But not everyone welcomed the march to the front lines.
Beyond the staging area, parents and loved ones pressed toward the gates. Some wept. Others shouted.
"You're C-Rank!" a mother cried to her son. "That Rift will eat you alive!"
"I trained for this," he shouted back. "I'm not sitting it out."
A father gripped his daughter's cloak. "Let the guilds handle it. You're not a soldier!"
She pulled away. "Then I'll fight like a hunter."
Some were turned away. Others refused to leave.
The city's markets, meanwhile, began shutting down in waves. Crates were sealed. Stalls locked. Explosive powders packed away. Shopkeepers exchanged worried glances as guard patrols swept through, double-checking wards and barriers.
"If the Rift reaches the main square," one merchant whispered, "we're done."
And all the while, the mood shifted.
This wasn't a city watching a tournament anymore.
It was a city preparing for war.
Torchlight flickered as dusk rolled in. The City Lord stood atop the viewing dais, Elder Vess at his side. Soldiers lined the platform, silent and grim.
"Mireholt," the City Lord began, voice firm despite its edge. "This is not the end. But it may be the beginning of something none of us are ready for."
He raised a hand.
"The eastern Rift is active. It's growing. And while the Guilds investigate the cause, we must prepare to defend what is ours."
Elder Vess stepped forward, whisper-stone still glowing faintly in his hand.
"The tournament is concluded. We've seen skill. But now, we measure resolve. All non-essential movement is to be suspended. A conditional lockdown begins at dawn."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Those who will stand—report to the sanctum for placement and briefing. Your names will be recorded. Your courage remembered."
Down below, Marcel straightened his tunic and glanced at his siblings.
"You ready?" he asked quietly.
Tarin nodded. "Since the first sparring match."
Lira smiled. "Always."
Veyla didn't answer. She didn't have to. Emberjaw growled, smoke rising from its jaw.
They moved together, silent but seen. One unit. One flame.
In the stands, someone whispered:
"I came to see champions crowned…"
His elderly friend, wiping their eyes, replied: "We're about to see heroes made." Perhaps it's part of their plan...
---
The southern sanctum of Mireholt had transformed overnight.
What was once a dusty training ground was now a war camp in full bloom. Tents pitched in tight formations. Maps scrawled across enchanted parchment. Mages whispered over divining bowls while scribes ran with fresh updates. Arrows, elixirs, talismans—sorted, tagged, distributed.
The smell of steel, smoke, and tension saturated the air.
Inside the war chamber, a large circular room lit by magic braziers, the city's top brass stood over a three-dimensional map of eastern Mireholt, its outskirts, and the surrounding terrain.
General Caelis Blackmane, the city's military commander, loomed over it like a mountain of metal. His voice, like cracking gravel, cut through the murmurs.
"We have confirmed the Rift opened near the old Sable Orchard route. Dense thicket. Limited visibility. Ground's unstable from mana poisoning. That's our battlefield."
He pointed to glowing red markers pulsing on the map.
"ETA of the beast wave: Five days. Scouts spotted movement—war-beasts, siege-class fiends, and what looks like a controller-class entity. Possibly an alpha. Might be commanding packs."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
Standing just behind Caelis was Captain Velka Renn, an A-rank lancer known for personally sealing three minor breaches in the southern badlands. Her eyes were already scanning the list of volunteers.
"Expect flying scouts, corrosive-blood hounds, and terrain warpers. Anyone under C-rank should stay on perimeter support or ranged formations. This isn't a skirmish—it's a survival measure."
The map pulsed again—a long line of defense markers circling the Rift's predicted breach path.
Battle Strategy:
Front line: Veterans and A-rank hunters, including Blackmane's Iron Division.
Second line: Advanced tournament fighters, such as the Jekz siblings and Veyla's team.
Perimeter: D-rank and C-rank volunteers, ranged supporters, rapid response medics.
Skywatch: Magecasters and wing units, monitoring for Rift-spawn or fliers.
Emberjaw: Assigned to heat zones and flame barriers, directed by Veyla.
Mireholt's terrain was both a blessing and a curse.
The city was built like a basin fortress—three-tiered walls with elevation checkpoints. But the east? It was where farms and travel roads sprawled outward with no walls, no fortifications. And it was there the Rift opened.
"We'll funnel the beasts toward Burnscar Gully," Velka said, stabbing her finger at a tight curve on the map. "Narrow pass. Enough space for two siege-class fiends at once. That's where we make our stand."
Marcel stood near the back of the room, arms crossed, absorbing every word. Tarin, Lira, and Veyla flanked him, silent but focused.
"You nervous?" Lira asked.
"Only about keeping you two alive," he said.
"You're the oldest by, what, four minutes?" Tarin muttered.
"Six."
From behind them, Emberjaw snorted.
Outside the sanctum, volunteers trained with new weapons. Some learned to wield artifact-bound blades. Others fitted into flame-treated armor or reinforced leather marked with sigils from the city's artificers.
Among the military forces, legends walked:
General Caelis Blackmane: B-rank, but with command skills rivaling any A-rank. Wields a chained tower blade and kinetic-echo armor.
Velka Renn: Known as "Spear of the Storm." Her lance is bonded to wind magic and reacts to pressure changes mid-strike.
Hunter Jael Krinn: A-rank archer whose arrows pierce through stone. Her presence alone had volunteers whispering.
And among the enemy?
Scout diviners saw glimpses. A monstrous thing with obsidian skin and six legs, towering over trees—nicknamed Breakmaw.
Another, lean and draped in bone armor, was marked The Hollow Rider. Some said it used the minds of beasts to coordinate formations.
They weren't just fighting creatures. They were facing strategy.
What about the capital?
When someone asked, Elder Vess finally answered:
"The Imperial Capital is aware. They've acknowledged the breach. But they believe Mireholt—we—are capable of handling it. Reinforcements will come only if the Rift breaches our final tier. Until then, we are on our own."
No gasps. Just a cold, solid acceptance.
The city wasn't abandoned.
But it was being tested.
Back outside, as the sun began to drop behind the western wall, the Jekz siblings walked past silent rows of volunteers. Some sharpened weapons. Others whispered prayers.
"You think we're ready?" Lira asked.
"No," Marcel said. "But we're willing."
Veyla stopped beside him, gaze steady. "That's more dangerous than readiness."
Somewhere in the camp, a horn blew three low notes.
The Rift wave was coming.
And Mireholt would answer.
__________________________________________
Author's Note:
As a thank-you for your amazing support, I'll be releasing 2 extra chapters to kick off the new month! Much love to you, my lovely readers!
Happy Birthday to all my May born readers.