Nikolai had never been the type to see people as something precious. He had learned early on that to love — or even to care — was the same as opening the door to suffering. And suffering, as he well knew, had the cruel habit of always coming back.
Even so, there he was. Lying on his bed, motionless.
Beside him, on the cold floor, Ashen slept curled up, refusing to accept the new room he had been offered. Nikolai kept his hand resting on the bear's back, feeling the slow rise and fall of heavy breathing. It calmed him — and, at the same time, terrified him. Because now, more than ever, he was afraid of losing what was left.
Irina had been the only one capable of breaking through the wall of ice he had built around his heart. Even when he hid behind coldness and indifference, she insisted — always with that serene smile, always with words sweet enough to melt any winter.
He wasn't naïve. He knew that his condition, missing a leg, limited any possibility between them. The distance they both kept from each other seemed inevitable. Yet, when he finally won over his bear, he felt like she had tried to get close again. But he was still too wounded to notice.
Nikolai had never admitted to himself what he felt. But when he saw her name on that damned board, the ground disappeared beneath him. The whole world seemed to collapse under the weight of something he couldn't name.
"I tried…"
he murmured, voice hoarse and choked.
"I tried so hard to stay distant… and still I failed."
He closed his eyes.
"Mother, I can't protect anyone…"
The sentence was lost in the room's shadows. In the silence, he heard only the steady rhythm of Ashen's breathing. All that was left.
The ceiling above seemed more distant than ever. And even in the darkness, he could still see her face — the curious gaze, the brief laugh, the light touch on his shoulder he always brushed away before it became real. Each memory was a blade. And he let them cut him in silence.
"If I had gone…"
he whispered, his voice breaking.
"If I were stronger…"
His body gave in. His muscles grew heavy, his mind dissolved into mist. When the first ray of sunlight crossed the windows of the tower, Nikolai was already asleep, his eyes still wet — and his hand still resting on Ashen's warm side, as if holding on to the last piece of a world that was falling apart.
***
It was well past noon. The tower was already filled with the sounds of footsteps and life when someone knocked on Nikolai's door. He didn't want to answer. Not even if it were an emergency call, not even if the world were collapsing outside. The truth was, he could barely move — his body felt heavy, his chest burned. He was still trying to deal with the emptiness that losing someone had left behind.
But the voice on the other side of the door pulled him from his stupor.
"Boy, it's Kuzma. When you can, come to the second floor. The Triad seems to have… decided to make a move."
That word — Triad — lit something inside him. The pain turned to fire. And the fire, to rage.
Nikolai felt his muscles tense. Those old men, locked away in their golden rooms, playing gods with everyone's lives — he hated them. He hated the coldness. He hated the calm. He hated the fact that they seemed untouchable while the rest of the northern people bled.
Deep down, he knew that maybe it wasn't fair. That no one, not even the Triad, could have foreseen the grotesque scheme of the Empire. But rage was the only thing keeping him standing. And at that moment, blaming someone was better than facing the emptiness of fate.
Ashen lifted his head, alert. The creature's eye reflected the dim light of the lamp, and for a moment, Nikolai could have sworn he saw understanding in it — a kind of silent pain that mirrored his own. The bear huffed, impatient. He was ready.
"Let's go, Ashen…"
he murmured as he stood up.
"Let's hear what those sons of bitches have to say about the shit they've caused."
He got dressed like someone preparing for war. The light armor, the thick coat, the straps tightened until the cold metal of the prosthesis locked firmly to the rest of his leg. The sound of the fitting echoed through the room — sharp, resolute.
When he opened the door and met Kuzma's gaze, the man raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"Kid…"
he said, eyeing him from head to toe.
"We're just going to talk today. Don't you think something more comfortable would be better?"
Nikolai walked past him without hesitation, eyes fixed ahead.
"I prefer to always be ready for the worst."
The phrase sounded simple, but the tone he used made even Kuzma fall silent. There was something different about the boy — a new shadow, firm and dangerously cold.
The hall was emptier than usual. Lunch hour had long passed, and now the second floor was closed off — reserved only for a few select groups. Nikolai noticed immediately that, among the silent tables and corridors, only the top-ranking teams were present. No new faces. No beginners. Whatever was about to happen wasn't for the weak.
Despite the heavy atmosphere, a flicker of pride crossed his chest. To be there, among Svarog's strongest, was something he had never imagined months ago.
"Looks like all the top-ranked are here,"
said a voice behind him. It was Daria, and right behind her came her whole group, gathered as always — disciplined, alert, eyes sharp.
"Something big is going to happen,"
commented Ekaterina, with a curious expression and a contained sparkle in her eyes.
"No doubt about it."
She was looking around, intrigued. Even in her many years at the tower, she had never witnessed a summons like this. Her group, until recently, had never been strong enough to receive such a call.
"Isn't this the first time a meeting like this happens?"
Nikolai asked, noticing the tone of familiarity in her voice.
Ekaterina nodded.
"It's happened a few times, yes. But most of them were to organize expeditions in search of new access points within Vybor. If I'm not mistaken, the last time we saw this many groups gathered was when they discovered the entrance to the fifth floor."
Nikolai raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Daria quickly explained:
"What happens is, when a new level is discovered, it's usually infested with creatures that have no interest in climbing — territorial monsters, strong and unknown. The problem is that there's always a leader among them. And those leaders are absurdly powerful. That's why the Triad usually forms a coalition: the strongest unite to defeat the main creature, while the other groups protect the perimeter."
