Chapter 112 — A Failing Peace

  (Three Weeks Before the Shelter 17 Incident)

  The Weight of Silence

  Duskhollow 06, 200

  The Last City drifted toward its deadline like a ship sliding toward a waterfall.

  Five months left until Lord Deogon was forced to answer the Aku Clan’s demands—

  half of Novastra’s Aether reserves in exchange for maintaining peace.

  A peace held together by frayed rope and shallow breaths.

  And now, worse than raids…

  The Aku had gone silent.

  No sightings.

  No border taunts.

  No hunting parties testing the walls.

  For Miss Hopps, silence was never safety.

  Silence meant something was coming.

  And Seven—recovering, armless for now—was about to be thrown into the middle of it.

  War Rabbit Guild Hall – Briefing Room

  Seven knocked lightly on the open doorframe.

  “Hey, Miss Hopps. You needed me?”

  The Guildmaster didn’t look up immediately.

  Her red eyes scanned intel reports, dozens of them, all marked with the same red sigil: AETHER DEFICIT — PRIORITY.

  She finally gestured him in.

  “Close the door, Seven.”

  He obeyed.

  Miss Hopps tapped a holographic screen to life—a 3D projection of the region surrounding Novastra. Most markers glowed orange or red.

  One flickered weakly in pale blue.

  A site about a day north, tucked against a wooded ridge.

  “We’ve received multiple reports about this location,” she said. “Old facility. Pre-war design. Rumored unstable Aether reserves.”

  Seven leaned closer.

  “Usable?”

  “Maybe,” she replied. “Or maybe it’s a deathtrap. That’s where you come in.”

  Seven blinked.

  “You’re sending me alone?”

  Miss Hopps massaged her temple.

  “Your squad is still deployed. Raven and Fluffy haven’t checked in for over a week—”

  That pulled Seven’s attention sharply.

  “What?”

  Hopps held up a hand.

  “Storm fronts rolled in. Reception is garbage. Or… something’s blocking signals.” She hated admitting that. “Until we know more, we can’t waste manpower. Every Howlcrest is stretched thin, and our Warrencrests are covering too many fronts.”

  “So my job?”

  “Scout the facility. Confirm whether the Aether inside is stable, corrupted, or salvageable. And stay alive while doing it.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Seven crossed his arms.

  “That’s the catch, isn’t it?”

  Hopps snorted gently.

  “There’s always a catch.”

  She stood straighter, her presence shifting from mentor to commander.

  “The Aku Clan has been quiet. Too quiet. They don’t pause unless they’re planning their next move.”

  Seven frowned.

  “That’s a good thing… right?”

  Miss Hopps shook her head.

  “No. The Aku never stop hunting unless they’re preparing to strike. If they’re not attacking travelers or raiding outskirts, it means their efforts are going somewhere else.”

  She tapped the map again.

  “Your mission is Aether-focused. If you see Aku? Evade. Do not engage unless you have no choice. We can’t give them any excuse to claim the city violated neutrality.”

  Seven’s jaw tightened.

  “So… find Aether. Don’t piss off giants. Easy enough.”

  Miss Hopps exhaled slowly, ears lowering a fraction.

  “We’re running out of time, Seven.”

  “How long do we realistically have?” he asked.

  Hopps folded her arms across her chest.

  “Five months until the Aku expect our answer. Another six to gather and refine the Aether if we agree. If we fail either part…”

  She didn’t finish.

  She didn’t have to.

  The Aku would move.

  The peace would crumble.

  The city would burn.

  Her voice softened—just barely.

  “That’s why your mission matters. Every scrap of Aether we can secure is leverage.”

  Seven rubbed the back of his neck where the 07 glowed faintly beneath his collar.

  “No pressure.”

  Hopps rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t get cute with me.”

  Seven hesitated before asking:

  “…Any news from Raven and Fluffy?”

  For the first time in minutes, Hopps’ guard slipped.

  “No. Not since their last relay eight days ago.”

  Seven froze.

  Eight days.

  “Communication ruined by winter storms,” she continued. “And… possibly by something else in the northern wastes.”

  The weight of her words settled like snow on his shoulders.

  “If they’re in trouble—”

  “We’ll handle it,” Hopps cut in. “But right now, we need your head in the game. If we lose our only lead on new Aether, the city loses its only bargaining chip.”

  Seven swallowed hard.

  “…Understood.”

  Hopps softened ever so slightly.

  “I know you care about them. And you’ll get your chance, if it comes to that. But first, complete your assignment.”

  He nodded.

  For now.

  But something twisted in his gut.

  A pressure.

  A warning.

  A feeling he’d ignored before—

  One that had nearly gotten him killed more than once.

  He pushed it down.

  “Alright. When do I leave?”

  Miss Hopps tapped the datapad.

  “Your new arm is ready whenever you want it,” she said. “But if you insist on doing this armless, Ripper wants you in training before dawn.”

  Seven sighed.

  “…Of course he does.”

  Hopps smirked.

  “You’re dismissed. And Seven—”

  He paused at the door.

