Chapter 93 — Leiz
The gate of Zordis had that quality of construction made to outlast the need that created it — stone worked with that thickness that was not of fear but of conviction that what was inside deserved permanent protection.
Kuto walked toward it with the group at his side, and the city did what cities do when they perceive that something is coming from outside with intent that doesn't include negotiation.
The chaos had that specific texture of something that hadn't begun suddenly but had reached the point of critical mass — the murmur that had become a shout, the walking that had become running, each person reacting to the reaction of the person beside them with that amplification of panic that doesn't need leadership to organise itself because fear has its own logic of propagation.
The streets that had been in celebration an hour before were emptying toward the city centre with that urgency of a people who had learned, across generations, that distance from the gates was survival.
Kuto turned his gaze to the right.
And stopped.
---
There was nothing extraordinary in what he saw.
That was exactly why he stopped.
A young soldier — brown hair, line guard armour that didn't yet carry the marks of old battles that veteran armour carried, that posture of someone who had been trained long enough to have posture but not long enough for the posture to be completely automatic. Mid-twenties, perhaps. His left hand held the hand of a woman.
The woman was pregnant.
Not with that discreet pregnancy of early months — with that evidence of a body doing what human bodies do when they are creating another person, with all the physical and temporal implications that carried.
She had her free hand on the man's chest.
— Leiz — she said, with that voice of someone trying not to cry and whose voice therefore came out smaller than it would normally be. — You can stay here. Guard the city from inside. You don't have to be on the front line.
The man — Leiz — had a smile.
Kuto recognised that smile immediately and precisely because it was the kind of smile he himself had used enough times to know exactly what it concealed. The smile of someone who had decided they were not going to show what they were feeling because showing it would not help either of the two people present.
— Stay calm, my love. — The voice came out steady with that specific effort of steadiness that is constructed in the moment rather than natural. — You know this has always been my dream. To serve Zordis. At the front.
Pause.
— If it weren't for the old king, I wouldn't be here. — The smile shifted slightly — not in quality but in direction, as though the memory beneath the words were lighter than the present moment. — And your husband is strong, isn't he?
The woman struck his chest.
Not with force — with that intensity of a gesture that has no force because all the force was somewhere else.
— Don't you dare die — she said. — If you die, I'll never forgive you.
The tears came with that honesty of tears that were not planned — that arrived before any decision to let them arrive or to hold them back.
She looked around.
Her eyes settled on Kuto.
Not of political recognition — of the direct assessment of someone who was looking at the man who was going to take her husband to the battlefield and who wanted that man to know she existed and that her husband existed and that there was weight in that.
Then she turned and left.
Toward the city centre. With that walk of someone who was going because staying was impossible but for whom each step cost in a way that walking normally doesn't cost.
Kuto watched until she disappeared into the crowd.
Leiz stood still for a moment after she left.
The smile was still on his face with that persistence of an expression that had been maintained by discipline and that didn't completely know how to stop being maintained when the reason for maintaining it had gone.
Then he turned.
Ran toward the gates. Toward Kuto. Toward the battlefield on the other side.
*This feels so real.*
The thought arrived without being called, with that specific quality of a thought that appears exactly when the person having it would prefer it didn't.
---
Leiz inclined his head when he arrived.
— At Your Majesty's service.
Kuto gave a slight nod.
He was silent for a moment with that quality of silence of someone organising information before using it.
— The envoy from Nellis confirmed that these creatures are the work of a Mage of Fear — he said. — But the timing doesn't make sense as an accident. Why today. Why here.
— Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty.
Leiz's voice had that quality of a young soldier who has an opinion and who has learned that having an opinion in a military context requires a specific ritual of entry before expressing it.
— Speak.
— In my view, my lord, this is the most convenient possible moment to attack the kingdom.
Kuto waited.
— Zordis is known as unthinkable to attack while Lord Zenk is present. Everyone on the continent knows that. — A pause. — But today Lord Zenk is not here. And instead we have assembled the representatives of almost every kingdom on the continent, their prodigies, their royal families.
Kuto processed.
*Him.* The thought arrived involuntarily. *Once again him.*
— Continue.
— If the attack succeeds and any of the important guests are harmed — Leiz said this with the directness of a soldier who prefers clarity to gentleness — Zordis's credibility as a safe kingdom collapses. The influence that comes from decisions made here loses force across the continent. The UCC is called into question. The trade alliances are called into question.
