Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Valiant Maus perched on Thormund’s massive shoulder, whiskers twitching in the damp air of the empty Undertow. The corridor stretched before them like the gullet of some ancient beast—all crumbling stone, flickering torchlight, and the constant drip-drip-drip of water from above. Smelled like piss and mold and fear, which was pretty much the Undertow’s signature scent.

Not that Valiant minded. When you’re four inches tall, everything smells too strong.

”Ready, little boss?” Thormund’s voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating under Valiant’s paws.

”Born ready,” Valiant replied, though his heart hammered against his tiny ribcage.

Twenty-seven men followed behind them. Twenty-seven who’d stayed loyal to Uncle Cisco. Twenty-seven who hadn’t turned their backs when Marco wrapped his fingers around his uncle’s throat and—

No, don’t think about that now. Focus.

Valiant’s mind skipped to the crude map Lars had drawn. Take the south tunnel, third right, then second left. Marco’s headquarters would be at the end of that corridor. Straight shot. Easy.

Unless Lars lied, in which case we’re walking into a trap, and I’ve led twenty-seven people to their deaths.

No, no, no. Don’t think about that either.

”Hey,” Thormund whispered, his breath smelling of the cheap rum he’d downed before they set out. ”What’s going on in that little head of yours?”

”Calculating odds,” Valiant lied. Well, partial lie. He had been calculating odds earlier. They weren’t great. ”Thinking about the quickest way to gut Marco if I get the chance.”

Thormund chuckled. ”That’s the spirit.”

They turned right at the fork. The torches grew fewer here, shadows stretching longer, darker. Perfect ambush territory. Valiant’s tail curled tight around Thormund’s neck for balance.

”If I die tonight,” Valiant said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, ”make sure the mage gets my cheese collection. Kid appreciates quality things. And tell that rat girl at the bakery I was the one who left those flowers. She’ll know what it means.”

Thormund didn’t miss a step. ”Save your farewells for when I’m old and even more stubborn than I am now. Tonight, you’re not dying.”

”Sure, but if I do—”

”You won’t.”

”But hypothetically—”

”We’re not doing hypotheticals.” Thormund cut him off, adjusting his grip on his massive battle axe. ”You’ve got plans. Revenge for your uncle. Making him proud. And wasn’t there something about electrical powers?”

Valiant’s ears perked up despite himself. ”Yeah! The mage said he might be able to use alchemy to give me electrical abilities. Like, I could zap people who try to grab me. Or maybe even kill if I really tried. Think how useful I’d be!”

”More useful than you are now, chatterbox?” One of the men said from behind.

”I’m multitasking,” Valiant protested, eyes darting to a side passage they passed. Empty. Good. ”Planning revenge, navigating, AND thinking about potential elemental affinities.”

The men laughed.

His paws instinctively reached for the tiny sword strapped to his back—a needle-like blade, carefully forged to his size by Fili. Perfect for puncturing eyes or slicing throats of those who got too close. Useful when you weighed less than a loaf of bread but had a list of enemies longer than your tail.

The corridor widened as they approached an intersection. Their path continued straight ahead, but tension vibrated through Valiant’s body. They were close now. Too close for comfort.

His thoughts raced, jumping like fleas between concerns. Had Adom reached the professor yet? What if Marco wasn’t even here? What if the whole night was a waste and they’d die for nothing and—

Stop it. Uncle Cisco always said a racing mind was useful until it wasn’t.

Valiant forced himself to breathe slow, counting each inhale. One, two, three...

When he opened his eyes again, they’d reached the final turn. Just around this corner, Lars had said, would be Marco’s main chamber. Where he planned, where he plotted, where he betrayed everyone who’d ever trusted him.

”Wait,” Valiant hissed, and Thormund froze mid-step.

The smell hit him first—tobacco, leather, sweat. Too many humans in one place. The soft murmur of voices floated from around the corner. Not guard chatter. Something more organized. A meeting?

Valiant’s ears strained forward. ”They’re waiting for us.”

Thormund’s muscles tensed beneath him. ”Trap?”

”Maybe.” Valiant gripped the hilt of his tiny sword. ”But they don’t know we know. That gives us an edge.”

”Not much of one,” Thormund muttered, but he signaled the men behind them to prepare.

They rounded the corner.

The chamber opened before them, wider than Valiant had expected. Marco stood in the center, surrounded by at least thirty men—all armed, all watching the entrance. Behind them, tables with maps and papers. Planning something big, then.

What caught Valiant’s attention, though, was Marco himself. He’d changed since that night. Cut his hair short, military-style. New scars on his face. Harder eyes.

”New cut?” Valiant called out, voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Marco’s gaze found him on Thormund’s shoulder.

”Yes,” Marco replied, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. ”Seemed appropriate for a change in management.”

The two groups stood facing each other, weapons ready but not yet raised. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

”You know,” Marco continued, his voice deceptively conversational, ”I didn’t want it to go this way, Valiant. Your uncle gave me no choice.”

”Really?” Valiant’s tail lashed behind him. ”Because from where I was sitting—watching you choke the life out of him—it looked like you had all the choices in the world.”

Marco’s jaw tightened. ”You didn’t hear our discussion before you arrived. About the mage. The Star Knight. Your uncle was going to get us all killed, being stubborn, protecting a child nobody knew. The price on his head—”

”Was worth more than loyalty?” Thormund growled, his massive frame tensing beneath Valiant.

