Daniel
Daniel fed a final string of inputs into the interface and let the projection stabilize.
The battlefield snapped into coherence in front of him. Vectors. Pressure points. Mana strain. Enemy mass. Friendly collapse thresholds. It wasn’t pretty, but it was readable, and that was enough.
“All right,” he said quietly. “This is what we’re going to do.”
Nathan looked up from his sword, which he was studying. Gavin leaned in. Lucas shifted closer, already reading Daniel’s expression for intent rather than words. The whole carriage went quiet.
Daniel pointed at the fortress bowl, highlighting the lower curve where the wards flickered weakest. “First—Gavin. You stay airborne. High. Directly over Crescent Hyr.”
Gavin blinked. “Over it?”
“Yes,” Daniel said. “You’re our fire support. They don’t have the caster density to counter sustained aerial magic. Peak human cultivators can fly, but as you know, they’re rare, and they probably don’t have an equivalent on the battlefield or this fight would already be over. The overwatch and fire control will be imperative. You drop pressure, break formations, and force the orcs to constantly be looking up.”
Gavin’s brows knit together for half a second like he was contemplating the meaning of life, then his eyes widened.
“Ethan, that is genius,” he said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Daniel gave a thin smile. “Because you’re used to thinking like a duelist. Think like artillery.”
Gavin nodded, already adjusting his casting posture. “Artillery… what is artillery?”
Daniel grinned. “Artillery is what we call in when we want to—how do you say it—bring the rain.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow.
“Your job is to drop spells on them, make them as big and destructive as possible, and try to maintain a safe distance.”
Gavin nodded. “Got it. I’ll pace my output so I don’t cook the wards.”
“Good,” Daniel said. “You scorch the ground, not the city.”
He tapped the projection again, bringing up the breach. “Next. We drop Li family cultivators directly in front of that weak point. Not behind it. Not beside it. In front.”
Lucas frowned. “You want them between the Serrans and the orcs?”
“I want them reinforcing the Serrans,” Daniel corrected. “Rotating with them. Absorbing shock. Buying time. The Serrans are built to hold, not to surge. We don’t replace them—we support them.”
He glanced at Nathan. “That means no charging ahead.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
Daniel raised a finger.
“No charging ahead unless I say so.”
Nathan closed his mouth, then grinned anyway.
Daniel continued. “Spellcasters are split into two groups. One focuses exclusively on ward repair. Stabilize the lattice. Keep the physical structure from failing. The other reinforces the wall itself—stone, timber, anchor points. I don’t care if it looks ugly. I care if it stays standing.”
He turned to Lucas. “That’s you. You coordinate ground units. Pods, flanks, peripheral coverage. Do not get in the Serrans’ way. Ever. You support them, protect the bowcasters, and rotate wounded out before they become liabilities.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
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“I know,” Daniel said. “That’s why you’re doing it.”
Nathan’s hand shot into the air.
“Brother-in-law,” he said rapidly. “Brother-in-law. Brother-in-law. What about me?”
Daniel didn’t even look at him. “You and I are going samurai hunting.”
Nathan blinked. “What’s a samurai?”
Daniel sighed. “Never mind. We’re going after the boss.”
Nathan’s grin widened, sharp and delighted. “Oh. That guy. Yes, let’s go stab some people in the face. Then we go to the whorehouse.”
Gavin and Lucas exchanged a look.
“Is that wise?” Gavin asked carefully. “We kind of need you alive.”
Daniel met his eyes. “There’s no one else who can do this. You’re the only one who can maintain aerial suppression. Lucas is the only one who can keep the ground culivators from collapsing into chaos. And Nathan—”
Nathan puffed up slightly.
“—cannot be left alone against someone who looks like they were born holding a sword,” Daniel finished.
Nathan laughed. “I appreciate the confidence.”
Daniel continued, more serious now. “I also need to test something. A theory. It only works under real pressure.”
Nathan waved a hand. “Sure, sure. We kill the bad guy, you test your theories, then we go to the whorehouse.”
