Evening had fallen over the dwarven capital, but the sky above the outer gates blazed like a dawn forged of war.

A violent storm of mana churned in the air — wind spiraling, frost forming mid-air, and sparks of lightning skittering along invisible seams of power. At the heart of that roaring turbulence floated a woman whose very presence bent reality around her.

White hair cascaded down her back like a river of moonlight.

A thin, silken veil covered the lower half of her face.

But her eyes —

Her eyes were lightening.

Storm- thunder eyes crackled with arcs of lightning, trembling with a fury so cold it burned.

And facing her were seven dwarves suspended in the air, their beards billowing like banners of war, their ceremonial armor glowing with molten runes. Elder Thrain stood at their center, his presence heavier than a falling mountain, his eyes flashing with fire he wasn't bothering to hide.

He didn't shout. He didn't even raise his chin.

But his voice struck like a hammer to an anvil.

"What are you doing, Tower Master?"

The woman's gaze snapped to him — sharp, predatory, unblinking.

Her voice, when she answered, was cold enough to freeze a forge.

"Where," she said slowly, "is my daughter?"

A wave of frost spread instantly over the stone gates below — thick, crystalline, devouring the black iron hinges and the runic engravings in a layer so cold the metal whined in protest. The guards behind the Elders flinched. One young dwarf dropped his spear as frost crawled up the wooden shaft.

Elder Huldor stepped forward, beard swaying heavily, palms lifting in a rare gesture of restraint. The flames from the torches reflected off the sheen of sweat on his brow — not from heat, but from tension.

"Calm down," he rumbled gently. "She is stable for now."

The Tower Master stilled — only a fraction.

Her lightning dimmed from an explosive crackle to a simmering pulse, but the storm behind her veil didn't soften. Her shoulders were stiff, her breath shallow, her aura trembling with tightly held emotion.

"I want to see her."

The words were not a request.

They were a warning.

Elder Huldor's lips tightened. He glanced toward Thrain. The message in his eyes was clear:

This woman will not leave without seeing her child.

But Elder Thrain's stance didn't shift at all. He floated forward, boots scraping against invisible platforms of condensed heat, cloak rippling with waves of molten aura.

He exhaled — a harsh, irritated sound.

"She is inside our territory," Thrain stated, tone flat as tempered steel. "And she is fine. You can go back now."

The air cracked.

The Tower Master's killing intent spiked so sharply that even the wind recoiled. Another wave of frost cascaded outward from her feet, turning the cliffside road below into an icebound wasteland.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer — but infinitely more dangerous.

"I only want to ensure my daughter is unharmed."

Elder Thrain's aura surged in response — heat exploding outward in a rolling spiral, meeting her frost head-on. The air blurred, steam erupting in twisting columns as fire and ice clashed violently without even touching.

A heated wave blasted through the sky.

"We do not trust humans," Elder Thrain growled, dwarf-fire blazing in his eyes. "And allowing a mage of your caliber into our territory without preparation is foolishness. Go back."

His aura struck downward, cracking open the ground. Sparks of magma bled through the stone.

"Nothing will happen to your daughter."

Lightning flashed in the Tower Master's pupils — a warning so sharp it cut through the steam-choked air.

Her next breath came out frost-white behind her veil.

Elder Thrain's next breath came out fire-red, heat distorting the air around him.

Mana crackled between them — frost and flame, storm and furnace — swelling like two primordial forces colliding after centuries of suppression.

Any second now…

The sky itself would split open.

***

Luca's heart was still hammering from the tremors when he forced himself upright, one hand braced on the infirmary wall as the last of the shaking faded. Selena lay motionless on the bed, her pale lashes fluttering faintly in the mana-touched light. Lilliane clung to the side of the bed, trembling, while Sylthara kept a tense watch at the door, her ears pinned flat against her skull.

Luca inhaled sharply.

He didn't have the luxury of fear right now.

"Lilliane," he said, turning toward her with firm urgency, "stay with Selena. Don't leave her side."

She nodded immediately, eyes wide but determined. "Y-Yes… I'll watch over her."

Luca then shifted to Sylthara.

"Sylthara, go check on Kyle and Aurelia. They're still unconscious—they shouldn't be alone during something like this."

Her ears flicked once, betraying her concern, but her voice stayed steady. "Understood."

The two girls moved quickly, and Luca didn't waste another heartbeat. He ran.

The heavy dwarven corridors echoed with panic—boots slamming against metal floors, urgent shouts bouncing off rune-lit walls, weapons clattering as warriors rushed past with shields and axes. The scent of smoke and molten ore thickened the air as dwarves scrambled into formation.

As Luca sprinted down the last hallway leading to the city's outer ring, he grabbed the arm of a passing young dwarf.