”Was going to bring the Star Knight down on all our heads,” Marco shot back. ”Cisco wouldn’t listen to reason. Yes, our business is based on the trust between us and the customer, but in that one situation, it could have been so simple. But he forced my hand. For what? Some academy brat?”

”For what was right,” Valiant said, the words burning his throat. ”But you wouldn’t understand that concept, would you?”

Marco’s men shifted positions, spreading out along the sides of the chamber. Valiant could feel Thormund’s pulse quicken through the fabric of his shirt. The air in the chamber had turned cold somehow, despite the torches lining the walls. Or maybe that was just the chill of looking into the eyes of the man who’d murdered his uncle.

”I did what had to be done,” Marco said. ”To save the rest of us. To save the Dregs.”

”You did what was easy,” Valiant countered. ”And now you’re going to find out exactly how bad that decision was.”

Marco’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his knuckles whitening. For the first time, something like uncertainty crossed his face as he looked at the men behind Thormund—men who had once followed him, now standing against him.

”Last chance,” Marco said, his voice hardening again. ”Walk away now, all of you. This doesn’t have to end in blood.”

Valiant drew his tiny blade, the metal catching the torchlight. It looked like nothing in his paw—a sliver of silver against the darkness. Ridiculous, probably, to anyone watching. A mouse with a toothpick against a man with a sword.

”You’re wrong, Marco,” he said, bearing his teeth in what might have passed for a smile if not for the cold fury behind it. ”You know the rules out our line of work. After what you did, this always had to end in blood. Yours, specifically.”

Marco drew. His men shouted.

And with that, Thormund let out a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, and the corridor erupted into chaos.

*****

Above the lighthouse of Arkhos, where Law Borealis himself had first lit the eternal flame centuries ago, Adom floated cross-legged in the falling snow. His breath formed small clouds in the air as he meditated, eyes closed, focusing on the steady thrum of Fluid through his body.

Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, dark masses promising heavy snow by the hour of the wolf.

Below, Arkhos blazed with more light than he’d ever seen - torches lined every street, magical lanterns hung from poles, as if the whole city was trying to push back the darkness. Up here, though, the old lighthouse’s flame cast everything in flickering blue, making the snowflakes dance like fairies.

From his vantage point, he could see it all.

The streets were empty of civilian life - no children playing, no couples walking, no old men at their usual spots, not even stray cats or dogs. Just uniforms and weapons and tension.

Imperial soldiers patrolling in tight formations. Guards and warrior mages from the council moving in pairs through the streets. And there, beyond the harbor where ice crept along the shoreline, his father’s fleet waited like sleeping giants on the black water. The Iron Wolves’ war galleys, their dark sails furled, ready.

The silence spoke louder than words. No one had said it outright, no official declaration had been made, but everyone in Arkhos knew - something was going to happen tonight.

You could taste it in the air, see it in how soldiers gripped their weapons just a little tighter, how the warrior mages kept their hands ready for weaving, how even the eternal flame above seemed to flicker with anticipation.

It was the kind of tension that made you count the hours until dawn, wondering if you’d see the sun rise.

Adom wanted to see that sunrise. Not just for himself, but for all of them - the soldiers below who were just following orders, the city guards caught in the middle of something bigger than themselves, even those Imperial troops who probably had families waiting for them somewhere.

All he had to do, was succeed. Succeed, and the blood that would be spilled tonight - because there would be blood no matter what - will be minimal.

Adom breathed in, letting his mind drift over everything that had led him here. The Mage Council was in session now, the Archmage himself present. Sir Gaius, living legend had come to investigate the case of a single professor. Sam had done his part well - Merris knew everything now. Would he come?

His mother’s face flashed through his mind. She wanted to go to the council. Tell them what was going on, and ask for their support.

He hadn’t argued.

Somewhere in the city, Valiant was gathering his people. Noss would be here soon, and so would Hugo and Kaius.

It felt strange, preparing for real battle. In his previous life he’d been a researcher, buried in books and experiments. The few times he’d fought had been desperate situations, survival rather than strategy. And now...

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind him, accompanied by whispers carried on the wind.

”Up there, I think-”

”Is that him?”

”Can’t tell from here...”

Adom turned, still floating, and couldn’t help but smile as two familiar figures emerged from the lighthouse stairwell.

”...Adom?” Hugo’s voice was hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing.

Adom let himself drift down to the snow-covered platform. ”Hey guys.”

They stared at him for a moment - Hugo with his massive frame wrapped in a heavy coat, Kaius lean and alert as always - before both moved at once.

”Why, you little-!” Kaius got to him first, pulling him into a bear hug that nearly crushed his ribs. Hugo joined in, his strength making both of them stumble.

”Where the hell were you?” Hugo’s voice was rough with emotion. ”We looked everywhere. Every street, every alley-”

”Even went down to the Dregs,” Kaius added, finally releasing him but keeping one hand on his shoulder, like he might disappear again. ”Got into three fights just asking questions.”

”Yeah, I heard about that.” Adom looked between them, taking in the changes. A fresh scar on Kaius’s chin, dark circles under Hugo’s eyes. ”Sam told me you were planning to hit the Undertow.”

”Damn right we were,” Hugo growled. ”Still are, if you need-” He stopped, squinting at Adom’s face. ”Wait. Your glasses. Where are your...”

”And your hair,” Kaius reached out, touching the white streak. ”What happened to you?”

”Did Sam not tell you?” Adom asked. ”About the dungeon?”

