The day after the failed siege felt oddly normal. The sun rose, filtered through the dome. Ban made breakfast. The goblins chattered on the ledges. Lunch the lizard chewed something that definitely wasn't food.
But the air was different. A nervous energy hummed just under the surface. People kept glancing at the entrance, then up at the sky, as if expecting another iron log to fall out of nowhere.
Kazuto spent the morning checking the dome. He walked its entire circumference along the basin rim, his hand occasionally brushing the invisible curve. He felt no weakness, no strain. The barrier was as solid as the concept of 'wall' itself.
« SETTLEMENT CANOPY INTEGRITY REPORT: 100%. NO STRUCTURAL FATIGUE DETECTED. »
"Good," he muttered. But the voice's report didn't ease the tightness in his shoulders. The soldiers had been a probe. A test. The real response was still coming.
He found Mavis in her usual spot, but she wasn't looking at her slate. She was staring at the overseer's cube. The creature inside was drawing in the dust on its floor with a claw. It had made a crude but recognizable shape: a bird, wings spread, made of ash.
"Talene," Mavis said, her voice flat. "The Black Phoenix. She knows her tools failed. She will come to see why."
"How long?"
Mavis shook her head. "For a being like her? A day. A week. Time is a furnace she controls. She will arrive when it suits her drama."
Great. A dramatic, world-burning tyrant with control over time. Kazuto pinched the bridge of his nose. "What can she actually do?"
Mavis took a deep breath. "She doesn't just burn things. She burns states of being. She can burn the 'strength' out of a warrior, leaving them weak. She can burn the 'distance' between two points and appear instantly. They say she once burned the 'alliance' between two kingdoms, turning allies into bitter enemies overnight." She looked at Kazuto. "Your dome protects against physical and magical harm. But can it protect against a concept being… deleted?"
Kazuto had no idea. His skill was called [Boundless Mercy: Kingdom of Eternal Refuge]. It was about safety, protection, refuge. Was a 'concept' something that could be made safe?
« QUERY: CAN ULTIMATE SKILL PARAMETERS EXTEND TO CONCEPTUAL ENTROPY? »
« ANALYSIS: CORE PRINCIPLE IS THE PRESERVATION OF EXISTENCE AND HARMONY WITHIN THE DOMAIN. CONCEPTUAL ATTACKS ARE A FORM OF HARM. COUNTERMEASURES ARE PROBABLE, BUT UNTESTED. »
Probable. Untested. Those were not comforting words.
He needed to prepare in the only way he knew how: logistically. He gathered Doom, Ban, and Elder Leon.
"Assume we're locked in for a long time," Kazuto said. "No more outside trade. What do we need to survive?"
Ban ticked off on his fingers. "More protein. The lizard is not a sustainable herd. We need insects, grubs, fungi cultivation. More variety in the planters. We've only planted a fraction of the seeds we have."
Doom added, "The tools are wearing down. We need a proper smithy, not just me hammering on a rock. We need to make nails, hinges, proper picks."
Elder Leon stroked his beard. "The people need purpose beyond waiting. More structured training. Tasks for everyone, even the children. Idle hands in a cage breed fear."
They made a list. It was long. It was overwhelming. But it was something to do.
The community threw itself into the work. Balmond, using his axe with a new, careful precision taught by Leon, helped fell and shape stone blocks for a proper smithy shed. Dwarves who weren't digging expanded the planters, following Ban's instructions for layering compost. Goblins were tasked with hunting the fat, sluggish beetles that lived in the deepest cracks of the basin—a new source of protein that made Kazuto's skin crawl but Ban declared "nutty and rich!"
Kazuto helped where he could. He used his barrier skill to create perfectly flat foundation stones, smooth troughs for water, and even a set of durable, unbreakable plates and bowls for the kitchen after Ban complained about cracked clay.
It was during this work, as he forged a simple, seamless bucket, that he felt a new… tug. A request. Not from the voice, but from the skill itself. It was like a tool in his hand wanting to be used for a slightly different purpose.
He was holding a stone, about to shape it. Nearby, young Kael was struggling to lift a heavy grinding stone for the new smithy. The boy's arms shook. He was trying so hard, not asking for help.
Kazuto looked at the stone in his hand, then at Kael. He thought, I wish he could lift that.
A soft, golden light—fainter than when he used the skill himself—flickered around Kael's hands for a split second. The boy gasped. The grinding stone suddenly felt lighter in his grip. Not weightless, but manageable. He lifted it with a grunt of effort and settled it into place.
He looked at his hands, then at Kazuto, bewildered.
« NOTICE: SUBSKILL [COMPASSION CHAIN] HAS ACTIVATED. ALLY 'KAEL' TEMPORARILY GRANTED MINOR PHYSICAL REINFORCEMENT UNDER HOST'S INTENT. »
So that's how it worked. He could lend a tiny piece of his power's effect to others, if his will to help was strong enough. Not the whole skill. Just a boost. A nudge.
He didn't make a big deal of it. He just nodded to Kael. "Good work."
The boy beamed, a newfound confidence in his stance.
The day wore on. The basin was a hive of quiet, determined activity. The fear was still there, but it was buried under layers of soil, stone, and routine.
As evening approached, the warning came. Not from a scout. Not from the overseer.
It came from the air itself.
A hot, dry wind blew through the dome, though no wind should penetrate. It carried the smell of a forest after a lightning strike—ozone and charcoal. The temperature rose several degrees in minutes.
Everyone stopped working.
On the eastern rim, just outside the dome, the air began to warp. It shimmered like a mirage, then tore open with a sound like rending parchment. A figure stepped through the rip in reality as casually as someone stepping through a doorway.
She was tall, with hair the color of banked coals and eyes that glowed with a faint, amber light. She wore armor of dark, polished scale that seemed to drink the dying sunlight. She didn't radiate rage like Balmond. She radiated a calm, absolute certainty. This was Talene, the Black Phoenix, Seat of Ash and Fire.
She didn't look at the dome. She looked at the ground where her soldiers had fallen, at the scattered marbles, at the abandoned battering ram. Her expression was one of mild, academic curiosity.
Then her gaze swept upward, taking in the entirety of the shimmering dome, the bustling life inside it. Her eyes found Kazuto, standing in the center of the basin, covered in stone dust.
A small, cold smile touched her lips. It wasn't cruel. It was the smile of a scientist finding a fascinating new specimen.
She lifted a single, gauntleted hand. She didn't gesture at the dome. She gestured at the air between her and the barrier.
The space she touched didn't catch fire. It simply… ceased to be air. It became nothing. A perfect, silent vacuum that collapsed in on itself with a soft whump, before normal air rushed back in.
It was a demonstration. A tiny, controlled deletion of a concept—'air'—in a localized spot.
She was showing him what she could do.
Then she spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried through the barrier as if it were made of paper, cool and precise. "An interesting cage you've built. I've come to see the bird that thinks it can be safe from the flame."
She took one step forward, her boot crushing a stray marble into powder. "I will give you until dawn. Consider your position. Then, we will see what burns."
She turned, the air ripped open again, and she was gone. The heat and the smell of ozone lingered.
Silence, heavier than any before, settled over Delivery.
Kazuto looked around at the faces of his people, pale in the twilight. They had seen her. They had felt her power.
He took a deep breath. "Right," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "We have until dawn. Ban, make sure everyone eats well tonight. Leon, keep everyone training. Doom, finish securing the smithy. Mavis, with me."
He didn't have a plan. But he had a night. And he had a kingdom to keep safe. The final delivery—the one that would determine if Delivery survived—was now on a tight deadline.