We returned to our squad quarters under artificial night.
The Grand Frontlines never truly slept—but it did dim itself. Corridor lights softened to a cooler hue, overhead runes shifting into low-output cycles. The constant mechanical thrum beneath the floorplates slowed just enough to be noticeable if you paid attention. It felt like the fortress drawing a breath it would never fully release.
Cadet Corps 28 filed back in with the fatigue of a day too heavy for our bodies to process all at once. Armor plates were loosened. Gloves came off. Someone dropped onto a bench with a groan loud enough to earn a glare from Captain Renia.
She stood near the center of the room, already halfway into a conversation with two officers from logistics—posture straight, tone clipped, one brow raised in that familiar expression that said you are wasting my time, but I will tolerate it for exactly ten more seconds.
I hesitated at the doorway.
The image of the Monitoring Center still clung to me. The map. The red zones breathing. Ignis's question.
Would you finish them off?
I pushed the thought aside and stepped forward.
"Captain," I said.
Renia turned slightly, eyes flicking toward me. "Yes, Elrin?" she replied, voice neutral—but I caught the faint hint of curiosity there. She always noticed when someone approached with purpose.
I swallowed once.
"Where is the Arcanum Spiral stationed?" I asked.
The logistics officers immediately looked between us, interest piqued.
Renia blinked.
Once.
Then a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Oh?" she said, folding her arms. "Didn't take you for the type to fraternize across corps lines. Ah no, I remember! Ya visiting your girlfriend?"
"That's not—" I stopped myself, heat creeping up my neck. "I just wanted to greet someone. An old acquaintance."
"Mm," she hummed. "Of course."
The officers snorted. One of them muttered something about young cadets, earning himself a sharp look that shut him up instantly.
Renia waved them off. "I'll handle it."
They saluted and moved on.
She turned back to me, expression unreadable for a moment.
"The Arcanum Spiral's quarters are in the lower residential district," she said. "Two blocks south from here, past the auxiliary training grounds."
I nodded, relief flickering through me.
"There's a central directory map in the main hallway," she added. "Ask an officer if you get lost. And Elrin—"
"Yes, ma'am?"
Her eyes softened, just slightly.
"Don't stay out too late. This base is… busy tonight."
I bowed my head. "Understood. Thank you, Captain."
She smirked. "Try not to get lost chasing mages."
The squad erupted in low laughter as I exited, my ears burning.
—
The hallway map was exactly where she said it would be.
A massive etched metal plate mounted into the wall, lines glowing faintly with Axiom as districts shifted based on activity levels. I traced the markings with my eyes—command sectors, research clusters, logistics hubs, residential quarters.
Arcanum Spiral — Cadet Wing.
There.
I memorized the route and stepped back into the flow of the fortress.
Night had fully settled by the time I reached the lower district.
The sky above the Grand Frontlines wasn't truly visible—only fragmented glimpses between towering structures—but stars still peeked through, distant and cold. The base lights painted everything in gold and steel-blue hues, casting long shadows across walkways and bridges.
Officers passed me in steady intervals. Some nodded. Some saluted. I returned every greeting—it felt right. Respect mattered here.
Supply trucks rumbled past, heavy with crates stamped in purification seals and emergency sigils. I caught fragments of conversation as they passed.
"—train coming in late tonight—"
"—southern lines—"
"—don't like the readings—"
I slowed.
A train coming in late?
The words lodged somewhere in the back of my mind.
I continued on.
The Arcanum district was quieter than I expected. Less mechanical noise. More controlled Axiom resonance—like the air itself was holding a steady note.
I searched.
One building after another. Training halls. Lecture towers. Dormitories.
I asked an officer, then another.
"Arcanum Spiral cadets?" one replied. "They rotate. Some are still in duty."
Another shook her head. "Try the inner courtyards. They like quiet."
Time slipped by faster than I realized.
The base didn't slow. If anything, it felt more alive as night deepened. Distant horns signaled shift changes. Somewhere, heavy machinery engaged with a thunderous clang that echoed across the district.
After nearly an hour, my steps began to falter.
Maybe Renia was right.
Maybe Yna was busy.
I exhaled slowly and let my shoulders drop.
That was when I noticed the small park.
It sat nestled between two residential blocks—a patch of green stone and carefully cultivated trees, their leaves shimmering faintly with embedded Axiom to simulate wind. A single vending machine hummed quietly near a bench.
My throat felt dry.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out two copper coins.
The machine swallowed them.
Nothing happened.
"…Really?" I muttered.
I gave it a light smack.
Still nothing.
Then a harder slap.
The can clattered down with a metallic thunk.
I snorted despite myself and popped it open, the sharp hiss oddly comforting.
I sat on the bench, leaned back, and drank.
The soda was too sweet. Too cold.
Perfect.
The distant sounds of the base washed over me—voices, engines, footsteps—noisy, but somehow peaceful in their constancy.
I finished the can and let my head fall back against the bench, staring up at the fractured sky.
"Guess not tonight." I murmured to no one.
I was just about to stand—
When something caught my vision.
Upside down.
A silhouette.
A familiar posture.