”He told us you were trapped there,” Kaius said, his eyes on the white streak in Adom’s hair. ”But not much else. For your hair to go like that... must’ve been bad.”

”Very,” Adom said.

Hugo shifted uncomfortably. ”Listen, about Fox... I should’ve seen something was wrong. All those times, I-”

”You couldn’t have known,” Adom said. ”None of us did.”

”Think Kim’s down there somewhere?” Hugo asked, looking over the city.

”Maybe. Valiant’s got someone from their side - says they’re keeping prisoners in the Undertow. Using them for research.”

”What kind of research?” Kaius asked.

”The prototype he was working on, I suppose,” Adom replied.

Hugo’s jaw tightened. ”Right. Then we better find him.”

”THERE’S MY FAVORITE LITTLE SHIT!”

The booming voice made Hugo and Kaius spin around, magic already crackling at their fingertips - Hugo’s fire spell blazing to life, Kaius’s wind barrier half-formed. They’d heard nothing, not a single footstep on the stairs, and now this giant was just there.

”Wait-” Adom caught their wrists before they could launch their spells. ”He’s friendly!”

Noss’s massive frame blocked the stairwell entrance, his beard crusted with fresh snow. He looked exactly like Adom remembered - like a bear someone had stuffed into human clothes. But he wasn’t alone. Four other figures emerged behind him, each wearing the distinctive dark armor of the Iron Wolves.

”Uncle Noss,” Adom started, but didn’t get to finish. The big man crossed the platform in two strides and scooped him up like he weighed nothing.

”Look at you!” Noss laughed, spinning him around once before dropping him back in the snow. ”Last time I saw you, you were this high-” he held his hand at waist level. ”Now you’re all grown up and starting wars!”

”I’m not starting a war-”

”Sure, sure.” Noss ruffled his hair, then squinted at the white streak. ”Huh. That’s new. Trying to copy your old uncle’s style?” He stroked his own grey-streaked beard.

One of the knights behind him - a broad-shouldered woman with a scar running along her jawline - stepped forward. ”So this is the commander’s kid? Thought he’d be taller.”

”That’s Vex,” Noss said, gesturing to the woman. ”Best tracker in the Iron Wolves. Can find a needle in a haystack, then use that needle to kill three men.”

Vex rolled her eyes. ”It was five men, and you know it.”

Another knight - older, with salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his scalp - nodded at Adom. ”Dirk. I served with your father when he was still climbing the ranks. Beat his ass in knife-throwing competitions twice a month.”

”And lost the other two weeks,” a third knight chimed in - massive like Noss but completely bald, with intricate tattoos visible on his neck above his armor. ”I’m Bram. Your father saved my life at the Battle of Ravenspire.”

The fourth knight stepped forward, noticeably younger than the others - maybe late twenties, with a boyish face that seemed at odds with his scarred hands. ”Anders. Joined up after your father was already commander.” He grinned. ”These old bastards are always telling stories about him. Half of them can’t be true.”

”Oh, they’re true,” Noss assured him.

Hugo and Kaius stood frozen, staring at the five Iron Wolves who’d appeared from nowhere.

”Oh,” Adom gestured to them. ”These are my friends - Hugo and Kaius. Guys, this is Noss. He serves with my father.”

”Serves!” Noss bellowed another laugh. ”I’ve been saving your father’s ass since before you were born, boy. Matter of fact, I trained that bastard!” He turned to Hugo and Kaius, looking them up and down. ”So you’re the ones who’ve been watching this troublemaker’s back?”

”We try,” Kaius said, finding his voice first. ”Though he doesn’t make it easy.”

”Ha! Sounds about right. This one’s been giving people grey hairs since he could walk. Remember that time with the war hammer?”

”I do. I was what, six?”

”Nearly crushed your own foot. Your mother didn’t speak to me for a week.”

Vex moved closer, studying Adom’s face. ”Definitely got more of Elaine in you than your father. Same eyes.” She reached out and flicked the white streak in his hair. ”This is new, though. What happened?”

”Long story,” Adom said.

”Involving a dungeon, if rumors are true,” Dirk added, arms crossed. ”Heard you were missing for days.”

Hugo stepped forward, somehow finding his confidence. ”He was. We searched everywhere.”

”Even fought our way into the Dregs looking for him,” Kaius added, clearly not wanting to be outdone in front of these warriors.

Anders whistled. ”Academy kids with some spine! Didn’t think they made those anymore.”

”They do when they’re friends with Adom, apparently.” Kaius said.

”Sounds like his father,” Bram rumbled, sharing a knowing look with Noss.

”Remember that time in Kirask?” Noss grinned. ”When he decided the best way to infiltrate the rebel camp was to-”

”Disguise himself as a wine merchant,” Dirk finished, ”only to discover the rebels were all following some religious law about not drinking.”

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”So he convinced them he was selling ’holy water’ from some made-up shrine,” Vex continued, ”and by the time we arrived with reinforcements-”

”He had half the camp passed out drunk on ’blessed wine’ that would ’reveal divine visions,’” Bram concluded. ”Clever bastard.”

”So the troublemaking is hereditary,” Hugo said, elbowing Adom. ”That explains a lot.”

Adom laughed heartily. ”At least I come by it honestly.”

”And now look at you,” Noss continued, clearly enjoying himself. ”All grown up and planning rebellion. Brings a tear to my eye.”

”It’s not a rebellion,” Adom muttered. ”Just a minor uprising. At most.”

