The first warning came in the form of a faint vibration beneath the forge floor. Barely noticeable at first, then sharp enough to set the hanging chains swaying.
Riku stood in the central forge hall, one hand resting on the glaive rack, feeling the pulse beneath his boots. It wasn't a quake. It was too rhythmic. Something was waking up beneath the crater's crust.
Then the sky answered.
A faint shimmer split the clouds above Blackridge, painting the horizon in thin lines of crimson light. A global broadcast crackled faintly across the sky, cutting through the silence like a blade.
[Third Blood Moon Event: Commences in 3 Days.]
Prepare. Survive. Conquer.
There were no standings listed. No rankings broadcast this time. Only the reminder that no one was safe.
Riku lowered his gaze and turned to Kael and Sira, who stood by the forge controls.
"We have three days. Double watch rotations. Full defensive drills. No gaps this time."
Sira gave a small nod. "Scouts already reported heat surges on the southern basin. We may be looking at another fissure opening."
Kael frowned, adjusting his gauntlets. "Or worse. Nightforge hasn't moved yet. They're waiting for this."
Riku didn't argue. Nightforge wasn't the kind to strike before the storm—they'd strike with it.
Later that afternoon, the southern drake pens drew his attention. The eggs inside were stirring now, the shells vibrating faintly under the careful heat flow. It wouldn't be long before they hatched.
Kael met him by the pen gates. "You sure they'll be ready in time?"
"They'll be ready when the walls fall," Riku said simply.
The first egg split as night fell. A small creature, barely larger than a forearm, crawled free—scaled, ash-grey, and glowing faintly from within its chest. It let out a low, rasping sound that vibrated against the forge's hum.
Riku crouched beside it, watching as it tried to stand on unsteady legs.
Not a beast. Not a tool. Something between.
He didn't name it. Not yet.
Instead, he instructed Kael, "Keep them inside the second barrier until the Blood Moon breaks. No exposure."
Kael gave a short nod and left to adjust the defenses.
In the forge chamber, Riku opened the supply ledger, quietly reviewing the spear regiment's numbers. Fifty-three active drake-bonded spearmen, down from sixty after the last mist attack. Too few.
He checked the armory. His pulse shifted slightly as his system hummed at the edge of awareness.
[Unit Adjustment: Drake-Bonded Spearmen Quantity +28 | Total Active: 81.]
No flash of light. No sudden fanfare. Just spears where there had been empty racks, armor hung for warriors yet to be called.
He closed the ledger without a word. Quiet power kept them alive. Loud power painted targets.
Outside, drills resumed. The new spearmen fell into formation without hesitation, movements smooth, precise. They adapted fast.
Night fell heavy. Ash drifted across the courtyard as sentry drones rotated silently overhead.
In the quiet, the global chat flickered once more.
[Nightforge]: To the sovereign hidden in the southern ash—your veil won't hold another cycle. See you on the crimson fields.
Riku stared at the message, face unreadable. So, Nightforge had found his region. Not his location. Not yet.
But soon.
He typed no reply.
Instead, he rose and crossed the camp, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. He climbed the outer rampart and stood beneath the bleeding horizon, where the third Blood Moon's light already painted the clouds with fire.
The camp below was alive—fighters training in near-silence, engineers tightening the barricades, sentries watching every distant shadow.
Three days left.
And then the storm would break.
Riku rested his hand on the cold stone of the rampart, feeling the pulse of the forge beneath it.
He didn't fear the Blood Moon. He had built his tribe from it.
But this time, he wasn't defending against beasts alone.
This time, the other sovereigns would come for him.
And when they did, they'd find fire waiting.