The mountain winds howled across the ravine, but deep within the stone-veiled hollow that served as the enemy command, all was still.
The cavern was vast and strangely symmetrical part natural, part carved. Glowing ward-lines circled the chamber like constellations etched in firelight, their shapes clashing faintly with jagged demonic runes carved into the stone columns. A war of aesthetics, forced into coexistence.
This was not a place of peace.
It was a place of calculated alliance.
Dozens of demons and angels filtered in silently, their faces lined with frost, skin damp with melted snow. Each bore the signs of recent fieldwork—soot on their boots, wards burned raw on their palms, cloaks crusted with mountain ice. They gathered around the central command pyre, where a spectral projection of the temple fortress floated in midair, turning slowly.
Standing at either side of the flame were the two generals.
The angel—Seraphion—was tall and slim, wrapped in steel-threaded robes that shimmered faintly with layered blessings. His hair glowed white-gold in the firelight, and his six folded wings arched behind him in perfect symmetry. His expression was unreadable, almost serene.
Opposite him stood General Malgareth, a demon cast in obsidian plates and bearing a crown of horns shaped like broken tusks. His breath steamed with sulfur as he leaned toward the map, his sharp eyes scanning its shifting defenses.
The last of the field captains stepped forward and bowed.
"We approached from seven points," the angelic scout began. "All zones revealed standard perimeter warding between twenty-five and thirty-three meters from the main walls. Most were passive-detection grade. They reacted slowly."
"Too slowly," another added. "We withdrew before any direct spell was cast."
"Then they're weaker than expected," a younger demon snapped from the side.
Malgareth let out a growling laugh. "No. They let you see what they wanted you to see."
Seraphion inclined his head in agreement. "They have decoys. We never touched the real perimeter."
The air grew tense as commanders murmured in acknowledgement.
"They're weaving layers," said Seraphion. "Outer shells to feign frailty. Inner defenses yet untested. The true wards lie beneath."
"But that tells us something, doesn't it?" Malgareth rumbled. "They want us in. They want us to think we've found the cracks."
The fire between them shifted—glowing red, then white-hot as the illusion of the fortress zoomed in on its southern ridge.
"They expect a charge," Seraphion said. "So we give them one."
Malgareth grinned. "A real one. Not a test. Not a probe. Something they must respond to."
Seraphion waved his hand and a glowing sigil appeared over the projection.
"Here. The secondary temple gate. They think it's secure, but they've been rotating patrols thinly there since the last range test. We breach it not with siege, but infiltration."
Malgareth nodded slowly. "A suicide vanguard to test the inner wards?"
"No," Seraphion said coolly. "A misdirection team. They'll create noise, draw attention. Meanwhile…"
He gestured, and another marker blinked to the western slope, where a narrow series of ridgelines led to the base of the shrine.
"…we send a glamered unit beneath the slope. Burrowed, shielded. No sound. No spells. They will carry ashen heart."
"Collapse the foundation," Malgareth rumbled with pleasure. "Bring the mountain down on them."
"Not yet," Seraphion said. "We cripple their wards. Then we fall back again. Let them scramble, rebuild. Only then do we break them."
The plan took shape before the gathered officers like a living serpent coiling through smoke.
"And when do we strike?" one of the field angels asked.
Seraphion looked to Malgareth.
The demon bared his fangs in a slow, delighted grin. "The night after their next supply drop. When they're tired, disarmed, and full of relief."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Let them feel peace for one more day."
***
The tent was deathly still. The kind of stillness that made even candle flames seem nervous.
Morpheus Everglade sat alone beneath a hanging lantern of blue fire. The soft light etched hollow shadows across his face. Before him, resting on a cloth stitched with ancient runes, sat two bone-white dice.
He took them in hand. Fingers pale, movements precise.
Then he rolled.
Clatter.
The dice spun bouncing once, then twice before settling.
Two sixes.
He didn't smile with joy.
He smiled like a man watching a chessboard catch fire after placing his final piece.
"Right on time," he murmured, standing.
He left the tent without another word.
⸻
The wall was cold beneath his boots, high above the stone terraces and outer defenses. Snow lingered along the corners of the battlements, though the fire glyphs carved into the inner wall pulsed softly with heat.
Below, wizards moved with calm discipline, eyes flicking from the sky to the slopes and back again. Supplies had been laid out all along the wall: metal rods, sharpened stone blocks, coils of wire and transfiguration-grade crystal. Not leftovers from repairs ammunition.
Morpheus stood silently above them, his cloak unmoving despite the mountain wind. His eyes scanned the dark treeline ahead
"They'll come from there first," he said aloud.
Kazuki appeared beside him a moment later, glancing up in confusion. "You're certain?"
"I rolled," Morpheus said simply as it explained everything
Kazuki hesitated, but didn't argue. "We'll follow your lead."
Morpheus nodded. Then, softly, to the air itself:
"Form Delta. Prepare lines of illusion to the north and west. Mark the roots for collapse."
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The order rippled like magic through water, reaching every officer and wardmaster in the defense grid.
They moved instantly.
⸻
A sudden bloom of light a controlled magical flare—exploded above the southern ridge, followed by half a dozen shrieking spells of holy and infernal origin. A team of enemies rushed forward from the tree line, screaming and hurling spells, charging the outer wards in what looked like a reckless rush.
But Morpheus had already turned away from the southern wall.
"Shield lines two and three. Let them see it bend."
The first layer of wards flashed as the spells struck. Noise erupted but the defenders were unmoved. They didn't retreat. They didn't even return fire they shifted, rerouting power through grounded pylons as transfiguration teams activated the metal rods.
Steel bent midair, snapping into arrowhead constructs and slamming down into the slope. Several of the attacking figures turned mid-run already retreating.
"Let them," Morpheus murmured. "They weren't the real threat."
Kazuki turned to him. "Then where—?"
Morpheus pointed west.
⸻
A secondary team of cloaked infiltrators had tunneled beneath the western slope, carrying compact flame cores and dark enchantments meant to detonate under the shrine's outer foundation. They had been undetected for hours.
Until now.
As they crawled into the final shaft, just meters below the runed walls, the soil moved.
Then it grabbed them.
The stone transfigured into serpentine arms, dragging one of the demons upward screaming. A shrieking net of wind magic spun down the tunnel, trapping an angel as he activated his flame core nullifying it mid-trigger.
From above, a concealed strike squad descended, sliding down pre-conjured stone ramps and hurling mirrored light in every direction. The demons hissed and cursed—but they were already too deep in the trap.
Morpheus's voice echoed through a long-distance spell:
"Collapse the shaft. Seal it."
Dozens of prepared runes detonated downward. The entire western tunnel system caved, not just trapping the enemy but cutting off their retreat.
⸻
Back on the wall, the southern feint team had already vanished, leaving behind only burning trees and a few ruptured spell shells.
Kazuki stared toward the now-crumbling western slope. "They coordinated two strikes at once."
"Yes," Morpheus said. "And both failed."
He folded his arms behind his back again, serene.
"They believed we'd only be watching one direction at a time. As if we still play by their rules."
His gaze turned skyward.
"They've grown unpredictable."
"And reckless," Kazuki muttered.
"No," Morpheus said. "That was careful planning. Which means they have a smart leader, how rare."
He turned.
"Ready our next phase. They won't wait long before trying again."