”Speaking of plans,” Dirk said, his tone growing more serious, ”your father briefed us on the basics, but we need the details for tonight.”

Vex cracked her knuckles. ”And we’re here to provide the muscle.”

”Damn right,” Bram agreed. ”So fill us in on the specifics, kid. How exactly are we handling this Gale character and extracting your professor?”

Hugo and Kaius both looked at Adom expectantly.

He took a deep breath. ”Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do...”

*****

After Adom finished explaining the plan, Hugo whistled low. ”That... could work. Risky as hell, but brilliant.”

”The timing has to be perfect though,” Kaius added, pacing the snowy platform. ”If we’re off by even a minute...”

”That’s why you have me,” Noss said, clapping a massive hand on Kaius’s shoulder, nearly making his knees buckle. ”Been coordinating attacks since before any of you were born.”

”And the rest of us aren’t exactly new to this either,” Vex added dryly.

”I still think the direct approach would work better,” Anders said, fingering the hilt of his sword. ”Hit hard, hit fast.”

”The professor’s safety comes first,” Adom insisted. ”We don’t know what kind of failsafes Gale might have set up. If he feels cornered...”

Dirk nodded. ”Kid’s right. Clean extraction is the priority.”

”Without killing Gale,” Adom emphasized. ”We need what’s in his head.”

Hugo frowned, looking at their group. ”So how are we splitting up?”

Adom pulled out a rough map of the Undertow. ”Three teams. I’ll take Vex and Anders to find the professor. Your tracking skills will help us move fast,” he nodded to Vex, ”and we’ll need someone who can react quickly if we run into trouble,” he added to Anders.

”Makes sense,” Vex said with a nod.

”Hugo, Kaius - you’ll go with Noss,” Adom continued. ”Your magic complements his fighting style, and you’ll be handling the eastern approach.”

Noss grinned. ”I’ve always wanted to see academy magic up close.”

”What about Dirk and Bram?” Kaius asked.

Adom smiled. ”They’ll be team three, with our ninth member.”

”Ninth member?” Hugo looked around. ”Did I miss something?”

Adom raised his hand and the golem emerged onto the platform, its massive armored form silhouetted against the night sky.

”Sweet merciful gods,” Anders breathed, eyes wide.

”Is that what I think it is?” Vex stepped forward, circling the construct with professional appreciation.

Bram let out a low whistle. ”A golem. Never seen one of that sophisticated before.”

”And it can use Fluid,” Adom said with pride. ”It’s faster, stronger, and the enchantments are layered for maximum efficiency. It will also be able to teleport with you to me if you touch it. So, in case I find gale and we need backup...”

Noss’s beard twitched, and then he let out a deep, rumbling laugh that seemed to shake the snow from the railings. ”Oh, you crafty little bastard. They won’t know what hit them until we’re showing them exactly what the gates of hell look like.”

”Your father didn’t mention this part,” Vex said, running a hand along the golem’s armored forearm.

”This keeps getting better and better,” Bram rumbled.

”So it’s settled,” Adom said. ”Team one: me, Vex, and Anders - we find Professor Kim. Team two: Noss, Hugo, and Kaius - you handle the eastern approach and create a diversion if needed. Team three: Dirk, Bram, and the golem - you position for the ambush on Gale.”

”And if Gale’s with the professor when you find him?” Dirk asked.

”We neutralize him if possible,” Adom replied. ”If not, we lead him toward your position. Either way, we don’t engage him directly unless absolutely necessary.”

”Just promise me one thing,” Noss said, suddenly serious as he put a heavy hand on Adom’s shoulder. ”If it goes wrong - if Gale’s too much - you run. You hear me? You get your professor and you run.”

”I promise,” Adom said, meeting his gaze directly.

”Good.” Noss straightened up, his usual boisterous manner returning. ”Now, let’s go raise some hell.”

*****

Jax couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

His hand kept drifting to his sword hilt as he patrolled the empty corridor, torch flames casting dancing shadows on the damp stone walls.

There - a movement? He spun around, blade half-drawn, heart hammering.

Nothing. Just shadows and silence.

”Get it together,” he muttered, continuing his patrol. The Undertow was quieter than usual tonight. Even the prisoners were silent, which was... weird. They usually moaned or sobbed or something.

Another flicker in his peripheral vision. Jax whirled again, sword singing free of its scabbard this time. ”Who’s there?”

Steel met steel with a harsh ring.

”For fuck’s sake, Jax!” Devon knocked Jax’s blade aside with his own. ”Have you lost your damn mind?”

Jax’s face burned as he lowered his weapon. ”Sorry. Sorry. I’m just... on edge.”

”No shit.” Devon sheathed his sword, shaking his head. ”That’s the third time this week you’ve nearly taken my head off. What’s got you so spooked?”

Jax ran a hand through his hair, looking around the corridor again. ”I don’t know. Just... got a feeling, you know? Like something’s about to happen.”

”A feeling,” Devon repeated flatly.

”Yeah. Like...” Jax struggled to put it into words. ”Remember before that big earthquake two years back? How all the rats suddenly vanished from the sewers?”

”What’s that got to do with anything?”

”It’s like that. Everything feels... wrong. Too quiet. Even my little girl - she never cries when I leave for work, right? Tonight she wouldn’t let go of my leg. Screamed bloody murder when I had to go.”

Devon’s expression softened slightly. ”How old is she now?”

