Rain hammered against the windows of Solmere.
Not soft rain.
Not peaceful rain.
War rain.
Cold.
Relentless.
The kind that turned roads to mud and made soldiers miserable before battle had even begun.
Inside the War Room, nobody seemed to notice it anymore.
The room had become its own world.
Maps.
Reports.
Supply counts.
Troop estimates.
Portal schedules.
Rotations.
Food shortages.
Medical shortages.
Sleep shortages.
Everyone looked exhausted.
Even the Vixens.
Bunny sat near one of the tables with both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
"...Two hundred and fifty thousand," she muttered again.
Like maybe the number would shrink if she repeated it enough.
It never did.
Zee hadn't slept more than three hours straight in days.
Every time she closed her eyes she started calculating again.
Healing rotations.
Triage stations.
Mana exhaustion.
How many wounded one healer could realistically stabilize before collapse.
The numbers always ended the same way.
Not enough.
Llandra stood beside one of the large maps.
Quiet.
Focused.
Her father watched her from across the room occasionally.
Not hovering.
Not interfering.
Just observing.
The wild daughter who had once abandoned court life to chase adventure was now standing in military councils beside kings, generals, and spymasters.
And she belonged there.
Nyxian was sprawled across a chair dramatically.
But even her usual laziness felt forced now.
Every few minutes her eyes drifted toward Jax.
Checking him.
Watching him.
Making sure he still looked normal.
Jax himself hadn't stopped moving for nearly six hours.
He went from table to table.
Group to group.
Conversation to conversation.
Sometimes talking.
Sometimes only listening.
But always thinking.
Always calculating.
That frightened Vaelrith the most.
Because Jax only got this quiet when he was building something dangerous.
A messenger burst through the doors.
"Three more Empire supply caravans spotted heading south."
Another report landed beside it.
"Multiple mage divisions confirmed moving toward Alexandria."
Then another.
"Scouts report fortifications being constructed near the western crossings."
The room continued moving.
Working.
Preparing.
No panic anymore.
Panic had burned itself out yesterday.
This was worse.
This was acceptance.
Far away—
In the depths of Alexandria—
Celebration echoed through the lower chambers of the palace district.
Dark wine spilled freely.
Music played softly.
Mages laughed around long stone tables.
Candles burned with unnatural green flame.
At the center sat the woman responsible for the curse ritual.
Magister Selene Vaust.
Second Chair of the Imperial Arcane Order.
High disciple of the Chaos Cult.
And currently—
Very pleased with herself.
"You should have seen it," one mage laughed nervously. "The pulse alone nearly shattered the chamber."
Another raised a glass.
"To the fall of the Necromancer."
Several others echoed the toast.
Selene smiled faintly.
Not arrogance.
Certainty.
The ritual had worked.
She knew it had worked.
The backlash alone confirmed contact.
No human should have survived what they unleashed.
Blindness.
Paralysis.
Organ collapse.
Mana corrosion.
Even if he survived the first day—
His body should already be failing.
The door to the chamber opened.
Several mages immediately fell silent.
The Spy General's second lieutenant entered.
Lord Kaine Veylor.
Tall.
Sharp-featured.
Cold eyes.
The only man in the Empire who looked uncomfortable around celebrations.
He walked slowly toward the table.
"You seem confident."
Selene leaned back in her chair.
"I am."
"And the target?"
"Should already be deteriorating."
Kaine studied her carefully.
"You sound certain."
"I sacrificed twelve elite mages and a soul vessel for the ritual."
Her smile sharpened slightly.
"If he still lives after that, then perhaps the Chaos God himself wishes to test us."
A few nervous laughs followed.
Kaine did not laugh.
That unsettled several people immediately.
The Spy General's lieutenant slowly removed his gloves.
"Launched attacks based on assumptions before?"
Selene's expression cooled slightly.
"The ritual succeeded."
"You felt it take hold?"
"Yes."
Kaine moved closer to the table.
"And yet..."
Silence.
"...I have heard no reports of panic within the United Kingdoms."
That shifted the atmosphere instantly.
Several mages exchanged looks.
Selene remained composed.
"They would hide weakness."
"Perhaps."
Kaine's voice remained calm.
Too calm.
"But Jax Darquebane is not a normal military asset."
He stepped beside the table.
"If he collapsed... entire cities would react."
Still silence.
"And yet trade continues."
He looked toward another intelligence officer.
"Festival reports from Solmere?"
The man swallowed.
"...Still active."
"Public morale?"
"...Surprisingly high."
Kaine nodded once.
Then looked back toward Selene.
"Interesting."
For the first time—
A tiny crack appeared in her confidence.
"He may simply be resisting longer than expected."
"Maybe."
Kaine reached for a glass sitting near the center of the table.
One Selene herself had been drinking from.
He lifted it casually.
Almost absentmindedly.
Then took a sip.
"The Queen remains optimistic," Selene said carefully.
"The Queen feeds on results," Kaine corrected.
Not accusation.
Not warning.
Just fact.
That somehow felt worse.
One of the younger mages finally spoke up.
"What if he truly survived it?"
The room immediately turned toward him.
Fear spread fast after that.
Because nobody wanted to say the thought aloud.
If Jax Darquebane could survive THAT—
Then what exactly was he?
Selene stood abruptly.
"He is not a god."
"No," Kaine agreed quietly.
"Which is precisely why I find him concerning."
That silenced everyone again.
Back in Solmere—
Jax finally stopped moving.
Only because Bunny physically blocked his path.
"You need sleep."
"I'm fine."
"You said that yesterday."
"I'm still alive."
"That's not the same thing."
Jax smirked slightly.
Barely.
Bunny hated when he did that.
Because it usually meant he was ignoring something serious.
"You've got that look again," she muttered.
"What look?"
"The one where you're about to do something completely insane."
Nyxian pointed at him from across the room.
"See? I told you all!"
Llandra didn't look away from the maps.
"She's right."
Traitor.
Jax sighed.
"I'm literally standing here doing paperwork."
"That's what worries us," Zee answered immediately.
The room actually laughed.
A small laugh.
A tired laugh.
But real.
For a few seconds—
The pressure eased.
Then another Tele-Stone activated.
"Emergency report from the western roads."
The laughter vanished instantly.
Jax stepped toward the stone.
"Report."
Static crackled.
Then—
"Empire forces have started moving earlier than expected."
The room froze.
"How early?"
"Estimated arrival to first border regions... twenty-six days."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then Vaelrith slowly closed his eyes.
"...One month was optimistic."
Even Jax looked unsettled by that one.
Not scared.
Not panicked.
But calculating faster now.
The clock had just accelerated.
Across the room—
Llandra saw it immediately.
The moment his brain shifted gears again.
That dangerous silence returned to him.
And somehow—
That frightened her more than the Empire did.
Far away—
Inside the candlelit chamber of Alexandria—
Kaine Veylor continued drinking from Selene's glass while the mages celebrated around him.
His expression unreadable.
His thoughts hidden.
But when nobody was looking—
His thumb brushed once against the rim of the cup.
A small shadow detached from beneath his sleeve.
Then disappeared.
And the Spy General smiled very slightly.
Because unlike the others—
He wasn't celebrating yet.