Morning revealed how close the city had come to collapse.

  Smoke still drifted above multiple districts, turning sunrise into a dull red smear across the sky. Ash settled like gray snow along the streets, coating ruined wagons and shattered stone. Fires had been contained during the night, but entire blocks of the western district lay blackened and broken.

  Vale stood atop the northern wall, watching cleanup crews work in exhausted silence.

  Bodies were being carried away.

  Not many compared to what could have happened.

  But enough.

  Too many.

  Soldiers moved slowly, fatigue carved deep into their faces. Some still wore bloodstains from the night’s battles. Others stared blankly beyond the walls, as if expecting monsters to surge again at any moment.

  Lyn climbed up beside him, carrying two cups of weak broth.

  “You look worse than yesterday,” she said, handing him one.

  Vale accepted it gratefully.

  “Feel worse.”

  She leaned against the stone, scanning the plains beyond.

  “They really left.”

  “For now.”

  Silence stretched.

  Beyond the walls, the plains lay empty. No monster bodies remained. No packs circled at a distance. The hunter’s forces had withdrawn entirely.

  Cleanly.

  Deliberately.

  Like a commander pulling troops after testing defenses.

  Lyn shivered slightly.

  “That makes it worse.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Because absence meant preparation.

  A soldier approached, saluting tiredly.

  “Command wants you at headquarters.”

  Vale sighed.

  “Of course they do.”

  Enforcer Headquarters buzzed with controlled panic.

  Officers argued around the central war table while messengers rushed in and out carrying reports. Maps were updated constantly as casualty counts and damage assessments came in.

  The commander looked up as Vale entered.

  “You’re alive.”

  “Barely.”

  She gestured toward the map.

  “City status.”

  Red markings covered multiple districts.

  Supply depots damaged.

  Watchtowers destroyed.

  Outer barricades collapsed.

  Northern wall breach circled in thick ink.

  Vale studied it silently.

  The commander continued:

  “Food reserves burned in western district.”

  His stomach tightened.

  “How much?”

  “Enough.”

  Silence stretched.

  Enough meant shortages accelerating.

  Officers nearby murmured nervously.

  An older strategist spoke up:

  “If attacks continue at this rate, supplies won’t last a month.”

  Another added:

  “Less, if riots resume.”

  Vale folded his arms.

  “They will.”

  Silence followed.

  Because hunger didn’t become patient.

  It became violent.

  The commander exhaled sharply.

  “We need reinforcements.”

  An officer laughed bitterly.

  “From where?”

  Silence settled.

  Because every city faced similar threats.

  No help was coming.

  Vale spoke quietly.

  “Walls won’t hold forever.”

  The commander met his gaze.

  “I know.”

  Silence stretched again.

  Then she added:

  “So we make them stronger.”

  Vale frowned slightly.

  “How?”

  A messenger burst into the chamber.

  “Report from scouts!”

  Everyone turned.

  The messenger swallowed.

  “Siege beasts moving again.”

  Vale’s jaw tightened.

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  “How many?”

  “…Dozens.”

  Silence crushed the room.

  Dozens meant walls would not survive repeated assaults.

  The strategist whispered:

  “That’s impossible…”

  Vale answered quietly:

  “No.”

  It wasn’t.

  The hunter adapted.

  The commander slammed her fist onto the table.

  “Reinforce every gate. Every tower. Now.”

  Orders erupted instantly.

  But Vale felt unease settle deeper.

  Because reinforcement took time.

  And the hunter had patience.

  The first impact came before noon.

  Vale barely reached the eastern gate when the ground trembled beneath his feet.

  Soldiers shouted from the walls.

  “They’re back!”

  Archers scrambled into position again as massive shapes emerged from the distant plains.

  Not packs this time.

  Not waves.

  Siege beasts.

  Huge creatures lumbered forward in tight formation, skulls armored, bodies scarred from previous battles. Behind them, smaller predators moved in disciplined lines.

  Vale climbed the wall.

  His stomach dropped.

  They’d learned.

  The beasts moved in staggered rows, ensuring ballista bolts couldn’t strike multiple targets. Flying predators circled higher, avoiding previous kill zones.

  They weren’t testing now.

  They were dismantling.

  Lyn reached the battlements beside him.

  “…That’s worse.”

  “Yes.”

  Soldiers fired.

  Ballista bolts slammed into the first beast.

  It staggered—

  —but another stepped forward immediately, shielding the wounded creature.

  Soldiers cursed.

