The rain was still falling when Niko entered the Lower District. The water was dirty, mixed with ash and burnt wood splinters. From a distance, the firelight from the Upper District reflected in the street puddles, making the night look brighter than usual.Niko's steps were fast, but not neat. His cloak was wet and heavy. He did not try to look calm. His eyes kept moving, reading the situation, looking for a path that was still safe.The Lower District was gripped by a silent panic. There were no war cries here, only the sound of wooden cart wheels being pushed forcefully through the mud, filled with cheap belongings of citizens preparing to flee. At an intersection, a wheat cart overturned. People elbowed each other, scooping wheat grains from the dirty puddles like starving rats.Niko stepped past them without looking back. Tonight, pity was a luxury item he could not afford to buy.The people on the street reacted before truly recognizing him. They stepped aside, looked down, or p

Dawn arrived without bringing light to the capital.Kagane's fog descended thicker than usual. The reddish sky color left over from last night was swallowed into a dead gray. From a distance, the Cloud Pagoda towered piercing the fog, looking like a giant shadow lost between the world of the living and the dead.There were no war cries cleaving the air. There was no first cannon boom shattering the morning silence.There was only an absolute siege.Dozens of heavy class steam cannons belonging to the rebel forces had been positioned on the main slope. Their iron barrels were blackened and cold. Left silent, aiming right at the hull of the magnificent building.Behind the artillery lines, the Carrion infantry stood frozen. They did not move forward to breach the gates. They only formed a steel ring closing every gap.There was no way in. There was no way out. This was not an open attack. This was a tactical strangulation.In the Lower District, dawn was not welcomed by the clamor of th

The throne doors swung wide open.There were no screams. There was no clash of weapons. The air inside the room felt cold and stifled, like something that had waited a long time without daring to breathe.The mahogany wood floor before them was still clean. Gleaming. There were no traces of blood. There were no signs of resistance.At the end of the room, the Shogun's throne stood tall shrouded in shadows. And in front of it, they were already waiting.The line of elite guards protecting the Shogun stood neatly. The distance between their bodies was perfectly measured. Their swords were raised at the exact same sharp angle. Not a single one moved, let alone trembled.Behind Ganda, dozens of elite Carrion soldiers prepared to rush in to slaughter. However, Arok raised his right hand. The troops' steps immediately halted. Arok gave a soundless signal.The Carrion troops took one step back, tightly closing the corridor behind them and forming a living barricade. They isolated the throne

The throne room was still silent.Masayori's body lay on the cold marble. His blood flowed slowly, seeping into the crevices of the carved floor that had previously only been stepped on by those who called themselves honorable. No one moved.In the middle of the room, Ganda still stood. His breathing was heavy and unstable. His body trembled violently, holding back something that was shattered and nearly collapsing from within.At the threshold of the steps, Arok stared straight at the now empty throne. He did not approach, did not sit, only stood frozen.The blood pooling on the floor felt too familiar. Its color was too similar. The puddle reminded him of something he had buried under his general's cloak for far too long.***Dawn at the Iron Dam years ago arrived cloaked in fog.Water flowed slowly beneath the giant steel framework splitting the barren valley. On the inspection platform, Dedes stood staring at the horizon. Her elegant silk cloak fluttered softly blown by the valley

The Cloud Pagoda strategy room was filled with maps.Not just one. Dozens of large parchment papers stretched covering the walls, scattered on the marble floor, and piled on the main oak table.Red, blue, and black lines crossed each other roughly. The inks formed a complex network like nerves that had just been forcefully skinned from the anatomy of Kagane city.In the middle of the room, stuffy with the smell of paper and the sweat of tension, Arok stood straight.There were no gold plated thrones in this room. There were no obsolete symbols of clan power. Inside this strategy room, what remained was only the absolute language of a war.A dozen officers stood surrounding him. Their formation was divided awkwardly.Some still wore the old plate armor uniforms of the Kaijin military, dented and dirty with the blood of last night's coup. Others had already replaced them with the emblems of the Carrion faction. Their faces were tense, stiff, and filled with extraordinary exhaustion.Not