  “Keep your eyes open out there. The world has changed. Something’s moving out in the wastes, and I don’t know what.”

  Her red eyes narrowed.

  “And the Aku aren’t the only ones watching.”

  Preparations

  Seven left Miss Hopps’ office with a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite name.

  The Aku Clan silent.

  An unstable Aether facility requiring investigation.

  Raven and Fluffy overdue on their scheduled report — not missing, but delayed.

  But even delays made people uneasy these days.

  He pushed the door open.

  Quiet.

  Fluffy’s bunk was exactly as she left it: sheets tangled, a carrot stem perched on the pillow like a joke she didn’t finish telling.

  Raven’s bunk: tight, perfectly folded, not a wrinkle out of place.

  Seven’s jaw tightened.

  Eight days without contact.

  Winter storms could easily block transmissions, Hopps said.

  Terrain was brutal that far north, Raven had said before leaving.

  But still…

  It wasn’t like her. Not at all.

  Seven sat heavily on his bunk, rubbing the scar at the base of his neck.

  A knock broke the silence.

  Hopper entered, balancing a long padded case under one arm.

  “Got it,” he said, nudging the case onto Seven’s bed. “Fresh from Yumi’s workshop.”

  Seven opened it.

  His new arm rested inside — sturdier plating, reinforced joints, more rune channels woven along the forearm.

  It looked less like a prosthetic and more like a weapon.

  Hopper grinned.

  “Well? Gonna put it on, or stare at it dramatically all night?”

  Seven fitted the interface socket into place. The arm whirred to life — smooth, powerful, responsive.

  Hopper stepped back, nodding to himself.

  “Ripper’s waiting for you. Says he needs to ‘make sure it won’t fall off the second you sneeze.’ His words, not mine.”

  Seven rolled his eyes but stood.

  Hopper hesitated before leaving.

  “…Raven and Fluffy are tough. They’ve gone longer without reporting before, right?”

  Seven didn’t answer.

  He didn’t need to.

  Hopper sighed softly and slipped out.

  Upper Training Yard

  Snow drifted lazily across the training field, lanterns hanging from iron hooks casting long, wavering shadows.

  Ripper stood at the center — towering 10 feet, broad-shouldered, wearing only wrapped forearms and light training gear. In his hands rested two wooden training staves thicker than Seven’s wrists.

  When he saw Seven approach, he nodded once.

  “Good. Arm’s on. Let’s see what it can take.”

  Seven stretched the new fingers. “You gonna hit me with those tree trunks?”

  “No.”

  Ripper tossed him a smaller staff.

  “I’m going to hit you with me.”

  Ripper moved first — and for someone his size, he moved fast.

  A downward strike whistled through the air. Seven barely brought his staff up in time. The impact rattled his bones and nearly tore the weapon from his grip.

  The new arm absorbed most of it, runes glowing briefly.

  Seven slid back several feet in the snow.

  Ripper cracked his neck.

  “Good. Again.”

  Seven gritted his teeth and lunged. He ducked under a sweeping strike, activated a tiny burst of Enchanted Combat (the safe 1.25x multiplier), and aimed for Ripper’s ribs.

  Ripper blocked with one hand and shoved him sideways like he weighed nothing.

  Seven rolled across the snow, came up breathing hard.

  Ripper smirked — barely.

  “You’re faster. That’s good,” he said. “But your stance collapses when you rely too much on speed. Again.”

  They clashed.

  And clashed.

  And clashed.

  Each time, Ripper adjusted.

  Each time, Seven adapted.

  The veteran used his size like a fortress — wide arcs, crushing blows, footwork that kept Seven off balance. But Seven used his smaller frame like a knife — slipping around Ripper’s reach, testing angles, learning how much stress his new arm could endure.

  Finally, Ripper caught the staff mid-swing.

  He twisted, disarmed Seven in a smooth, brutal motion, and planted the butt of his own staff beside Seven’s ear.

  “Dead,” Ripper said simply.

  Seven exhaled sharply.

  “You never go easy, do you?”

  “Not on you.”

  Ripper stepped back, planting the staff upright in the snow.

  “You carry more burdens than you admit. That makes you dangerous… but also sloppy. Fix that.”

  Seven flexed his new arm. It hummed strongly, fully synced now.

  Ripper nodded approvingly.

  “Good. This one won’t fail you. Just make sure you don’t fail it.”

  Seven wiped sweat and snow from his brow.

  “When do I leave?”

  “Dawn,” Ripper replied.

  He paused, gaze sharpening.

  “…Don’t die. Not yet.”

  It wasn’t sentiment.

  It was an order.

  Return to Quarters

  Seven re-entered the barracks.

  Raven’s bunk.

  Fluffy’s bunk.

  Empty.

  He secured his gear.

  Checked his rifle.

  Adjusted the arm’s mana conduits again.

  The city barrier flickered faintly outside the window — weaker than normal, its pulse irregular.

  Seven sat on the edge of his bed.

  Tomorrow, he walked into the cold alone.

  Something was waiting for him out there.

  And he didn’t know if he would return.