  “They’re rotating!”

  Vale exhaled slowly.

  Adaptive tactics.

  The first siege beast slammed into the gate.

  The impact shook the entire wall.

  Another followed.

  Then another.

  Wood groaned.

  Metal screamed.

  Behind the gate, soldiers reinforced barricades desperately.

  Vale turned.

  “They’re going to break through.”

  Lyn swallowed.

  “What do we do?”

  Vale answered quietly.

  “Hold.”

  Because there was no alternative.

  The gate shattered on the fourth impact.

  Wood splintered inward.

  Metal hinges snapped.

  Barricades behind it buckled as siege beasts forced their way through.

  Soldiers screamed.

  Civilians fled.

  Vale jumped.

  Authority cushioned his fall as he landed inside the breached entrance. Monsters surged forward, trampling defenders.

  He roared, Authority exploding outward.

  Pressure slammed into incoming beasts, forcing them backward momentarily.

  Soldiers seized the opening, dragging wounded away.

  But more creatures surged through.

  Too many.

  Vale fought.

  His fists shattered skulls.

  Authority reinforced his strikes.

  Bodies fell.

  But numbers kept coming.

  Behind him, civilians screamed as monsters entered outer districts.

  Lyn shouted from above:

  “They’re inside!”

  Vale knew.

  And somewhere else—

  Another gate shook under assault.

  Multiple breaches.

  Simultaneous.

  City defenses splitting.

  The hunter coordinated everything.

  Vale gritted his teeth.

  Exhaustion weighed heavy.

  Authority strained.

  And still—

  They came.

  A soldier grabbed his shoulder.

  “We’re falling back!”

  Vale shoved another predator aside.

  “No.”

  The soldier stared.

  “We can’t hold!”

  Vale glanced behind.

  Families fleeing.

  Children crying.

  People dying.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Protector Authority surged.

  Defensive field expanded wider than before.

  Invisible pressure pushed monsters back.

  Not killing.

  Holding.

  Buying seconds.

  Soldiers rallied.

  Barricades reformed.

  Ballista fire resumed.

  Slowly—

  Beasts retreated.

  Again.

  Vale collapsed to one knee, gasping.

  Behind him, cheers erupted weakly.

  Another gate saved.

  But elsewhere—

  Fires burned again.

  Walls cracked.

  And the city lost more ground.

  Above them, horns echoed.

  Not victory.

  Warning.

  The siege had truly begun now.

  And Vale understood—

  The hunter wasn’t testing anymore.

  It was grinding them down.

  One wall at a time.

  One district at a time.

  Until nothing remained to defend.

  The eastern gate held.

  But only barely.

  Vale knelt amid shattered timber and twisted iron, lungs burning as soldiers dragged the last of the wounded away. The siege beasts outside the breach had retreated under renewed ballista fire, but their withdrawal felt deliberate rather than forced.

  They would return.

  Soon.

  A captain staggered toward Vale, armor dented and blood streaking his face.

  “You saved the gate.”

  Vale shook his head, struggling to stand.

  “No.”

  The captain blinked.

  “Yes, you—”

  Vale gestured around them.

  “Everyone did.”

  Because if even one section collapsed completely, monsters would pour into civilian districts in unstoppable numbers.

  The captain swallowed and turned back to reorganizing defenses.

  Lyn rushed down from the walls, face pale beneath soot streaks.

  “You okay?”

  Vale nodded faintly.

  “For now.”

  She glanced through the ruined gate at distant shapes withdrawing into smoke.

  “They’re not done.”

  “No.”

  Silence stretched.

  Then horns sounded again.

  Not from the east.

  West.

  Lyn cursed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Vale exhaled slowly.

  “Move.”

  The western wall had not been so lucky.

  They arrived to chaos.

  A massive section of outer defense had collapsed entirely, rubble strewn across streets. Siege beasts forced through the breach while soldiers fought desperately among debris.

  Civilians ran screaming through narrow alleys as predators chased fleeing prey.

  Flames spread again from overturned oil wagons.

  Vale’s stomach twisted.

  This was worse than the night attack.

  This was penetration.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Authority surged as he charged into the breach.

  A crawler beast lunged toward a group of trapped civilians.

  Vale intercepted, slamming into the creature mid-leap. They crashed through broken masonry, bones snapping under impact.

  Another predator struck his side.

  Pain exploded through cracked ribs.

  He staggered.

  Too slow.

  Exhaustion caught up.

  A soldier fell nearby, claws tearing through his armor.

