Over a thousand survivors—Cat-kin, Ursine, Vulpine—were all gathered here.
I looked down at the silent, shivering ranks.
The fear in the square was so thick it felt like a physical load bearing down on the foundation.
Zayla stepped forward.
She still wore her bloodstained leather armor, and the dried streak of blood remained on her cheek from last night. She refused Ela's suggestion to clean it, reasoning, "Let everyone see what color a traitor's blood is."
"Yesterday, I killed a relative."
Zayla's voice was cold, carrying a metallic texture.
"Lucas wanted to trade surrender for survival. He thought if he knelt low enough, the Wolf's butcher knife would pass over his head. But you know in your hearts—Wolves don't need slaves, they need meat. In their eyes, we aren't surrenderers, just packaged food that even peeled itself."
A commotion rippled through the crowd. Bjorn clenched his fists; Lyn lowered her head.
"We have no retreat." Zayla drew the broken blade from her waist.
"Behind us is the Void of the Great Collapse; in front is Garza's army. We are caught in the crack of death."
She raised the blade, the sharp edge aimed at her left palm.
Bright red blood flowed down her fingers, dripping onto the grey-white, hard concrete fortress floor beneath her feet.
Zayla crouched down abruptly, pressing her bleeding palm hard against the cold ground. Her head hung low, silver hair covering her profile. Under everyone's breathless gaze, she didn't roar as usual, but uttered a low, ancient murmur like sleep-talking.
It was a language I had never heard. The syllables were obscure, awkward, carrying a unique rhythm, like calling upon ancient ghosts.
"Ash'tala... Vae Solaris... Mor'keth..."
(Translation: In the name of the Last Daughter of Silvermoon, awaken the Sleeping Guardian Fire...)
I frowned. I didn't understand a word, but the moment Zayla recited the incantation, the system interface on my wrist vibrated violently.
ZZZT—!
The blue grid in my vision distorted for a second, and then, a never-before-seen anomaly popup with a deep purple border jumped out:
"Hidden Role?" My heart skipped a beat. "What does this mean? Is 'Architect' not my final class?"
Before I could think more, the popup disappeared as if it never existed.
Zayla remained kneeling, voice suddenly rising, returning to the familiar, powerful Common Tongue:
"So I no longer pray for the mercy of gods, nor do I fantasize about the benevolence of enemies."
"I, Zayla V. Solaris, swear here."
"My blood will become the binder of this city. My bones will become the rebar of this wall."
"If the city stands, I stand. If the city falls, I die."
HUM—
In that instant, I felt the concrete beneath my feet seem to emit a low resonance. This wasn't just a system "metaphysical check," but a response across time and space.
Elder Karl knelt tremblingly below the stage.
Then Ron, then all the Cat-kin warriors.
"If the city stands, I stand!" Ron cut his palm, pressed it to the ground, and roared.
"Count me in!" Bjorn strode forward, cut his thick palm with a knife, and slammed his blood-stained hand heavily onto the wall. "Bears are no cowards!"
"And us!" Lyn gritted her teeth, leading the Foxes to join the oath.
Hundreds of bloody handprints densely covered the originally cold concrete wall. The grey that originally represented industrial indifference was now endowed with a primal and fanatical vitality.
Zayla stood up. Her face was pale, but her eyes were brighter than ever. She turned and looked at me.
"Your turn, Architect."
I paused. "Me?"
"You are the brain of this city." Zayla extended her still-dripping hand. "Without you, this is just a pile of rocks. We need your oath."
I looked at her burning golden eyes, then at the thousand expectant eyes below.
As an engineer grounded in modern science, I instinctively recoiled from this blood oath.
But I knew if I refused now, the momentum would deflate.
"Fine." I reached out and took the dagger from Zayla’s hand. I pressed the cold steel to my palm and made a shallow cut.
I reached out and grasped Zayla's bloody hand. Our blood merged, warm and sticky.
"I swear."
"As long as I can still think, as long as the laws of physics exist."
"This city will not fall."
"ROAR————!!!"
Deafening cheers resounded through the sky.
Deep Night. Zone C "Murder Corridor" Construction Site.
The fanaticism brought by the oath was successfully translated into amazing productivity. The entire fortress was lit up, workers like tireless ants, frantically digging the trap that would bury the Wolf vanguard.
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At the edge of the crowd, I was squatting on the ground, checking the detonator wiring, when I sensed someone behind me.
Zayla stood there quietly, holding two pieces of freshly roasted jerky. She didn't speak, just looking at the Star Fort wall that looked particularly ferocious in the night.
"Here." She handed the jerky over.
"Thanks." I took a bite. "Tastes good, looks like you didn't add that strange sour grass."
Zayla didn't take my joke. Her gaze remained on the wall, eyes complex with emotions I couldn't read—both relief and a trace of awe.
"The wall you built..." Zayla spoke suddenly, voice soft. "Is even stronger... than described in the prophecy."
"That's because I used concrete and rebar." I pushed up my glasses, teasing lightly. "Do you really believe those ancient prophecies? 'The Man from the Sky,' 'The Guardian Fire'..."
I thought Zayla would glare at me as usual, or retort.
But this time she didn't.
Zayla turned her head, golden vertical pupils staring dead at me in the dark. There was no joke in them, only something so heavy it was suffocating.
"Alex."
