The morning reports arrived one by one.
Not urgently.
Not alarmingly.
That, Edrian Falkerona had learned, was when he needed to pay the closest attention.
He stood in the inner hall of Falkerona's administrative wing, sunlight slanting through high windows and illuminating the long table where parchment had been laid out in neat stacks. Knights, clerks, and officials stood in quiet order, each waiting their turn.
"Proceed," Edrian said.
A clerk stepped forward first. "Grain deliveries from the eastern farms arrived late this morning, my lord. No loss. Just… slower than expected."
Edrian nodded. "Weather?"
"No, my lord."
"Road condition?"
"Clear."
Edrian made a small mark on the ledger beside him.
"Next."
Ser Toren Hale stepped forward, armor lightly scuffed, expression thoughtful rather than tense.
"Patrol rotations completed," Toren reported. "No casualties. No engagements."
A pause.
"But," Toren continued, "beast sightings along the eastern treeline have increased."
Edrian looked up. "Increased how?"
"Not in number," Toren said carefully. "In pattern."
That earned Toren Edrian's full attention.
"Explain."
"They're moving earlier," Toren said.
"Crossing usual boundaries before dusk. Keeping distance from villages. Watching patrols instead of fleeing."
A murmur passed through the hall.
Edrian raised a hand. Silence returned.
"What ranks?" Edrian asked.
"Mostly E and D," Toren replied. "A few C-class traces, but no confirmed sightings."
Edrian exhaled slowly.
"Anything else?"
"Yes," Toren said. "They're not aggressive."
That was worse.
____
Rhea Morn's POV :-
Mistress Rhea stood near the back of the hall, hands folded within her sleeves, listening.
She had felt it before the report ever reached Edrian.
Not corruption.
Not danger.
Strain.
The civic wards along the eastern perimeter were technical ly stable.
But they pulsed differently now, as if responding to something pressing from the other side without crossing the threshold.
When Edrian turned his gaze toward her, she stepped forward without being asked.
"My lord," she said, voice even. "The wards are holding."
"That wasn't my question," Edrian replied.
Rhea inclined her head slightly. "They're being… tested."
A few officials shifted uneasily.
"By what?" Edrian asked.
Rhea chose her words carefully. "By presence."
No one spoke.
"That doesn't make sense," a junior mage muttered. "Wards respond to force."
"They respond to mana," Rhea corrected gently. "Force is only one expression of it."
Edrian's fingers tightened briefly against the table.
"How long?" he asked.
"Since before the festival," Rhea said.
"Subtle enough to be ignored. Consistent enough not to be coincidence."
Edrian nodded once. "Increase monitoring. Do not reinforce."
Several heads snapped up.
"My lord-" Rhea began.
"Reinforcement changes behavior," Edrian said calmly. "I want to see what continues without interference."
Rhea bowed. "Understood."
Chris's Pov :-
Chris noticed the change before anyone told him.
Breakfast was quieter.
Not silent .
Just… careful.
Elis spoke less. Servants moved with purpose rather than ease. Knights at the doors stood straighter than usual.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked.
Elis adjusted his sleeve. "Nothing you need to worry about, Young Master."
Chris frowned. "That's what people say when something's wrong."
Elis paused, then smiled faintly. "That's what people say when something might be wrong."
That didn't help.
Later, from the balcony outside his father's hall, Chris watched patrols move through the lower streets. Same formations. Same discipline.
But the way people watched them had changed.
Not fear.
Expectation.
Chris rested his arms against the stone railing.
"Father looks busy," he said quietly.
"Yes," Elis replied.
"Is it because of the beasts?"
Elis hesitated just long enough for him to notice.
"They haven't done anything," she said carefully.
Chris tilted his head. "Neither did the map."
Elis looked at him sharply.
Then she exhaled. "Go to your lessons, Chris."
He went , but the feeling followed him.
Edrian (Later) POV :-
By afternoon, Edrian stood alone in his study, a different map spread across the table now.
This one was older.
Borders faded. Names scratched out and replaced. The eastern edge marked with heavier ink than the rest.
Falkerona State.
He traced the line with one finger.
"Not yet," he murmured.
A soft knock.
"Enter."
Lyanna stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She didn't bring tea this time.
"You're worried," she said.
"I'm attentive," Edrian replied.
She joined him by the table. "Rhea told me."
He nodded. "They're testing boundaries."
Lyanna frowned. "Who?"
Edrian didn't answer immediately.
"Something," he said at last. "Or someone.
Enough to make beasts cautious instead of reckless."
Lyanna's gaze darkened slightly. "That's not natural."
"No," Edrian agreed. "But neither is panic."
They stood together, looking down at the state beyond the balcony , peaceful, busy, alive.
"For now," Edrian said, "we observe."
Lyanna nodded. "And if observation isn't enough?"
Edrian's eyes hardened just a fraction.
"Then," he said, "we act before the world notices there was ever a choice."
_____
A few days later -
The gates of Falkerona opened at dusk.
Not wide.
Not ceremonially.
Just enough.
The guards on duty noticed it first,not because of the signal horn, but because the riders approaching did not keep formation.