"Of course,"
she sighed,
"all of this is what we've heard. We've never had the chance to take part in one of those incursions."
"Even if we had,"
murmured Kuzma, arms crossed,
"I would hardly have accepted."
His tone was dry, and the silence that followed was heavy. Nikolai glanced at him from the corner of his eye, intrigued. Until then, he had no idea that such meetings among the strongest weren't as rare as he had supposed.
"So… you think this has nothing to do with the Triad?"
he asked, still trying to piece things together.
Kuzma was the one who answered, without hesitation:
"Quite the opposite. I think it's unlikely this is about a new level. Even the fifth floor is already a bottleneck for most here. Honestly, even if we found the entrance to the sixth, no one would be crazy enough to risk it."
He adjusted his coat, eyes serious.
"No. This smells like something else… I bet we're here because of what's unfolding in the Empire."
His final words echoed through the hall like a muffled thunder. And for the first time, Nikolai realized that the chill he felt wasn't coming from the wind — it came from a premonition.
From the stage, Kolya appeared once again — but this time, the serene expression had given way to something harder. There was anger etched into every line of her face.
"Sorry for gathering everyone so quickly, I thought it'd take longer for someone to try some bullshit…"
she began, her voice firm but tense.
"But apparently, bad news travels faster than bear riders around these lands."
She paused briefly, her gaze sweeping over the audience. No one dared interrupt.
"The Triad sent someone to speak to you in person and explain what happened. I won't take this person's time,"
she added, and her tone sounded more like a warning than an introduction.
"But if there are any questions, anyone can come talk to me afterwards."
The way she pronounced Triad made it clear: Kolya was not pleased. It was rare to see her like this — her usual control had been replaced by a nearly palpable irritation. With an impatient gesture, she signaled for someone to come up on stage.
All eyes turned in the same direction as a woman with a cold expression emerged from the side shadows. Few recognized her immediately, but Nikolai felt his stomach turn. He knew who she was.
Anna Morozov. Daughter of Pavel Morozov. The legendary tamer who, not long ago, Nikolai had seen with his own eyes face — and bring down — two adult wyverns and their fliers. An extremely difficult feat. An act that had cost him his life. But even in death, the grandeur of it hadn't faded. On the contrary — the sacrifice had made him even more legendary, engraving his name among the few who had challenged the impossible… and won, even if only for a moment.
The whispers began before she even reached the center of the stage.
"Hey… isn't that the daughter of that general who killed the wyverns?"
"Yeah. But I heard her father died."
"Was he killed? Or was it the Empire?"
"They say she took over command of the front line…"
The voices spread like wind, stirring memories and feeding theories. Anna, however, didn't seem to hear a thing. She climbed the steps slowly, each one measured, her gaze steady and distant — as if every whisper were nothing more than background noise. When she reached the center of the stage, she waited. She didn't ask for silence. She simply… waited. And little by little, the murmurs faded.
When she finally spoke, her voice cut through the air like a polished blade.
"I think there's been enough time for everyone to remember who I am,"
she said, without any apparent emotion.
"So I'll skip introductions."
She paused briefly. Her blue eyes scanned the room until they met Kolya's, in a quick, almost imperceptible gesture.
"The Triad met with the Empire one last time. Not to negotiate. Not to beg. But to understand what they did to those of our blood."
She stepped forward. Her voice, cold and calculated, seemed to slice through the air.
"And we understood."
The murmuring in the hall resumed, hesitant at first, then building like a collective whisper. How could that be possible? No one dared interrupt — not out of unwillingness, but because the air was too heavy, too dense to allow any words. Even so, the questions multiplied in the glances exchanged between groups. What had the Triad seen? What could have convinced such proud leaders, so used to mistrusting everything, to believe so easily? No one knew. But everyone wanted to. And the longer Anna took to continue, the more the unrest grew — as if the silence itself were a form of torture.
"I know what you're thinking,"
she began, her voice firm as cold steel.
"And yes… what we discovered goes far beyond a simple betrayal. It goes beyond the deaths of our own. Beyond borders. Beyond the war we believe we understand."
"The truth is simple…"
she said, her voice echoing steadily, every word measured.
"A new enemy has emerged. And this enemy seeks neither treaties nor dialogue. It wants to resolve nothing without a bath of blood."
Anna stepped forward, her gaze sparking beneath the hall's pale light.
"I want you to understand something, and understand it well: everything we know — our lands, our homes, our families — is at risk of disappearing. Forever."
The silence that followed was almost physical, as if the air had become too heavy to breathe. Even the most seasoned warriors felt the weight of her words fall upon their shoulders like a sentence. The echo of her voice lingered against the walls of the hall, and for a moment, no one breathed.
There was a suffocating sense that, from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same. People exchanged glances in silence, faces tense, fists clenched. Something immense was happening — of that everyone was certain — but no one seemed able to grasp the true scale of what they had just heard.
Doubts sprang up in a cascade: Was this another enemy ploy? How could the Triad be so certain? Did they have proof? Had they seen this new enemy with their own eyes? And if they had… why were they so sure that nothing could be done? The questions echoed in everyone's mind, but no answers came. Only the relentless cadence of Anna's voice — a monologue whose ending everyone sensed.
"The world has changed."
She paused. The sound of her breathing echoed through the absolute silence of the hall — heavy, almost alive, as if the very air were afraid to move.
"In the face of this, there is no choice. There is no diplomacy. There is war."
She lifted her chin, and her voice rang out like steel striking steel:
"Gentlemen… the North will march to war!"