Daniel rubbed his face. “How about we survive this first?”
“Sabine is going to love you, Brother-in-law,” Nathan said cheerfully.
Daniel watched the battlefield for another heartbeat, then reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
The interface dimmed as he cut the projection. The moment for planning was over. What came next was execution.
He pulled out a small case and snapped it open.
Inside were six identical capsules.
Small. Smooth. Translucent red, like crystallized blood. Each one faintly warm to the touch, mana coiled inside them so tightly it barely leaked at all. The pills were quiet in the way dangerous things often were.
Everyone went still.
Nathan’s grin faded first. “Oh,” he said. “That’s never a good sign.”
Gavin stared at the case. “Weren’t those theoretical?”
Daniel didn’t look at him as he closed the interface and stepped closer. “They stopped being theoretical the moment Marissa sent that message.”
Lucas frowned. “What are they?”
Daniel lifted one capsule between two fingers. “A game changer. If you find yourself lacking power, focus, whatever—take this.”
Daniel moved down the line.
He pressed the first pill into Gavin’s palm. “This one’s tuned for casting. It’ll smooth your output curve, let you push harder without frying your meridians. Try not to use it if you can avoid it. You’ll still feel it afterward.”
Gavin closed his fingers around it. “Afterward how?”
Daniel paused. “You won’t want to cast for a few days; you can but you won't like it very much.”
Gavin nodded once. “That’s acceptable.”
The second pill went to Lucas. “Yours reinforces coordination through a flooing of mana to your cognitive process. It won’t make you stronger, but it will make every decision cleaner. Faster. Less hesitation. You’ll feel… detached.”
Lucas studied the capsule. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It is,” Daniel said evenly. “But it’s better than losing the wall.”
Lucas didn’t argue.
Daniel turned to Nathan last.
He held the pill out and waited.
Nathan took it slowly, eyes bright again. “So what does mine do?”
Daniel hesitated just long enough for Nathan to notice.
“Brother-in-law?”
“It amplifies everything,” Daniel said. “Strength. Speed. Reaction. Mana flare. It will burn through your reserves like dry grass. When it wears off, you are done. Completely.”
Nathan grinned wider. “Perfect.”
Daniel grabbed his wrist. “I’m serious. You take this, you don’t go chasing kills. You don’t play hero. You stick to the plan.”
Nathan squeezed his hand back. “Brother-in-law. If I break the plan, you’re allowed to yell at me later.”
Daniel released him reluctantly.
He took the last pill himself.
Everyone noticed.
Gavin stiffened. “You said you weren’t built for that kind of output.”
“I’m not,” Daniel agreed. “That’s why mine is different.”
He swallowed the capsule dry.
Heat bloomed in his chest immediately, not explosive, but dense. Mana responded as if it had been waiting for permission to move faster, cleaner, tighter. His senses sharpened, the battlefield snapping into crisp relief. He could feel the stress points in the wards below, the turbulence in the air, the precise moment the orc formations would buckle if struck hard enough.
Ethan’s presence flared in his mind.
“Daniel—”
“I know,” Daniel said quietly. “I know.”
He looked at the three men in front of him.
“This doesn’t make us invincible,” he said. “It buys us time. That’s it. We use that time properly, or this kills us just as surely as the orcs will.”
Nathan cracked his neck. “So no pressure.”
Before Daniel could respond, movement caught his eye.
Two blurred shapes launched themselves into the air from the orc lines—enemy elites. At the same time, bowcasters on the wall released another synchronized volley, mana resonating across the formation. The Serrans pushed forward in disciplined steps, shields locked, spears driving. Zhao family cultivators fought alongside them, bloodied but unbroken.
Daniel watched it all and felt the conclusion settle into place.
Someone down there had already realized the truth.
They had to break the orc force now.
Not later. Not gradually. Before the Green Orcs fully arrived. Before numbers overwhelmed discipline. Before Crescent Hyr drowned.
Daniel straightened.
“All right,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
“Lets go to work.”