[Sector F3: Tactical Collapse Confirmed]
[Sector F2: Morale Erosion Detected – Structural Stability: 46%]
[Recommended Action: Deploy Sovereign Flame Sync – Delegated Node Authority Available]
The system did not wait for me to respond. It just kept blinking in the corner of my vision like it knew I wouldn't say no.
Splitjaw was already on the ridge. Embergleam stood at the fallback line with two stretchers behind her and blood on her claws that didn't look like mine this time. A group of runners were reinforcing the trench lip with mosscrete buckets and too many questions in their eyes.
I stood between all of it. Not leading. Not lifting. Just standing.
The system pinged again.
[Sovereign Sync: Partial Delegation Enabled?]
[Warning: Reduced Direct Control – Increased Adaptive Flow]
It wasn't a threat. But it felt like one. I exhaled.
"Fine. Take the wheel."
The fire flared. Not out loud. Not visibly. But present. Like it had been waiting for permission to breathe.
It moved faster than I did. Trap relays rerouted. Golem command stacks shifted to secondary glyph layers. Some of the moss started glowing without torch prompts. It wasn't magic. Not exactly. It was automated defense through belief-anchored structures.
I'd built a city. Now it was fighting back without me.
Splitjaw dropped beside me. "New rhythm's tighter. Not clean. But it's working."
"Flame took the reins," I said.
He didn't blink. "About time it pulled its weight."
Then the scream came. Sector F2. Loud.
Quicktongue relayed the signal: Golem 9 gone hot. Defensive collapse imminent. Emergency anchor trigger activated.
I ran. Didn't wait for the report.
The air shimmered pink ahead of the fallback trench. The kind of shimmer you only saw when mosscores overloaded and burned themselves clean.
I reached the ridge in time to see it finish. Golem 9's torso had ruptured, blasting molten moss and anchor slag in a circle wide enough to flatten a squad. It saved the kobolds behind it. It crushed the tunnel. It melted the stone.
It was gone. Just… gone.
Embergleam was already there. Her voice didn't rise. Didn't shake.
"That one was old," she said.
I nodded. "I know."
"It didn't hesitate."
"I know."
She looked at me. Not angry. Not grieving. Just tired.
"You better make that fire worth something."
I didn't say anything. What could I say?
The system pulsed again.
[Sector F2: Stabilized (Delay Success)]
[Casualty Count: Minimal – Energy Cost: High]
[Flame Sync Flow Rate Increasing]
"Cool," I muttered. "We're bleeding efficiently now. Great job, everyone."
---
They didn't rush the breach. That was the worst part. The Hero squad waited. Like they were testing a rope for fray before they pulled.
I stood above the F2 collapse with Splitjaw to my left, Embergleam behind, and Hoarder somewhere down the ridge tracking that damn ranger again. We didn't talk. There wasn't anything useful left to say.
The fire responded to their presence before I did. Pressure lines shifted. The mossfield grew tighter, more reactive. Traps that had been passive re-synced to active glyphs. It wasn't full defense mode—but it wasn't polite anymore either.
They entered the trench slope in a loose diamond. Mage sweeping left. Shieldbearer tight to center. The ranger hung back, bow low. The hero didn't draw.
They moved like they'd done this before. Every corner we thought was covered, they tested twice. The mage dissolved a moss anchor with a touch. The ranger flicked a bolt into a heat-glyph trigger without looking. The shieldbearer intercepted a falling spike trap with her entire body and kept walking.
We hit them. We tried, anyway.
Quicktongue's runners swept the left flank, drawing lines across fallback route two.
Three kobolds engaged. Only one made it out unscathed. The other two weren't dead. Just… down. Hit hard. Fast. Pinned without flair.
The system updated again.
[Sector F2: Pressure Contained – Strategic Delay Achieved]
[Warning: Civilian Units Near Threshold – Emotional Sync Declining]
That was the real danger. Not breach. Despair.
I stepped back into the line. My flame flickered—with fire, glow, and intent. The kobolds saw me. They steadied. Just a little. That was enough.
One more ping.
[Recognition Pathway Unlocked – Ashring Close to Threshold (74%)]
[Path of Sovereign Flame: Myth-Seedling Awakening Delayed – Requires Affirmation Event]
[Projected Casualty Load (Next Engagement): Moderate to High]
The hero looked up the trenchline. Met my eyes. Didn't speak. He just watched. Like he was still deciding whether we were people. Or problems. And I couldn't blame him. Because I wasn't sure either.