— That means — said Kuto — the real objective is not to destroy Zordis. It's to humiliate her.
— Yes, my lord. Destruction would be more difficult and less efficient. The embarrassment is sufficient for whatever they wish to achieve politically.
Kuto looked at the soldier for a moment.
*Mid-twenties. Pregnant wife crying in the city. And here he is analysing political strategy with this clarity.*
— What is your name?
— Leiz, my lord. Leiz Ardenvane.
— Good analysis, Leiz.
— Thank you, Your Majesty.
Kuto turned to the gates.
— Let's make sure they don't get what they came for.
*Not that I care about that.*
The thought arrived and went. Faster than the other times.
---
The wall of Zordis had that height of construction that served a dual purpose — defensive and of visibility. From the top the complete horizon was visible with that clarity of altitude that turned distances into information.
They climbed.
And when they reached the top, what was ahead was unlike anything Kuto had seen in the battle of Zef.
Zef had been destruction concentrated in a small space. This was scale — the specific scale of something that had been prepared long enough to have a number the field of vision couldn't completely contain in a single look.
The creatures came from the forest in a continuous tide, with that quality of a source with no visible end because the source was beyond the reach of sight. Wolves of solid shadow moving with the fluidity of something without normal anatomy. Werewolves with that impossible geometry of creatures using a humanoid form but using it wrong, with joints bending at angles that human joints refused. Ogres of condensed darkness with that deliberate slowness of something that knew its size made haste unnecessary.
And above all of it — Zordis's defenders.
The magic cannons in the towers fired with that cadence of a system trained to maintain rhythm regardless of external pressure, elemental bombs descending in calculated arcs and exploding in the middle of the creature waves with that cold efficiency of armament that didn't discriminate between targets because it didn't need to discriminate — anything in the trajectory received the same result.
Mages floated above the walls, the enchantments coming from their hands with that speed of repeated practice, columns of fire sweeping entire lines, ice shields creating temporary barriers, blasts of wind hurling whole groups of creatures back upon themselves.
It was defence functioning. But it was defence being consumed. Each bomb that exploded had a cost. Each enchantment that came out had a cost. And on the other side, the tide continued.
Kuto swept the horizon with that specific analysis of the Adaptive Class that processed a battlefield as a system of variables before processing it as an image.
And found it.
At the far edge of the horizon, motionless where everything else moved, a figure.
Enormous. Covered in a black cloak that extended to the ground and moved with the wind with that quality of something that had weight but didn't quite have the physicality that a cloak of normal fabric would have. The face was hidden. But beside the figure there was something — a presence of condensed darkness, dense, black with that intensity of shadow that absorbed light instead of blocking it, from which smoke emerged that moved toward the creatures and fed them with that quality of a connection between source and product.
— That is our target — said Kuto, pointing.
The hand descended before the arm was fully extended.
Because there were two guards in front.
With that posture of people who had been placed in a position and who were fulfilling that position regardless of what context made that position uncomfortable.
— By order of the kingdom's Prime Minister, Your Majesty cannot expose himself to direct danger.
Kuto looked at them.
— I am the king. The Prime Minister's orders—
— It was also a personal request from Queen Raimi, my lord.
The thought arrived with that quality of information that didn't completely fit: *less than an hour ago she had accepted that I was coming.*
Then the explanation arrived, which was simpler than any other hypothesis — she had known she was going to accept. Had known she was going to say *at your own risk.* And had sent the guards anyway, because accepting that he was going was not the same thing as not trying to protect him.
Kuto was silent for a moment.
— Kuto.
Jack's voice came from behind, with that quality of Jack's that was not an order and didn't need to be.
— Consider.
— On your last mission you went above us — said Selina, with that directness that was Selina's form of affection. — Zef. You went alone without needing to.
— Let us get a little closer.
Kuto looked at the group.
Sônia had her eyes fixed on the mages floating above the wall with that expression of someone registering technical details of something that genuinely fascinated her, her mouth slightly open with that quality of admiration of someone watching advanced practice of what they study.
Romeu had his shoulders slightly raised — not much, but enough for someone who knew him. His hands a little closer to his bow than the moment still required.
Selina saw and pinched his arm.
— Scared, Romeu?
— Imagine. — The voice came out with that quality of rapid recovery of someone caught in a state they would have preferred not to be caught in. — I'm going to go kill some monsters for us.
