Borrowed time

Larin ran hard through the trees. The body hurt but the mind had never been sharper. Around him, everything was eerily silent, as if the ground were holding its breath. It seemed as though war would soon break over it like some tempest. The weight of battle clings on the air, weighted and unavoidable. Even the night's distant calls for nocturnal beasts were muted. Every shaking leaf, every whispering wind, seemed to speak the very same truth—Xiaxo was near annihilation.

He pushed his concentration as he leaped from branch to branch. He realized the extent of his capabilities when facing death and understood that he could not afford hesitation anymore. He had to fly-not only for an escape, but for dominating the battlefield. Using [Deconstruct], he tore apart the structure of [Soft Glide] and felt the core function unwind under his mental grasp. He studied its essence, isolating the properties that allowed for controlled descent.

Following many refinements, he finally molded [Air Steps], tiny pockets of compacted air that buoyed him suspended in the sky. An improvement, still not good enough. He required something fluid; he required it to allow the ability to move without relying on the ground to move for him. He had combined the machinery of [Soft Glide] with [Air Steps] and designed [Gliding Steps], an art of allowing him to vault through the skies, his moment of motion channeled during his flight by controlling the plunge.

It was not, of course, flight as it is meant; but it was the first time he had approached it.

And yet, even as he refined his new spell, the horror of his last battle clung to him like a ghost. The memory of his near-fatal fall, that sheer, scraping helplessness, gnawed at the edge of his mind; and, as he forced himself up into the sky, his breath caught. His pulse rose. A cold claw gripped his chest. He lost control, falling from the air, barely twisting in mid-fall to bounce off a thick branch.

"Breathe. Sinlung Resonance. Control."

He clings to the tree trunk, his eyes blurring. Panic feels irrational, but it is real. He must concentrate on calming himself. He takes deep breaths and tries to seize each rhythm with the beat of the land. His heart slows; he becomes more relaxed.

"I am alive. That is enough."

He grits his teeth, launching himself forward once more, urgency overpowering fear.

By the time he reached Tlangthar, the city had changed. The gates, once a place of casual patrols, were now flanked by heavily armed guards. Defensive structures had been reinforced, and banners of red and black hung from every rooftop, a declaration of war. The air smelled of iron and burning incense, the preparation rites of those who knew battle was inevitable.

The guards stiffened when they saw him. They gazed on with wide eyes at his disheveled state—torn clothes, weapons broken.

His machete was beyond saving, bent and cracked, it resembled more of a scrap metal than a weapon. His Whispering Carbine sparked weakly, its mana circuits complaining at the abrupt increase in overuse.

"Larin?" one of the guards stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "We… we thought you were—"

"I'm here," Larin broke in, giving a tired nod. "Where are Ewin and Tasi?"

"They got here about six hours ago," the guard answered. "They're alive, but barely. Ewin was the worst hit."

Lara felt a knot form in his stomach. He nodded toward the guards and leapt into the air, using the Gliding Steps to carry him swiftly across the city. Below him, he saw the War Council tent looming in the Great Square, its massive structure packed with all those who held the fate of Xiaxo in their hands.

He landed at the entrance, pushing aside the thick fabric of the tent and stepping inside.

Silence fell.

Zakop was the first to rise, his piercing gaze settling on his son. Pupi and Chinzah rose, too, their expressions changing from shock to something weightier. There was relief there, but also the weight of expectation. The other advisors were absent, each stationed across the war effort. Professors from Hermeticus Magicus Academy sat at the far end of the table, their faces unreadable as they took in Larin's condition.

Then his eyes found Ewin and Tasi.

Ewin sat stiffly, his wounds hastily bandaged. His face was a mess of bruises, his normally sharp gaze clouded with exhaustion. The old man looked like he had been fighting wars for centuries. Tasi sat hunched beside him, staring at the table, her shoulders trembling slightly. The way she clutched her hands together told Larin that she was still processing everything.

"You survived," Zakop finally said. His voice was steady, but Larin caught the undercurrent of something deeper. A father's fear. A leader's relief.

Larin nodded. "Barely."

Ewin exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with his uninjured hand. "I thought… " He shook his head, as if unwilling to voice what had already been assumed.

Larin stepped forward. "I almost was."

There was no time to waste. He recounted everything—how he led the Kirati away from Ewin and Tasi, the relentless pursuit, his infiltration of the warship, the brutal battle with the three Cosmic Magi, and finally, the warship's destruction.

The room listened in complete silence.

When he finished, Zakop exhaled sharply. "One of the only good reports we've had today. Most of our attacks failed. Casualties are piling up."

Larin clenched his fists. "They knew. The Kirati officer I overheard said they were expecting us."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Chinzah leaned forward, his usually calm demeanor tinged with suspicion. "Ewin reported something similar. The enemy was too well-prepared. Almost as if they had foreknowledge of our plans."

Zakop's fingers tapped on the wooden table. "We have a leak," he said, low-voiced. His voice turned dark. "Or the Auquans are aiding the Kirat."

Larin inhaled sharply. He thought of the warship, the sleek, unmistakable design of Auquan engineering. The thought had already crossed his mind, but hearing his father say it made it real.

Pupi said nothing until now, speaking low and carefully. "The Auquans always kept themselves away, watching from above, doing nothing unless they were provoked. But if they have decided a side…"

"We're in greater danger than we ever thought," Chinzah said grimly.

Larin turned to Ewin. "Did you mention the warship?"

Ewin nodded. "I did. But having it come from you makes the truth more binding."

Zakop's fists clenched. "If the Auquans are actually supporting Kirat, we are no longer fighting a war of resistance. We are facing total annihilation."

A deep, suffocating silence filled the tent. Everyone knew the implications. The war had already been impossible. If an empire backed by celestial overlords was coming for them, then…

Larin exhaled slowly. "Then we need to be smarter. We can't win this war conventionally. But we can bleed them dry."

Zakop stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Then we start now."

Larin didn't know how much time they had, but one thing was clear.

Xiaxo was on borrowed time.