The mountain breathed like a beast. Every exhale came as smoke from the smelters, rolling down the slope in heavy waves that made eyes sting and lungs ache. The furnaces burned brighter than dawn, their glow staining the clouds above.
Leonidas stood with Theron on a narrow ledge just below the charcoal terraces. The Cohort waited in silence behind them, shields stacked, spears grounded. The recruits shifted uneasily, but the veterans were stone, eyes fixed upward.
"You're sure you can reach the bellows unseen?" Leonidas asked quietly.
Theron nodded once. His expression didn't change. "The guards are focused on the slope, not the gullies. There's a cut here and another above it—tight enough for knives, too narrow for shields. I'll take twelve. Kyros, three. Quiet men."
"Loyal men," Leonidas corrected. The overlay pulsed faintly: [Selected Squad Loyalty: 92–97%]. Good enough.
---
Kyros grinned, tightening the straps of his greaves. "Finally, something worth sneaking for. I was starting to worry we'd fight all day like honest men."
Theron ignored him, checking his rope coils, knives, and small shields meant more for silence than survival.
Leonidas gripped his arm before he left. "Remember—don't fight unless you must. The fire is the enemy, not the men. Cut the bellows. Let them choke on their pride."
Theron nodded again, no more words needed.
---
The infiltration team slipped into the gullies, shadows among stone. The rest of the Cohort watched them vanish, their breaths shallow.
Doros muttered, "Rather face a hundred spears than crawl like a rat."
Leonidas replied, "Sometimes rats bite throats while wolves howl at the gate."
---
The climb was brutal. The gullies were narrow, forcing men to crawl with shields strapped to backs, knives clenched between teeth. Smoke rolled heavy, filling every breath.
Theron led with uncanny calm, pausing at every bend to listen. Twice they froze as pickets above shifted or coughed. Once, an ember fell from the ridge, hissing in the dust a hand's breadth from Kyros's cheek. He smirked and kissed the knife in his teeth before moving on.
They reached the first bellows shed just as the sky paled. The structure was crude—timber walls, canvas pipes feeding air into the furnace. Two guards slumped outside, spears leaning.
Theron gave a hand signal. Two men moved silently, knives quick as whispers. The guards collapsed without a sound.
Inside, the bellows roared like beasts in cages. The heat was suffocating, sweat pouring instantly from skin.
Kyros pulled his knife free, eyes dancing in the glow. "How do you kill something that only breathes?"
"Cut its throat," Theron replied, slashing the main pipe. Air hissed free, the bellows gasping like a dying animal. Another man severed the next. Flames sputtered in the furnace mouth, smoke thickening.
---
The second shed was harder. Four guards, more alert, their eyes catching the faintest shift of shadow. A shout rang—too late. Kyros was already among them, knife flashing, laughter sharp as steel. The others followed, a blur of blades and muffled cries.
The pipes went next. Air bled from the system, furnaces choking. Sparks hissed into ash.
But the alarm was raised. A horn blared from the ridge, echoing through the bowl. Shouts rose. Shadows ran along walkways above, pointing, calling.
Theron cursed under his breath. "We've cut enough. Back to the Cohort."
Kyros grinned through blood. "I was just starting to enjoy myself."
---
Below, Leonidas saw the horn-bursts and knew. The enemy had noticed. But he also saw smoke shifting, flames sputtering.
The overlay pulsed:
[Sabotage Successful: 2 of 3 bellows sheds destroyed.]
[Enemy Fire Output: -40%]
He exhaled once. Not enough to kill the fire, but enough to wound it.
He raised his spear. "Cohort—shields! To the slope!"
Shields lifted, bronze glinting. The Lakonian recruits swallowed hard, but they moved with the wall. Doros thumped his shield against his chest. "Now we climb!"
Theron's team scrambled back into the formation, bloodied but alive. Only one man was missing, swallowed by the smoke.
Theron shook his head once at Leonidas—no words. Leonidas simply nodded. The wall still stood.
---
The defenders were waiting now. From the ridge, stones tumbled, torches lit, and oil jars shattered down the slope. Flames hissed and crackled across the rock face.
Leonidas's overlay shimmered:
Enemy Cohesion: 62% (holding)
Defensive Morale: 80% (boosted by home ground)
Spartan Morale: 92% (rising after sabotage success)
The mountain itself seemed to roar.
Leonidas lifted his spear again. "Step."
The wall moved, one breath, one beat at a time, into fire.