The wind tugged at Silvea's cloak, snapping the hem against her boots as she stood at the rim of the Everdark Canyon. Far below, the soft blue glow of the nightbloom flowers shimmered like an alien ocean. Her eyes were fixed on the canyon wall, where runes had just flared to life, etched in cold blue-white light, and vanished again. A moment later, the distant beat of the hive's alarm drums echoed up from the depths.

How?

How had first-semester students managed to trigger the hive-queen's teleportation wards? Even short-range teleportation began at tier four. They would have to be level 8 at least to cast anything like that. It made no sense. There hadn't even been a reason to warn them not to use teleportation spells in the first place.

And now the hive was fully alert. That would make Team Grey's mission significantly harder.

She exhaled sharply and turned her attention back to the group of Arcane Knights assembling nearby. Their red and gold armor gleamed in the autumn sun. Armored war oxen snorted and stamped metal-clad hooves into the rocky ground, stirring up dust. Their commander stood beside her, explaining the situation.

Silvea's expression darkened.

"Decimus Adamatar," she hissed, "did I hear that right? You were surprised by the appearance of the siege turtle near the canyon? Surprised? By a house-high monster that moves with the speed of a lazy snail?"

The Arcane Knight straightened. His polished helmet hissed softly as he lifted it off, revealing a weathered face and piercing eyes that had clearly seen battle… and yet were avoiding hers now.

"Ma'am," Adamatar said, voice low and deliberate, "these are not normal circumstances. We found evidence suggesting the turtle was deliberately enhanced. Scouts found empty barrels, reeking of potion residue. Judging by the fumes and traces left, we believe it was some kind of Berserk potion."

Silvea blinked. "Someone fed it with potions?"

"The monster was under loose observation by our scouts. It hadn't moved significantly in over a week. Then, the night before last, all of our scouts, every last one, disappeared. No alarm, no signs of struggle. Just... gone. We didn't realize it until the scheduled report failed to arrive. We sent search parties, and instead of finding them, we found the turtle's trail. A full day's march farther east.

He paused, jaw clenching.

"We believe the berserk effect activated a latent enchantment for one of its battle modes. It covered in hours what would normally take it weeks. When we found the trail again, it was already near the canyon's edge."

Silvea exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. "Where did the barrels come from?"

"According to their craftsmanship they are goblin-made."

She rolled her eyes. "You always suspect goblins. Or monks."

"The monastery has long voiced its disapproval of the swarm collective," he said mildly.

"They wouldn't send a Level 15 monster into inhabited territory!"

Decimus nodded reluctantly. "Agreed. But someone did. Or manipulated it into coming here. And right now, that matters more than who."

The wind picked up again, bringing with it the distant, rhythmic thuds of impact. Spellfire slamming into hardened shell. Silvea's expression darkened.

"I've sent a knight down the ridge path to intercept your student teams," the Decimus continued. "He will stop them before they cross into the battle radius. We believe the canyon itself is safe for now. The turtle has not attempted to descend. It has been designed to avoid areas it possibly can't escape from. Still, we're not taking chances. Who knows how the Berserk potion messes with its instincts."

"I'd prefer to get them all out and away as soon as possible."

The knight shook his head. "Not an option. It's too dangerous up here. Our lines are barely holding. Your students will need to complete their mission and exit the canyon farther down. Away from the hive. We'll move the ropes to that location for recovery."

Silvea closed her eyes briefly. "How bad is it?"

Adamatar's jaw flexed. "Four salvos. Twelve knights, each casting tier three spells. And it's still standing. Slower, yes. Weakened, yes. But not buckling. Its magic resistance is too high."

"And reinforcements?"

"We've ordered in a Praecentor from the auxiliary camp. He will lead our forces into a battle cantus, a resonance song to unify our magic. With it, we should be able to overcast and breach the turtle's resistance."

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"That shouldn't be necessary," Silvea muttered.

The decimus looked at her grimly. "It is. And in case that isn't sufficient, I've sent a runner back to our primary base. We're requesting a member of the Immortal Order."

Her eyes snapped to his. "You called in a member of your most ancient order? A Custos Aeternus Imperii? Aren't those supposed to stay in reserve for the direst of dangers?"

"We're not taking any chances," he said simply. "Not with civilians so close."

They stood in silence a moment, broken only by the pulse of far-off explosions and the low hum of magical wards being woven and rewoven. The siege turtle still loomed on the far ridge, a fortress of shell and fury.

Silvea folded her arms. "Fine. But you and your knights better keep your lines solid. I'm trusting you with my students."

Adamatar gave a slow, respectful nod. "We'll hold. And we will end this before nightfall. One way or the other."

Silvea turned back toward the cliff edge, staring down into the luminous abyss where her students scouted flowers and hunted harmless plant pest monsters. Blissfully unaware of the war brewing above.

