The soldier was seventeen. Same age as Axton. That made killing him harder.He knelt in monastery ruins. Hands bound. Face bruised. Uniform torn. Heptarchy insignia still visible on his chest. The enemy. The hunter. The threat.Except he was crying.Not brave stoicism. Not defiant silence. Just terror. Raw. Unfiltered. Human."Please." His voice cracked. "Please, I have family. Sister. Mother. They're in capital. Conscripted labor. If I don't report back, they'll""Shut up," Lyra said. She stood beside Axton. Blade drawn. Eyes cold. "Every sob story. Every plea. Designed to make you hesitate. Don't."The soldier looked at Axton. Saw someone his age. Saw possible mercy."You understand. You're young. You know what it's like. Forced into war you didn't choose. Fighting for people who don't care if you die."Axton's hands shook. Blade felt heavy. Too heavy.Kaelix watched from distance. Not intervening. This was test. This was lesson. This was moment that defined leaders."What do we do

Axton stared at maps for six hours.Not planning victory. Planning who would die buying it.The documents from Black Archives lay spread before him. Council of Seven's fortress schematics. Guard rotations. Defensive arrays. Weaknesses.Everything needed to infiltrate. Everything except guarantee of survival.Marcus sat across table. Silent. Knowing. Understanding weight Axton carried."The fortress has three entry points," Marcus said quietly. "All heavily guarded. All monitored. All designed to funnel attackers into kill zones.""So we can't infiltrate without being seen.""Correct. Which means we need distraction. Something big enough to pull guards away from entry points. Something urgent enough they abandon positions.""How big?"Marcus was quiet. Then: "Assault on main gate. Full frontal attack. Loud. Violent. Impossible to ignore.""That's suicide.""Yes. But effective. Guards mobilize to repel assault. Defensive arrays redirect. Entry points become vulnerable. Infiltration team

The fortress smelled like iron and old blood.Not metaphor. Literal. Centuries of executions. Torture. Experiments. All conducted within these walls. All leaving residue that never washed clean.Two teams moved through darkness.Assault team: Twelve warriors led by Kaelix. Approaching main gate. Weapons ready. Death accepted.Infiltration team: Twenty warriors led by Axton. Moving through sewers beneath fortress. Quiet. Professional. Hoping twelve deaths bought enough time.Axton's communication crystal pulsed. Kaelix's voice. Calm. Final."Infiltration team in position?""Yes. Northwest service entrance. Awaiting signal.""Good. Remember mission. Reach Council chamber. Kill all seven. Don't waste sacrifices."Pause. Father's voice softening. Becoming human instead of tactical."I'm proud of you. Everything you've become. Everything you'll be. Your mother would be proud too."Axton's throat tightened. "Don't. Don't say goodbye. You're coming back.""Probably not. But that's okay. I've

Thirty minutes to live.The fortress shook. Not earthquake. Self-destruct. Systematic collapse. Every structural support failing in sequence. Designed. Calculated. Perfect trap.Axton stood among bodies. Fourteen warriors. Fourteen people who'd trusted him. Who'd followed him into chamber. Who'd died killing projections.Not real enemies. Illusions. Advanced arrays. Expensive deception.Only Zealot had been real. Only one kill mattered. One expendable fanatic Heptarchy wanted gone anyway.Twenty-six warriors total. Twelve assault team. Fourteen infiltration. All dead. For nothing.The mathematics were brutal. Twenty-six lives for one kill. Worst exchange in Warborne history.And now Axton would die too. Trapped. Alone. Buried in fortress designed by Architect who'd predicted everything.His communication crystal pulsed. Faint. Damaged. But functional.Marcus's voice. Panicked. Distant."Axton! Axton, respond! Fortress is collapsing! What's happening?""Trap. Everything was trap. Counc

Three days ended at dawn.Axton stood on the ridge, watching the Heptarchy army approach through morning mist. Two hundred warriors. Ten champions. Twenty siege arrays mounted on wheeled platforms. All converging on this valley, all hunting fifty-seven Warborne who'd refused extinction.The odds were terrible. The kind of odds that built legends or ended bloodlines."Fifty-seven against two hundred," Lyra said beside him. Her blade was already drawn, black Aegis faintly visible in predawn light. "Better than last siege. Still terrible.""Terrible odds build legends," Axton replied, his father's words coming unbidden. Ancient Kael's certainty bleeding through Kaelix's teaching, now becoming his own. "Easy victories build arrogance."The Heptarchy commander's voice boomed across the valley, amplified by Qi cultivation. "Axton Vail Warborne. Surrender immediately. This valley will be spared. Resistance means death. For everyone. Choose wisely."Kaelix moved to stand beside his son. His w