancil attacked from various angles—sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes feinting in one direction before pivoting. Riri and Loy began to read his movements. They started to cooperate. Loy would distract, Riri would strike from the flank. Riri would bait, Loy would provide cover fire.

​Kancil finally called a halt, his breathing a bit ragged. “Enough. Rest.”

​Riri immediately plopped down on the ground, drinking from her canteen. Loy remained standing, still holding his pistol, his eyes scanning the surroundings—a habit that was beginning to take root.

​Kancil watched them. They’ll be ready. I’ll make sure of it.

​Riri was the first to see it.

​She was sitting, drinking, when her eyes caught something behind the bushes. It wasn’t moving. On the contrary—it was too still. She stood up and walked closer.

​”Riri? Where are you going?” Loy followed her.

​Kancil approached as well. “What is it?”

​Riri stopped in front of the bushes. Her hand pointed. “Is that… a wolf?”

​Kancil parted the shrubs.

​A black wolf lay on the ground. Its eyes were open—solid black, hollow. Its fur had fallen out in patches, revealing blackened skin beneath. No wounds. No blood. But the stench of decay wafted from the carcass—the smell of meat beginning to rot.

​”Don’t touch it.” Kancil’s voice was stern. He pushed Riri and Loy back. “We’re going back. Now.”

​They walked briskly toward the castle. No one spoke. But they all felt the same thing—something was very wrong in this forest.

​In the distance, hidden behind the blackened trees, Morbis watched.

​He saw the children discover the wolf. He saw them hurry back to the castle. A thin smile appeared on his translucent face.

​He glanced south, toward where the Plagueborne army was beginning to move. Then he looked back at the castle.

​In The Heart of Logic, Kancil had just finished his report.

​Dayat set down his coffee mug. His eyes locked onto Kancil. “A wolf? Blackened skin?”

​Kancil nodded. “I told Loy and Riri to stay inside. They’re in their rooms now.”

​Dayat turned to Dola. Dola was already looking at him. No words were spoken, but they both knew.

​”Wabil,” Dola said softly.

​Dayat let out a long breath. “This soon?”

​”No. He has not yet fully risen.” Dola stared out the window toward the forest.

​Silence. Only the low hum of the binary panels on the walls filled the room.

​”What should we do?” Kancil asked.

​Dayat looked at him. “Keep training. Guard the perimeter. If you see anything else strange—no matter how small—report it immediately. Do not go near it.”

​Kancil nodded. He turned and left, his steps quick.

​Dayat and Dola stood side by side, watching the mist shift outside.

​Night fell. Lunethra stood before her pots one last time before bed. She touched the small leaves. Still green. Still alive.

​But she didn’t see the black patch, now as large as a thumb, on one of the leaves.

​She went inside, turned off the lights, and fell asleep with a faint smile.

​Outside, the mist grew thicker. And inside the pots, unseen black roots began to crawl slowly through the soil.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep