Cass inspected three curved swords laid out before her. They looked solid—well-made, with leather-wrapped handles and brass crossguards—but they lacked the telltale orange of Orichalcum.

I sat on a bench nearby, still feeling the aftershocks of pain radiating from my groin, fiddling with the staff pieces Erik had given me. Putting the staff together felt straightforward enough but storing it in my earring was another story. Each piece seemed to register individually when stored, making the mana usage stack up when removing the spear—especially with the razor-sharp spear tip attached. It wasn’t a deal-breaker, but it was another odd quirk to figure out. The whole mana sanctum process still felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

“These will have to do,” Cass said finally, testing the weight of one of the blades with a few swift arcs before slamming it into a worn sheath. The remaining Florans were similarly arming up, pulling out sleek recurve bows made of a glossy black wood. Their quivers, loaded with a few short, sturdy bolts instead of traditional arrows that looked more suited to crossbows.

“Okay, I have a few questions,” I said, taking the staff apart and carefully storing it back in the case. Red, who had hopped up on the bench beside me, tilted his head as if he was listening intently. Cass strapped two swords to her hips and flopped onto a bench across from me, nodding for me to continue.

“You sure you’re good?” she asked. “I may have hit you a little hard.”

“I’ll live,” I replied with a grimace. “Barely. But seriously—if the road’s that bad, shouldn’t we go get help? Like, full hunters or something?”

“We don’t want to be out there after dark,” Cass said. “Lantern orbs are great, but there aren’t enough on the roads, and with the rain, it’d be a nightmare. We either handle this now or wait until morning—and the town would rather not wait.”

I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. “Should I put the armor on now?” My tone made it obvious I already knew the answer, and Cass perked up like she’d completely forgotten.

“Oh, yeah, probably,” she said casually.

My heart skipped a beat. Was she serious? I’d been waiting all damn afternoon for this.

Taking out the sevenfold bottle, I took a swig and handed it to Cass as I stood. “I’m going to try putting it on with the earring,” I said with a grin. “Pretty sure I’ve got the hang of it.”

“You’ve had it for an afternoon,” she said, raising an eyebrow. A flicker of worry touched her voice as she took a sip. “Let’s see it.”

The other Florans turned to watch, their interest piqued, as I reached into my earring for the box with the armor. I opened it, my excitement bubbling over.

Starting small, I summoned the gloves first. The wicked gauntlets fit snugly on my hands, their design sleek and menacing. They reminded me of heavy-duty work gloves—restrictive in the fingers but still functional. The Florans seemed genuinely impressed, and Cass even nodded.

Feeling more confident, I stored my vest in the earring and swapped my shirt and pants for the next pieces of the armor. A strange vibrating sensation buzzed in my ear as I tried to will the pieces into place.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. Cass smirked.

I glanced down and froze. I was completely naked.

“Ah, fuck me,” I muttered.

“Hmm, maybe,” Elizabeth replied, her tone dripping with amusement. The room burst into laughter, except for me.

“Still the crazy naked curtain guy,” Cass said, handing the bottle around with a wide grin.

With panicked concentrated effort, I finally managed to manifest the pants. They fit, but just barely—tight enough to rival skinny jeans and unforgiving in certain areas. Things were supported, at least. Barely.

I let out a long sigh, feeling a chunk of my mana vanish with the effort. It was clear that figuring out why the armor was so difficult to equip would have to wait. For now, not being naked was the primary focus.

Several minutes later—far longer than I’d ever admit—I managed to put the armor on manually. The entire set fit me... mathematically. As in, someone clearly took my exact measurements, nodded, and said, “Yeah, make it that size,” without leaving any breathing room.

It felt like wearing spandex—if spandex were two centimeters thick. Stretchy, sure, but unrelenting once on. Every movement felt calculated, like the armor was designed to remind me it was there at all times.

I twisted experimentally, testing the range of motion. It was snug, restrictive in places I hadn’t expected, but it moved with me in a way that felt oddly precise. Functional, but definitely not forgiving.

Sure, the set looked awesome, but fuck me, it was uncomfortable to wear.

“Ugh, okay, armor sucks,” I muttered, waddling over to a bench and dropping into it with a groan.

“So does getting eviscerated by a monster!” Edward shot back without missing a beat.

I scowled, but before I could retort, Cass chimed in. “That mana hardening thing you just did? I was going to show you when we got to the farm, but you figured it out quick. Do it in your shoulder now.”

“Oh good, more shoulder punching,” I said with mock enthusiasm, rolling my eyes as she stepped toward me.

Bravery screamed a warning in my mind, and I braced myself, pushing everything I could into my shoulder. But this time, the mana didn’t just stay—it seemed to flow into the armor itself, disappearing into the material.

