*Morpheus pov*
I watched in silence as the final figure from the strike team crossed back through the shimmering veil of protective wards. His broom dipped slightly before he landed, boots crunching softly in the frost. The glow of the barrier reformed behind him, sealing the shrine once more in its protective dome.
Above the ridgeline, the last remnants of angelic magic faded into the night sky trailing threads of luminous gold that thinned until they were indistinguishable from the stars.
He was lucky. I could see it in the way his flight was uneven, the way he stumbled a step after dismounting. The wards caught him, stabilized him. But whatever chased him out thereit had touched him.
The boy was lucky to be alive.
Kazuki stood beside me, his arms crossed over the folds of his dark robes, his expression equal parts calm and triumphant. His eyes followed the strike team with a leader's pride contained, but present.
"We succeeded," he said, voice soft but firm. "No casualties. Minimal injuries. The wards held on their return."
I gave a slow nod. "We did. Let's hope it was enough to stir them. If we're fortunate… they'll be angry. Angry enough to make mistakes."
Kazuki gave a low chuckle, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Reckless enemies are easier to break."
He turned slightly and gestured to one of the robed attendants nearby, a woman carrying a scroll of field reports tucked into the crook of her arm.
"Ensure those who participated in the strike are given a full meal and proper rest," Kazuki ordered. "They've earned more than just praise tonight."
The attendant bowed low, her voice respectful but quiet. "Of course, my lord."
I studied her for a moment.
Young. Efficient. Her movements were precise, but there was a stiffness in them not the kind that came from exhaustion, but something deeper. Discomfort. Or concealment.
A squib, I realized.
Not the first I had noticed today.
I turned my gaze slowly back to the rest of the camp, letting my eyes scan the lantern-lit walkways, the shadowed alleys between tents, the mess areas where late-night food was being served to soldiers just returning from the mission. There were many squibs here. Not just a few. Quiet, dutiful, diligent.
And yet…
Something felt off.
They watched too closely. Moved with too much intent for the roles they'd been assigned. It was subtle barely enough to raise alarm but I'd learned long ago that subtle things crack walls before the loud ones do.
I'd have to look into it. Discreetly.
Later.
"Let's debrief," I said, turning away from the ledge, the night wind still whispering against my cloak. Kazuki fell in step beside me, the firelight of the meeting room ahead casting long, flickering shadows across the temple stone.
There would be more battles to plan.
But perhaps more within these walls than outside them.
*Narrator pov*
The forward camp smoldered.
Black smoke rose in thin coils from shattered ward stones and burnt-out pylons. Cracked obsidian fragments littered the snow-dusted ground like broken bones. Most of the fires had been extinguished, but the humiliation still hung in the air like a stench.
Tents shredded. Ration stores destroyed. Half the perimeter charms rendered inert. Only a few were injured—no major casualties—but the damage to pride was far worse.
In the center of the ruined camp, beneath a bent celestial banner, the Demon General stood with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched tight. Muscles coiled beneath his armor like iron cables, and one of his horns still bore a scorch mark from a transfigured shrapnel blast.
His eyes burned.
"Enough of this!" he roared, voice booming like an earthquake through the smoldering valley. "We sit here waiting while they bring the skies down on us like cowards in the dark?"
A pair of demons nearby flinched. One limped past with a bandaged shoulder, avoiding the General's gaze entirely.
Across from him, standing amidst a flickering divine circle, the Angel General stood with an expression of cold calculation. His radiant robes were stained with soot, and the tips of his wings bore faint singe marks, but he held his head high—untouched in spirit.
"This was not a surprise," the angel said calmly. "Only a matter of time before they tested our outer structure."
"Tested?" the demon hissed, stepping forward, armor groaning with each movement. "They struck at us! On our land! And now they retreat, untouched, while we nurse a broken camp and whisper strategy like old monks?"
He pointed back toward the high peaks. "Give me my legion. I will march them through the wards of that temple and burn it to the foundation. I will tear the heart out of that mountain and hold it to the sky!"
The angel didn't flinch.
Instead, he stepped forward and placed a single hand over the glowing hilt of his blade—not drawing it, but reminding the room who still held command.
"And in doing so," he said gently, "you would give them what they want."
The demon bared his teeth. "What they want?"
"Yes," the angel replied. "They want us to strike in wrath. To storm the mountain and bleed at its gates. They've laid the trap. You'd march right into it."
The room fell into a bitter hush. Around them, demons muttered under their breath. A few angels conferred silently in the corner, one of them casting a slow-healing charm over a cracked wardstone.
The demon's shoulders heaved once.
Twice.
He turned his face away, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.
"…So we sit."
"No," the angel replied, voice still calm. "We plan. And next time, when we strike… we do so with precision."
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, the demon muttered, almost to himself, "That Everglade bastard planned this well."
The angel nodded.
"Yes."
His eyes lifted to the horizon, glowing faintly with golden sight.
"And he has declared… this war is no longer one of patience. He wants escalation."
The demon cracked his knuckles, sparks dancing between them.
"Then escalate we shall."
*Morpheus pov*
I stalked down the winding steps of the temple, not many knew there were steps going downward in the first place.
The temple was a beautiful work of magic, one I wish I could claim to have built but alas I cannot take the fame.
The spacial enchantments are a work of art truly no one alive could repeat a building such as this.
Finally, I reached the bottom well, a version of the bottom. Pricking my finger I used my blood to open the large door in front of me. I could feel the magic of the anchor pulsing below but I paid it no mind as I entered the room.
I ignored the numerous statues around me and headed for the center. A curse left my lips as I saw the state of the energy source. Of course, after so long it would be depleted.
Pulling a mirror from my robe I knocked on it twice, "Herpo." I intoned
The mirror rippled like water before my brothers face entered the frame, "Do you need assistance brother?" he asked
"Sadly, but before that how are things going for you?" I asked while taking a seat on one of the steps
"Miserable, they fight and scheme nonstop, and the worst part is their schemes are all horrible." Herpo complained
A laugh escaped me I could feel his predicament, "Now you know what I have to go through, we seem to have swapped roles brother."
Herpo grimaced, "That we have, now what do you need help with oh brother of mine?"
"I need you to locate an energy source for our warriors, I would but I'm afraid I can't leave the shrine at this time."
Herpo seemed to think for a moment before nodding, "I will see it done."