Augusto walked slowly through the formation of soldiers that had been devastated by the mysterious explosions. The scene around him was desolate. Bodies were piled up in irregular rows, and those still breathing groaned in pain or murmured prayers to the gods. The smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood filled the air, mixed with the strong scent of overturned earth. The ground was pockmarked with craters where the explosives had detonated, creating a battlefield full of depressions and scattered fragments.

He stopped and watched as some soldiers still standing, their skin and clothes stained with blood, worked to drag the dead and wounded out of the way. Others, with vacant stares, simply gazed at the bodies of their comrades. One man, with half of his face blackened by fire, was vainly trying to bandage the arm of a friend who lay lifeless. In another part, a soldier muttered to himself, his eyes wide and his expression frozen in horror, while he tightly held the hands of a comrade whose legs had been blown off by the explosion.

Augusto approached an officer who was helping to organize the bodies. "What happened here?" he asked, his voice laden with authority and concern.

The officer, visibly shaken, looked at Augusto with wide eyes. "I don’t know, sir... We were marching, and suddenly... these explosions. There was no warning, nothing."

Frustrated, Augusto turned to one of the mages accompanying him. "What do you think this was? Magic?"

The mage, a middle-aged man with a grave expression, shook his head. "No, it wasn’t magic. There’s no trace of mana, no signs that a spell was cast."

Augusto, indignant, shouted, "Then what the hell was it?"

The mage, perplexed, shrugged. "I don’t know, my lord. I’ve never heard of explosions of this magnitude without magic being involved."

Augusto clenched his fists, feeling the anger rising within him. He needed answers, and fast. He advanced to where Erondir, the king’s envoy, was inspecting the bodies. Erondir, always perceptive, was crouched beside a dead soldier, closely examining the wounds.

"What do you think could have been used, Erondir?" Augusto asked, trying to stay calm.

Erondir, without looking up, pointed to the body before him. "Look here," he said, gently touching the dead soldier's neck. "This man didn’t die from the explosion’s fire. He was hit by shrapnel, something sharp and small, which pierced his chainmail and killed him instantly."

Augusto looked closer and saw what Erondir was describing. Small metal fragments were embedded in the soldier’s flesh, cutting him in multiple places. The chainmail, which should have offered protection, had been penetrated as if it were paper.

Augusto gritted his teeth in frustration and fury. "This can only be the work of Miguel and those monsters of the beast men!"

Erondir slowly stood up and looked directly at Augusto. "From now on, we need to be more cautious. These devices, whatever they are, are extremely dangerous."

Augusto, however, was blinded by rage. "It doesn’t matter anymore! We’re just over five hours from Drakmoor. We’re not stopping now!"

Erondir stepped back, his gaze full of warning. "This is not a game, Augusto. We lost 240 men at once, and there are more than 600 wounded, some seriously. Moving forward without caution could cost more lives."

Augusto remained silent for a moment, his mind boiling with thoughts of revenge. Finally, he spoke, his voice hard and determined. "These are my orders. We’re not stopping, not now, not when we’re so close to eliminating Miguel."

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Erondir nodded, aware that despite his warnings, Augusto’s decision was made. The march would continue, but uncertainty and fear now marched alongside the soldiers, while the specter of the explosions loomed over them like a sinister shadow foretelling more disasters to come.

Miguel was on the wall, the first rays of the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, bringing a faint light that dispelled the darkness of the night. The atmosphere was tense. Beside him stood Arthur, Marcus, and John, all with serious expressions, aware of the impending battle.

Miguel, with his gaze fixed on the horizon, spoke in a firm voice, but one tinged with concern. "We must preserve the skilled workforce. We can’t afford to lose the little we’ve managed to train in battle. Arthur, I want you to instruct Benjamin. If the city is overrun, he must flee. He’s young, talented, but we can’t risk his life like this. We need to ensure he survives so we can rebuild if necessary."

Arthur, though understanding the necessity of the plan, sighed, knowing it would be difficult to convince Benjamin. "You’re right, Miguel. Benjamin is stubborn, but I’ll do my best to persuade him. He needs to understand that sometimes living to fight another day is the wiser choice."