”Eight months next week.” Jax smiled despite his nerves. ”Starting to crawl everywhere. Wife’s going crazy trying to keep up with her.”

”Listen,” Devon said, leaning against the wall. ”You’re not wrong about things being weird. But jumping at shadows won’t help. If something does happen - what exactly do you think you’ll be able to do about it?”

”I-”

”If it’s a Star Knight? We’re dead. If it’s one of those council mages? We’re very dead. And if it’s both?” Devon shrugged. ”Might as well lie down and save them the trouble.”

”That’s not funny.”

”Wasn’t trying to be.” Devon pushed off the wall. ”Look, I’ve seen what those mages can do. Remember Garrett? All that training, all that experience - didn’t mean shit when that mage got hold of him. They found pieces of him three streets away.”

Jax swallowed hard.

”At least we have Gale,” he said, gripping his sword tighter. ”He’s strong enough to-”

Devon’s laugh cut him off. ”Are you serious? You think Gale’s going to save us?”

”He’s Star Knight level! He’s got this whole place under-”

”Jax, Jax, Jax.” Devon shook his head. ”Use your head. You know what’s sitting in our harbor right now? Four hundred other Star Knight level warriors. The Iron Wolves. What’s Gale gonna do against that? Fight them all?”

Jax opened his mouth, but Devon was on a roll.

”One Star Knight against four hundred? Those aren’t odds, those’re suicide numbers. And let me tell you something else - you want to know why I’m here?” Devon started pacing. ”Money. Pure and simple. Good pay, decent hours - well, usually - and all I have to do is let the fighters know when weird shit happens. But the second things go south?” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. ”I’m gone. No loyalty, no last stands, nothing. Because I’m not stupid.”

”Devon-”

”And between you and me? Gale talks big, acts tough, but even he’s got to know he’s-”

”Devon!”

”What?” Devon finally noticed Jax’s wide eyes, the way he kept looking over Devon’s shoulder. The blood drained from his face. ”...he’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

A low chuckle filled the corridor. ”Now that,” Gale’s voice was thick with amusement, ”was entertaining.”

Gale balanced a tray of food in one hand, looking more amused than anything else. Steam rose from what looked like beef stew, the smell making Jax’s stomach growl despite his fear.

”Sir, I- I didn’t mean-” Devon stammered, backing up until he hit the wall. ”Please don’t kill me, I was just running my mouth, I-”

”Kill you?” Gale raised an eyebrow, taking a spoonful of the stew. ”Now why would I do something stupid like that? Who’s gonna patrol these halls if you’re dead? Me?” He snorted. ”I’ve got better things to do than walk in circles all night.”

Devon blinked, thrown off by the response. ”But... but I said-”

”That we’re in deep shit?” Gale grinned, showing too many teeth. ”Well, you’re not wrong there. Four hundred Iron Wolves.” He took another bite, speaking around the food. ”Real party we’ve got brewing.”

Jax and Devon exchanged confused looks.

”Though I gotta say,” Gale continued, gesturing with his spoon, ”you boys are worried about the wrong thing. The Iron Wolves?” He laughed. ”They’re just the obvious threat. The ones you can see coming.” His grin turned sharp. ”It’s the ones you don’t see that’ll really ruin your day.”

”Sir?” Jax ventured.

”Go take a look outside. Beautiful night. Stars are out. Might be the last quiet one we get for a while.” Gale walked past them, heading toward the cells. ”Now if you’ll excuse me, got to have a chat with one of our guests. Been meaning to catch up.”

They watched him disappear down the corridor, whistling what sounded like a drinking song.

”Did he just...” Devon started.

”Yeah.”

”And we’re...”

”Not dead, somehow.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

”Should we...”

”Look outside?” Jax finished. ”Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

Gale walked down the corridor, enjoying his stew.

He stopped at a heavy wooden door, different from the others. Nicer. Almost like a real bedroom door, not a cell. He balanced the tray in one hand and knocked.

”Professor?”

Silence.

He knocked again. ”Come on, I know you can hear me in there. Your breathing changed when I walked up.”

”Go away.” The voice was muffled, tired.

Gale sighed. ”I’m coming in. Hope you’re decent - actually, you know what? Even if you’re not, I’m still coming in. Fair warning.”

He shifted the tray, unlocked the door, and pushed it open with his hip.

Professor Kim lay sprawled on his bed - an actual bed, not a prison cot - staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. He didn’t even blink when Gale entered.

”Brought you dinner,” Gale said, setting the tray on the small table. ”Cook’s beef stew. It’s actually pretty good.” He took another spoonful from his own bowl. ”Even better with bread. Which, look at that-” he tapped the small loaf on the tray, ”-I happened to bring some. Could get you something to drink too, if you want. Wine? Beer? Whatever works for you.”

Kim kept staring at the ceiling.

”You know,” Gale continued, pulling up a chair, ”most prisoners would kill for this kind of treatment. Nice room, good food, actual furniture...” He gestured at the bookshelves lining the walls. ”Hell, we even let you keep your books.”

The professor’s only response was a slow blink.

Gale sighed, stirring his stew. ”Giving me the silence treatment, huh? Cold.”

He kept eating, the metal spoon scraping against the bowl. ”Look, sooner or later, the Iron Wolves are going to leave. And when they do?” He pointed the spoon at Kim. ”We’re taking you with us. Off the isles. And you’ll have to finish your work anyway.”

