“They’re in the east,” he said under his breath. “Probably sweeping the recovery ward now. Can’t tell how many. How's it outside?”
Neru withdrew from the narrow window and slid the wooden panel shut. Her brows tightened as she answered.
“The banners outside were too large; they blocked the sightlines. But I saw a few shadows descending the wall from above. Must be the Wardens. No sky sentry on sight, though.”
Elios closed his eyes for two tight breaths, forcing his vision to adjust to the dark room. The haze moonlight had vanished the moment the door slammed closed.
“And on the ground?” he asked.
“There wasn’t any large-scale movement,” she shook her head.
“Strange,” he murmured. “By now, there should’ve been an emergency inquiry order issued.”
A trap?
Or was that Lord Viltar’s doing? An opening?
Neru suddenly asked.
“Those Wardens. How good are they, exactly?”
Elios frowned slightly. “Hard to tell. I only fought one once. I won, but that man almost got my leg. And he was drunk.”
Seeing Neru lost in thought, Elios spoke.
“Don’t worry too much about Rajido. Protecting us is one thing. Getting himself out? No one there could bar his path.”
Neru shook her head.
“I’m thinking about something else. Could the Wardens interfere with what we’re about to do?”
Elios took a slow breath.
“You’re still set on that crazy idea?”
“This Tower is the place for crazy ideas, isn’t it?” She shrugged. “And remember, even you couldn’t think of any better plan.”
She isn’t wrong.
And yet.
His mind felt worn thin, stretched by too many calculations, too many turns of the board. Fatigue bred blind spots. He feared there was something he had failed to account for—some small, vicious detail that would bare its teeth at the final moment and demand a price he could never repay.
Neru stepped closer and gripped his shoulder.
“There isn’t much time,” she said. “Decide.”
Elios clenched his jaw.
Very well.
Seven silvers already in hand were still better than one gold hanging on the lips. Hope was a trap sometimes.
He exhaled once, and with that breath, buried the last of his hesitation.
“Your design needs some adjustments,” Elios said, voice firm. “You don’t understand how it works. Your calculations are full of errors.”
Neru nodded casually, as if he had merely commented on the weather.
“All yours,” she replied.
No argument. No defense.
“Then—” Elios ran through a cascade of contingencies in the span of a heartbeat. “First, we return to the ascension pillar.”
“Why?” Neru asked, already moving before the word had fully left her lips. “You said they anticipated we’d use it.”
“They did.” His stride lengthened, swift but measured, careful not to let their footfalls sharpen into noise. “Which means they’ll concentrate their force at Level One.”
Neru’s brow tightened for a fraction of a second—then smoothed.
“I see. We descend to Level Two,” she said. “Execute the plan there. At that height, the sky sentries won’t be able to drop fast enough to intercept.”
Elios cast her a sideways glance and shook his head.
“A good thought,” he admitted. “But not practical.”
She waited.
“We’ll go higher,” he said. “Higher than even the sky sentries. They’ll never expect it.”
He felt her stare boring into the side of his face.
“Lower does not mean safer,” Elios said eventually. “Beyond a certain height, a hundred yards or several hundred—both end the same way.”
Neru frowned. “I’ve seen someone leap from a cliff a hundred strides high and live.”
The retort rose to his tongue—impossible, reckless, naive—
But he stopped.
Neru was not a braggart. Not about this.
He set his doubt aside. There would be time later to dissect it. Or never.
“What matters is not the number,” he continued, voice tightening with focus. “It’s time. Time to deploy it. Time to correct it. Time for it to fully work. Only height can give us that.”
Neru inclined her head. “Then Level Thirteen?”
“No.” Elios didn’t slow. “Everything from Level Ten upward requires high clearance.”
His hand briefly touched the two amulets resting against his chest. Stolen power.
“And we don’t need that much height,” he added. “Too high brings its own problems.”
“Wind?” Neru guessed.
“Wind,” he agreed. “And the pressure. And the cold. And a ton of other variables I may not even be aware of.”