Selina gave him a light knock on the head.
— Still with that.
She left, without waiting for a response, with that step of someone who had said what she had to say and considered the matter closed. Romeu was left with the expression of someone processing whether they had been insulted or not and who had reached the conclusion that they probably had been but who was fine with that.
Jack smiled — brief, contained, but present.
Haru was two steps ahead of Kuto with that automaticity of a habit neither of them had deliberately established, his eyes on the battlefield with that attention of an assassin already calculating trajectories.
Kuto looked at all of them.
*Tools.*
The thought arrived with less conviction than the other times. Much less.
He turned to SansVl and Angrela.
— The safety of your people is the priority. I can't guarantee—
— We already said — said SansVl, with that smile that was not of bravado but of someone genuinely in their element. — Our kingdom is the continent's main adventurer recruitment hub. Who governs are those with the most deeds in the cycle.
Angrela was beside him with that quality of presence of someone who let her husband speak because what he was going to say was correct even if the form could be more restrained.
— If we eliminate the Mage of Fear here — SansVl continued — our continuation on the throne is guaranteed for another cycle.
— At your own risk.
— Understood.
SansVl looked at his wife.
Angrela looked at him.
There was something in that exchange that didn't need to be verbalised — the kind of communication that develops between people who have spent enough time in situations of this type for verbal language to become redundant for what was essential.
They took each other's hands.
And jumped from the wall.
Together.
With that quality of a couple who had done this before — not necessarily from this specific wall, but the functional equivalent enough times for jumping together from considerable height toward a battlefield of shadow creatures to be something they did in a way that seemed completely natural.
In the middle of the fall, SansVl pulled Angrela to him. The embrace lasted the specific time of a fall from a wall of a certain height — not long, but present. The kiss that followed had that quality of something that was not performance for the crowd but that happened completely for themselves, because it was the moment it was, regardless of who was watching.
They landed.
The impact raised dust in a perfect circle around the two of them.
They stood.
And went to the battlefield with that walk Kuto was learning to recognise as the Adventus step — not urgent, not hesitant, just the speed of people who knew exactly where they were going and who saw no reason to go faster or slower than necessary.
---
On top of the walls, none of those present said anything for a moment.
Then the Adventus prodigy — who had remained motionless throughout the entire sequence with that stillness of a genuinely absorbed child — emitted the sound of admiration that had not yet found its verbal form.
Kuto looked at the battlefield.
At the Mage of Fear on the horizon.
At the creatures that continued to come.
At Leiz beside him — who had resumed the smile he had been wearing before his wife left, but which was a different smile now. More present. Less constructed.
**[ADAPTIVE CLASS: ACTIVE]**
**[AVAILABLE SKILLS: 23]**
Kuto activated the HUD. Not from SansVl this time.
He looked at the mages above — at the way the fire enchantments came out, at the angle, at the rhythm of conjuring. At the way Leiz held his sword, at the combat style visible in his posture even without having seen the soldier in combat.
Then he looked at the Mage of Fear on the horizon.
*Cassius's piece.* The thought was cold and precise. *Who came here for a specific reason. Who has a specific objective among those present.*
*And I still don't know what it is.*
But there was something else beneath the tactical analysis.
Leiz's face when his wife left. The smile that was not a smile.
*Not that I care.*
The phrase arrived with the automaticity of habit.
And for the first time in 88 chapters, Kuto let it pass without completely believing it.
— Are we ready? — he said.
The response was unanimous in the quality that unanimous response has — not in sound, but in the simultaneous orientation of bodies that had decided at the same time.
Kuto looked at the battlefield one last time.
At the horizon. At the Mage. At the tide of creatures that continued.
---
In the invisible space above the trees of the forest, Cassius had that quality of someone who had seen confirmation of something they had been waiting to confirm.
The die turned between his fingers.
Slowly.
— Begin the game — he said.
Not to the Mage of Fear below.
To the air. To the board. To the sequence of events he had set in motion.
Garrett, beside him, was silent with that quality of silence of someone processing what they are seeing and who has not yet reached a conclusion about what to do with the processing.
— What is the piece? — said Garrett.
Cassius didn't respond immediately.
The die stopped turning.
It went completely still in Cassius's palm for a second that had that quality of a pause before a revelation.
Then it began turning again.
— It's not yet time for you to know.