After the escape the previous night, Akasha had brought the ship to an abandoned section of the mountain range. They had carved the surrounding rock into an improvised dry dock, on which she now rested.
The damage was extensive.
The entire underside of the ship was dented, crushed, or even bent, and most of the defensive plating would need repairs. Thankfully, the damage was restricted to the underside, where its defenses were strongest.
Even so, it would take a lot of work before the ship was fully operational again. Worse still, with the hull damaged, there was no way to use the light-bending arrays. That meant they would be a sitting duck the moment they moved. Given the Alexandria’s size, she would be spotted from dozens of miles away.
Effectively, they were stuck here until the ship was fully repaired.
Still, it was not all bad news.
Zeke’s reckless charge had caught even the Legion commander off guard. The opening it created was enough for his forces to slip away with minimal resistance. They were injured, bruised, and battered, but they were alive. A swift sweep of the evacuation sites confirmed it. Every unit had been recovered. After the disasters of the previous night, it was the only piece of news worth clinging to.
Zeke let out a slow breath as his Spatial Awareness pushed deeper into the Alexandria’s hull. He needed to know how badly the core systems had been compromised. To his surprise, most of the damage was superficial.
The realization was almost absurd. The ship had gone head to head with a reinforced mountain fortress and survived. That it had emerged with little more than surface damage bordered on the unbelievable.
The reason soon became clear. Elven woodcraft. Dwarven alloy. Akasha’s designs. The finest materials, shaped and assembled by a mind that understood their limits and how to push past them.
Even so, Zeke did not trust a cursory inspection. The Alexandria was a maze of thousands of interconnected components. A single hidden fault could cascade into disaster later, especially after an impact strong enough to shatter ordinary materials.
This required a far more thorough examination. Thankfully, he knew exactly who to ask.
“Akasha?”
The Spirit replied instantly.
[Notice]
Repairs will take months. With the tools currently available, it will be difficult to sufficiently correct all imperfections in the material.
That was unacceptable.
Fortunately, he wasn't without options. The World Anchor was stocked with a frankly ludicrous supply of raw materials and semi-fabricated components, enough to rebuild large portions of the Alexandria if necessary.
“Don't bother repairing anything then. How long if we simply replace all damaged parts?”
[Notice]
The ship could be operational within days, but I do not recommend this approach. The material waste would be extreme. If Host provides a timeline, I will identify a compromise that maximizes part retention while meeting operational requirements.
Zeke nodded slowly.
Being stranded for months was not an option. A few weeks, however, he could manage. Especially since he did not yet know where they were meant to go next. His entire war strategy needed to be reworked from the ground up.
“You have two weeks,” he sent. “Use whatever you need to make it happen.”
With that, Zeke vanished, reappearing inside the ship’s common area. The space was alive with motion. Crewmembers moved from place to place, patching hairline fractures, collecting books and loose equipment scattered by the impact.
He began walking upward toward the conference room. He could have teleported directly, but he chose not to. He wanted to see, to gauge the damage that could not be measured in cracked plating and warped metal.
It showed in the eyes of the people, in the rigid set of their expressions. The loss had shaken them, especially the newly rescued half-elves. Whatever momentum his first victory had built was gone, shattered almost overnight.
Still, it could have been worse. Despite the chaos of the retreat, casualties had been remarkably low, just enough to keep morale from collapsing entirely.
The same could not be said for his officers.
The moment Zeke stepped into the conference room, it felt as though a dark cloud had settled over the space. Elder Dragon and Elder Tiger sat battered and bloodied, wounds covering their bodies. They had held the line during the eastern retreat. The fact that even they had yet to receive treatment spoke volumes about the condition of the regular troops.
Zelkara was in even worse shape.
Her left arm was severed at the elbow, and a deep gash ran down her face, stretching from forehead to chin. Most of those injuries had been sustained while ensuring Leo’s escape. Even so, she showed no sign of pain. The instant Zeke entered, she rose to her feet and bowed.
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David, however, looked the worst of them all.
Ironically, there was not a single scratch on him. His suit was immaculate, pressed and laundered, not a strand of hair out of place. And yet, compared to the others who merely wore grim expressions, he looked like a man who had lost everything overnight.
Zeke knew the reason without needing to ask.
“...This was my fault, young Lord. I take full responsibility,” David said the moment he entered.
Zeke let out a tired sigh. “For what, exactly?”
“My information was incorrect. This defeat rests on me,” David replied, his tone unyielding.
Zeke rolled his eyes. “Very well. If it was your fault, then here is your punishment: never mention such nonsense again.”
David’s mouth snapped shut. For a brief moment, he seemed genuinely unsure how to respond.
“...Besides,” Zeke continued before he could collect himself, “the information you provided was accurate. The numbers, the composition, the terrain. All of it matched your report.”
David opened his mouth again, pain flickering across his face. “But the river. The healers. I should have anticipated that.”
Zeke nodded. “So should I. And yet, here we are.”
Silence settled over the room.
Zeke moved to the far end of the table and took his seat at the head. “First things first,” he said, turning to Zelkara. “Thank you for taking care of Leo. Without your efforts, he and his men would not have been able to retreat.”
Zelkara bowed once more. “It was my honor.”
