Morning brought a river of bodies.
Refugees poured toward Blackpine Pass in waves, pushed by smoke-sickness behind them and bandits at their heels. Faces were gray, lips cracked, eyes fever-bright. Bundles of cloth and bones of possessions bounced against thin ribs. Some carried nothing and still staggered forward as if emptiness weighed more.
The Alliance line bent under the living pressure. Spears trembled. A guard screamed for space and found none.
Seoryeon stepped into the crush.
He moved like a man walking into a furnace for warmth. Calm. Economical. He used his seal to force guards to widen the corridor. He caught a spear shaft and drove it down before it could punch through a child's skull in panic. He dragged an old man by the collar away from a cart wheel that would have turned him into pulp.
His Heart-Thread tightened. Vibration sharpened with effort. He kept it controlled, breath measured, steps short. A lieutenant survived by saving energy for the moment that mattered.
A woman clawed at his sleeve, begging for water.
Seoryeon met her eyes and saw the end of her story already. He handed her a skin taken from a dead raider. She drank with shaking hands. Gratitude required time. Time cost lives.
By noon, smoke shifted again.
A column of Alliance riders appeared from the rear, horses clean, armor polished, cloaks tidy. Their leader carried himself like a clerk trusted with murder.
Relief team.
Kang greeted them with stiff formality. The leader smiled as if the smile itself issued orders.
"Lieutenant," the leader said, eyes sliding over Seoryeon's cut neck and shin. "Order maintained."
"Function maintained," Seoryeon replied.
"New instructions," the leader continued. "Sensitive witnesses move to the rear for protection."
The phrase slid into Seoryeon's mind like a knife hidden in cloth.
Seoryeon watched the team's hands. Clean nails. Callused palms. Men who killed with rules and made their killings look like paperwork.
"List," Seoryeon said.
The leader's smile held. "Couriers. Scribes. Guards involved with messages. Refugees who saw the cart."
Seoryeon's attention turned inward for a breath. The courier's value had an expiry.
He returned to his own pocket of camp. The courier sat bound, eyes darting. Sleep never came to people who carried other men's secrets.
Seoryeon crouched beside him. "You stay close."
The courier's voice cracked. "They'll take me."
"They'll attempt," Seoryeon said. "Your life attaches to my steps."
He shortened the tether and looped it to his own belt. The boy stared at it like a chain.
Evening came cold.
The relief team circulated through refugees and guards with gentle voices and quick hands, moving people into darkness like sheep guided toward a pit. Seoryeon watched patterns: who they approached, who vanished, who returned with a hollow stare.
He entered the relief leader's tent as if invited.
The leader looked up, smile in place. "Lieutenant."
Seoryeon placed the broken wax seal on the table. "This passed through my post."
The leader's gaze flicked to it, then back to Seoryeon. "And?"
"I keep records," Seoryeon said. "Records become leverage."
The leader's smile thinned. "Ambition."
"I value air in my lungs," Seoryeon replied.
The leader's eyes cooled. "You sign the report at dawn."
Seoryeon nodded once and left.
Night brought the knife-team.
Canvas shifted. Breath held tight. A faint scrape at the seam.
Seoryeon woke with his Heart-Thread already vibrating warning. A blade kissed his throat, pressure light and controlled.
Seoryeon clamped the wrist. His other hand slid under the pillow and found his sword. He rolled sideways. The edge scraped fabric and grazed skin, leaving a thin burning line.
The attacker pressed harder, trying to pin. Seoryeon brought steel up. Contact rang in the dark.
He pushed through contact.
The knife jumped away. Space appeared. Seoryeon surged in and drove his point into the attacker's hip crease where leg met pelvis. The attacker's stance collapsed. Seoryeon anchored and pulled.
The body jerked forward into Seoryeon's shoulder. Seoryeon used the weight to slam the attacker into the tent pole. Wood thudded. Breath left in a choking exhale.
A second attacker lunged in, aiming for Seoryeon's eyes with a short blade. Fast. Close. Cruel.
Seoryeon parried. Steel struck steel. His wrist jolted. He released a pull through contact.
The attacker's blade drifted inward across their own centerline. Elbow lifted. Shoulder opened. Seoryeon stabbed up under the armpit gap, angled to kill the arm's function. The attacker screamed, then swallowed the scream when Seoryeon's elbow drove into the jaw hinge. Head snapped sideways. Balance went slack.
A third shadow dropped from above.
Wire looped around Seoryeon's neck. Garrote. Tight. Air vanished. Heat climbed behind his eyes.
His Heart-Thread surged. Vibration turned harsh. The wire inside him stretched too tight. Snap-risk hovered close enough to taste.
He forced motion through panic.
His sword hand reached back without sight. Steel found flesh. He felt resistance. He anchored.
He pulled hard.
The body slammed into him from behind, weight crashing into his shoulders. The garrote's tension broke for a heartbeat. Seoryeon sucked air like a drowning man and rolled, dragging the attacker with him.
They hit the ground tangled.
The attacker tried to re-loop the wire. Seoryeon jammed his guard into the attacker's throat and pushed through contact. The hands flew wide. The wire slipped uselessly. Seoryeon drove the pommel into the nose, then into the mouth, turning breath into panic.
He ended the struggle with a short thrust into the upper chest and a pull that stole the last defiance from the attacker's body.
Seoryeon sat up slowly.
His neck burned. Eyes watered. His Heart-Thread vibrated unevenly, ringing after strain. His hands trembled. A knot tightened behind his ribs, a scar that would never fully leave.
Boots approached outside.
Kang's voice cut through the night. "Lieutenant."
Seoryeon spoke evenly. "Three."
Kang entered, saw bodies, saw Seoryeon's bruised throat. His face tightened.
Seoryeon stood, swaying slightly. He walked past Kang into the open air and returned to the courier.
The boy's eyes were wide. "They came."
"They return," Seoryeon said.
He tightened the tether and kept the courier within arm's reach.
Dawn would bring paper, seals, and polite murder. Seoryeon lay down without sleep, listening to his Heart-Thread's uneven vibration and calculating how many more fights his wire could survive.