Time in Blackwood Fortress flowed like a quiet stream—steady, unbroken—beneath a rhythm that was both tense and deeply fulfilling.
Spring's last breath faded beneath an unforgiving sun as summer descended upon the continent of Tranlo without restraint.
The air grew thick and heavy. Even at dawn, heat pressed down from the sky, turning forest mist into suffocating vapor. By afternoon, the fortress felt like a sealed furnace, the constant drone of cicadas the only sound defying the oppressive stillness.
Yet within that sweltering heat, hope flourished.
To the south, the land that once kept Woodhoof awake with worry had transformed completely.
A vast sea of green stretched to the horizon.
Earth potato vines sprawled wildly across the fields, their thick leaves gleaming under the sun, bursting with vitality. What had once been fragile soil was now alive—thriving.
Among the fields, Deer-folk, Fox-folk, and even warriors assigned to labor during training breaks worked side by side. Straw hats shaded their faces as they weeded, irrigated, and tended the crops under Woodhoof's direction.
Buckets of water were hauled from nearby streams. Sweat soaked their bodies and vanished instantly upon touching the hot soil.
But no one complained.
Because beneath the heat—there was certainty.
The promise of harvest.
Standing on a ridge overlooking the fields, Colin observed silently, with Woodhoof and Lena beside him.
"Chief, look!" Woodhoof carefully brushed aside a dense patch of vines, pointing at cracks in the soil. "Just as you instructed—we removed most of the buds. Now the fruit below is growing faster… larger than ever!"
His voice trembled with awe.
To him, Colin's methods bordered on divine.
Colin crouched, picking up a handful of soil, feeling its warmth and moisture.
"It's not enough," he said after a moment, rising.
"Increase irrigation—morning and evening. Summer evaporation is too strong. And spread wood ash between the rows. It will restore nutrients and keep pests away."
Woodhoof nodded quickly, memorizing every word.
Beside them, Lena recorded everything with her charcoal pencil, a rare smile on her face.
"At this rate," she said, "we can harvest in fifteen days. It won't be much, but enough to bridge the gap. If we last until autumn, food shortages will no longer threaten us."
Colin gave a small nod.
At last—the fortress had a future that didn't depend on luck.
If the fields were life—
Then the forge was power.
In the northern district, Master Berg's blacksmith shop roared without pause.
Heat radiated like a living thing. Furnaces burned day and night, unmoved by the season. Berg himself seemed invigorated by it—bare-chested, sweat-covered, barking orders with relentless energy.
When Colin stepped inside, the heat struck like a wall.
Apprentices hammered glowing iron in rhythmic unison. Sweat streamed down their bodies, hissing into vapor as it touched hot metal.
"Chief!" Berg shouted, pushing through the noise. "Perfect timing!"
He strode over, holding a compact, unfamiliar crossbow.
"Your 'little idea'—I made it!"
He handed it over with pride.
The weapon was smaller than standard crossbows, its limbs forged from resilient alloy. Atop it sat a wooden magazine, holding a dozen bolts. A lever mechanism rested beside the trigger.
Berg grinned and demonstrated.
Thwip.
A bolt struck the distant target.
He pulled the lever—click—another bolt slid into place.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Five shots in seconds.
The target became a pincushion.
"How is it?" Berg laughed. "Fast, efficient! Not as powerful as a longbow—but this rate of fire? It'll shred enemies!"
Colin ran his hand along the weapon's frame, eyes gleaming.
"Can it be mass-produced?"
Berg's grin faded.
"Difficult. The mechanism is too precise. Maybe ten a month. But…" he added proudly, "arrows and spears? We have thousands ready."
Colin nodded.
Even without mass production, this weapon changed everything.
Outside, the grinding of wheels interrupted them.
"Ore delivery!"
They stepped out to see carts rolling in—pulled by goblins.
Once enemies, now laborers.
Chained, exhausted—but obedient.
Under Hask's ruthless discipline and Colin's calculated incentives, they had been reshaped into a reliable workforce.
A guard stepped forward.
"Leader, fifteen carts of ore. Captain Hask reports all is stable… though he says he's bored and wants 'real work.'"
Colin chuckled.
"Tell him this is real work."
The system was complete.
Fields provided life.
Mines supplied resources.
The forge created strength.
Every part moved in harmony.
And yet—
Beyond the fortress walls, something was wrong.
Boulder had been gone for over a month.
No message.
No envoy.
Nothing.
The south remained silent.
Too silent.
That night, the council chamber was lit bright with urgency.
A large map covered the table.
Lin Feng pointed to marked locations.
"Leader, something's off," she said coolly. "Count Raymond has reinforced his southern border. More troops. New towers. Cavalry patrols."
She tapped several points.
"These routes lead directly to Blackwood Forest. It feels like… they're preparing for something."
"Guarding?" Colin murmured.
"Perhaps the Brown Bear Tribe," she said. "Or… us."
Silence followed.
Was Raymond reacting?
Or planning?
Was the Bear Tribe delayed—
Or destroyed?
"Extend reconnaissance," Colin ordered at last. "Find their supply lines. Their movements. I want answers."
Lin Feng nodded and vanished into the night.
Left alone, Colin stood before the map.
The unknown pressed in from all sides.
Then he turned and climbed the watchtower.
The night sky was brilliant.
Stars stretched endlessly above, the Milky Way like a river of light.
Below, Blackwood Fortress slept.
Fields shimmered under moonlight—quiet, alive.
The forge still burned—breathing fire into the dark.
Distant flames marked the mines—steady, enduring.
Different races, once enemies, now lived and worked as one.
A fragile miracle.
A rising power.
But Colin felt no peace.
Summer had only begun.
And with it—
Something far greater was coming.
The silent south was like a calm sea before a storm.
At any moment, it could erupt.
He gripped the cold stone of the battlements.
His mind steadied.
His gaze fixed on the darkness beyond.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Only resolve.
"Come," he whispered.
"I'll be waiting."
And beneath the blazing stars of summer—
The true game was about to begin.