Chapter 223: Hope’s Last Bastion
The first pallid light of dawn crept over the ramparts, illuminating a fortress on the edge of ruin. The shattered gate gaped like a wound. Smoke drifted in thin veils across the courtyard where the Knights stood gathered, too tired even for formal reports.
Cyg leaned over a scorched parapet, his arms braced to keep himself upright. He had not slept in nearly two days. The ache behind his eyes had become a dull throb, but he forced his mind to keep moving.
Below, the Abyss was not retreating. Instead, they were building—constructs of chitin and metal rising in monstrous geometry. Black Cores labored in eerie silence, slotting rune-etched pylons into the ground.
"They mean to anchor the breach," he murmured.
Thea stepped up beside him, her cloak fluttering in the dawn breeze. Her face was drawn but resolute.
"Yes," she said softly. "And if they do, the siege will never end."
He turned to face her fully, reading the same question in her eyes that haunted his own: How much more can we endure?
🌒🌒🌒
A Brief Reprieve
In the Hall of Aegis, the Integral Knights took what little respite the dawn offered. Medics moved between makeshift cots, changing dressings and murmuring quiet reassurances. Even the bravest looked hollow-eyed.
Elaine sat on a barrel by the east door, her hair unbound, face smeared with soot. Harriet had collapsed on a crate nearby, her head resting on her folded arms.
Sylvia moved among them, her steps measured, her gaze searching every face. When she reached Cyg, she stopped short, her throat working as she studied him.
"You haven't eaten," she said.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but she pressed a ration packet into his hand before he could argue.
"At least pretend to take care of yourself," she insisted, her voice rough with exhaustion.
He looked at her, her proud posture visibly fraying at the edges.
"You too," he said simply.
Her lips parted as if to retort—but no words came. Instead, she reached out and touched his arm, just for a moment. Then she turned away before the softness in her eyes could betray her any further.
🌒🌒🌒
The Council of Last Options
By midmorning, the senior Knights gathered around the cracked war table. A map lay pinned under shards of broken stone, updated with every new loss.
Thea surveyed the group—The Integral Knights who remained uninjured enough to fight.
"Their pylons must be destroyed," she began. "If they complete the array, every fracture in the barrier will become permanent."
Diane's grave voice added, "We can expect the Wretches to counterattack if we approach."
Aria looked across at Cyg. "Suggestions?"
He forced himself to think past the fatigue.
"We split into three units. One for each pylon cluster. A fourth squad stays here to protect the wounded."
Julius rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And if they summon another Fracture Tank?"
"Then we improvise," Cyg said.
No one laughed.
At the table's edge, Mia was quiet, fingers drumming on her grimoire. When he glanced her way, she lifted her chin.
"If we fail…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "do you believe Gaia will send reinforcements?"
Silence answered her.
Then Charlotte spoke up, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.
"We can't wait for rescue. It has to be us."
Her eyes met Cyg's, and though she didn't smile, something defiant glimmered in her gaze.
"And it will be us."
🌒🌒🌒
Departure
They divided into teams.
Team A: Thea, Julius, Charlotte, Ali.Team B: Diane, Astron, Mia, Wang Han.Team C: Elaine, Harriet, Sylvia, Cyg.
While the others made final checks, Cyg found himself beside Elaine. She was adjusting her rapier's edge, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.
"Scared?" he asked.
She exhaled a shaky laugh.
"Of course. But if I focus on that, I'll freeze."
Her green eyes lifted to meet his.
"So instead, I'm thinking about dancing again—when this is over."
She hesitated. "You'd…still come to the next festival, wouldn't you?"
His answer came out quiet but steady.
"Yes."
Elaine's face warmed, the barest blush coloring her cheeks.
"Then let's survive long enough to keep that promise."
🌒🌒🌒
The Assault
At midday, the sky dimmed again as the Abyssal pylons hummed to life.
Team C advanced along the shattered causeway. Black Cores moved to intercept—monolithic shapes bristling with jagged limbs.
Sylvia's hand rose, and a note rang out, so clear it felt like a blade slicing the air. The first line of Orisha's song cracked the nearest Core's armor.
Harriet followed with a geyser of flame, molten light igniting the chitinous joints.
Elaine spun forward, a cyclone coiling around her blade. She carved a path straight into the heart of the formation, and Cyg was right behind her, Aetheron in gun form.
When he fired, three Cores exploded in a storm of black fire.
The second wave came—a dozen Wretches scuttling over the rubble.
Sylvia dropped to one knee beside him, her voice low.
"We can't hold them forever."
"We don't need forever," he said. "Just enough."
🌒🌒🌒
Between Blows
As they fought, there were flashes—strange little moments that seemed out of place in the carnage.
Elaine, pausing to toss her hair out of her eyes and grin at him.Sylvia's hand brushing his as she drew a breath to sing.Harriet's roar of triumph when she shattered a Core's skull with molten wings.
And through it all, Cyg felt something growing—something fierce and wordless and alive.
It felt, almost, like hope.
🌒🌒🌒
A Promise in the Smoke
When the last pylon cracked under Harriet's fire, a quake rippled through the Abyss ranks. The anchoring spell fractured, and the breach began to flicker—stabilizing, for now.
They stood among the wreckage, panting.
Elaine slumped against the remains of a barricade. When Cyg came to check her wounds, she reached up and took his hand.
"You really don't give up," she murmured.
Her fingers squeezed his.
"And that's why…one day…someone will finally get through to you."
He did not answer. But he did not pull away.
Around them, the fortress still burned—but it had not fallen. And for this moment, that was enough.