Three horses.
One riderless.
The remaining two sat hunched in their saddles, cloaks torn, armor dulled by something darker than dirt. They did not wave. They did not speak. They rode as though stopping might cause something inside them to spill out.
"Open," the gate captain ordered quietly.
No one argued.
The horses passed beneath the stone archway, hooves echoing hollowly against the road. One stumbled. Another bore a long gash along its flank, poorly bound with cloth soaked nearly black.
Chris saw them from the upper balcony.
He leaned forward instinctively, fingers curling against the railing.
"They're hunters," he whispered.
Elis was beside him at once. "Inside, Young Master."
"They're hurt," Chris said.
"Yes," Elis replied firmly. "And you will not be."
______
Harlan reached the courtyard before the horses fully stopped.
He smelled it immediately.
Not blood.
Not decay.
Unrefined mana.
It clung to the air in a way steel never did , subtle, sour, pressing against the senses rather than assaulting them.
"Dismount," Harlan ordered, already signaling medics forward.
One of the riders slid off his saddle and collapsed to his knees. The second remained mounted, staring straight ahead, lips moving silently.
"Name," Harlan said, crouching beside the fallen man.
"…Renn," the hunter rasped. "Renn Calder."
Harlan's jaw tightened.
Calder's team had been contracted two weeks ago to clear a C-rank dungeon along the eastern ridgeline.
Routine.
Controlled.
"You're missing people," Harlan said.
Renn swallowed. "No."
Harlan frowned. "You rode in with three."
Renn shook his head slowly. "We came back with two."
.....
Rhea arrived moments later, robes gathered in one hand as she knelt beside the injured hunters.
The moment her magic brushed against them, she recoiled,not violently, but decisively.
"Do not touch them with open channels,"
she snapped to the junior healer reaching for Renn.
"What - why?"
"Because whatever they absorbed," Rhea said quietly, "has not been refined."
She turned to Harlan. "Seal the courtyard."
Harlan hesitated only long enough to gauge the situation then nodded. "Do it."
Runes flared faintly along the stone perimeter as the gates closed again.
Rhea focused on the second hunter now, the one still mounted.
"Can you dismount?" she asked gently.
The hunter blinked.
"…Is it quiet?" he asked.
Rhea's chest tightened. "What do you hear?"
"Nothing," he said. "That's why it's wrong."
_____
Edrian arrived without ceremony.
No armor.
No sword drawn.
Just presence.
But somehow the courtyard stilled the moment he stepped into it.
"What happened," he said calmly.
Renn lifted his head with effort. "The dungeon… changed."
Edrian crouched. "Explain."
"It wasn't stronger," Renn said. "It was… deeper. Like it didn't want us to leave."
Rhea stiffened.
"What monsters?" Edrian asked.
"E and D," Renn replied. "But they didn't rush. They waited. Let us fight each other first."
A murmur rippled outward.
"That's impossible," someone whispered.
Edrian raised a hand. Silence returned.
"Did you clear the core?" Edrian asked.
Renn's eyes flickered.
"…There was no core."
That landed harder than any scream.
_____
Lyanna stood just beyond the threshold, listening.
No bloodlust.
No hysteria.
Just professionals reporting something that did not fit.
She felt it then , a faint prickle along her spine.
This was not corruption yet.
This was misalignment.
"Edrian," she said softly.
He looked at her.
"They didn't fail to refine mana," she said.
"The mana failed to be refined."
Rhea's breath caught.
"That means-" Rhea began.
Edrian finished it. "Something upstream."
Chris's pov :-
Chris watched from behind the column, heart pounding.
He didn't understand everything they were saying.
But he understood tone.
No one was shouting.
No one was panicking.
Which meant this was serious.
He looked at the rider still mounted, eyes distant, lips whispering to an empty air.
Chris felt cold.
For the first time since the festival, the world felt larger than the state could comfortably hold.
"Take them to isolation," Edrian ordered. "No executions. No experiments."
Rhea nodded sharply. "I'll oversee containment."
Edrian straightened.
"Send word," he added. "Quietly."
"To whom?" Harlan asked.
Edrian looked east.
"To those who still remember what the world feels like when it starts leaning."
_____
Chris hadn't meant to listen.
That was the part that stayed with him later.
He stood in the side corridor outside the eastern council room, waiting for Elis to finish speaking with one of the senior servants.
The corridor was narrow here, older than the rest of the palace, with stone walls worn smooth by centuries of passing hands.
The tall windows were open to let out the day's heat, and from below came the distant sounds of the state settling into evening.
He should have been thinking about lessons.
About dinner.
About anything else.
Instead, voices drifted through the half-closed door.
"…we can't pretend this was a fluke," Ser Harlan was saying.
Chris froze.
"That dungeon was inside our jurisdiction," another voice replied — lower, sharper.
Master Corvin. "If the mana failed to condense there, it can fail elsewhere."
A chair scraped.
Rhea spoke next, controlled but tight. "The hunters didn't absorb corruption. They were exposed to instability. That distinction matters."
"And if it spreads?" a councilman asked.
There was a pause.
Then Edrian's voice.
