Kael left at dawn with an escort of six soldiers. The southern sky stretched in bands of dark red, as if the light itself were wounded. The earth cracked beneath the hooves. The air smelled of ash and ore.
They rode along the border for hours, moving from outpost to outpost. Everywhere, the same observation: cracked walls, exhausted soldiers, empty supplies, worn armor. The kingdom held on by the sheer obstinacy of its defenders.
Kael said almost nothing throughout the morning. He observed. He calculated. He felt a cold, ancient anger rising within him, barely contained.
At midday, they stopped near a half-collapsed forward post. The soldiers had improvised barricades with charred trunks. The catapults were nothing more than wooden skeletons.
The local commander, a thin demon with hollow eyes, bowed.
"My king. I didn't expect to see you here."
"I came to see for myself."
"It's worse than the reports say."
"I can see."
"We do what we can."
"I know."
Kael dismounted. He walked a few steps through the camp, stopped before a rickety barricade. He placed his hand on the wood, felt the splinters, the knots, the dried sap.
"You have no craftsmen?" he asked.
"Some, but few. And materials are lacking."
"Stones?"
"Have to be quarried. Takes time."
"Iron?"
"Too expensive. The forges are in the north."
"So you improvise."
"Yes, my king. With what we have."
Kael withdrew his hand.
"Step back."
"Pardon?"
"Step back. All of you."
The soldiers exchanged glances, then obeyed. Kael stood alone near the barricade.
He closed his eyes.
Magic rose.
It wasn't a combat spell. Not an incantation. It was an intention, an image, a will. He saw what he wanted to create. He felt its shape, its density, its weight.
He extended his hands.
The ground trembled slightly. Stones rose from the earth, cut cleanly, stacking themselves. Dark wooden beams straightened, smoothed, reinforced. Metal plates appeared, bent, riveted, fitted.
In moments, the makeshift barricade became a wall of stone and steel, four meters high, perfectly straight, bristling with spikes.
The soldiers held their breath.
Kael turned to the broken catapult.
He repeated the gesture.
The wood regenerated. The ropes tightened. The mechanism straightened, oiled, ready to fire.
"By the abyss," murmured the commander.
Kael didn't stop.
He walked through the camp, transforming every weakness into strength. The tents became solid barracks. The pits became reinforced trenches. The worn weapons became new blades, gleaming, balanced.
When he finished, he stood at the center of the post.
"There. That's better."
The soldiers stared at him, mouths agape.
"My king," said the commander, "how did you—"
"It's my kingdom. My magic. My duty."
"But such precision... such speed..."
"I haven't forgotten."
Kael mounted his horse.
"Spread the word. Every post on the border will be repaired. I'll take care of it."
"You're going to do it all?"
"Yes."
"That will take weeks."
"No."
"But—"
"Less."
He turned his mount.
"Then we'll take back what is ours."
---
In the days that followed, Kael rode along the border. At each stop, he dismounted, placed his hands on what was broken, and rebuilt. Walls straightened. Towers solidified. Weapons renewed.
The soldiers gathered to watch him. Some prayed. Others wept. Many murmured that the king had become a god again.
Kael made no comment.
He pressed on.
Kira, who had remained at Fort Lower South, received messages. The posts rose one by one. Defenses strengthened. Morale lifted.
"He barely sleeps," the messengers said.
"He eats almost nothing."
"He walks like a smith, a mason, a mage."
Kira listened, his face closed.
"He's going to exhaust himself," he said one evening to the commander.
"Perhaps."
"Why is he doing this?"
"Because he saw. And because he can't bear his kingdom being broken."
"It's more than that."
"What, then?"
"He's punishing himself."
The commander didn't answer.
---
After a week, Kael returned to Fort Lower South.
He had grown thinner. His eyes burned with a feverish gleam. But he stood straight.
Kira waited for him on the path.
"You're finished?"
"No. But I've done the most urgent."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm holding."
"You're lying."
"I'm standing."
"That's different."
Kael dismounted.
"The posts are repaired. The walls hold. The weapons are new."
"You poured your magic across kilometers."
"It's not a loss. It's an investment."
"And you?"
"I'll recover."
"When?"
"Tonight."
"You're going to sleep?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Really."
Kira stared at him.
"You promise me?"
"Yes."
"Then go eat and sleep."
"You're giving me orders?"
"Yes."
Kael smiled weakly.
"Very well. Show me a bed."
"Follow me."
They entered the fort. The soldiers stepped aside, respectful. Kael walked with heavy steps, but without faltering.
In the room prepared for him, he sat on the bed.
"Kira."
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Why?"
"For staying. For waiting for me. For reminding me to sleep."
"That's my role."
"No. It's more than that."
Kira sat on a stool.
"You're really tired."
"Yes."
"Then sleep. I'll stay."
"You're not sleeping?"
"I'll keep watch."
"You're annoying."
"I know."
Kael lay down. His eyes closed almost immediately.
"Kira."
"Yes?"
"Don't let me do this again without stopping me."
"I won't."
"Good."
Kael fell asleep.
Kira remained seated, his gaze fixed on the door, listening to the night.
The king was sleeping. The border held. And for the first time in days, the fort seemed at peace.