Date: June 20, 541 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Dawn over the Iron Gullet brought no light. The sky, covered in gravitational haze and spatial folds, turned a dirty crimson. The silence that had lasted for the last few hours broke. On the other side, in the Alvost camp, war horns wailed, and this sound was so low it seemed the very earth began to vibrate with fear.
Dur stood in the breach, gripping his knife in his right hand. His left shoulder was still bound with a bandage, but his regeneration had worked a miracle—the bones were crudely "coupled" by energy, allowing him at least not to lose consciousness with every movement.
Around him, soldiers whispered. Young Initiates cursed the sleeping Somn, considering his inaction a betrayal. But the veterans, whose armor remembered more than one siege, maintained a grim silence. They knew the truth: if the Spirit Lord Somn left his bed and unleashed his Spirit into battle, Arch-Consul Moros would instantly respond in kind. The battle of two Spirit Lords would turn the Iron Gullet to dust in seconds, leaving neither friend nor foe alive. It was a parity of terror. The giants held each other back, leaving the right to die to those below.
"Here they come..." Maël exhaled, pointing to the horizon.
This time, Alvost didn't bother with reconnaissance. Legions moved towards the walls, led by Heralds. Their energy was visible to the naked eye—it rose above their helmets like a wavering haze. Behind the Heralds followed Pillars, whose shields formed an impenetrable wall.
Valtorn's gravitational bombardment intensified. Divilla in the sky worked at her limit, her castlings flashing every second, redirecting projectiles. But one of the strikes still found its mark. A black sphere of "Collapse" struck directly at the base of the barricade where Dur stood.
The earth vanished from under his feet. The gravitational vortex began to suck in stone fragments, soldiers' bodies, and reality itself into a single point. Dur felt his eighty-kilogram body suddenly weigh a ton. His energy roared, trying to hold his biological structure, but it wasn't enough.
He was too weak. The power of an Initiate was insufficient to resist the will of an Adept. Dur saw, a few meters away from him, an Alvost Warrior, clad in heavy armor, already winding up his blade to finish what gravity had started.
At that moment, Dur understood: this was the end. If he didn't change now, in a second he would become part of that stone ball into which the barricade was turning.
Inside his Vessel, something crunched. It wasn't the crunch of bone—an invisible barrier, holding back his development, had burst. The power, previously compressed to a stone-like state, suddenly found a way out. It didn't just flow—it burst through his channels, expanding them with monstrous force.
This was a breakthrough.
Dur felt his energy change qualitatively. He had reached the 2nd level of Energy—the Warrior level.
In that same second, his regeneration, which had already been ahead of his level, made a qualitative leap. His broken shoulder was no longer felt as a burden—Warrior-level energy instantly flooded the damaged tissues, creating a temporary "framework" of pure power.
The gravity that had just been pressing him to the ground suddenly ceased to be insurmountable. Dur, guided by an animal survival instinct, rolled aside, avoiding the enemy Warrior's strike. The blade struck the stone where the young man's head had been a moment before.
Dur leaped to his feet. He was still weaker than a standard Warrior, he was still part of the crowd in this war, but now he was not helpless. His power was deep and stable. He felt every muscle in his body, every drop of blood.
"Alive..." Maël exhaled, cutting a path to his friend.
Dur didn't answer. He looked at his hands. They no longer trembled. His Vessel had expanded, accepting a new portion of power. He remained an Initiate in terms of experience, but his energy now belonged to a Warrior.
The assault continued. Heralds of Alvost burst into the breach, crushing the defenders; Divilla and Valtorn continued their titanic duel; and Somn and Moros continued to stare at each other across miles and walls. The battle for the Iron Gullet was only beginning, but Dur now had a chance not just to die for a "Better World," but to live until the day he would begin to build it.