Calm.
Grounded.
Unmistakable.
"Then the border has already been crossed," he said. "We simply haven't seen where yet."
Chris's fingers curled against the stone.
Border crossed.
The words felt heavy.
"…increase patrols along the eastern treeline," Edrian continued. "No escalation. No announcements."
"And the beasts?" Harlan asked.
Edrian didn't answer immediately.
"Watch them," he said at last. "They noticed something before we did."
A soft knock sounded behind Chris.
He jumped.
Elis stood there, eyes narrowing the moment she saw his face.
"Young Master," she said quietly.
"I didn't-" Chris began.
"I know," she interrupted gently. "Come."
She placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him away before he could hear more.
But the words stayed.
The border has already been crossed.
______
Meanwhile sometime later in Falkerona state
The horn sounded once.
Then twice.
Low. Controlled. Precise.
This was not panic.
This was procedure.
Across the eastern border fields of Falkerona State, knights moved with practiced speed.
Shields were raised, not hurriedly, but in perfect rhythm. Formation lines snapped into place as if the land itself had taught them where to stand.
Villagers were already retreating, guided calmly by reserve guards. No screaming. No chaos.
This was not their first breach.
And it would not be their last.
Ser Bram Keld stepped forward, planting his boot into the soil with deliberate force.
Broad-shouldered, blond hair tied back tightly, his armor bore the faint, shallow scars of old battles, marks polished smooth by time rather than repaired away.
The sigil of Falkerona rested on his chest, worn, not ornamental.
Behind him stood twenty knights.
Not recruits.
Not ceremonial guards.
Veterans.
"Positions," Bram ordered.
His voice carried without shouting.
The knights shifted.
Steel shields locked together with a deep, resonant clang that rolled across the field like thunder settling into place.
Spears angled forward. Swords drawn low, tips steady.
Beyond them, the treeline bent.
The beast emerged slowly.
It was massive, once a natural predator, now warped by unrefined mana.
Bone-plated hide cracked and reformed with every step, dark veins of contaminated energy pulsing beneath its skin. Its presence pressed down on the land, grass wilting beneath its feet.
A C-rank beast.
Not strong enough to devastate a state.
Strong enough to test one.
The beast exhaled.
Its aura spilled outward heavy, aggressive, feral.
Several younger knights stiffened.
Bram did not.
He drew his sword.
And the air changed.
The moment Bram's blade cleared its sheath, a sharp, disciplined aura surged outward clean, focused, honed through generations.
This was not overwhelming power.
This was refined intent.
The Falkerona sword style did not roar.
It cut.
"Advance," Bram said.
The formation moved as one.
The beast charged.
Not wildly.
Deliberately.
It slammed into the shield wall with titanic force. The impact shattered stone beneath the knights' feet, shockwaves rippling outward. Dust exploded into the air. Several shields cracked but none broke.
"Hold!" Bram roared.
The knights dug in.
Muscles strained. Teeth clenched. Some screamed not in fear, but effort.
Then Bram moved.
He stepped sideways, blade flashing in a sharp, precise arc.
The strike didn't aim for power.
It aimed for structure.
The blade slid between bone plates and severed a tendon cleanly.
The beast howled.
That was its mistake.
"Second line rotate!" Bram commanded.
Two knights surged forward, their swords tracing identical patterns, angled slashes, short steps, no wasted motion.
Blood sprayed.
The beast staggered as its balance failed.
From the rear, mage-support flared.
Rhea stood atop the ward ridge, staff planted firmly into the ground.
Her aura was different.
Not sharp like Bram's.
Not violent.
It spread outward in controlled waves, pale-blue sigils forming in the air as she contained the beast's mana.
The corrupted aura recoiled, compressed inward, denied space to mutate further.
"Containment stable," she called.
The land stopped decaying.
The beast screamed again,this time in frustration.
___
Bram inhaled once.
Then stepped forward alone.
His aura sharpened.
The air around his blade bent, not from magic, but from precision refined to its strike
"One strike," he said quietly.
He moved.
The sword flashed once.
The beast's head fell.
The body collapsed seconds later, shaking the ground as it died.
Silence followed.
Then cheers -controlled, respectful.
Another breach ended.
____
Chris's pov :-
Chris did not see the fight.
Only the aftermath.
From the balcony, he watched knights stand around the fallen beast, bloodied but steady.
Medics moved efficiently.
Mages purified the ground.
No celebration .
Only work.
The land already began to recover.
Elis stood beside him.
"That," she said quietly, "is why this state still stands."
Chris swallowed.
No fear.
No awe.
Just understanding.
Edrian's pov :-
Edrian had watched everything from the command terrace.
He never reached for his sword.
He never needed to.
"Clean," he said.
Bram bowed slightly. "As always."
Edrian's gaze shifted toward the treeline.
The beast had crossed the border.
But it had not broken it.
"Record everything," Edrian said. "And prepare for the next test."
Because now, he knew.
This had not been a challenge.
It had been a probe.
.
.
.
.
[ A/N :- guys please comments your thoughts if you are reading this and if possible drop some power stones !
Thankyou for reading ]