Everything was organized.

That was the first thing Ryn noticed.

They passed rows and rows of weapon racks, well-maintained and standardized, not the mismatched scavenger gear that Ryn was expecting from the patrols.

This hadn't felt like a ragtag group—it was an army.

Bloodmane soldiers moved through the space with ease, some sharpened blades while others sat on low benches, passing around dark glass vials to each other.

Ryn slowed.

One of the soldiers popped the cork with his teeth and downed the contents in a single swallow. He grimaced, shook it off, then flexed his fingers.

Veins darkened beneath fur.

Muscle tightened.

The change wasn't dramatic, but it was visible.

"…That's not alcohol," Fritz muttered.

"No," Ryn said quietly.

They kept walking.

Crates were stacked along the inner wall, all stamped with simple markings such as batch lines and dates.

A Bloodmane quartermaster barked orders nearby, tossing vials into waiting hands the same way rations were distributed.

Ryn stopped at a rack where a soldier was fastening his greaves. The man barely spared him a glance.

"Don't block the aisle," the soldier grunted.

Ryn stepped aside without protest.

Fritz stared at him.

"Ryn," he said under his breath. "They're—"

"I see it."

The soldier finished gearing up and reached for another vial from a crate. He didn't even look at it before drinking.

Ryn watched his breathing change.

The same thing happened again, his breathing became sharper, deeper…almost as if he was a completely different person.

How did they get something like this?

Then, Ryn's chest tightened.

This wasn't new.

The realization settled in slowly, like pressure crawling up his skin.

He'd seen this before.

Not the drug itself, but the result of it.

The Bloodmanes had united Dheam in his past life. How resistance collapsed without a decisive war. How, later, the land became something else entirely.

He reached into one of the crates, finger passing one of the bottles before pulling it out.

The liquid inside was pitch black. The same color as the blood of an Evernight Beast.

So it started here.

But…had it really begun this early?

Dheam had been in the Cult's hands long before anyone realized.

Then something snapped him back to the present, a sound cut through the barracks before anyone even announced it.

Ryn stored the potion within his ring before turning to the commotion.

A low metallic hum rolled across the stone floor. Conversations thinned as the Bloodmane soldiers began to gather.

They gravitated toward the center of the barracks, where a cylindrical pillar flowed with water from the top.

A slight BUZZ resounded through the air before the water took shape.

Ryn stepped back instinctively, pulling Fritz with him into the shadow of a support beam as soldiers filled the open space.

The water projector finally whirred to life as a tall figure stood there.

Both Ryn and Fritz knew instantly who it was.

Kharvos Bloodmane.

The barracks went silent.

"Attention," the voice echoed, amplified but calm. "All units are to prepare."

There were no cheers or salutes—the soldiers knew what procedures were.

"We will be extending an offer of peace to the Outer tribes in a week's time."

Ryn's fingers curled slowly at his side.

"Representatives will be invited to a meeting between Central and Outside under Rokhan's name," Kharvos continued.

Fritz leaned closer, voice barely audible. "…That sounds reasonable."

Ryn didn't answer.

"Once gathered," Kharvos said evenly, "they will be disarmed."

The word was spoken like a courtesy.

"Those deemed cooperative will be assigned labor within Central and its surrounding territories."

Enslavement…wrapped in ceremony.

"Those who resist," Kharvos continued, unbothered, "will be made an example of."

The projection shifted slightly, mist coiling as if reacting to the intent behind his words.

"This will end the instability of Dheam and enact the unifications our ancestors have always wanted!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd, whistles and chatter filled the room instantly. Voices overlapped as Bloodmane soldiers laughed, shouted, and exchanged grins like this was a festival announcement rather than a military order.

Ryn didn't move.

He watched a soldier clap another on the shoulder. Watched vials raised like toasts before being downed in a single gulp.

Their expressions were closer to relief, as if long-standing frustration had finally been given permission.

"So this is it," Fritz murmured beside him.

Ryn didn't answer, his gaze drifted back to the crates.

If the drug was the lever holding Central together, then breaking it should collapse the system.

Even a temporary disruption would—

No.

He cut the thought short himself.

Ryn had seen it himself. The drugs were passed through each soldier like they were water.

Even if he spent all week destroying what he could find, it wouldn't be enough.

And that assumed there wasn't more hidden elsewhere.

The time constraint alone made it impossible.

Ryn shifted gears.

Exposure…

If he dragged the truth back to Raias, there's no doubt Rokhan's priests would come running.

But once again, by the time the priests arrived.

The Outer tribes would already be gone.

Ryn dismissed it, letting his eyes drift back to the water projector.

Kharvos.

The thought surfaced immediately and died just as fast.

Fritz was their strongest combatant. High-Knight Rank at his age was extraordinary.

But Kharvos was four ranks above him.

Low-Peak.

That wasn't a gap you bridged with preparation or surprise.

That was an abyss.

Ryn evaluated himself just as coldly.

Even if he used everything he accumulated so far:

[Aquila], [Orion], and [Star's Path].

An assassination attempt would fail.

Ryn thought back to Deimos. The only reasons they could defeat Scorpio was because they'd had a week's worth of preparation, as well as Scorpio underestimating them.

This time, they had none of that.

Ryn exhaled slowly as sound filled his ears, from clinking armors to orders being yelled, the barracks were on the move.

There was no more room to deliberate.

Whether he liked it or not, planning had to happen now.

And that meant leaving.

"We need to go," Ryn said quietly.

Fritz nodded once, then hesitated.

"…What about Mira?"

Ryn didn't answer immediately. His eyes traced the barracks again. There were simply too many guards clustered around the area.

"She can't move," Fritz said, realizing it himself. "Not while all of them are still here."

"No," Ryn agreed. "If she tries now, she's dead."

Fritz clenched his jaw. "Then we wait?"

Ryn shook his head.

"There's no time," he said evenly. "We need to get back before the peace talks happen."

Fritz followed Ryn's gaze as a new unit jogged past, expressions leaning on anticipation rather than fear.

"…Then what?" Fritz asked.

Ryn's fingers curled once, then relaxed.

"We make noise."

Fritz looked at him sharply.

"Enough noise," Ryn continued, "that command pulls guards off the holding blocks. Enough confusion for Mira to escape."

Fritz's eyes widened slightly. "You're talking about a diversion."

"Yes."

"What kind?"

Ryn turned toward the far distance. At the center of the city, a massive statue of Bloodmane's ancestor stood proudly.

He reminisced about the first time he'd gotten the Constellation Tome…deciding to pull the same trick again.

"The kind they can't ignore."

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