The grain silo held its breath for the second morning running, and the city watched through the feed as politely as people in a hospital corridor.
Hajin stood at the center floor beside the first anchor, and one Ring turned slowly around his forearm.
"The count," Juna said from the door, exactly as promised.
"One Ring, one body, one attempt," Hajin answered, and the terms were witnessed before anything moved.
"The mission is simply to stand up, nothing more than that."
"A body whose entire job is existing," Ferra said from her instrument table, recalibrating the anchor one final time.
"The archive's Beast started its valley work the same way, small mission first."
He shaped the mana outline the way the record had shown, a body of flow rather than flesh, socketed to the single Ring like a coat hung on one nail.
The outline grew hands, then arms, then a torso of moving gold. For three full seconds, the silo held two Hajins, one breathing plus one built.