He didn’t pretend to be smart. The sky had humbled better men than him.
“We take the narrow path where we can’t stray,” he said. “As safe as this can possibly be.”
Then, without a warning, Elios tore the amulet of Elder Lynkahn from his neck and flung it to her.
“We may have to split up to gather materials,” he said. “Alone, you’ll have trouble. Wear it. Some doors will open for it alone.”
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Neru caught the lacquer-dark charm in one hand. It gleamed like hardened resin, core catching faint light beneath the surface.
She studied it for a heartbeat, then slipped it over her head.
“Are you sure about this?” she gave him a quick glance.
The amulet settled against her collarbone quietly—as if it had been waiting for a different heartbeat.
Looks good on her.
“Just lending,” Elios corrected as he ran. “Have to utilize everything we got. And even that wouldn’t be enough. Watch for anything useful along the way.”
His gaze snagged on a thick decorative cord strung along the corridor wall—braided, gold-colored, reinforced to hold art pieces in place.
He pointed.
“Like that. Rope. Lots of rope. The stronger, the better.”
Without breaking stride, he leapt, seized the braided length, and wrenched it from its brackets. Iron nails screamed against stone as they bent. Elios bared his teeth and pulled harder, muscles straining until the fastening tore free with a metallic snap.
A shade of hesitation flashed on Neru’s face.
Then she pulled the knife from her side and tossed it to him.
“Your blade’s already ruined,” she said. “Use mine.”
Elios took it. The metal bled cold into his palm. Meteorite steel.
The sealing knot had already been undone, resting on the sheath like a torn promise.
For a fraction of a moment, he weighed what that meant.
This is not just a dagger. Not to her.
Without a word, Elios vaulted to the far end of the wall. One hand braced and pulled the cord taut; the other swung the dagger in a clean arc.
The blade bit through.
The remaining length snapped free without the crude tearing sound he expected—only a muted severance.
He dropped back to the platform, landed in a low bend, and slid the dagger into its sheath at his back.
“Fine blade,” he muttered, already looping the severed rope around his forearm and across his tricep in tight coils.
Neru nodded. “Just lending.”
Elios almost smiled at the response, but he kept his face straight and his feet walking.
“It’s worth less than this rope until we get out of here,” he said, eyes scanning around. “Keep looking.”
“Anything in particular?” she asked as they covered the length of the corridor.
Elios shook his head, then reconsidered, mind refining the image in motion.
“Keep your original idea,” he said. “But add two poles—bed-length, sturdy. And something heavy but small for counter-weight. Then a few hooks, if possible.”
The items were not very specific, and might be scattered around anywhere. If they got lucky, they might even get everything from a maintenance quarter.
But, once again, luck wasn’t with them tonight.
When they reached the ascension pillar, they still could not find any other useful components.
“First things first,” Elios sighed. “We’ll find those things on the upper Levels.”
Neru leapt onto the green stone slab and dropped to one knee. Her fingers moved swiftly, tracing a complex symbol across the surface—lines intersecting, spirals folding into sharp angles. The pattern formed with amazing precision.
Elios blinked.
Had she grasped the mechanism that quickly?
But halfway through, she slowed down. The strokes no longer felt confident.
“Stop.” Elios put a palm on her shoulder.
Her hand hovered over the unfinished design. Then she rose and shook her head.
“Indeed,” she said quietly. “I could imitate the shadow only. Not the core of it.”
“Not what I meant,” Elios said, lowering himself into her place. “You learnt fast. But if you keep drawing that way, you will drop us to Level One. Instantly.”
“You’re kidding,” Neru said, eyes widening.
“No.”
“Why would anyone design something so idiotic?” she frowned.
“Because no one is supposed to draw that sequence from anywhere except on Level One,” he replied, “where the platform is reset or repaired.”
The Tower would never be the same without those Arcane engineers.
“And no one has ever made a mistake?” she pressed.
“If the one making the command lacks clearance,” Elios said calmly, “nothing happens. However—”
His finger pointed at the reddish-brown amulet hanging against her chest.
