“Awuu...” Medith roused the girls who’d slept like scattered petals after a storm, their blankets crumpled like driftwood. These little imps, if they don’t pile into her bed, they toss bratty fits like sparks on dry grass. They’d puked hard last night, waves in their throats. Haidra said it was seasickness. Medith and Sais felt steady as anchored stones.
“Medith, I need to tell you something.” Sais had risen early, her gaze heavy as rain clouds at the window. “What is it?” Confusion pricked Medith like a cold needle.
“You found the Collapse Point of the tsunami, didn’t you?” Sais’s voice was flat as a blade.
“Yeah. You didn’t?” Medith’s doubt flickered like a lantern in fog.
“No, that’s not it. I’m slower than you, but that’s not the point.” Sais turned, her clear eyes shadowed by fear, like moonlight shivering on deep water. “What I can’t figure out is, why does a tsunami have a Collapse Point?”
“What do you mean?” Medith’s thoughts snagged like a sleeve on a thorn.
“As far as I know, only magic has Collapse Points.” Sais’s words fell like stones into a well. “If it’s a natural phenomenon, why would it have one?”
Medith sucked in a breath, ice water down the spine. Her mind leapt to dark shores. “How could that be... unless nature itself is magic? Your Elf Clan channels nature to cast, don’t you?”
Sais shook her hair like a banner in wind. “Impossible. Nature is nature, magic is magic. Nature isn’t the same thing as magic. Magic’s essence is compressed elements, converted through mana. We’ve had brutal weather before, like iron rain and black squalls, but never ‘forced destruction.’ Natural force means absolute awe, a mountain you bow to. No one can shake it. If something shakes it, it isn’t the gods. It’s people.”
Medith’s face went iron-ashen, like a blade gone cold. “You’re saying this tsunami was man-made? And done by someone with terrifying mastery of magic? What’s his goal?”
“I don’t know...” Sais trembled like a reed in river wind. “But I’m certain this tsunami ties to magic. It’s not a simple act of nature.”
Dizziness rolled through Medith like a breaking wave. If it’s man-made, how monstrous would that be? This wave could level a city with a straight-on strike, and any wall or army is rice paper in a deluge.
“Heavenly Edge... Regido... the Royal Guard... the Eastern Nation’s king... a tsunami... man-made...” Cold sweat slid down her spine like dew on stone. She rose to find Haidra, but Sais pressed her down with a hand light as a bird’s wing. “Don’t go. The people of the Eastern Nation mustn’t know.”
Medith froze, then sank back to the mattress like a sail losing wind. “I was rash... It happened on their soil. If this spreads, the streets will turn to boiling sand. But we already gave them the Collapse Point intel. The leak’s only a matter of time.”
“We’ll speak when that tide comes.” Sais’s voice steadied like a steady drum. “The Collapse Point is far more complex than you think. Even Her Majesty the Queen hasn’t fully grasped it, let alone humans. Watch and wait. I’ll sketch the basics for you first...”
...
Medith and Haidra stood on the deck, wind in their hair like warm silk. Sunlight poured like honey, the sea breeze a gentle hand, but Medith’s heart was an ice cellar, heavy and still. Her palms sweated like rain through bark.
“Haidra, can I ask you something? About Regido—how much can you tell me?” Her tone was quiet as a knife in cloth.
Haidra hesitated, a beat like a faltering oar. “Regido isn’t a substance. It’s an ability. No one knows how you obtain it. Even the Church of Truth couldn’t crack it. What I can tell you: once you gain Regido, through certain means you can explode into massive combat power for a short time. At the moment of release, a destructive ring bursts out, a shock circle that chews through everything like a whetstone through thread. Its power is terrifying, near unstoppable. Used right, it’s the battlefield’s ultimate killing tool.”
Medith recalled his transformation, that eerie dissipation ring rolling out like a tide that cleared fog. “Can a mage get it?” Her question dropped like a pebble into a still pool.
Haidra shot her a startled glance, pupils tight as pinpricks. “I... I really don’t know. Theoretically, no. Regido’s essence is Impado, and Impado is an anti-magic substance. Mix magic and anti-magic, and you’re courting a bad ending—like oil and lightning. Unless you—”
“No.” Medith cut him off, her voice calm as a sheathed blade. “Just talking.” On the surface she was stone, but inside, the sea roared.
...
10/27. In the five days after that, Medith stayed in the ship’s training hall, steel whispering like rain. Since her rebirth she’d swung a blade often, but it still felt wrong, like a shirt that didn’t belong to her. First, the sword. Her old blade’s weight lived in her bones; every cut had a number, every strike a shape. This one was a stranger, a river with no map. Second, mana. It’s a fickle wind. In foul weather it dies without a fight, a lantern guttering in a squall. If someone knew that and chose a storm to strike, her whole group would be helpless, leaves in rapids.
“Medith! We’re here, we’re here!” Milia bounced in, joy bright as sunlight on waves. Since that night’s talk, the girls had changed how they called her—from Commander to Medith.
“Here where?” Medith stepped out of the cabin, curiosity a cat at the door. She reached the deck and froze. Ahead, a mass of grand buildings rose like cliffs in haze. Only shadows showed, but she could clearly make out an immense palace, a mountain of stone three times the size of the Council Chamber, set deep at the very heart of the land like a jewel.
“At last.” Haidra stretched, lazy as a cat in sun. “From there on, that’s the city of Ileka. Pass through a handful of cities from here, and you reach the Royal Capital.”
“You... how many people do you have?” Iling stared at the approaching sprawl, eyes wide as full moons.
“Over fifty million souls,” Kailon said, pride ringing like bronze. “Five hundred thousand in the regular army. Four hundred thousand in the Royal Corps. One hundred thousand in noble levies. In total, over a million under arms.”
“A million...” Phiby’s mouth hung open like a fish at the surface, stunned by the sheer tide of numbers.
“With that many troops, how do you feed them?” Medith’s voice was cool as a mountain stream. “Armies burn money like wildfire. Costs pile like snow on roofs. In wartime, how many nations aren’t crushed by enemies, but by endless conscription—people driven to revolt, and the country falls by its own hand?”