"What's happening? Tell me!"

The dwarf jerked his arm away, clearly annoyed and pressed for time—but he still spat out an answer between breaths.

"There's—some madwoman outside the gates!" he barked, beard bristling. "Threatening to attack us! Hmph! A human, no less—insane enough to try attacking us!"

He shot Luca a glare purely out of prejudice—

Then bolted off before Luca could speak.

Luca froze.

A woman…

Threatening the dwarven stronghold?

Radiating so much pressure it shook the mountains?

His breath caught in his chest.

Is… Her Majesty here?

As the face of a fierce domineering woman formed in his consciousness.

Has she finally gone insane?

"No…" he muttered, shaking his head hard as he sprinted again. "No, she isn't reckless. She wouldn't attack without reason."

Then is it a mad cultist woman? Yeah that must be it.

Luca didn't finish the thought. He pushed mana through his legs and dashed forward, brushing past dwarven lines forming barricades and rune-shields. Heat flared as siege forges ignited, magic cannons humming to life. The air thrummed with killing intent.

He ran harder.

Past the smithing yards.

Past the rune hall.

Past the final checkpoint—

Until he reached the gates.

And then—

Pressure.

A crushing, suffocating weight crashed onto him like a falling mountain. His knees buckled instantly, his palms slamming to the ground to keep from collapsing entirely. Every breath he dragged in felt like molten iron burning down his throat.

"What—what is this…?" he choked, sweat beading across his forehead. "Who…?"

Is another demon general here?

His aura flared instinctively, resisting the force long enough for him to force his head upward—

And he froze.

Suspended in the sky above the gates, draped in a cyclone of frost and crackling lightning—

Was his master.

The Tower Master.

White-haired. Veiled. Eyes blazing with enough mana to crush lesser armies.

Facing her, floating opposite in a semi-circle formation, were the Seven Dwarven Elders—fire and stone swirling around them, mana clashing violently with hers.

The air crackled with enough power to tear the heavens apart.

Luca's eyes widened in disbelief.

"M… Master…?"

His voice was swallowed by the storm of pressure, but his mind screamed louder than anything around him.

Master is here?!

Then why—why is she fighting them?!

And for the first time that day—

Luca felt genuine fear.

Not for himself.

But for what would happen…

if either side made a single wrong move.

Luca's pulse hammered against his ribs as he staggered forward under the crushing pressure. Every step felt like wading through a collapsing mountain, his spine bowing, lungs refusing to fill, but he forced himself onward.

His thoughts were a storm.

Is this… because of Selena?

But why—why would she fight the entire dwarven council for it?

Another wave of pressure fell from above, forcing Luca to brace one knee on the ground. Stone cracked beneath him. His arms trembled violently.

Then—

A voice.

A voice that Luca had never heard like this.

Gentleness—gone.

Warmth—gone.

Calm—shattered.

Instead, her words rumbled across the sky like an approaching storm, every syllable sharp enough to freeze bone.

"I am requesting you for the last time.Let me enter.I will only check on my daughter."

A chill sliced through Luca.

Not from her ice.

But from knowing—

That was how she sounded when a single thread kept her from breaking apart entirely.

He lifted his head slowly, vision swimming—

And his heart dropped.

His master hovered there—white hair whipping violently around her, veil fluttering like torn frost, eyes blazing with lightning that could rip the sky. The gentle, wise Tower Master he knew… was nowhere in sight.

She looked like a force of nature barely holding itself back from annihilation.

A mother who had been told she could not see her child.

And on the other side—

Elder Thrain stepped forward, his fiery aura roaring outward in response. The very air wavered between them, fire and frost clashing in silent, lethal warning.

His voice boomed like a hammer slamming against a war drum.

"We cannot compromise our people's safety.Your daughter is within our care, and we will ensure she remains unharmed."

It was meant to be reassuring.

But to the Tower Master—

It wasn't enough.

Her aura spiked so violently the sky itself seemed to crack.

"…You leave me no choice then."

Her hand rose—lightning coiling along her arm.

Frost spiraled beneath her feet.

Mana surged—

She was about to attack.

A cold jolt stabbed through Luca's chest.

No no no—this will turn into a war—

I need to stop this.

I have to—before everything burns—

He gritted his teeth until they hurt, forced his aura to flare against the crushing atmosphere, and pushed himself upright with everything he had.

His muscles screamed.

Veins bulged.

Blood pounded in his ears.

But he stood.

And then—

He roared with everything inside him, his voice tearing through the air—

"MASTERRRRR!!!"

His cry split the brewing storm like a blade—echoing through the dwarven peaks,reverberating through the molten earth,and slamming into the hearts of every mage and dwarf locked in the air above.

And for the first time since she arrived—

The Tower Master's eyes flickered.

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