The peace we had claimed at the East Forge lasted exactly two days.
During that brief, precious interval, I caught a glimpse of what Ruitan could one day become again.
Walking through the corridors, I heard the steady, rhythmic strike of hammers upon anvils — no longer used to forge chains or instruments of torment, but to repair supports, doors, and roofs that no one had bothered to fix in decades.
In one of the courtyards, a group of older men worked together to set heavy wooden beams in place. One of them, his back bent from a lifetime of suffering, paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and smiled at the companion beside him.
"Look at that, Kael," he said, patting the beam they had just secured. "Soon enough, the rain won't pour through these holes anymore. For the first time, this roof is actually here to protect us."
Further along, near the chimneys, the rich scent of baking bread mingled with the ever‑present soot of the furnaces — a strange mixture, yet one that felt like a victory against the harsh world around us. Some of the women had set up simple makeshift ovens, and the steam rising from them carried a fragrance many there had long since forgotten.
"Easy with that fire, Mistress Mara," another woman teased, adjusting a pot over the glowing embers. "We don't want the bread turning harder than the stones beneath our feet, or we'll end up using it to drive nails as well!"
The laughter that followed was soft and timid, as if afraid of making too much noise and waking the nightmare they had only just escaped — but it was real.
The constant weeping of children had given way to curious whispers and quiet games. I watched a group of boys and girls run along the base of a wall, stopping now and then to observe the adults working. One of them pointed toward the sky, where smoke still rose, yet no longer carried the same heavy, suffocating weight.
We had planted a seed of hope right in the heart of hell.
It was still small, fragile, its roots barely sunk into the hardened earth — but it was there, alive and beating.
Yet hell, as I was about to learn, does not let anyone steal what it claims as its own without demanding payment in blood.
I was on the second level, helping to stack crates of supplies in the old guards' storage room, when the first warning reached us.
It was a vibration.
It began faint, almost unnoticeable — just a low hum that made the tools resting on the workbench tremble slightly. I paused while lifting a sack of grain and frowned, tilting my head to listen more closely.
"Did you feel that?" I asked the young man named Ryan, who was helping me sort through jars of medicine.
He stopped at once, eyes widening, and pressed his palm flat against the stone wall.
"Yes… it feels as though the ground itself is breathing," he replied, his voice already growing tight with unease. "But I've never felt anything like this before — not even when the machines ran at full power."
The tremor swelled in strength within seconds. It felt as if the entire structure of the East Forge was being shaken awake by a slumbering giant.
"What's happening?" someone shouted from the courtyard below. "Is it an earthquake?"
"No!" Arthur's voice boomed back, loud and clear, echoing up the stairwells. "Someone is coming."
The vibration deepened, growing heavier and more oppressive — like an immense force marching straight toward us, each step so heavy that the ground had no choice but to yield beneath it. Windows rattled in their frames, and a thin crack began to snake its way across the storage room wall.
The seed of hope we had planted seemed to shudder, threatened even before it could take firm root.
In that moment, I knew: the peace we had enjoyed was nothing more than a short pause before the storm. The master of this place had sensed the intrusion — and he was coming to reclaim what he believed belonged to him, bringing with him all the cruelty and power that had turned Ruitan into the hell it was.
The interval between each jolt was precise, measured, following a cruel and unchanging rhythm.
They were footsteps.
Kael, the elderly draconian, his yellow eyes worn and weary from decades of hardship, stared wide and unblinking at the massive double iron gates — the very same gates Arthur had spent hours reinforcing, bolting them with steel beams and stacking heavy boulders to make them impenetrable.
"By the old gods…" he whispered, his voice cracking, torn loose from a despair he had carried buried inside him for years. "That rhythm… that weight… I know it all too well."
It's him.
Vanki.
Before I could open my mouth to shout and order everyone to retreat to safer areas, the world around us seemed to explode in a single, deafening instant.
A roar of sound tore through the air, making our eardrums ring and sending blood pounding hard in our temples. The main gate — those two towering slabs of solid iron, reinforced and braced — did not hold for even a heartbeat. It simply blew inward, shattered as if struck by a hammer the size of a mountain.
Shards of twisted metal, jagged spikes, and heavy blocks of stone were hurled across the courtyard as if they were made of dry, brittle paper. They crashed into the transport belts, crushed piles of coal and glowing slag, and ricocheted off the walls with sharp, violent cracks. A thick, dark, choking cloud of dust, soot, and debris rose instantly, swallowing the entire entrance and spreading fast across the open space, reducing visibility to almost nothing.
Panic erupted like a wildfire.
"Get out of the way!" someone screamed, their voice muffled by the noise and rising fear.
A young draconian, who only moments before had been helping carry supplies, tripped over his own feet and fell to his knees, eyes wide and glistening with pure terror. Beside him, a woman clutched her small child tight against her chest, covering the boy's head with her arms as she ran toward the side corridors, whispering prayers she could barely hear herself.
Kael stood frozen for a heartbeat, his legs shaking so violently he nearly collapsed, before dragging himself backward and pressing his back against the wall as if it were the only thing left holding him upright. Shouts of confusion, fear, and pain mixed with the sound of rolling stones and groaning beams, turning the courtyard into a blind, desperate scramble as everyone sought shelter wherever they could find it.
