Miro led them away from the landing platform without slowing down, and the deeper they went into the fortress, the more Eirwen understood that the place was not a castle built to live in. It was built for war and to endure.
Every corner had old cuts, cracks, burn marks, or rough metal plates bolted over damage that had clearly never been repaired properly because there was simpyl no time.
The black walls were cold enough for frost to gather along them, but the air itself was hot and foul from smoke, blood, sweat and fire.
Soldiers moved everywhere around them. Some were running toward the walls with crates in their arms, others returned from the opposite direction covered in dust, black slime or blood.
A man missing half of his left ear pushed past Eirwen without even glancing at him, muttering something under his breath while carrying three long metal rods covered in glowing runes.
Two women in heavy coats dragged a wounded soldier between them, his boots scraping against the ground while he groaned through clenched teeth.
Another Awakened sat with his back against the wall, breathing slowly with a Soul Shard pressed between both hands while thin streams of light moved from the crystal into his skin. His face was pale, his armor cracked open near the ribs, but when someone shouted his name from the stairwell ahead, he opened his eyes, forced himself up, and started walking again.
Nobody here seemed to understand the concept of resting. People bled and kept moving, they screamed and were dragged aside so others could pass.
Seraphiel was silent beside him. His white attire made him stand out even worse inside the fortress than it had on the landing platform.
He clearly wanted to be by his brother's side, but he did not complain. He simply walked with his jaw tight and his hands still faintly clenched at his sides, storing everything somewhere behind that pale face of his.
Andromeda walked on Eirwen's other side, quieter than both of them, though her eyes moved constantly across the corridors. She avoided the center of the passage whenever people ran past, staying close to the wall or to Eirwen himself, careful enough not to hurt herself because of her Flaw.
They reached the supply room after descending two levels and passing through a heavy archway guarded by two soldiers with spears.
The chamber beyond was much larger than Eirwen expected, built beneath one of the towers and filled with so many people moving at once that the room looked like another battlefield.
Soldiers ran in and out through several exits, carrying crates filled with Soul Shards, bundles of bolts, sealed cases, coils of chain, and metal cylinders marked with warning symbols.
Along one wall, exhausted men and women sat on long benches with Soul Shards in their hands, eyes closed as they breathed in slow, controlled patterns. Some absorbed Essence smoothly, pale light flowing into them like water into dry earth. Others trembled while doing it, their lips bloodless and their faces twisted with pain.
On the other side of the room, wounded soldiers had been placed wherever there was space.
Some sat on the floor with bandages pressed to their bodies. Some lay on stretchers, waiting to be taken deeper into the fortress.
One man was biting down on a leather strap while a healer in a green robe and white headband pulled black splinters from his thigh with a strange, claw like Memory.
Another had both hands pressed over his eye socket while a second healer shouted at him to stop moving before he made the injury worse.
The healers worked quickly and as good as they could manage under such stress, their robes stained with red blood or other strange liquids.
Miro stopped near the center of the room and turned to face them.
"This is the eastern supply room," he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the noise. "Most of what reaches the eastern wall and tower passes through here first. Violet-marked crates go to the upper ballistas. Blue marks go to the lower platforms. White cases are medical supplies. If you are given something sealed, you do not open it. If you do not recognize something, you do not touch it until someone tells you what it is."
His explanation was fast, but not careless. He pointed as he spoke, indicating the different stacks, paths, and markings.
Eirwen followed each one carefully despite the irritation still sitting in his chest.
The violet-marked crates were being carried toward a staircase on the left side of the room. The blue-marked ones went through a lower door. White cases were carried toward the infirmary corridor. Everything was well organized.
"The ballistas on the upper wall eat through Soul Shards quickly," Miro continued, nodding toward the violet crates. "The crews cannot leave their posts during an attack, so supplies move constantly. You carry crates up, hand them to the crew chiefs, then come back for more."
Eirwen glanced at the nearest violet crate, then at the sharp edges of the Steel Shroud around his arms.
He already hated this job.
Miro's gaze moved from him to Seraphiel, then toward Andromeda. "You two can carry those. She can take white cases to the lower infirmary once—"
"No," Eirwen said immediately.
Miro stopped, his expression irritated.
A few nearby soldiers kept moving, but one of the men sitting on the bench opened his eyes slightly to watch them. Andromeda's head turned toward Eirwen. Seraphiel looked at him as well.
Eirwen looked at Andromeda for a moment, then back at Miro. "She has a rather hard Flaw, Fragile Mirror."
Miro waited, slowly raising his brow as he looked up at the boy.
Eirwen exhaled slowly. "It makes her body extremely fragile. A too hard shove can crack bone and if she gets hit hard enough, the damage spreads through her body like a crack through glass."
Andromeda lowered her eyes and her fingers tightened slightly. "I can still help," she said quietly.
"You can," Miro answered. "But not here. Let's just put you into the infirmary." Miro answered, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He didn't even care at this point, just wanted them moving and doing at least something.
Andromeda quickly looked up at Eirwen. "I can stay close to you."
And for a moment, Eirwen said nothing. When he finally did, he simply dismissed her. "You should go with the healers," he said.
"You would be a hindrance here." The words were cold, but they were true.
Andromeda lowered her gaze again, sulking like a child.
Eirwen hated that reaction. "This place is too crowded. People are carrying heavy crates, and nobody is watching where they step. You know what your Flaw does. You will be safer in the infirmary, and you can actually do something useful there without someone accidentally killing you because they accidentaly pushed you. Understand?"
