The ridge above the gate-site looked like a battlefield drawn by a tired hand.
Smoke drifted in thin sheets across broken terraces. Old stone walls lay collapsed into jagged ribs. The ground held footprints layered over footprints, so dense they turned soil into powder. Bodies lay where they fell, covered by cloaks, left bare, dragged into shallow piles. Crows circled high and refused to land.
Seoryeon crouched behind a slab of shattered masonry and watched the chaos below.
Both banners were present. Both banners were cautious.
The fighting belonged to mid-ranks.
Lieutenants and captains clashed in cramped lanes between ruins, trading men for inches, trading blood for routes. No speeches carried down here. Orders came as hand signals and short shouts that died under steel noise. Every group hunted the same thing. Every group feared being the first to commit too deep.
The courier crouched behind Seoryeon, tether looped around Seoryeon's belt. The boy's cheeks had hollowed. Smoke-sickness sat in his breath like grit. His Heart-Thread flickered thin and fast, fray rising with every cough he swallowed.
Seoryeon kept his gaze on the road that led into the heart of the ruins.
A narrow corridor ran between two half-standing walls. Men fought there in a grinder, bodies packed tight, blades moving in short arcs, hands grabbing wrists and collars, feet slipping on loose stone. The corridor led toward the inner rings marked on the bark map.
The map's lines stayed crude. The direction stayed clear.
Seoryeon measured distance, angles, patrol rhythm. He counted pauses between clashes and watched how groups rotated injured men to the rear. He watched which units carried clean seals and which carried crude charms. He watched who never touched the front line and who kept pushing others forward.
His shoulder ground with each breath. The wound under his arm tugged at the bandage. The cut on his belt line burned where cloth rubbed. The thin slice under his jaw itched as it healed badly.
His Heart-Thread vibrated faintly and unevenly, a wire stretched past comfort and held there by stubbornness. It would keep holding until one more pull ruined it.
He glanced at the courier.
The boy's eyes stayed fixed on the corridor, on the bodies, on the way people fell and did not get up.
"You walk when I pull," Seoryeon whispered.
The boy nodded fast.
Seoryeon waited for a moment of cover.
A cult squad surged forward in the corridor, forcing an Alliance line back by two paces. Spear tips pushed into faces. A man screamed when a point slid under his cheekbone and lifted his head like a hook. Another man dropped when a blade bit into the inside of the thigh and stole his stance. The corridor clogged and the noise rose.
Seoryeon moved.
He slid down the rubble slope in a low crouch, keeping stone between himself and the main clash. The courier followed, tether taut, feet skidding, hands catching rough wall edges.
They reached the outer lane and pressed into shadow beside a fallen column.
Seoryeon's wrapped sword rested against his hip. Cloth hid steel. Steel hid leverage. Leverage stayed valuable only while it stayed unknown.
A man lurched into the lane.
Cult fighter. Tight level. Face smeared with soot. One eye swollen shut. He held a short saber in a shaking hand. His breath came ragged. He turned his head as if searching for a safer path.
His eyes landed on Seoryeon's seal.
Hope flashed across his face. Hope died fast.
The cult fighter raised the saber and charged.
Seoryeon drew.
Cloth fell. Steel caught gray light.
The saber came in toward Seoryeon's forearm, aiming for tendons near the wrist. The cut carried desperation. Desperation made timing predictable.
Seoryeon parried with the flat. Contact rang. Pain spiked through his shoulder. His grip trembled.
He released a short push through contact.
The saber slid off line and scraped Seoryeon's sleeve. Cloth tore. Skin warmed.
The cult fighter's wrist opened for a heartbeat.
Seoryeon stepped in and drove his point into the weapon shoulder at the front seam. Steel bit deep enough to anchor.
He pulled.
The body lurched forward a half-step. The fighter's shoulder dragged out of alignment. The saber dipped. The fighter tried to swing with the other hand, fingers clawing for Seoryeon's face.
Seoryeon slammed the pommel into the jaw hinge. Teeth clicked. The head snapped sideways. Knees softened.
Seoryeon ripped the blade free and let the body collapse into the lane.
The courier stared, lips trembling.
Seoryeon tightened the tether and moved forward.