Crystalline aqua-blue hair catching the light like cut glass.
My breath hitched.
I didn't move.
"…A-Ah," I said stupidly.
The figure froze.
Then turned.
"We didn't saw each other for seven months," she said, eyes widening, "and that's the first thing you say to me?"
"…Yna."
She stared at me for a heartbeat longer.
Then smiled.
"How have you been, Elrin?"
I sat up too fast and nearly knocked my knees together.
"Sit," I said quickly, patting the bench.
She laughed softly and took the other end, smoothing her cadet uniform as she did. The sigil of the Arcanum Spiral gleamed faintly on her sleeve.
"Quite fine," I said after a moment. "Hard at first. Really hard. But… yeah."
She nodded. "Same as you. At first I couldn't even comprehend how to control the change in my axiom. Every spell felt like holding something that wanted to shatter me."
I smiled faintly. "Sounds familiar."
"But," she continued, glancing at me sideways, "hard work. Something I've seen from you before."
"…I see. Good for you."
We talked.
About training. About mistakes. About exhaustion and small victories.
About how her accent and speaking have improved and no longer spouting words like a tomb inscription.
About how different corps lived under the same sky.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
She told me about her instructors. I told her about Captain Renia. We laughed quietly, voices low, like the night itself was listening.
Eventually, Yna stood.
"I should go," she said softly. "But… I'm glad we found each other."
"Me too."
She smiled—gentle, sincere.
"Stay alive, Elrin."
"I will," I replied. "You too."
She turned—
...
...
A huge impact.
Metal shrieked in the distance.
Not an explosion.
Impact.
Then another.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground trembled.
"What was that?" Yna asked sharply.
Another crash. Louder. Closer.
"That's not training," I said, heart pounding.
Sirens erupted across the Grand Frontlines.
Red lights flared.
Emergency runes ignited.
Somewhere far off—
A train horn screamed into the night.
And didn't stop.
I turned toward the sound, dread pooling in my gut.
"…Yna," I said slowly. "That's the rail dock."
And whatever was coming—
Had finally arrived.
She turned—
And the fortress screamed.
At first, my mind refused to recognize it as danger.
The sound was wrong. Too raw. Too unfiltered.
Metal shrieked somewhere far beyond the district, a high-pitched, tearing cry that scraped against the spine rather than the ears. It wasn't the clean concussive thud of an explosion. There was no fireball, no shockwave.
Just impact.
Something massive colliding with something that should never have moved.
The bench beneath us vibrated.
Yna stiffened instantly.
Before either of us could speak, another sound followed—lower, heavier. A grinding crash that rolled through the structure like a wave, rattling windows and setting nearby arcane lamps swaying on their tethers.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground buckled.
Not violently enough to throw us, but enough that the stone beneath my boots shifted, like the fortress itself had stumbled.
"What was that?" Yna asked sharply, already on her feet.
Her hand hovered near her casting focus, instincts flaring faster than thought.
Before I could answer, the noise came again.
Closer.
A violent screech of tearing steel, followed by a thunderous impact that echoed through the district. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered. I heard someone shout—confused, panicked—before the sound was swallowed by the growing din.
"That's not training," I said, my pulse slamming against my ribs.
The night changed.
Sirens erupted all at once, layered and overlapping, their tones slicing through the air with brutal clarity. Red emergency lights flared along rooftops and walkways, bathing the district in harsh, pulsing crimson. Arcane runes ignited in sequence along the walls, warning glyphs spinning to life as containment protocols snapped awake.
The calm was gone.
Replaced by motion.
Officers poured into the walkways from every direction, shouting commands that collided mid-air.
"Clear the corridors!"
"Seal the lower access points!"
"Medical teams—move, move!"
The ground trembled again—longer this time, drawn-out, like something heavy was being dragged where it didn't belong.
Then I heard it.
A sound so distinct it cut through the chaos instantly.
A train horn.
Long.
Unbroken.
Not signaling arrival.
Not signaling departure.
Screaming.
It echoed through the fortress, warped and distorted by distance, carrying with it a vibration that I felt in my teeth. The pitch wavered, dipped, then rose again, as if whatever was sounding it had lost all sense of timing—or control.
Yna's eyes widened.
"…That's a rail signal," she whispered.
My stomach dropped.
The rail docks were nowhere near this district.
They were reinforced. Isolated. Designed to absorb accidents, sabotage, even localized breaches.
For that sound to reach us like this—
"…Yna," I said slowly, dread settling cold and heavy in my chest as another metallic crash rolled through the base, closer than before. "That's the rail dock."
Her gaze snapped to mine.
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke.
Then, far in the distance, something detonated—not outward, but inward. The sound collapsed on itself, followed by a ripple through the ground that made nearby trees shudder and shed glowing leaves.
The horn cut off abruptly.
Silence followed.
Not peace.
The kind of silence that comes when something terrible finishes happening.
I didn't know what had arrived.
I didn't know what condition it was in.
But deep in my bones, I understood one thing with terrifying clarity—
Whatever was coming from the southern lines…
Was not supposed to make it back.
And the Grand Frontlines had just been forced to receive it.