The forge's glow hadn't faded by dawn, but Blackridge woke into another kind of battle—a quiet one. Information, not claws or steel.
Riku sat alone in his quarters, the thick basalt walls keeping the outside cold at bay. The terminal at his side hummed softly, its interface flickering as the global chat ticked upwards, one message at a time.
[Ivory Thorn]: Regional ceasefire proposal. 3-day truce zone around the central basin. Confirm interest, sovereigns.
The words hung in the air like bait.
Kael entered, wiping forge dust from his hands. "First truce offer we've seen since the Blood Moon started."
Riku didn't look up. "Truces don't mean safety. They mean someone wants breathing room."
The chat pulsed again.
[Silent Harbor]: Interested. Need recovery time.
[Red Ember]: Declining. Territory already secured.
A war of shadows, no locations, no names beyond aliases. Just fragments of strategies cast into the void.
Riku leaned back, thinking. Blackridge had suffered few losses compared to the others. They were hidden, strong, and growing sharper every day. If he declared interest, he'd paint a target on his position. If he stayed silent, they'd mark him as either dead—or worse, waiting.
He tapped the terminal and crafted his first public message. Measured. Forgettable.
[Ash Veil]: Trade routes open, no alliances declared. Watching the basin.
He sent it without ceremony. Let them make of it what they would.
Kael studied him, arms crossed. "You're playing the long game again."
"There's no short game anymore."
Outside, drills resumed. The spearmen cycled through close-formation stances, their breath clouding in the cool dawn air. Blackridge's warriors were quiet, efficient, but Riku could see the tension in their shoulders. They felt the world shrinking in around them, even if they didn't speak it aloud.
Later, Sira returned from her ridge sweep. "New banners near the eastern volcanic shelf. Close. Same markings we saw on the scouts that attacked the Pale Flame."
Riku's mind clicked into motion. "They're probing. No full assault yet."
"Not yet," she agreed. "But they're not hiding either. They're claiming territory without claiming it."
He stared at the map, lines and markers crowding around Blackridge's isolated zone. Nightforge to the west. Unknown banners to the east. And somewhere beneath them all, the crater's heart remained untouched.
A knock broke his thoughts. An engineer entered, a quiet man named Rellen, holding a datapad.
"Sir. Archery range feedback just processed. Training constructs hardened themselves against thermal discharge. No modifications logged."
Riku took the pad, scanning the readings. The targets, once simple wood-and-cloth, had reinforced overnight—probably another quiet shift like before.
"Good. Keep the adjustment quiet. Let the archers think Kael upgraded them."
Rellen nodded and left without asking further.
That night, by the forge, Riku reviewed the rankings again. They hadn't changed much. The Blood Moon was quiet on the outside, but he knew better. This wasn't peace. It was people digging trenches with words instead of steel.
He scrolled past the last message from Ivory Thorn, who hadn't posted since the truce offer.
[Ivory Thorn]: Some of us still believe in order before chaos. The question is—who do you think you are without your firewalls and shadows?
Riku closed the terminal, leaving the question unanswered.
He didn't need the world to know who he was.
Not yet.
He left the forge as the wind picked up, carrying the distant hum of shifting plates beyond the ridge. Something was stirring out there. Not just sovereigns. Something deeper.
But for now, Blackridge stood.
And when the time came, his enemies would remember that name, whether spoken aloud or whispered in fear.