* * *

A dozen knights had formed into two disciplined lines. The front rank carried round rune-inscribed steel shields that projected overlapping force barriers. Behind them, the second line held rune-lances that fired red and golden spell projectiles in steady volleys.

The siege turtle wasn't merely large. It was colossal. Its head alone dwarfed any single knight, and its shell supported a squat tower that looked as though it had been torn straight from the walls of a fortress. Spellfire splashed harmlessly against the creature's armored hide, dispersing like snowballs against stone.

From time to time, the siege turtle opened its maw and unleashed a beam of arcing green lightning. The barrier wall held… but only just. More than once, a knight had to retreat when their shield buckled under the onslaught. Squires rushed to provide replacements, but their stock of spare shields was limited.

Silvea watched with growing concern as the knights reloaded their rune-lances for the second time already. "How long can your men keep this up?" she asked.

Decimus Adamatar, clearly irritated at being pulled away from his command, still took the time to answer. "We have two more rounds of mana-crystals. That should be enough to drain the beast's strength... I hope."

Another flash of green lightning erupted from the turtle's maw, momentarily outshining the still-rising sun. This time, the shield wall faltered at one point. A jagged arc of energy broke through and struck a knight full-on. His body exploded into scorched fragments, one of which tumbled into the canyon below.

The formation held.

With grim precision, the remaining knights stepped forward as one, sealing the gap. One nearly stepped on the smoking remains without flinching, their focus locked on the enemy.

Silvea bowed her head and murmured a prayer. "May Golgoroth have mercy and judge we have proven our worth enough. May Pallandur grant us the strength to fulfill our duty. May this knight be reborn to a better life." As she lifted her gaze, the fallen knight's remains faded into sparkling motes of light.

She frowned. "You've allowed revenants to join your order?"

The knight-commander gave a distracted but firm nod. "The entire front line is composed of revenants. Good men and women. They passed the trial in the capital and have proven themselves loyal. Some of them say they fought in countless raids in their own world's battle games. They know how to coordinate and follow commands."

He turned to her with a warning glare. "I am very satisfied with their performance. I will not tolerate the usual prejudice against revenants."

Silvea looked skeptical but inclined her head. She was about to speak again when she spotted a knight approaching at a jog. His silver insignia marked him as a high-ranking officer.

"That," said the commander, pointing, "is something you won't see often. Praecentor Martius has arrived."

The Praecentor stopped behind the formation and barked orders. The back line straightened their rune-lances and locked into formation. Then he struck his breastplate with a gauntleted fist. The sound rang out, amplified by magic, echoing like a bell across the canyon. Even the siege turtle seemed to pause.

The front line held firm, while the rear line pounded their fists against their armor ten times in perfect unison.

Praecentor Martius drew a short, ornate staff from his belt and raised it like a conductor. His voice carried with crisp magical clarity:

"Who answers when the High King calls?"

The response came at once from every knight, including Decimus Adamatar: "THE ARCANE ORDER!"

Silvea stood in awe as the ritual continued, each question followed by a thunderous reply, then the rising cadence of a battle hymn. The knights began to sing.

With each verse, the rear line fired in perfect rhythm. This time, the glowing projectiles shimmered and twisted midair, converging into a single bolt that struck the siege turtle with a blinding flash.

At the final note, squires raced in to replace spent mana-crystals from both shields and lances. The turtle reeled, momentarily stunned. It wasn't defeated yet, but it was vulnerable.

A second volley, perfectly timed with the closing line of the battle song, finally brought the beast low. Its head sank toward the ground. Movements slowed. Its eyes drooped shut.

Decimus Adamatar stepped forward and laid a gauntleted hand against the shell. A brief glow marked the activation of his armor's analysis spell. "The turtle has entered recovery mode," he announced. "First and second squads, stand down for the rest of the day. Good work."

He turned to the others. "Third squad and guard contingent, form a double perimeter. Dispatch sentries. No enemy must reach the turtle and trigger its Second Wind feat. We don't have the reserves to withstand that."

Silvea looked up sharply. "Is that likely?"

"I hope not," he said. "It would take a damn powerful strike to provoke a second defensive phase... but if it happens, we're finished. Best not to take chances."

She nodded and turned her gaze to the subdued colossus. Already, knights were attaching enchanted chains to the turtle's carapace, linking them to a team of enormous war-oxen clad in red-and-gold plate. Soon they would haul the creature back to the wilderness where it belonged.

"I'll assign half my huntsmasters to secure the area," Silvea said, "then check on my students in the canyon. Hopefully they haven't done anything foolish."

The commander gave a dismissive snort. "They've only been down there an hour. What could possibly have gone wrong in that short a time?"

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