A second figure stepped from behind a ruined wall, drawn by the noise.
Alliance fighter. Fray to Tight. Spear held low. Eyes wide with fear and hunger. The man saw Seoryeon's blood, saw his lone posture, saw an opportunity to score a kill that might turn into promotion.
The spear thrust came for Seoryeon's belly.
Seoryeon parried with the flat. Contact jolted his arm. He released a push through contact.
The spear tip slid outward and scraped Seoryeon's belt line, reopening the thin cut. Heat spread. Blood warmed skin.
The spear wielder tried to shove forward with body weight, aiming to drive the point in despite the deflection.
Seoryeon stabbed into the forearm near the wrist tendons. Steel sank shallow and precise. Fingers spasmed. The spear grip loosened.
Seoryeon pulled once.
The arm jerked forward into the blade. The spear dropped.
Seoryeon stepped in and drove his knee into the inside of the thigh. The leg folded. The fighter dropped low.
Seoryeon drove the guard into the temple with a short brutal strike. The skull made a dull sound against metal. The body went slack and slid sideways.
Seoryeon stood still for one breath and forced air through pain.
His Heart-Thread vibration wavered again. Fray climbed under the sternum like splinters.
The lane stayed quiet for three seconds.
Then it filled.
A cluster of cult fighters pushed into the outer lanes, trying to flank the corridor. Four men. Tight level with one Cord in the rear. Their blades stayed short. Their eyes stayed sharp. Their posture carried coordination.
They saw Seoryeon and froze for a heartbeat.
One pointed. "Alliance seal."
Another pointed at the courier. "Asset."
The Cord fighter in the rear kept his blade low and watched Seoryeon's hands.
Seoryeon understood their intent. They wanted the boy. They would cut Seoryeon until the tether fell slack, then drag the courier away into the ruin.
Seoryeon stepped forward and placed himself between them and the courier.
The first cult fighter came in with a slash aimed at Seoryeon's injured shoulder, hunting weakness.
Seoryeon parried. Contact rang. Pain tore through the joint. His fingers numbed.
He released a push through contact.
The blade jumped away by a handspan. The fighter tried to follow with a second cut toward Seoryeon's ribs.
Seoryeon stepped in and stabbed into the fighter's upper chest below the collarbone. Anchor set.
He pulled.
The fighter lurched forward onto the steel and collided with Seoryeon's shoulder. White flashed across Seoryeon's vision. His knees threatened to buckle.
Seoryeon held balance, ripped the blade free, and shoved the body sideways into the path of the second cult fighter.
The second fighter's blade struck the falling body and stuck for a moment in cloth and bone. The second fighter jerked, trying to free it.
Seoryeon used the moment.
He drove his point into the second fighter's inner thigh near the seam where balance lived. The steel anchored.
He pulled.
The leg folded. The fighter dropped, face twisting, breath spilling out in a harsh cough.
The third cult fighter came low with a hooked dagger aimed for Seoryeon's back of knee.
Seoryeon pivoted. Shoulder screamed. Steel met the hook. Contact rang. His grip threatened to fail.
He pulled through contact.
The hook jerked inward. The attacker's wrist crossed the centerline. Shoulder opened.
Seoryeon thrust into the shoulder pocket, deep enough to anchor. He pulled hard.
The attacker lurched forward and smashed into Seoryeon's chest. Seoryeon's breath broke. Pain surged behind his ribs. The knot tightened.
Seoryeon slammed his forehead into the attacker's nose bridge. Cartilage crunched. The attacker's hands loosened. The hook dropped.
Seoryeon shoved the attacker aside and turned toward the Cord fighter.
The Cord fighter stepped in with a calm posture and a short blade held near the hip. His eyes stayed on Seoryeon's wrist and shoulder. His stance stayed wide, ready to absorb Seoryeon's impulse.
He struck with a thrust aimed under Seoryeon's arm, targeting the bandaged wound.
Seoryeon parried late. Contact rang. The point scraped his bandage and opened it further. Warm blood spread. Breath turned sharp.
The Cord fighter pressed, shoulder driving in, trying to crowd Seoryeon's sword line into the wall.
Seoryeon felt the lane narrow.