“That thing on your neck makes that worst outcome highly possible. So be careful.”
Neru eyed the amulet, took a deep breath before answering.
“Will be.”
“Then let me,” Elios brushed aside the half-formed lines and slid his finger along the narrow gray groove carved along the stone’s edge.
Level Eight.
It seems like the best choice now. Maybe we could even depart from the Star Gate of legend.
He was still deep in thought when he saw it—his shadow moving.
Not with him.
‘Above.’
Elios drove off his left foot and threw his shoulder into a roll just as the darkness beneath him thickened, deepened—then merged with the descending shape of something vast.
It struck like a falling wall.
The impact did not shatter stone the way Rajido’s blows did, but the platform shuddered slightly, a deep tremor running through its core as though the Tower itself had flinched.
Elios completed the roll and came up low. The dagger had found its way into his right hand—reverse grip.
But Neru was the one who moved first.
There was no whistle of air, no warning cry—only a black streak slicing past him, swift as a hunting falcon. For an instant, she was nothing but a blur against the stone slab. The flying kick came like a released bolt—her foot driving forward, carrying all that speed concentrated into a single point.
The one who had descended flinched, clearly not expecting that kind of reaction. Neru’s bootheel struck him square in the shoulder blade.
THUD!
Something crumbled.
The man hissed in pain like a snake. His momentum from before held him firm in place, but Elios knew the attack had bit into him like a spear.
Still, he was a big man.
Larger than Elios by half a head, at least. Even crouched from the landing, his gaze met Elios’s at level height.
Him?
Elios recognized him at once.
One of the three middle-aged Wardens who had clashed with Rajido earlier. The warped breastplate gave him away—dented inward where the old man’s staff had grazed once, perhaps twice. Steel did not forget such conversations.
Wait. If he is here, then—
Elios halted his forward surge mid-stride and snapped his gaze backwards.
Too late to be surprised.
A gauntleted hand was already coming, iron-clad fingers aimed cleanly at the base of his skull.
Of course, there was another.
He folded low, spine curving, weight dropping into his stance just as the blow swept over him. In the same motion, his right elbow drove back and upward at a sharp angle.
It connected.
A dull, heavy thud answered—like striking seasoned timber.
Not flesh. Not the chin as he had hoped for. Not even a rib.
But he had surely rattled something up. The force sank back into his bones anyway.
Not finished yet.
He extended the half-raised arm and swung the knife upward like a pickaxe.
This time, the attacker blocked it at Elios’s wrist, stopping the blade from entering his face. He stepped on Elios’s lower back and used it as a foothold, springing backwards.
At the same instant, the tide shifted on the other side of the platform. Another assaulter joined the ambush.
A sword flashed—brief and merciless as lightning.
Blood followed.
Neru’s forearm opened in a long, vicious line—nearly a span in length, cut deep enough to nearly kiss the tendon beneath. Crimson sprayed across the stone.
The attacker had chosen his moment well.
She had been fully committed—strength and attention both driving into the larger Warden before her. The strike came from her blind angle.
Only the reflex of turning mid-air spared her arm—she twisted just in time.
Regret had barely formed in Elios’s mind—he should have left her a proper weapon—when the unexpected thing happened.
Following her twist, Neru flicked something gold toward her attacker’s face mid-spin. He recoiled instinctively, startled enough to lose half a step.
So fast. Both of them.
And the golden blur—
Oh. Just the rope. The same coarse length she had slung over herself earlier.
And she did not let the momentum die there. Her elbow jerked back, dragging the cord in a sharp reverse arc. It snapped through the air with a crisp crack that split the space between them. Not a whip—but close enough. The technique bridged the difference.
The opponent raised an armored forearm to shield his face and retreated—one step, two, three, four—until the edge of the stone platform halted him.
Neru flowed backwards in the same breath, landing beside Elios.
Back to back.
Two pairs of eyes. Four directions covered. No blind spot.
The first clash ended in dead silence.