For a moment, Zeke thought that would be the end of it. Then the Pureblood spoke again. “May I ask… how is he doing? I did not see him in the infirmary.”
Zeke shook his head. “There is no need to worry. He is out of danger. Raileh has put him to sleep with medication, and I have taken him to... a special place to recover.”
Zelkara’s eyes widened slightly. Then she nodded, quick and relieved. She clearly understood what Zeke meant by a special place. After all, she knew of the Mana Purifying Device. Now, there was one more guest sleeping next to Vulcanos.
Zeke tapped the table. Once.
"Now that that is out of the way, I have an announcement to make." He felt all eyes drawing to him. "The Alexandria will be operational again in two weeks."
Eyes widened around the table. They had clearly braced themselves for the worst. But how could he allow that? The Alexandria was his trump card, the sole reason he had dared to confront the Legion so directly.
How could he not have prepared for this?
“During this time, I want all of you to rest,” Zeke said. “Recover your strength. Tend to your injuries. That is all.”
No one moved. No one spoke.
In the heavy silence, it was Ash who finally voiced the question hanging over them all.
“…And then? What do we do from here?”
Zeke met their gazes. Truthfully, he did not know. But that uncertainty was his burden alone. Soldiers needed clarity, not doubt. Orders to follow. Battles to survive. He would not weigh them down with worries beyond their station.
“There will be a change in strategy,” he said, deliberately vague. “You will be informed of the details in two weeks. Dismissed.”
One by one, they filed out of the room until Zeke was left completely alone.
Only then did he let the breath he had been holding slip from his lungs.
What a mess.
He had thought the Empire was playing mind games and had called their bluff. This time, however, he was the one who had come up short.
One thing was now certain. The path forward was blocked. He could not reach the inner regions of the country.
He could still sneak past the lines. But then what? He would be cut off from support, isolated deep in hostile territory. One mistake, one breach in his invisibility, and it would turn into a death sentence.
But what else was he supposed to do?
The Legion had already shown that they were willing to abandon lesser strongholds, content to confront him only at key positions. More likely than not, the next engagement would simply become another Strattlehold. Another loss.
No.
He had tried to fight the Empire on its own terms, and it had failed. Repeating the same approach would only lead to the same result.
So what was left?
Petty ambushes? Harassing unimportant settlements like a vulture circling the edges of the battlefield? If that was to be his role, he might as well return to Tradespire. From there, he could do far more damage to the Empire than by playing at guerilla warfare here.
He had only come for one reason: to make a difference. Anything less would be a waste of his time.
Zeke drew in a slow breath. Calm. He needed to think calmly.
The cold clarity of Mind Mana washed through him, dulling the edge of his frustration. This was exactly what he needed. Distance. Control. A clear head.
With emotion stripped away, Zeke reevaluated his position. He had not come away from the battle empty-handed. Two things were now undeniable.
First, the Legion’s mental network could not be underestimated. Their command structure mirrored his own, and they could match, perhaps even surpass, Akasha’s capabilities. It was no wonder the Alliance was struggling.
Second, the Legion had somehow acquired a large number of healers. It was the only reason they had been able to stand their ground in a prolonged, direct clash. Without them, trading blows with Chimeroi supported by an Archmage would have been impossible.
Despite what he had witnessed with his own eyes, Zeke refused to believe these strange soldiers were unrelated to the half-elves. Where else would the Legion find so many Life-attribute mages?
But that only raised more questions. The half-elves were a proud people, carrying much of the same disdain for humans as pureblooded elves, if not quite as fiercely. How, then, could they have allowed themselves to be used as pawns?
Something was happening that he did not understand.
The empty towns they had passed on the way to Strattlehold surfaced in his mind. At the time, he had not questioned it. Now, the thought gnawed at him. Where had all the people gone?
In war, civilians died. Zeke did not delude himself into thinking the Legion was above slaughter. But even massacres left traces. Bodies. Graves. Something. These towns had been emptied clean.
From their size, the numbers would have been in the thousands. They could not all have joined the resistance. The figures did not add up.
“Akasha,” Zeke called mentally. “Do we know where the people of Trehon went?”
[Answer.]
Information unavailable. All contact was severed when the Legion took the city. At that time, the population was estimated at two thousand.
Zeke’s fingers began to tap against the table, slow and deliberate. Two thousand people had simply vanished.
His gaze drifted back to the map. This time, he studied it with new eyes. Patterns emerged where there had been none before.
Legion activity that had never quite made sense. Fortifications raised in the middle of nowhere. Strongholds with no strategic value, far from trade routes and waterways. From a military standpoint, they were absurd.
Unless they were not strongholds at all.
Unless they were something else entirely.
Zeke’s eyes traced the map from edge to edge. Away from Tradespire, gathering information on the broader war had become more difficult. Even so, the signs were impossible to ignore.
No tactical importance. Isolated locations. Recently constructed.
“Akasha,” he said, “highlight all locations matching these criteria.”
The map responded at once, points of light blooming across its surface. Ten. Twenty. Fifty.
Nearly a hundred.
A slow smile spread across Zeke’s face. Was this it? The thing the Legion was trying to hide?
There was only one way to find out.
All of a sudden, two weeks felt far too long.