I didn’t even see Cass’s fist move. Her punch smashed into my shoulder with a resounding pop, the impact sending a shockwave of force through the room. Benches screeched across the floor as I stumbled, barely catching myself.

Cass, meanwhile, was shaking her hand out like she’d just punched a brick wall. “Ow, shit. That was everything I had,” she grumbled, wincing.

I barely felt a thing. The motion from the impact was more disorienting than the actual hit. The mana I’d used to block her punch was completely gone, and when I tried to reinforce the area again, it seemed to take much less mana.

It also wasn’t immediately obvious, but Bravery’s sensory reach had shrunk significantly. Where it used to extend about ten meters, now it barely stretched five. And there was something else—my passive mana regeneration was gone. Completely.

“Yeah, I get it now,” I said, realization settling in as I looked up at Cass. Her nod confirmed my suspicions.

“That’s some seriously good armor,” she admitted, rubbing her knuckles. “You’re not allowed to wear it when we spar—it’s not even fair.”

“Oh, we’re going to spar? Seriously, everyone here loves fighting way too much. It’s ridiculous,” I muttered, snapping out of my examination of the armor.

Cass smirked but didn’t argue. “What do humans do for fun, then?”

I blinked at her, the first answer that came to mind fizzling out. Half the things I wanted to say would make no sense to someone here, and explaining them? Forget it.

“Stories,” I said finally. “Huge amounts of stories told in more ways than I can probably explain. Books, songs, plays, moving images—it’s endless. And music—any song you can imagine, available in seconds.” I paused, trying to summarize the chaos of human hobbies. “Sure, some people fight or train, but a lot of us build, travel, study, invent, cook, raise families. You know, normal stuff. But we don’t brawl with the same people multiple times a week. That’s definitely an Ark thing.”

Elizabeth considered this and tied her hair into a ponytail, nodding to herself. “Sounds boring. But we do those things too—well, traveling is dangerous and expensive, so fewer do it. A monster won’t stop for a song, so it must be slain. That’s why we fight each other—to get stronger. To enjoy the world. It’s why we’re Strikers. And I haven’t met a single person that doesn’t love a good story.”

That tracked, in its own way. Everyone here seemed to slot themselves neatly into these houses or factions, and in a world where monsters were just… everywhere, it made sense to need backup.

“So Strikers fight, Arcanists study, and Guardians… protect?” I asked. “And any of these groups can become a Hunter?”

“Anyone can become a Hunter if they graduate Sylvarus,” Cass explained, tucking a few pouches into her vest. “The Hunters just share resources from the three houses. Elara oversees them, and the Council oversees Elara.”

“Seems like the roles have changed since the Gaius days?” I asked Cass and she nodded, Elizabeth blinked in surprise.

“The council was formed because more than the three houses wanted to provide resources, like Nana and Sylvarus.” Cass said.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“And the Nobility?” I asked.

“Plenty of nobility join the Hunters as well. It’s the fastest way to gain strength,” Edward interjected, his tone laced with faint mockery. “They join to train and then scurry back to their little kingdoms. Some, though, forsake their lands entirely and commit fully to hunting—like Lady Winters.”

All eyes shifted to Cass, including mine. My eyebrows shot up.

She scoffed. “That was before I was even born. I grew up on a farm up the road.”

Before she could elaborate, a sharp, shrill whistling pierced through the noise of the rain, distant enough that it wasn’t coming from the village but still loud enough to bother Red. He flinched, letting out a low whine, his ears pinned flat against his head.

Everyone perked up. Jake bolted to the door, yanking it open and calling out to someone in the street.

“Jorrah and Ferris went to the blockage, apparently,” Jake said as he returned to the group, his expression tense. “Must’ve seen a monster. Hopefully the howler scared it off. We need to go.”

“Ferris?” I asked, glancing at Cass. She nodded.

“Him and Felix were working on some projects here in the village,” she explained, grabbing her things. “Felix said he’d pick them up later so they can finish at Sylvarus. It’s great fucking luck Ferris was still around.”

And then we were moving. Edward slung a large, strapped pack over his back with a the sound of tools clanging. I stored the boxes of gadgets and some lantern orbs in my earring and sprinted out the door after the others, following the direction of the sound.

The road seemed more sheltered from the rain than before, the thick canopy above catching most of the downpour. Cass led the way, navigating the path effortlessly, while I struggled to keep up in the armor. My heart pounded in my chest as we pushed forward, the dim light from occasional lantern orbs our only guide.

“They went up the aqueducts!” Jake yelled as we ran.

Another howler screamed through the forest deep to our left, its unearthly wail vibrating in my skull. This time, it wasn’t just loud—it was physical. It felt like someone was screaming directly into my ears.

“Fucking ow, that’s loud!” I yelled, grimacing as we ran.