Another spoonful. ”Or... you could just give us the final pieces of your theories. We’ve got people who can develop it themselves. No need to keep you around after that. You could go home.”

Kim chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.

”I’m not joking.”

”Twenty-three years.” Kim finally turned to look at him, eyes hard. ”They took twenty-three years of my research and turned it into a weapon. And you think I’d willingly help complete it?”

He rolled over, facing the wall. ”Good luck finishing it. You won’t get anything from me.”

Gale opened his mouth to respond, but sharp knocks on the door cut him off.

”What is it?” He didn’t bother hiding his irritation.

”Sir! We’ve got movement in the lower sections. Multiple battles reported-”

”So what? Always someone trying something funny down here-”

”This is different, sir. We’ve lost contact with three patrol groups. Complete silence. And the southern checkpoint just went dark.”

Gale set his bowl down, previous amusement fading. ”Well then.” He stood up, glancing at Kim’s back. ”Guess we’ll have to continue this lovely chat later.”

Kim didn’t respond.

”Don’t let that stew get cold,” Gale called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. ”Be a shame to waste it.”

*****

Jax trudged through the snow, pulling his cloak tighter. ”Bloody blizzard’s getting worse.”

Devon walked beside him, squinting against the wind. ”Can barely see ten feet ahead.”

A group of guards rushed past them, weapons drawn, heading toward the western section. Jax and Devon exchanged looks, a knot forming in Jax’s stomach.

Devon grabbed one of the running men by the arm. ”Hey! What’s going on?”

The guard yanked his arm free, but stopped. ”Freemen attack in the Children of the Moon’s territory. Got some others with them too - not sure who. Took out two patrols already.”

”Shit,” Jax swore as the guard ran off. ”That’s it. I’m done. Tomorrow I’m applying for a merchant’s assistant position. Something safe, you know? Inside. With walls.”

”You’re panicking over nothing,” Devon scoffed. ”Probably just some idiots who got lucky.” He paused, shifting uncomfortably. ”Speaking of, I need to take a piss. Cover for me?”

”Seriously? Now?”

”When you gotta go...” Devon shrugged, heading toward a dark corner between buildings.

Jax could hear him muttering to himself as he unzipped. Then the sound of liquid hitting... something that definitely wasn’t snow or stone.

”What the-” Devon started.

”You know,” a calm voice said from the darkness, ”I really liked these boots. Bob made them special for me.”

Before Devon could turn, WAM, there was a dull thud and he crumpled with a whine, clutching his head.

”Devon?” Jax drew his sword, heart pounding. ”DEVON!”

A figure emerged from the shadows, and Jax’s blood ran cold.

The stranger knelt beside Devon’s groaning form, pulling something from his pocket - a small disk that glowed with arcane symbols.

”A mage...” Jax whispered, his sword suddenly feeling very inadequate.

The stranger - Adom, though Jax didn’t know that - pressed the talisman against Devon’s chest. It flashed once, and Devon went still, bound by whatever magic the disk contained.

”Sorry about that,” Adom said, standing up and brushing snow from his knees. ”But we can’t have you raising the alarm.” He turned to Jax, who took an involuntary step back. ”Now then...”

Jax looked at his sword, then at Adom, then at the escape routes around them. His chances weren’t good in any direction.

”I have a daughter,” Jax blurted out, his voice cracking. ”Eight months old. Please...”

Adom tilted his head, considering, and for the first time, Jax really saw him in the glow of his Fluid. His heart sank even further.

A boy. Just a boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, wearing a light set of armor that seemed to fit him like a second skin. Blue runes pulsed along what looked like battle gauntlets. Deep blue eyes studied Jax with an intensity that felt wrong on someone so young. Black hair with that stark white streak falling over his forehead.

The Fluid around him was terrifying - not because it was violent or aggressive, but because of how naturally it moved with him, coating his form like living blue fire.

”Then why are you still standing there?” Adom asked. ”Trying to protect your friend?”

Jax swallowed hard but held his ground, though his sword trembled slightly. The fact that he was being outmatched by a child somehow made it worse. ”Someone has to.”

”Admirable.” Adom reached into his pocket again, making Jax flinch. ”But unnecessary. He’ll wake up with nothing worse than a headache.” He pulled out another talisman. ”You, on the other hand...”

Jax raised his sword. ”Stay back!”

”Tell me something,” Adom said, ignoring the blade. ”If you could be anywhere else right now, where would it be?”

The question caught Jax off guard. ”What?”

”Simple question. Where would you rather be?”

”I... home. With my wife. And my daughter. We just got a cat, too. And she hates it when I work nights, and...” Jax blinked, wondering why he was telling this to someone who was about to kill or capture him.

”Good answer.” Adom moved faster than Jax could track. The sword went flying, and the talisman pressed against his chest. ”When you wake up, go home. Find a new job. This isn’t a place for family men.”

The last thing Jax saw before the magic took hold was Adom’s apologetic smile.

And so it began.

Adom moved through the shadows, mentally checking off the first part of the plan. Zone A secured, just as Lars had said. No casualties - just sleeping guards who’d wake up with headaches and, hopefully, better career choices.

Lars’s intel had been good so far. The prisoners in Zone A were just a bonus - the real targets were Gale and Marco. With Gale captured and subjected to mind magic, they’d have irrefutable proof of the Children of the Moon’s operations and potential connection to the Crown Prince. The Emperor would have no choice but to act, and his father’s defiance of the Prince’s orders would be justified.

