The riverbank opened slowly through the thinning trees.
Cold air rolled off the water, carrying the low hush of current against stone.
They stepped out of the brush one by one.
Springtrap first.
Then Liora.
The Debt Collector a few paces behind them.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
The Emberwake sat against the shoreline.
But it was not the Emberwake they remembered.
The hull was broader now, reinforced with angled plating that caught the fading light in sharp metallic edges. The mast had been replaced by a heavier, reinforced structure threaded with cables and pulley systems that hadn't been there before. New mechanisms lined the sides of the vessel — articulated braces, retractable platforms, and what looked suspiciously like launch rails built into the deck.
The deck itself had been extended outward, its structure widened enough that several more people could move freely without crowding.
Eight, comfortably.
The boat looked less like a transport.
And more like something built to survive a war.
Springtrap's eyes widened.
"Oh."
She took several steps forward, staring.
"Oh that's beautiful."
Her pace quickened as she circled along the shoreline, craning her neck to study the modifications.
"Is that a reinforced keel brace? And— wait— those rails weren't there before. Are those rotational mounts? You installed rotational mounts."
She squinted up at the rigging.
"And that pulley system is doubled. That means weight redistribution. That means the boat can—"
"Yes," Kingfisher said calmly from the deck.
Springtrap pointed immediately.
"That vented panel. That's new."
"Correct."
"That means internal pressure release for something explosive."
"Yes."
Springtrap looked thrilled.
"You built weapon ports."
"We improved survivability."
Springtrap kept staring.
"You built weapon ports."
Kingfisher did not respond.
Springtrap continued pacing, eyes darting across the structure.
"And the stern plating is thicker. And those braces — those weren't there before. That means load-bearing capacity increased which means you can mount heavier machinery or armor or possibly a—"
"Springtrap," Liora said flatly.
"Yes?"
"Breathe."
Springtrap inhaled sharply.
Then resumed pointing.
"And the deck reinforcement suggests—"
Sir Wilkinson's voice cut through the rambling.
"We completed the upgrades in roughly half a day."
He stood near the gangplank, metal arm resting loosely at his side.
"Winch made the process significantly faster."
A heavy metallic shape shifted near the deck railing.
Winch leaned forward slightly inside the massive mechanical frame that housed her.
The machine's optics glowed faintly as it looked down at them.
"Winch appreciates the compliment," she said politely.
Then added,
"But Winch did not do everything."
Her metal hand gestured toward the deck.
"Others helped."
Kingfisher folded his arms.
"The design work was already finished," he said. "Most of the blueprints were prepared in advance."
Sir Wilkinson gave a small nod.
"That is accurate."
Winch dipped her mechanical head slightly.
"Winch assembled the pieces."
Springtrap looked offended.
"Half a day."
She looked back at the boat.
"Half. A. Day."
Her voice lowered reverently.
"You monsters."
No one responded.
Isobel stepped forward from the edge of the dock.
Her eyes moved past the group.
She stopped when she saw him.
"The Debt Collector."
Her voice was calm.
But curious.
The Debt Collector glanced at her once.
Then looked past her.
As if she hadn't spoken.
Isobel blinked.
His expression changed immediately.
It was subtle.
But unmistakable.
Like a boy who had just waved at someone who didn't wave back.
He looked away sharply.
Isobel's gaze shifted.
"Where's Roald?"
Liora answered quietly.
"He's still inside."
Isobel froze.
Her head snapped toward the castle.
"What?"
She was already turning.
Already moving.
"I'm going back—"
"Relax," Springtrap said.
Isobel stopped mid-step.
Springtrap waved a hand lazily.
"He's not alone."
Isobel narrowed her eyes.
"Explain."
"Lomor's with him."
Springtrap tilted her head.
"And the big armored lady."
Isobel stopped completely.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"...The armored lady?"
Springtrap shrugged.
"Tall. Black armor. Looks like she could punch through a cathedral door."
Recognition flickered in Isobel's eyes.
"Velanora."
She exhaled slowly.
The tension drained out of her posture almost immediately.
Springtrap smirked.
"Told you."
From behind them, the Debt Collector spoke.
"Well."
His voice carried a dry edge.
"Now that everyone has completed their emotional evaluations…"
He adjusted his coat.
"I believe my work here is finished."
No one stopped him.
He turned toward the path leading away from the river.
Took two steps.
Then paused.
He glanced back once.
At Isobel.
Just long enough to register.
Then he continued walking.
Into the trees.
Gone.