As the dust swirled and slowly began to settle, a towering silhouette took shape in the wrecked opening. Backlit by the dim, sickly light of the ash‑choked sky, it looked like a living mountain just risen from the earth.
And then, he stepped fully into view.
Vanki stood there.
His colossal frame filled nearly the entire width of the entrance. His armor of black and gray plates was scored with scratches and streaked with dried blood, catching the faint light as dust drifted down around him. In his grip he held a double‑headed war axe so massive an ordinary man could not have lifted it, its broad, worn blade glinting with a cold, deadly edge.
He took one heavy step forward, and the ground shook once more, as if acknowledging the weight of a being that did not belong here.
But while everyone around me shrank back or fled in blind panic, I did not take a single step away.
The moment the thunder of the shattered gate faded, Arthur was already moving.
"Everyone, back!" he roared, his deep, powerful voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Get to safety!"
I moved as well, with speed and precision. The uncertainty and worry I had felt only moments before vanished in an instant, replaced by sharp, absolute focus. My fingers opened and closed slowly, and I felt the energy answer my call: a deep, vibrant green aura rose to wrap around my arms and torso, causing loose stones and floating dust motes to hover gently in the air all around me.
"He hasn't come to inspect or to talk," I said, low and firm, only for those closest to hear, as I spread my awareness out through the ground beneath our feet. "The aura he carries is nothing but brute force… and nothing else."
Vanki slowly lifted his head, and the gaze he turned upon us felt heavy enough to crush mountains. His eyes burned with a mix of hatred and throbbing pain in his injured shoulder, and he swept over each of us with a contempt so thick it felt almost tangible. A twisted, cruel grin spread across his thick lips.
"Well, well…" he rumbled, his voice echoing like thunder trapped between stone walls, low and dripping with scorn. "I didn't expect to find rats from Lavinsk here."
He knows where we come from? I thought, a chill running down my spine. Surprise mixed with suspicion — I had not expected him to recognize our origins so easily.
"Vanki was, for many years, an honorable warrior within the walls of Lavinsk," Arthur said, holding his ground and staring unblinkingly up at the giant. "But when he strayed from his path and turned into a butcher and bounty hunter, he lost every right to the name he once bore."
Vanki let out a dry, bitter laugh that seemed to vibrate deep in my bones.
"Thank you for the history lesson, Arthur the Immortal."
I watched Arthur's hands slowly curl into fists, his knuckles turning white and the veins along his arms bulging beneath his skin — a clear sign those words had struck exactly where they hurt.
"Though to be honest," the general went on, tilting his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and rage, "I truly did not expect to find intruders from Lavinsk — let alone disciples of the Silver One."
"Killing you will certainly bring me trouble with my Lord Tsukumo, of that I have no doubt."
He tightened his grip on the axe handle until the wood groaned under the pressure.
"But that will not stop me from making you pay, with every drop of blood in your bodies, for what you have done here."
In the same instant, I heard Arthur call my name — steady, calm, cutting through the tension that felt like a hand closing around my throat.
"Suki."
"Hm?" I replied, turning my full attention to him, feeling some of the heavy pressure on my chest ease just from having him at my side.
"I have never given you an order, nor forced you to do anything against your will," he said, never taking his eyes off the enemy standing before us. "Which is why I ask that this time, you listen in silence… and trust what I am about to tell you."
Arthur glanced quickly over his shoulder. Further back, he saw Laura already organizing the evacuation: the people streamed past in hurried lines, faces marked with fear, but moving as she directed toward the safer paths away from the fighting.
"Go and help Laura with the evacuation. I will handle Vanki."
At once, I dismissed my transformation, and the green aura surrounding me faded away like smoke in a breeze. I turned back to face him, wide‑eyed and disbelieving.
"Are you out of your mind? Laura is more than capable of managing this on her own!" I shot back, my voice rising higher than I intended, sharp with frustration and worry.
"Suki… just go," Arthur insisted. His tone did not change, but it carried a firmness that left no room for argument.
I stared deep into his eyes and saw only unwavering sincerity — he had already made his choice, and he would not be swayed.
"Damn it," I muttered. In a burst of frustration, I drove my fist hard against the thick iron pillar beside us. The impact sent a tremor through the entire structure, shaking loose a shower of dust and small stone chips from the ceiling.
"Just as soon as Laura and I get everyone to a safe place, we're coming straight back," I warned, my voice heavy with promise.
I slammed my fist against his shoulder in a rough gesture of farewell, then called upon the power of the Wind Transformation. A soft, humming energy wrapped around my body, and in the blink of an eye I was gone, speeding away toward where Laura was directing the escape.
"Such courage!" Vanki called out, his tone mocking as he shifted his full attention to Arthur. "You want to die alone to save the others? How noble… and completely useless."
"You have already seen what my strength can do, Arthur."
"I have seen far more than that over the years," Arthur countered, slowly closing his fists as a dense, swirling green aura began to rise around him like mist creeping over cold earth. "I have watched empires crumble, seen mighty warriors bow to fear, and once‑honorable men turn into nothing more than trash."
"And I do not see you winning this fight."