She took a step closer, the Queen's oppressive aura making me subconsciously stop smiling.
"If we didn't believe," Zayla pointed to the scabbed scar on her chest, then to the clan members sleeping by the wall. "If we didn't believe in that prophecy, didn't believe you would come..."
Her voice trembled slightly, but was incredibly firm.
"We would have been exterminated the day Silvermoon City fell."
I froze.
I looked at the girl in front of me, and a sudden realization hit me. To me, this so-called 'prophecy' might just be a mere coincidence. But to her, it was the only lifeline she could grasp in the endless despair, her sole hope of escaping this nightmare.
"...Sorry." I was silent for a few seconds, putting away my cynical attitude.
I turned around, casting my gaze back to the wall, my voice much lower. "Since I'm here, this wall won't fall."
Zayla looked at my back. After a long time, the corners of her mouth finally turned up slightly.
"I believe it." She whispered. "Because the last line of the prophecy is—He will reshape the broken world."
Not far away, a sharp roar interrupted their conversation.
"Gently! You stupid bear!"
Sarak was standing on Bjorn's shoulder, hitting the Ursine strongman's helmet viciously with a large wrench.
"That is a trigger pressure plate! Not your rice bowl! You have to place it like embroidery, understand? Embroidery!"
Bjorn hugged the two-hundred-kilogram steel plate aggrievedly, lowering it carefully. "Boss, I am embroidering..."
"Call me Chief!" Sarak pulled down her goggles, checking the tolerance of the spring mechanism. "This is a 'Leg-Breaker' for werewolves. If it can't shatter their shinbones in one second, it's scrap metal!"
On the other side, the Chemical Zone.
Crazy old Kaelas was dancing around a huge cauldron, stirring the black, sticky liquid inside with a large wooden stick.
"Add more! Add more!" Kaelas screamed excitedly. "Add more magnesium powder! Make it brighter! Hotter!"
Lyn led several Foxes wearing gas masks, tremblingly pouring flammable powder into the pot.
"Grandpa Kaelas," Lyn's voice shook. "This stuff is bubbling... will it explode?"
"Explode? Of course it will explode!" Kaelas grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "If it doesn't explode, is it art? This is the 'Hell Porridge' we are preparing for the Wolf guests! One sip, cools the heart, flies the soul—straight to the sky!"
I looked at this group of "dedicated" madmen and nodded with satisfaction.
"Looks like everyone enjoys overtime."
"This isn't overtime." Zayla walked back to me, holding a glowing crystal for illumination. "This is preparation for revenge."
She was very close; I could even smell the faint scent of blood and that pleasant wild aura on her.
She suddenly leaned closer, forehead gently touching mine.
This was a Cat-kin specific gesture—Scent Exchange. Only done with the most trusted companions.
My body stiffened. I could feel the temperature of her skin and the vitality that was always tense and ready for battle.
"Don't die, Architect," Zayla whispered, warm breath on my face. "In seven days, don't die before me."
My heart skipped a beat. This atmosphere... a bit ambiguous, but more of a tacit understanding between "accomplices." We were maniacs setting fires together in this desperate world.
I didn't dodge but closed my eyes, enjoying the moment of peace.
"Don't worry," I responded softly. "My fortress hasn't passed final inspection yet. Dying now would be a major construction accident; my license would be revoked."
Zayla chuckled softly, about to say something.
BEEP—
A blood-red warning box exploded directly across my retinas, blindingly bright in the dark.
TIME TO IMPACT: 3 Days -> CORRECTED: 1 hour.
"Impossible..."
I sucked in a cold breath. "Are they crazy? Running full speed for three days and nights without sleep? Half of them will die of exhaustion before the fight starts?"
"Alex?" Zayla felt my stiffness. "What's wrong?"
"Time's up."
I stood up, pulled Zayla up, and rushed to the wall edge.
I pointed to the originally pitch-black horizon in the north.
It was no longer empty.
The starry sky was obscured by a strange, rolling black dust storm. Not clouds, but dust raised by thousands of Wolves running wild, and black fog released by Shamans to cover their tracks.
That "Black Line" was devouring the earth like a tsunami at a terrifying speed visible to the naked eye, advancing madly towards the rift.
Accompanied by the tremor of the earth, the Wolf war drums were no longer muffled thunder, but a death warrant beating in the ears.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"They didn't camp, didn't rest."
I gripped the newly made detonator, pushed up my glasses, and cold sweat slid down my forehead. "To attack before your fortress is finished, Garza turned his army into tireless zombies."
"Looks like our guests not only arrived early but brought their morning grumpy mood."
I turned around and roared at everyone still working overtime in the fortress:
"ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!"
"OPEN THE GATES—OF HELL!!!"
Garza pulled a pro-gamer move: Speedrun. Alex has 15 minutes.
Question of the Day: How do you stop a charging army in 15 minutes?
(Click to choose your panic response)
?? A) Prayer.
Result: System Error. You pray to the Gods. The System replies: [Error 404: Deities Not Found in Industrial Zone]. Good luck.
?? B) Surrender.
Result: Bad Ending. You wave the white flag. Garza uses it to clean his axe. Survival Time: 00:00:05.
?? C) PRESS THE BIG RED BUTTON.
Result: The Alex Special. Why did we install a self-destruct sequence on the dam? For exactly this moment. Physics is about to get very, very wet.
Follow and Rate. The war begins NOW.