War Council

Tlangthar had transformed overnight. The streets, once filled with the warmth of daily life, now carried a cold, unwavering purpose. The red and black banners swayed with the wind, a solemn declaration of the coming storm. The war drums pounded like a heartbeat that would not cease, echoing through the hills, reminding every soul that this was not just another battle. It was survival.

The Great Square had become a staging ground. Where there were once bustling markets and gatherings of storytellers, now stood a massive war tent, larger than any structure in the city. Built with purpose rather than beauty, it loomed over the square, a place where the fate of Xiaxo would be shaped.

Inside, the War Council had gathered. Around the war table stood those who would shape the strategy for the coming battles. Zakop, at the head, his eyes burning with the weight of command. To his right, Hwehwe leaned over the maps, her sharp gaze calculating the terrain with a hunter's precision. Chinzah stood beside her, the master strategist, already marking key locations for ambushes and supply points. Vanchiau, the logistics overseer, spoke in hushed tones with Mualza, who stood like an unmoving mountain, considering the very land itself as their greatest weapon.

Lianchhia sat with her arms folded, her presence as fierce as ever, scanning the reports in front of her. Pupi, ever the watchful elder, listened carefully, his hands gripping his staff as if feeling the pulse of the land itself. The professors from Hermeticus Magicus Academy stood at the far end, their knowledge of arcane warfare ready to be put to the test.

Professor Ewin, the old war veteran, was already flipping through tactical notes, his expression grim. Professor Tova, ever chaotic, mumbled about alchemical solutions, trying to devise ways to disrupt the Kirati supply lines. Professor Belvarius observed the room in silence, considering the deeper implications of magic in warfare, while Professor Harlan stood with arms crossed, the combat instructor's presence a quiet reassurance. Tyrs and Mynta, the twin scholars, watched everything unfold, knowing that history would record the decisions made here.

Zakop exhaled. "We must understand what we are facing. Chinzah, the latest intelligence?"

Chinzah stepped forward, tapping a section of the map. "The Kirats are not sending a mere probing force this time. They are deploying mechanized siege units, backed by shock infantry and mana artillery. They know our tactics. They are bringing machines designed to counter them."

Mualza's deep voice rumbled. "Machines do not outlast the land."

"No, but they tear through it," Chinzah countered. "They are bringing Mana Striders, fast-moving walkers designed to navigate uneven terrain while carrying siege weapons on their backs. Each Strider can move faster than our fastest cavalry, and they carry Spellbreak Cannons, designed to shatter magical barriers. If we do not neutralize them early, our defenses will fall."

Lianchhia's fingers drummed against the table. "How many?"

"At least twenty identified so far," Chinzah said grimly. "Possibly more in reserve."

Hwehwe growled under her breath. "They are adapting. Last war, they relied on brute force and manpower. This time, they bring machines."

Professor Tova suddenly chuckled. "Oh, they bring machines, do they? Machines require maintenance. Machines require fuel. And machines require roads." She tapped the map with her ink-stained fingers. "How do they get their precious Striders into our lands? They don't fly. They don't crawl through the trees. They need roads, they need supply lines."

Zakop nodded. "Sabotaging their roads could slow them down."

Pupi stepped forward. "No, not just sabotage. We must let Sinlung take those roads back."

A hush fell over the room. The older warriors knew what that meant.

Zakop nodded. "Explain."

Pupi exhaled. "We do not simply destroy their roads. We erase them. We use [Sinlung] to call the land itself. The forests will reclaim the roads. The vines will break their supply chains. The rivers will shift, swallowing their bridges. If they try to rebuild, the land itself will resist."

Mualza's eyes gleamed. "That… is possible."

Professor Belvarius, who had been silent until now, spoke. "It is not only possible, but necessary. You cannot outmarch an army that is walking through a land that does not wish them to be there."

Vanchiau nodded, already calculating logistics. "If we do this properly, they won't just be delayed. They will be stranded."

Chinzah, ever the pragmatist, frowned. "But how fast can we make this happen?"

Mualza straightened. "Give me a night."

Hwehwe smirked. "You have until sunrise."

Zakop turned to Chinzah. "This still does not solve the problem of their Striders."

Chinzah agreed. "We have a plan for that. Our Shadow Fang Pack will handle it."

Larin, who had been silent until now, took a step forward. "That is where I come in."

Zakop's gaze darkened. "I told you, you will remain here."

"No," Larin said firmly. "You need someone who can get in and out, someone who can disable their machines before they even reach us. Let me take a team."

Hwehwe raised an eyebrow. "You're asking to go into the belly of the beast."

Larin smirked. "I intend to tear it apart from the inside."

Zakop stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "You are as stubborn as your mother." He looked to Chinzah. "One team. We test it first."

Larin bowed. "That's all I need."

The decision had been made. The Shadow Fang Pack would strike ahead of the main battles, disrupting the Kirati advance. The war would not be fought in open fields—it would be a war of terrain, of deception, of breaking the enemy before they even saw the battlefield.

As the council adjourned, Larin made his way back to his Natural Spring. The air around it was thick with mana, the foliage growing denser, more alive. Oakenna was waiting by the water, her gaze distant.

"You already know what's happening," Larin said.

Oakenna nodded. "The land whispers."

"We need the Dryads to intervene," Larin pressed. "The Kirats won't stop until everything is gone."

Oakenna's expression remained unchanged. "We do not interfere in human wars. "

Larin's frustration grew. "Then tell me this—if the Kirats win, do you think they will leave you alone?"

Oakenna's green eyes darkened. "No. And that is why we will not move… until a Conceptual Magi comes in person."

Larin clenched his jaw. "By then, it may be too late."

Oakenna stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest. "Then you must ensure that Xiaxo still stands when that time comes."

Larin exhaled sharply. He had his answer. The Dryads would not move unless forced. The war would be fought by Xiaxo alone.

With a final glance at the spring, he turned away. His mission was clear. The Shadow Fang Pack had their work cut out for them.

Tomorrow, the first strike would begin.