His Heart-Thread vibration spiked, then thinned. Snap-risk hovered close enough to taste.
Seoryeon anchored his point into the Cord fighter's inner thigh, high on the inside where stance lived. Steel bit.
He pulled.
The Cord fighter's body jerked forward a half-step. The stance sagged. The fighter's free hand shot toward Seoryeon's wrist.
Seoryeon drove his knee into the same inner thigh. The leg softened.
He drove the knee again. The joint folded.
The Cord fighter dropped low. The thrust line died.
Seoryeon ripped the blade free and slammed the pommel into the jaw hinge. Teeth clicked. The head snapped sideways. The Cord fighter's eyes unfocused.
Seoryeon stepped back, shaking.
The lane fell quiet again.
The courier stared at the bodies and then at Seoryeon's bleeding side. "You are leaking."
Seoryeon wiped blood off his palm on his sleeve. "Walk."
He tugged the tether and moved deeper into the ruins.
He used the outer lanes to skirt the main corridor, moving from shadow to shadow, reading the flow of fighting like current in a river. He watched for clean seals. He avoided them. Clean seals meant coordinated units and paperwork waiting behind them.
The closer he got to the inner rings, the more the air changed.
It felt heavier, as if tension gathered in stone. His Heart-Thread vibrated with a faint tug toward the center, a subtle pull that made his ribs feel tight. The world around the ring wanted something. It wanted strain. It wanted choices that produced strain.
They reached a half-collapsed archway.
Beyond it lay a wider court. Broken pillars stood like rotten teeth. The ground showed scratches in circular patterns, old marks worn into stone. Men fought in clusters around the edges, keeping distance from the center as if the center might bite.
Seoryeon crouched and watched.
An Alliance captain stood near a broken pillar, giving short signals to his men. His armor carried clean edges and a seal at the collar. His posture stayed steady. His Heart-Thread vibration held thick controlled tension.
The captain's gaze swept the court and landed on Seoryeon.
Recognition hit the captain's face in a small tightening around the eyes.
The captain stepped forward and raised one hand, palm outward, a formal gesture.
"Lieutenant Jin Seoryeon," the captain called. "By order of the Alliance, you stand under arrest."
The words carried past the fighting. Several heads turned. A few blades paused mid-motion. Curiosity spread. Curiosity killed slower than steel, yet it still killed.
Seoryeon stayed still.
He understood the move.
Arrest meant restraint. Restraint meant removal. Removal meant a clean-seal report with his name erased in a neat line.
The captain approached with two escorts fanning slightly to the sides. Their feet placed carefully. Their hands stayed near hilts. Their eyes stayed on Seoryeon's sword.
The courier trembled behind Seoryeon, tether taut.
Seoryeon spoke quietly to the boy. "Stay low."
The boy nodded, eyes wide.
The captain stopped five paces away. "You signed the report," the captain said. "You attacked authorized men. You carry an asset that belongs to the elders."
Seoryeon kept his tone calm. "Authorized men tried to hood the courier at midnight."
The captain's face stayed flat. "Your claim changes nothing."
Seoryeon nodded once. "Claims become ink."
The captain's jaw tightened. He drew his sword.
The blade looked well maintained. The edge looked hungry. The captain's stance stayed wide, knees bent, weight low. He wanted to absorb Seoryeon's impulse and punish the recoil.
Seoryeon drew as well.
Cloth fell. Plain steel caught the light. The air around the blade felt heavier.
The captain struck first.
A cut aimed at Seoryeon's injured shoulder, shallow angle, precise. The captain hunted function. He hunted tendons and joint line.
Seoryeon raised his blade to parry. Contact rang. Pain exploded through the shoulder. Fingers numbed. His grip dipped for a fraction.
The captain's edge slid along Seoryeon's guard and kissed the shoulder, opening a shallow line. Heat spread. Blood warmed cloth.
Seoryeon released a push through contact.
The captain's blade shifted a handspan. The captain's stance absorbed it. The captain followed with a thrust toward Seoryeon's ribs, targeting the wound under the arm.
Seoryeon parried late. The point scraped the bandage and tore it further. Pain flared. Breath turned sharp.
The captain stepped in close, shoulder driving forward, crowding Seoryeon's sword line against the pillar.