She stayed silent for several seconds before nodding and mumbling something.
Miro raised one hand and stopped a group of healers passing nearby. They wore green robes tied tightly around their waists, white headbands keeping sweat and hair out of their faces. Two of them were carrying a soldier whose chest had been wrapped in cloth that was already turning red, while a third supported another man who seemed barely conscious. The woman at the front looked at Miro with an expression that clearly said 'What the fuck do you want? I am busy!'
"Take the girl with you," Miro said. "Light work only and keep her away from the crowded entrances."
The healer gave Andromeda a quick, harsh look. "Can you follow instructions?"
Andromeda nodded once.
"Then come with us," she said without sparing her another glance and moving with her group again.
"Be careful," she told Eirwen before turning around and quickly following the healers with careful steps.
Eirwen forced himself to sound caring. "You too."
He watched her until she vanished into the corridor. Only then did he turn back and notice Miro looking at him. The bald boy's expression was difficult to read.
"You and the white one are still here," Miro said. "Take the violet crates."
Seraphiel had not spoken during the exchange. He had watched Andromeda leave in silence, then turned his gaze back toward the crates. His face was calm again, but something clearly changed.
Perhaps he understood the feeling of being separated from someone he wanted to protect. Or perhaps he was still only thinking about Raijin.
Either way, Eirwen stepped forward and lifted one of the violet-marked crates.
The crate was heavier than it looked. Not too heavy to carry, but awkward enough that the sharp edges of the Steel Shroud became a problem almost immediately. He had to adjust his grip twice before finding a position that did not make the iron-silver edges dig into the wood. The last thing he wanted was to slice open a crate filled with charged Soul Shards and prove to everyone that he really shouldn't be allowed near anything important.
Beside him, Seraphiel merely glanced at another crate and a faint silver glow appeared around it. The crate rose smoothly into the air without any trouble.
The box floated beside Seraphiel as naturally as a loyal servant following its master. Seraphiel himself looked completely unbothered by the weight, his hands resting at his sides while the crate drifted after him.
Miro pointed toward the left staircase, ignoring the show. "Eastern tower. Crew chief has an iron mask, give the crates to him then return and take more. Do not stop unless someone orders you to take cover."
He did not wait for them to respond, so they moved.
The first trip was mostly about learning the route. They left the supply chamber through the left staircase and began climbing toward the tower, the sound of the battle growing louder with each step. Eirwen carried his crate against his chest while Seraphiel walked beside him with his own floating calmly through the air.
Soldiers rushed past them in both directions, sometimes close enough that Eirwen had to turn his shoulders to avoid being struck. Twice, someone shouted for them to stay to the right. Once, a man covered in black slime stumbled into the wall beside Seraphiel, leaving a smear behind as he continued downward without stopping. The entire staircase smelled of smoke and blood. Every few seconds, the stone shook as the ballistas above fired, and each blast sent dust raining down from the ceiling.
Eirwen looked at Seraphiel, his brow twitching for a moment as anger suddenly surged into his mind.
Its not like he couldn't carry the crate, its just that there was something deeply irritating about hauling a heavy box up several flights of stairs while the person next to you strolled along with his cargo drifting through the air.
When they finally reached the upper eastern platform, the cold hit them again, and Eirwen felt right at home as it made him stronger.
Wind rushed across the wall with enough force to make Eirwen narrow his eyes. The battlefield spread below them in all directions, chaotic and much closer than it had seemed from the phoenix.
Nightmare Creatures swarmed beyond the trenches, crawling over their own dead to reach the burning stakes.
Ballistas lined the platform, each one larger than a carriage, their frames built from dark metal and bone-white material covered in glowing runes. Crews worked around them with brutal efficiency. Soul Shards were taken from crates and pushed into circular slots, drained until their light dimmed, removed, and replaced.
Somewhere below, a creature screamed as violet chains tore through its body and dragged it into a burning trench.
A man wearing an iron mask turned toward them the moment they arrived. "Violet crates?" he asked, already reaching out.
Eirwen placed his crate where the man pointed. putting it down with a bit too much force.
Seraphiel simply lowered his hand slightly, and the floating crate drifted forward before settling onto the stone beside the first one.
The crew chief opened both, glanced inside, then nodded toward the staircase without looking at either of them again. "Back down. We need more!"
That was all he said, and by the tone of his voice, he would prefer it if the two didn't make him say another word.
All of this was humiliating enough to make Eirwen's fingers twitch.
Then one of the ballistas fired a few steps away, and the sheer force of the shot rattled his bones. The bolt flew across the battlefield, pierced through a winged Nightmare Creature and exploded into violet chains that wrapped around three more creatures behind it.
Humiliating or not, there was definetely something to learn here, so he turned and started walking back down.
Seraphiel followed beside him, as silent as before. Neither of them spoke during the descent. The staircase trembled again, dust falling over their hair and shoulders.
Eirwen flexed his hands, the light gauntlet moving freely, and forced himself to pay attention to every detail instead of his own irritation.
By the time they reached the supply room again, Miro was already waiting near the stack with two more crates placed aside.
He didn't ask if they had delivered the first ones, nor did he ask if they were tired. No, he simply pointed to the next load.
Eirwen's pride burned. 'Temporary humiliation, temporary weakness.' he reminded himself again and again as he picked up the next crate. He just wanted to be done with this and become an Awakened