Chương 19: Infiltration Plan

Dusk settled into the trees. The last light drained from the sky while they checked straps and counted blades. Someone dimmed the campfire to a low, stubborn glow. The air cooled around metal and bare fingers, and Ivan could feel everyone waiting for the first thing to go wrong. Yara stood near the folding table, one hand resting on the map, the other on the hilt of her sword.

"All right," she said.

"One more time." It wasn't a speech. Just a list.

"Gate team is me, Gareth, Marcus, Elizabeth, and Hanno." She nodded to each.

"We take the road down, make ourselves visible. If they talk, we talk. If they draw steel, we respond." Gareth's jaw looked tighter than usual, stress turning the lines in his face sharp. He was far from satisfied with his captain's decision, but he had to obey. So his voice came out steady.

"If we break formation, we fall back by twos. No one plays hero at the gate."

"Back team," Yara went on, turning to Ivan's group.

"Leo, you will lead. You know the terrain behind the ridge. Ivan, Rys, and Ren, you follow him and ignore everything that isn't in the plan. I don't care what insult they shout from the walls. If you can't reach it with your hands, it's not your business tonight." Ivan absorbed it. Orders were comfortable things when they weren't trying to smother you. At least the person giving them didn't want him dead. She ran through the signals next. One horn blast: initial alarm. Two: mages mounting a concerted spell.

Three in quick succession: retreat for the gate team. The back team was simpler.

"You see me throw a blue flare into the sky," Leo said, "you run for the trees and don't look back. If you're not there when we count heads, we assume you're dead or captured. Marcus doesn't go on suicide runs." Ren swallowed, but he nodded with the same stubbornness he'd shown since the caravan. The practical shape of it probably helped. Nobody pretended this was safe. They just agreed to do it anyway. Marcus moved among them with a worn leather satchel, opening it like a miser trying not to show his hoard.

"One each," he told the Dawn knights, pressing small glass vials into gauntleted hands. Then, after a moment's consideration, he reached into a side pocket and produced a different vial, stoppered in dark wax. He held it out to Ivan.

"This one's for you," he said.

"Don't waste it." Ivan accepted it carefully. The vial was warm. Faint red motes curled inside like sleeping fireflies.

"Expensive?" he asked. Marcus snorted.

"Annoying to make. You bleed out in front of me and I'll be even more annoyed."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ivan said.

"Thanks." He tucked the potion into his inventory. He doesn't know I have some backup Health Potions anyway. Part of his brain started automatically weighing how much blood he could afford to lose before he needed to use them. The numbers were not comforting. In the meantime, Yara had produced a small, worn wooden seal from a pouch at her belt. The carved sunburst on its face glowed faintly. She dipped her thumb into that light and stepped close to the scout from last night, Hanno.

She touched the thumb to his brow just below his hairline. The light sank into his skin and left a soft afterglow.

"Temporary blessing," Leo murmured under his breath, seeing Ivan watch.

"Grants you protection, focus, that sort of thing. Low‑tier stuff. Good at keeping people from panicking or tripping over loose rocks at the wrong time." She went down the line that way. Hanno, then Gareth, then Marcus, then the mage girl, Elizabeth. The girl yawned through it, the light painting her sleepy features for a second. When Yara reached Ren, she hesitated.

"He's a kid," Marcus said quietly. Yara nodded and pressed the thumb to Ren's forehead. This time the light flared a little brighter, then settled. Had she given him more protection than usual? Ren blinked, nose wrinkling.

"That tickled." Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly is that?" Rys beat Yara to the answer.

"Looks like a Skill received from a God's [Major Blessing], perhaps Aurora herself," she said.

"An… attunement, I guess. There are grades to this sort of thing. The gods love their hierarchies." She held up a finger, ticking them off.

"Don't mix the two 'blessings' up, though. A God's Blessing is peak System nonsense. This little thing she gave Ren isn't that. It's more like an enchantment. A buff, if you want the gamer word. It'll wither away."

"I've heard about the Gods' Blessings before. What's up with that?" Ivan asked.

"Well, it's divided into a few ranks. Starting with Humble Blessings," she said.

"Minor Blessings when they're fond of you. Intermediate, usually given by a God when you've done something to properly impress them. Then you get into Major and Noble Blessings; that's when you're actually on their map since Gods have hundreds of thousands of blessed individuals across the universes. Above that are Celestial Blessings and, at the top, True Blessings. That's when you become a 'Chosen' and your god starts treating your life like their own children's."

She said it with the dry tone of someone who knew far more than she wanted about the subject.

"We use different names in the Citadel," Yara said, "but the ladder is the same."

"Which one do you have?" Rys asked.

"Isn't that supposed to be a secret?" Yara shook her head at Ivan's question, a thumb hovering over her own brow for a moment, then dropped.

"We're always proud to share our blessings, so no, it's not a secret. Unless explicitly told by our Goddess to not share. I was given a Major Blessing," she said.

"From the Great Aurora herself." Rys let out a low whistle.

"Her personal pat on the head. Impressive." Ren's eyes were wide.

"What about me? What did I get?"

"There aren't ranks to Temporary Blessings granted by a God's follower," Rys said.