That’s where the distractions came in. Right about now, Valiant and his people would be hitting Marco’s base in the Children of the Moon’s territory. Lots of noise, lots of chaos - exactly what they needed.

Meanwhile, Hugo, Kaius, the golem, and Noss would be waiting for Gale. Four-on-one odds, even against someone of his caliber. No room for surprises there.

What worried Adom more was what they might learn from Gale’s memories. In his past life, nothing had suggested the Emperor knew about Dragon’s Breath. The second use of the weapon had been on Sundarian soil, in Kati. If the Emperor was truly unaware...

Adom smiled grimly in the darkness. One problem at a time. First, they had to make sure everything went according to plan.

He moved. Two guards ahead - a quick flash of his talisman, and they dropped without a sound.

Three more around the corner. He struck from above, using the ceiling as leverage. WAM. BAM. WAM. Down they went, not even time to draw their weapons.

Time was running short. Soon, the Crown Prince would realize the two-day truce was a feint. He’d definitely order an attack on the Undertow, thinking to catch them off-guard. But the Iron Wolves were already in position, waiting.

Another patrol. Adom’s talismans found their marks before the guards could even register the blue glow of his Fluid. Their weapons clattered to the ground as they collapsed.

Somewhere above, steel would be clashing. Valiant’s distraction would be in full swing. But what mattered was happening deeper in the Undertow. Hugo, Kaius, Noss, and the golem needed to subdue Gale before the real fighting started.

Before the Crown Prince’s forces and the Iron Wolves turned the streets into a battlefield.

Adom paused at an intersection, listening. Footsteps approaching. Multiple targets. His hands reached for more talismans as blue Fluid coated his form like living fire.

Time to make every second count.

Boots pounding on stone - a patrol of six approaching. Adom rolled his shoulders, Fluid flowing through his muscles.

The first guard rounded the corner and caught a left hook that dropped him instantly. The second caught Adom’s knee to the solar plexus. Three and four drew weapons, but Adom was already between them, weaving simple binding spells while his fists did the real work. Five tried to shout a warning - caught an elbow to the throat instead. Six turned to run and got a sleep talisman to the back of the head.

[+3 Boxing Mastery]

[+4 Iron Lungs]

[+2 Fluid Control]

[+1 Flow Perception]

Too easy. Either Lars was right about them pulling forces to the surface, or they weren’t expecting trouble this deep in their territory.

The prisoner section loomed ahead. Cells lined both sides, some occupied, some empty. But there - at the end of the corridor - a door. Different. Almost like a bedroom door, not a cell.

Adom knocked. No answer.

He knocked again. Still nothing.

Third time.

”I told you I won’t talk! Go away!” The voice was hoarse, angry.

Adom’s eyes widened. That voice...

BAM! His Fluid-enhanced punch splintered the door. He stepped through - and immediately felt his mana dampen. Runes covered the walls, ceiling, floor. Anti-magic measures.

The figure by the bed spun around, dropping into a defensive stance. Professor Kim looked worse than Adom had ever seen him - hair wild, clothes rumpled, dark circles under his eyes. But alive.

Adom raised both hands. ”It’s me, Professor. It’s Adom!”

Kim’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he stumbled back against his bed. ”Is it truly you, young Adom? What are you- you can’t be here, it’s not safe, they’ll-” His hands fluttered nervously, eyes darting between Adom and the door. ”You need to leave, now, before they-”

”Professor,” Adom’s voice was steady. ”I came to rescue you.”

Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Adom tensed, prepared to fight – but then relaxed as he recognized the pattern.

”All clear!” Vex’s voice called out. She appeared in the doorway, her scar more pronounced in the dim light. ”We’ve secured the entire section. No sign of Gale.”

*****

From Law’s farmhouse, Kalyon watched the Iron Wolves’ fleet through his spyglass. Their lanterns dotted the black waters like fallen stars, forming an unbroken chain across every escape route to the mainland. His fingers tightened on the brass tube until his knuckles went white.

He lowered the spyglass and rubbed his eyes. Three days without proper sleep was catching up to him. The Crown Prince of Sundar shouldn’t be hiding in a farmhouse on the outskirts of Arkhos, squinting at enemy ships through a scratched lens. He should be in the Imperial Palace, directing operations from a position of strength.

Instead, he was here. Trapped.

Kalyon poured himself another glass of wine—cheap local stuff, nothing like the vintages from the Southern Provinces. His mouth twisted at the sour taste. An appropriate metaphor for his current situation.

He’d planned everything so carefully. Years of work, of negotiations, of risks. The Farmusian ambassadors had been skeptical at first, naturally. Five generations of warfare didn’t vanish overnight. But they’d listened when he’d laid out his proposition.

The Sundarian Empire was losing ground on three fronts: the Elvish Coalition pushing from the west, the Dwarven Clans reclaiming mountain territories in the north, and the Nomadic Tribes harassing supply lines in the east.

The Imperial Council had refused his proposal for a new weapon. ”Too costly,” they’d said. ”Too dangerous,” they’d argued. ”Not honorable,” they’d insisted. As if honor had ever won a war.

So he’d turned to Farmus. To his mother’s homeland. Old enemies, yes, but pragmatic ones. They understood the value of power. They’d provided the funding, the resources, the sanctuary for research. In return, they would receive protection against the Elvish Coalition, their own ancient enemies.

It was logical. Necessary. The only path forward.

And now it was all falling apart.