“They have to be,” Cass shot back, her voice barely audible over the ringing in my head. She leaped over a cluster of shrubs and veered onto a narrower path, where the stream under our feet slowed to a gentle trickle. Several similar paths wove their way up a gradual incline, pulling us away from the main road.

At the top, we were greeted by a massive stone bridge. At first glance, it looked like the one we’d crossed earlier, with chest-high walls and relief holes allowing water to drain. But this one stretched much farther, its incline smooth and deliberate. The water on it was barely ankle-deep.

I glanced over the edge and froze. Instead of a river below, there was a sprawling forest fifty meters down, nestled in a wide valley, as if the landscape was foothills. The dense trees stretched endlessly into the gray haze of the downpour. My eyes followed the gentle curve of the structure beneath my feet, and understanding clicked into place.

This was the aqueduct and seemed designed to divert water to Rainhaven toward the river. Was it to reduce the flooding of the valley below?

But the flow beneath my feet was sluggish, barely moving. The lack of current was telling. Blockage indeed.

The aqueduct was wide enough for us to jog side by side. I stayed close to Cass, with Red hot on my heels, while the three Florans followed close behind. We were all soaked to the bone—the exposed height of the aqueduct leaving us at the mercy of the rain, which lashed at us in random, wind-driven torrents. The armor had no helmet and definitely wasn’t waterproof. I actually felt more wet than when I was wearing my linen clothes.

The dull gray sky and limited visibility pressed on me, a constant reminder of just how exposed we were. With no cover and only two directions to go—forward or back—it was impossible to shake a growing sense of vulnerability.

I reached into my case and hastily assembled my spear. The pieces clicked together with surprising ease. Cass glanced over, her pace slowing as she drew one of her swords.

“You picking something up?” she asked, her eyes darting to the Florans catching up to us.

“Not Bravery, I don’t think,” I said, scanning our surroundings. “Just… hyper-aware of how vulnerable we are out here.”

Cass considered this for a moment before nodding. Without a word, she unsheathed her second sword, her movements calm and deliberate. Behind us, the Florans followed suit—Jake and Elizabeth knocked their bows, and Edward pulled a massive sledgehammer from his bag. The weapon looked more like something you’d use to drive railway spikes instead of fighting a monster.

We increased our pace, not sprinting but moving with purpose. The aqueduct’s gentle curve carried us toward the opposite side of the valley, every step feeling heavier than the last. The rain continued to hammer down, relentless.

The sound of a loud waterfall emerged on both sides of us and I could see wide streams of water pouring over the hill into the valley below on each side about thirty meters out on either side. Ahead of us the aqueduct resolved into a towering structure, its sheer walls stretching high above the forest floor. The rain poured relentlessly, streaming down the stone and pooling into sluggish rivulets under our feet. As we passed through the massive archway, the sound of the storm shifted—muted for a moment as we walked through a small shelter—before amplifying again on the other side.

Emerging from the arch, we stepped into ankle-deep muddy water. The aqueduct stretched behind us, mostly empty save for a few narrow trickles of water seeping through. In front of us stood what could only be described as a dam.

The structure was immense. A ten-meter-high barricade of live, freshly cut logs rose before us, the wood still wet and sticky with sap. Bark clung to the logs in thick patches, and jagged branches stuck out at wild angles, as though whatever had built it hadn’t cared about aesthetics—only strength. Water pressed against the other side, dribbling through small gaps, unable to breach the bulk of the blockade. The rain hammered down on the scene, turning the mud beneath us into a sticky, uneven mess.

Cass didn’t hesitate. She wiped rain from her face and approached the steep hill of logs, her sharp eyes narrowing as she inspected it. “That’s new,” she muttered, running a hand along the rough surface and testing the sticky sap with her fingers. Her brow furrowed. “We’re going to need to see what’s on the other side.”

Without waiting for a reply, she holstered her swords and began climbing. Her hands gripped the thick branches jutting out from the slope, moving with practiced efficiency. I followed close behind, storing my spear in my earring. The damned armor fought me every step of the way, reduced range of motion made every stretch feel like a workout, and the slick rain didn’t help. Below, Red paced nervously, letting out a soft, concerned whine.

The climb was treacherous. The rain turned the wood slick, and the sap alternated between glue-like and dangerously slippery. I reached for a branch, only for it to snap under my weight with a sharp crack. My foot slipped, and I slid back several feet before catching myself with a desperate grab. My heart pounded as I clung to the logs, my breath coming in sharp bursts.

“It’s not even vertical,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Why is this so hard?”

Ahead of me, Cass paused briefly, glancing back to make sure I hadn’t fallen entirely. “You’ll live. Keep moving,” she said, though there was a flicker of concern in her tone.

We were nearly at the top when a smooth voice cut through the rain, loud and clear despite the storm.

“Monster or mortal?”

