Jax left the back of Brannic and Merriweather's forge with purpose in every step.
The noise of the shop faded behind him.
War was coming.
He had a plan.
Now he needed to lock it in.
They raced back to their estate.
Helpers were already waiting to unload the caravan. Crates shifted. Armor racks opened. Weapons were checked.
Nyxian's eyes landed on several reinforced barrels being rolled inside.
She arched an eyebrow.
"Is that our own stash of Pixie Mead?"
Jax didn't slow down.
"Of course. You think I'd negotiate without securing our supply?"
A grin tugged at her lips despite the tension.
Inside, Jax laid the plan out.
Quietly.
Directly.
When he finished—
Silence.
They hated it.
The plan left him and Llandra exposed.
Too exposed.
Bunny's voice trembled slightly.
"I still worry about you and Llandra."
Jax stepped closer and met her gaze fully.
"I'm not worried about us."
He shifted his attention to all three of them.
"I'm worried about you."
That caught them off guard.
"We know exactly where the army is," he continued. "You won't. If something moves early, you'll be the ones in the dark."
The weight of that landed.
They were all walking into danger.
Different fronts.
Same battlefield.
"Trust me," Jax said softly.
And they did.
Not blindly.
Not foolishly.
But fully.
They saw the resolve in his eyes.
He was thinking five steps ahead.
He always was.
"Let's gear up."
Armor materialized in flashes of System light.
Legendary-grade.
Some pieces beyond that.
Brannic's craftsmanship gleamed in crimson and silver accents.
Nyxian's whip, Lilith's Kiss, coiled at her hip.
Sanctaris hummed faintly in Zee's grasp.
Bunny's hammer rested against her shoulder.
Jax blinked.
He had almost forgotten how devastatingly beautiful they looked in battle gear.
Nyxian noticed immediately. Her lust overtook her.
She stepped forward.
"Do we have… two hours?"
All eyes turned to Jax. Wanting eyes peered at Jax.
He considered.
Then smirked.
"We can spare two."
Three hours later—
Breathing steadied.
Armor refastened.
Resolve sharpened.
They remembered exactly what they were fighting for.
Home.
Each other.
The future.
Transit to Crescent City was smooth.
The portal flared.
The caravan rolled through.
But the atmosphere on the other side was different.
Heavy.
The line stretching toward Solmere was long.
This wasn't commerce.
It was evacuation.
Families carrying bundles.
Merchants hauling whatever they could.
Fear was contagious.
Jax hated the sight.
He felt responsible.
Progress always invited resistance.
But if they didn't move forward—
They would always be at someone else's mercy.
Fans still recognized the Vixens.
Hands reached.
Names were shouted.
Jax slipped away to speak with the transit overseer.
"Remove the temporal crystal if they breach the gate," Jax instructed. "Destroy it if necessary."
The overseer swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
They all hoped it wouldn't come to that.
But lives mattered more than infrastructure.
Shops were boarding windows.
Militia gathered with mismatched armor.
Crescent City was not built for war.
Not against ten thousand.
Grim and Steed pulled the caravan beyond the city's edge.
Once clear of watchful eyes, Jax activated Windwalk.
Llandra felt the familiar lift beneath her.
They rose silently along the canyon wall.
At the top, the world stretched wide.
Below lay Crescent Canyon — the narrow artery the Imperial army would march through.
Jax began marking positions.
Blasting subtle cavities into the rock.
Embedding crystals.
Channeling mana lines.
This wasn't destruction.
It was preparation.
Controlled.
Measured.
Strategic.
They descended again once the placements were complete.
Phase one set.
Back in the city—
Nyxian, Zee, and Bunny began "shopping."
In reality, they were hunting.
Their perception skills — boosted through countless shared iPoints — scanned everything.
Merchant coats hiding subtle insignias.
Eyes lingering too long from upper windows.
Slaves attempting to quietly warn shopkeepers before being ushered away.
The Guild was here.
Embedded.
Watching.
Two days until the army arrived.
One day until "negotiations."
Tonight—
They would begin removing eyes from the board.
That evening, Jax made his move.
He reserved the largest restaurant in Crescent City.
Then he did something reckless.
Or brilliant.
"Everyone eats free tonight," he announced.
Murmurs exploded into cheers.
Panic softened.
For a few hours, Crescent City felt alive again.
Music returned.
Laughter returned.
Hope flickered.
And the Slave Guild operatives?
They came.
Curious.
Suspicious.
Drawn to the noise.
The Vixens spotted them immediately.
It became a game.
A subtle one.
Drinks flowed.
Toasts were made.
Shoulders were clasped.
Sleeping potions — diluted and tasteless — found their way into specific cups.
One by one, Guild watchers grew heavy-eyed.
Too much drink.
Too much celebration.
Friends helped them outside.
Allies intercepted.
Rooms were searched.
Notes recovered.
Communication tokens confiscated.
Addresses logged.
By midnight, Crescent City knew more about the Guild's embedded structure than it had in months.
And the Guild did not yet realize they had been exposed.
Without an army.
Without battlements.
Crescent City was preparing for war in its own way.
Through intelligence.
Through unity.
Through precision.
Jax watched from the back of the restaurant as laughter echoed around him.
He looked almost relaxed.
Almost amused.
But inside—
He was counting hours.
Tomorrow would test the Empire's intent.
Tomorrow would test his resolve.
Tonight, though?
Tonight was a feast.
And a trap.