A map of the known world lay spread across the table, weighted down with empty wine bottles. Kalyon traced the borders of the Sundarian Empire with his finger. So vast, yet increasingly fragile. The Elvish Coalition had already taken three border towns in the west. The Dwarven Clans had reclaimed two mountain passes that had been under Imperial control for centuries. The Nomadic Tribes grew bolder with each passing season.

Without the weapon, the Empire would continue to bleed territory. Slowly but surely, decade by decade, until nothing remained but the memory of greatness.

Kalyon took another swig of wine. The Farmusians wouldn’t waste time if he failed. They’d wash their hands of him, deny all knowledge. ”The Crown Prince? Acting alone, against the wishes of his father? How shocking. No, we had no part in such treachery.”

His allies would become his accusers. The evidence—whatever remained after tonight—would point solely to him. As intended, of course. That had been part of the arrangement. Plausible deniability for Farmus. But he’d expected to succeed.

Kalyon picked up the spyglass again. More Iron Wolves ships had moved into position. A complete blockade. Commander Sylla wasn’t taking any chances.

Of course not. Adom’s father had always been thorough, if nothing else.

That boy. That damned boy. Somehow at the center of everything. Kalyon had reports about him. Too many coincidences surrounding him. Too many pieces falling into place too perfectly.

Something was very wrong there, but he couldn’t afford to focus on it now.

The walls seemed to close in around him. One farmhouse, with two exits, both watched. His elite guards were capable, but the Iron Wolves were better. If it came to direct conflict...

No. It wouldn’t. Gale would succeed. The professor would be extracted. The prototype secured. There was still a path forward, narrow though it might be.

And if not... well, there were contingencies for that too. Unpleasant ones.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

”Enter.”

A young soldier stepped in, bowing low. ”Your Highness, I bring news from the city.”

Kalyon set down his glass. ”Speak.”

”Our forces report heavy fighting in the Undertow. Multiple zones breached. Several of our outposts have gone silent.”

”And Gale?”

The soldier hesitated. ”We’ve lost contact, Your Highness. His last message through the pigeons indicated he was with the professor, but then...”

Kalyon closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were cold and clear. ”I see. And our contingency plans?”

”The assassins are in position. The Imperial troops await your command to engage the Iron Wolves.”

Kalyon nodded slowly. ”Very well. Tell the assassins to proceed. No witnesses, no evidence. Everything must be cleansed.”

”And the Imperial troops, Your Highness?”

”Have them engage the Iron Wolves’ perimeter forces. Nothing dramatic—I don’t want this escalating into open warfare between Imperial troops and the Wolves. Just enough to create confusion. Enough to give us a window.”

”For escape?” The soldier looked confused.

”For ensuring nothing remains to be found.” Kalyon walked to the fireplace, watching the flames. ”If we cannot secure the professor and his work, then we must ensure no one else can either. Order the fire teams to move in once the assassins complete their work.”

The soldier paled slightly. ”The entire Undertow, Your Highness?”

”If necessary.”

”That would mean hundreds of—”

”I’m aware of the cost.” Kalyon’s voice was sharp. ”But consider the alternative. If Commander Sylla discovers concrete evidence linking the Crown to the weapon... if proof reaches the Emperor...” He shook his head. ”Civil war would be the least of our worries. The Empire would fracture. Our enemies would descend like vultures. Millions would die, not hundreds.”

The soldier bowed, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to argue. ”I understand, Your Highness.”

”As for our exit strategy,” Kalyon continued, ”prepare the fastest ship we have. We’ll need to break through the blockade at the narrowest point, near the eastern shore.”

”But the Iron Wolves have—”

”I’m aware of what they have.” Kalyon cut him off. ”But we have no choice. Every moment we remain on this island increases our risk of capture.”

The soldier looked doubtful. ”Even our fastest vessel would be intercepted, Your Highness.”

”Would you prefer to face Commander Sylla and explain your part in all this?” Kalyon raised an eyebrow. ”I thought not. Prepare the ship. We leave as soon as the professor is secured, regardless of what happens in the Undertow.”

”Yes, Your Highness.” The soldier bowed again and retreated.

Alone once more, Kalyon returned to the window. He could almost feel the noose tightening. The Farmusians would deny him if he was captured. The Emperor—his father—would have no choice but to make an example of him. The weapon would remain unfinished, and the Empire would continue its slow decline.

Unless... unless he could salvage something from this disaster. If he could reach the mainland with even fragments of the professor’s research...

He lifted the spyglass again, counting Iron Wolves ships. Too many. Far too many for a simple retrieval operation.

Sylla knew something. Something important enough to deploy the bulk of his forces. Something important enough to risk the Emperor’s displeasure by breaking the truce.

What did he know? And how?

His hand tightened on the spyglass until he heard a faint crack. He set it down carefully before he broke it completely.

No time for paranoia now. Only action.

The next few hours would determine everything—the fate of the professor, of the weapon, of his own future, and possibly that of the Empire itself.

If Gale succeeded, there was still hope. If not...

Kalyon glanced at the map again, eyes lingering on the Elvish Coalition’s territories, the Dwarven Clans’ mountain strongholds, the vast plains controlled by the Nomadic Tribes. Enemies on all sides, closing in year by year.

He’d taken this path for the Empire. For its survival. History would understand, even if the present condemned him.

Assuming, of course, that he lived long enough for history to render its judgment.

Boot steps on wooden floors. ”Your Highness.”

”Report.”