Stone pressed into Seoryeon's back.
His Heart-Thread vibration spiked, then wavered. Fray rose fast. The knot behind his ribs tightened.
Seoryeon anchored his point into the captain's inner thigh, high on the inside where balance lived. Steel bit deep enough to hold.
He pulled.
The captain's body jerked forward a half-step. The captain's stance sagged for a heartbeat. The captain's free hand shot toward Seoryeon's wrist, aiming to control the sword and break leverage.
Seoryeon drove his knee into the captain's inner thigh.
The leg softened.
He drove the knee again.
The joint folded.
The captain's balance spilled. The captain tried to recover by dragging his back foot, yet the stone underfoot shifted loose. The captain's heel slipped.
Seoryeon ripped the blade free and stepped in.
He slammed the pommel into the jaw hinge. Teeth clicked. The captain's head snapped sideways.
The captain recovered faster than most. His eyes sharpened through pain. He swung toward Seoryeon's forearm, aiming for tendons and grip.
Seoryeon parried. Contact rang. His shoulder screamed. His fingers trembled.
He released a pull through contact.
The captain's blade drifted inward across the captain's own centerline. The elbow lifted. The shoulder opened.
Seoryeon drove his point into the upper chest below the collarbone, angled down to break structure and steal breath. Anchor set.
He pulled hard.
The captain lurched forward onto the steel and collided with Seoryeon's shoulder. White flashed across Seoryeon's vision. His knees buckled for a fraction. The world tilted.
The captain's hand grabbed at Seoryeon's cloak, trying to drag him down with sheer weight.
Seoryeon forced his feet to hold and drove his knee into the captain's inner thigh again, hitting the same softened leg. The leg failed fully. The captain dropped to one knee.
Seoryeon ripped the blade free and stepped back.
Blood darkened the captain's chest cloth. Breath wheezed. The sword hand trembled.
The captain tried to rise.
Seoryeon stepped in and thrust into the weapon shoulder at the front seam. Steel sank deep enough to anchor.
He pulled.
The shoulder dragged out of alignment. The sword arm sagged. The blade clattered onto stone.
The captain fell sideways and hit the ground with a dull sound.
Silence rippled outward in the court.
A few Alliance men took a step forward. A few cult men took a step forward. Everyone smelled weakness. Everyone smelled opportunity.
Seoryeon stood over the fallen captain, shaking.
His shoulder hung lower. His side bled steadily. His chest felt tight, breath counted and thin. His Heart-Thread vibrated faintly and unevenly, a wire scraped thin and held in place by will alone.
He leaned close to the captain's face. "Who sent you."
The captain tried to speak. Blood bubbled at the lip. The eyes held anger and disbelief, the look of a man who expected paper to win.
Seoryeon took the captain's seal pin from the collar and slid it into his own pouch. He took the captain's water skin. He took the captain's small satchel of dried food. He left the rest.
He turned and yanked the courier by the tether.
"Move," Seoryeon said.
The court woke up again. Shouts rose. Feet shifted. Blades lifted.
A spear hissed past Seoryeon's shoulder and struck the pillar behind him. Stone chips sprayed.
Seoryeon sprinted in short bursts, keeping to broken walls and rubble. His shoulder screamed. His ribs burned. His Heart-Thread vibration thinned further with each burst.
The courier stumbled and nearly fell. The tether snapped taut and jerked Seoryeon's belt hard enough to bruise the hip.
Seoryeon dragged the boy up without stopping and kept running.
They slipped into a narrow alley between collapsed walls and pressed flat against stone.
Footsteps passed nearby. Voices argued. Someone shouted the word "traitor" with the conviction of a man who needed the word to be true.
Seoryeon stayed still and listened until the steps moved away.
He looked toward the inner ring marks and felt the air tug again, subtle, hungry.
The gate-site pulled tension toward itself.
Seoryeon tightened the courier tether and checked the bark map by dim light. The ring symbol lay close now. A short route cut through a courtyard that others avoided.
He breathed in shallow. He breathed out controlled.
His Heart-Thread vibrated faintly and unevenly, held together by habit and cold calculation.
He moved toward the center where the air felt heavier and the lies felt closer.