Cass didn’t miss a beat. “Definitely mortal,” she called back, her voice steady. As we crested the top of the dam, two drenched Sentarian figures came into view. They stood tall despite the downpour, their forms outlined against the stormy sky.

“Amituofo,” one greeted us. I immediately recognized Ferris, clad in his usual blue robes, now plastered to his carapace from the rain. Beside him stood another Sentarian, Jorrah, draped in a heavy oiled cloak that gleamed in the dim light. He had a younger, more casual air, but his sharp eyes betrayed his wariness.

“Ferris!” I called out as I hauled myself up the last few feet, my hands and knees slick with mud and sap. He inclined his head in that serene, measured way of his.

“This humble scholar is pleased to see you,” Ferris said, his tone calm despite the chaos around us. “We may have underestimated the threat.”

“Jake said it’s an Arbortrux,” Cass replied, wiping her hands on her pants and shaking water from her hair. “We should be able to handle it together.”

“It is six,” Jorrah interjected, his melodic voice carrying a touch of casualness that felt completely opposite to Ferris. “I frightened them off with a howler. They came back. I frightened them again. Now I have no howlers, and Ferris was suggesting retreat.”

Cass’s jaw tightened at the mention of retreat, but Ferris remained composed.

I took a moment to catch my breath and take in the scene. We stood atop a massive makeshift dam, a patchwork of logs and branches bound together with mud and vines. It stretched out in both directions, sloping downward from our current position at its highest point. In front of us, a deep, raging river surged nearly to the top of the structure, water spilling over the edges into roaring waterfalls on either side. The sheer scale of it was staggering.

And these creatures had built it in just a few hours?

“This is all Arbortrux work?” I asked, glancing at Ferris. My voice was steady, but unease prickled at the back of my mind. It looked disturbingly like a giant beaver dam.

Of course, Giant beaver monsters. Why not?

Ferris nodded, his expression grim. “Arbortrux are industrious when left unchecked. This dam is their creation, and its purpose is twofold: to reshape the environment and to create a defensible position.”

Cass scanned the treeline, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her swords. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Our primary objective should be to unblock the aqueduct,” Ferris said, his tone measured, “but if left alive, they will rebuild in a matter of hours—wasting more trees in the process. If we do nothing, the foothills will be flooded by morning.”

Before we could respond, the surface of the water shifted. Several sleek, dark shapes glided out from the trees, their bodies almost completely submerged. They moved with a terrifying, unnatural speed, their wakes slicing through the water as they surged toward us.

Even mostly underwater, their glowing red eyes stood out like lanterns, a dead giveaway that these were far from ordinary animals.

“Here they come,” I said, gripping my spear as it materialized in my hands.

“Please avert your eyes,” Ferris said suddenly, his voice calm but firm. My head snapped toward him just in time to see his long, dexterous fingers forming a complicated mudra. Blue runes blazed to life along his arms, illuminating the rain-soaked dam in a flickering glow.

“Bear witness to the Pride of Storms,” he intoned, almost casually.

The sound of the rain vanished in an instant, replaced by a deafening thump. A shock wave exploded outward from Ferris’s hand, accompanied by a blinding flash of light that left a searing afterimage burned into my vision.

Radiant Compression?

Pure lightning erupted from between Ferris’s outstretched fingers, forming a thick, jagged bolt that shot across the water. It struck an Arbortrux head-on, detonating in a shower of sparks and a towering geyser of water.

A split second later, a thunderous crack tore through the air, the force of the explosion sending us all tumbling backwards, careening down the muddy slope on the back side of the dam.

I landed hard, sliding to a stop in a mess of mud and tangled limbs. My ears rang from the blast, and for a moment, all I could hear was the thump of my own pulse.

Groaning, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, spitting mud and blinking through the rain as it poured down my face. Nearby, Cass was cursing, her voice muffled by the storm, while Red let out an anxious whine before licking my face in what I assumed was encouragement.

“That should buy us some time!” Ferris shouted, his voice cutting through the rain like a whip. “We must destroy the dam!”

“On it!” Edward’s reply came from behind me. I twisted around to see him rummaging through the large bag strapped to his back. With an almost casual air, he pulled out several wax-coated satchels and rolls of wick.

The man had a bag of bombs.

Edward strode over and handed Cass and me a couple of the satchels. “Ben, Lady Cass, help me plant these in the dam. Some higher up, too—look for gaps. We’ll destroy it and buy enough time for the Tower.” He slapped a roll of wick into my hand and gave me a pointed look.

I stared up at the dam, rain streaking down the impossibly steep slope of logs and mud. A really stupid idea began to form in my head, and before I could stop myself, I asked, “Shouldn’t we blow it up while they’re on it?”

Edward paused, his face breaking into a wide grin as he clapped me on the shoulder. “We’re going to get along just fine, Breaker.”