  Vale forced himself forward again, dragging the wounded man back before the predator could finish him.

  “Get him out!” Vale shouted.

  Soldiers obeyed instantly.

  Lyn appeared behind him, guiding civilians through safer routes.

  But monsters kept pouring through.

  Too many.

  Vale’s Authority field expanded again, forcing predators back.

  But this time—

  It flickered.

  He felt it.

  Strain.

  Protector Authority resisted overuse.

  His body trembled.

  Behind him, Iron Crown’s voice roared:

  “FALL BACK!”

  The massive hammer wielder crashed into the breach, golden Authority flaring as he smashed beasts aside. Behind him, Freewind fighters descended, slicing flying predators from the sky.

  Reinforcements.

  Too late for some.

  But enough for now.

  Together, Authority users pushed monsters back through rubble.

  Ballista bolts thundered overhead.

  Siege beasts outside the wall fell under concentrated fire.

  Predators retreated again.

  Silence slowly returned.

  But this time—

  The damage remained.

  The wall was broken.

  Lyn stared at the collapsed section.

  “…We can’t fix that fast.”

  Vale shook his head.

  “No.”

  Soldiers scrambled to erect temporary barricades.

  Wood.

  Stone.

  Anything.

  But monsters would break through easily next time.

  And next time—

  They wouldn’t stop at testing.

  Vale climbed atop the rubble, scanning burning districts.

  Smoke rose everywhere.

  People cried.

  Soldiers argued.

  The city bled.

  Behind him, Iron Crown approached, helmet removed.

  “You’re slowing down.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “You keep doing that,” the warrior said quietly, “you’ll die.”

  Vale met his gaze.

  “Someone has to stand there.”

  Silence stretched.

  Iron Crown looked away.

  “Yeah.”

  Because everyone knew.

  But no one else could.

  By late afternoon, the city felt like a wounded animal.

  Repair crews worked frantically along damaged walls. Soldiers erected temporary barricades. Merchants demanded compensation while refugees demanded food.

  Arguments erupted everywhere.

  And fear spread faster than fire.

  Vale walked through western districts with Lyn as civilians packed belongings, preparing to relocate farther from walls.

  “They think monsters will break through again tonight,” Lyn said.

  Vale nodded.

  “They might.”

  Silence stretched.

  Children cried as families abandoned damaged homes.

  Shops boarded up.

  Soldiers confiscated supplies for defense.

  And trust collapsed further.

  A woman shouted at passing guards:

  “You protect merchants, not us!”

  The guard shouted back:

  “We’re protecting everyone!”

  No one believed him.

  Lyn muttered:

  “Riots again soon.”

  Vale nodded slowly.

  “Yes.”

  Because hunger worsened.

  And fear sharpened anger.

  Ahead, smoke drifted from burned depots.

  Vale stared at it.

  “Food gone.”

  Lyn swallowed.

  “…How long before people starve?”

  Vale didn’t answer.

  Because he didn’t know.

  And uncertainty was worse.

  That evening, horns sounded again.

  Not attack.

  Warning.

  Scouts reported movement beyond the plains.

  Vale climbed the wall once more.

  And this time—

  He saw it clearly.

  The hunter stood in the open.

  Massive silhouette against the setting sun.

  Watching.

  Unhidden.

  Confident.

  Behind it, monsters regrouped.

  Not charging.

  Not attacking.

  Waiting.

  Learning.

  Preparing.

  Lyn stared beside him.

  “…It knows we’re watching.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence stretched.

  The hunter tilted its massive head slightly.

  Then turned away slowly.

  And disappeared into the forest again.

  Vale’s stomach tightened.

  “That’s bad.”

  Lyn blinked.

  “It didn’t attack.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good.”

  Vale shook his head.

  “No.”

  Because predators only showed themselves when prey was already trapped.

  And now—

  The city knew what hunted them.

  Fear would spread faster tonight.

  Below, civilians whispered nervously.

  Some cried.

  Some prayed.

  Some packed belongings.

  Vale stared toward the darkening horizon.

  The hunter didn’t need to rush.

  Walls weakened.

  Food burned.

  Authority strained.

  And civilians panicked.

  Prey collapsed from inside.

  And when the final attack came—

  Nothing would stop it.

  Behind him, Lyn asked quietly:

  “What happens next?”

  Vale answered softly.

  “We survive tomorrow.”

  Because tomorrow was never guaranteed anymore.

  And the siege—

  Had truly begun.