Miguel nodded, grateful. "Marcus, the same goes for your apprentices. You must make them understand that if the worst happens, they must flee. Their survival is crucial for the future of this kingdom. I’ve already spoken to the beast men about this. They also know we must preserve all who can help rebuild."

Marcus, always pragmatic, agreed. "I’ll instruct them. But you know how young people are, full of pride and eager to prove their worth. Even so, I’ll make them understand the importance of survival."

John, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke up. "It’s a smart move, my lord. But it won’t be easy for them to accept. Everyone here wants to fight, to defend their homes. But, as you said, we can’t risk everything on a single battle."

Miguel, now more resolute, looked at each of them. "We’re not just fighting for this moment. We’re fighting for the future. And for that, we need to ensure there’s someone to rebuild what’s lost. You know what to do."

The morning light began to spread over the city, bringing with it a new day, full of uncertainties, but also determination. Everyone there knew that what was coming would require not just courage, but also the wisdom to protect what truly mattered.

---

Miguel remained on the wall, the cold morning wind beginning to intensify as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the horizon. The city, still shrouded in uneasy silence, was preparing for what was to come. In the distance, the sound of boots on stone and earth approached: Ricardo and the other soldiers and beast men were returning from their mission. Their faces showed fatigue, but there was a glint of victory in many of their eyes.

Ricardo was the first to approach Miguel. Still panting, he gave a slight smile before speaking. "Your plan, my lord... It worked perfectly! I never imagined we could one day use explosions like this, without relying on magic. It caught those bastards by surprise!" The satisfaction was evident in his voice, but soon curiosity took over. "But, tell me, where did you learn this? Explosions that aren’t powered by magic... This is something I’ve never seen or heard of."

Miguel opened his mouth to respond, but Ricardo, knowing his friend, interrupted him with a laugh. "Let me guess," he said with a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic smile, "it was in your books, wasn’t it?"

Miguel laughed along with him and nodded affirmatively. "Yes, in my books," he replied with a light tone in his voice. However, Ricardo, who knew Miguel well, sensed something more in his words. Perhaps it wasn’t just the books. Perhaps there was something deeper that Miguel wasn’t ready to reveal yet. Even so, he decided to set aside this suspicion, at least for now.

"How long until the enemy arrives?" Miguel asked, quickly changing the subject.

Ricardo looked at the horizon and after a brief pause, replied, "They should be here in a few hours, no more than three."

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The battle was approaching quickly, and the sense of apprehension began to intensify in his chest. He knew that the fate of everyone there depended on the decisions he would make in the coming hours.

Elnar and Ruidahr, who had been standing beside Miguel during the conversation, listened in silence. Miguel turned to Elnar, pulled some folded documents from inside his jacket, and handed them to the stag. Elnar, with a look of confusion, took them without understanding.

"What is this, my lord?" Elnar asked, his eyes scanning the pages, still not understanding the reason for this gesture.

Miguel, with a grave expression, replied, "These are the documents on how to make the gunpowder and explosives we used. If something happens to me, I trust you to continue my work. This new weapon could help the beast men in their fight for freedom. Elnar, I don’t want you to play the hero. If I fall in battle and this place is about to fall, you must ensure these documents don’t fall into the hands of my brothers. Get them out of here, and take as many civilians as you can with you."

Elnar, still speechless, held the papers as if they were a burden too heavy for his arms, understanding the weight of the responsibility that Miguel had just placed on his shoulders. Ruidahr, observing the moment with seriousness, finally broke the silence.

"Miguel, you are a great man," he said, with a sincerity he rarely showed. "I’ve never met a human like you before. I will do everything in my power to ensure you survive this battle. But if something goes wrong, I will carry out your orders. We will protect these documents and everyone we can."

Miguel nodded, grateful for the support of his friends. The air around him was getting colder, a sign of the approaching winter. He looked up at the brightening sky, knowing that in just a few hours, things could change drastically. The peace of dawn cruelly contrasted with the storm that was approaching. Everyone there was aware of what was to come and prepared to fight, but the uncertainty of what might happen still lingered in the air, leaving everyone in a heavy silence.

Miguel took a deep breath once more, feeling the cold in the air and the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The battle was approaching, and he knew that the fate of many depended on him.