"But you received more enchantment than others, which is nice. Check the notification, there should be more information there. If I have to guess, it's enough to knock the edge off fear, increase your luck a little, and give you some basic strength and durability boost. Not enough to rewrite you." Ren looked almost offended.

"Oh man… I want the big one!"

"Almost died in a cage before your first Class and you want your name engraved in a god's ledger? Think about it," Ivan said. Rys laughed for some reason. Yara stepped toward him next. Ivan didn't move away. If some foreign god wanted to waste a temporary effect on him, he wasn't in a position to be picky. The world had been trying to kill him for a while now; a little extra help sounded nice. She hesitated just a fraction of a second before her glowing thumb touched his forehead.

The light sank in, warm and ticklish. He felt a fleeting sense of being weighed and found… interesting enough not to squash yet. [You've been granted a Temporary Blessing from a follower of the Dawnbound Aurora, one of the Primordials.] [Temporary Blessing: Increased strength, durability, and agility by 20% for the next three hours.] Twenty percent to three stats for three hours wasn't nothing.

"You've given me a lot. Thank you," he said.

"You're about to walk into a place my god also hates," Yara said.

"She won't be offended if I give you steadier hands." Rys stepped in as Yara turned toward her, chin lifting.

"And you?" Yara asked. Rys shook her head.

"Priestess of Lady Yueko, the Ninefold Moon," she said.

"Being a Priestess, it's blasphemy to take another Goddess' blessing, even if it's the Great Aurora. I apologize if that offends you." From what Ivan understood, she could take it. The System wouldn't block her, but she didn't want to. A little stupid, maybe, but he didn't want to judge her belief right before an infiltration. Ren tugged on her sleeve.

"H-huh?! You could have told me that before," he said, indignant.

"I'd have said no too!"

"You," Rys said, ruffling his hair, "need it. I don't. Let your aunt keep one broken promise to the gods, hm?" Yara moved on without arguing. She finished with Leo, then slid the seal back into its pouch. On the other side of the camp, Gareth had drawn his sword and knelt. He rested both hands on the hilt and bowed his head, lips moving in a soft murmur. Ivan didn't catch the words, but the rhythm was plain, simple, and practiced prayer. Interesting. Rigid, but not hollow. Yara eventually walked over to Ivan again.

"What was your full name?" she asked. He squinted at her.

"I already told you..."

"It was unimpressive enough that I forgot," she said blandly.

"Again."

"Wow," he muttered.

"Ivan Marcellion." She nodded, as if pinning the syllables to some mental corkboard, then glanced briefly at the dim sky. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"O' Great Aurora," she said quietly, almost under her breath.

"If this Ivan Marcellion manages something you care about tonight, try not to let him die in the middle of it. That's all." It wasn't a flowery prayer. Straight request without any promise. He appreciated that.

"Comforting," he said.

"I didn't promise you wouldn't get hurt," she said.

"Let's move."

They split at the edge of the bowl. Gate team followed the main track down the hill, armor and sun emblems catching what was left of the fading light. They didn't try to hide. That was the point. Big shiny knights knocking on your wall made it hard to claim ignorance later. Ivan watched Yara and Gareth go for a moment. Even from behind, the pair looked competent. Gareth adjusted his grip on his sword with the little twitch Ivan had seen in men who had killed with one a thousand times.

Elizabeth dragged her staff like it weighed more than she did, but the mana coiled around it was bright and sharp under his senses.

"Stop staring," Leo said quietly.

"You'll make Gareth jealous again."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ivan said.

"Yeah, especially if it's Elizabeth," Leo agreed with a laugh. He led them into the trees. The path he chose was barely a path at all; more a series of gaps between underbrush, worn by deer and men who didn't want to be seen. The smell of the sea got stronger as they moved. So did something else. Rot, iron, and the sour tinge of fear leaking from the compound ahead. Ivan let [Mana Sense] widen in front of them and found a spot where the trees thinned enough for a view.

They crouched at the treeline, staring down at the ridge. The Chain had thrown up a rough but effective fort. Wooden palisade, maybe three times a man's height, ringed the yard. Two watchtowers anchored the corners facing town. Within, under flickering torchlight, he picked out the shapes of low buildings. Longhouses and storage sheds crouched under the torchlight, but the fenced squares mattered more. Too many bodies huddled inside them.

The Chain wasn't even trying that hard to hide it anymore, probably because years without opposition had made them lazy. He drew on the air and let [Survey Field] bloom, keeping it tight and low-powered. The dome rippled out and back, painting thin lines in his mind. Alarm glyphs were etched into the inside of the main gate. Basic, but nasty once triggered. The towers held crude shields against inbound projectiles and fire, and a thick, steady node of mana sat in a longhouse near the back. A mage's nest, probably.

And there, just beyond the inner wall, a cut where the ground dropped away. The drainage channel. It sloped down out of sight, carrying waste and worse into a gully. Near that cut, something else glowed. A big, soft, misshapen mass of mana. The activity there was low. He squinted in its direction.

"What is it?" Ren whispered.

"Some kind of… beast?" Ivan guessed.

"Big and damp, but not really awake. If awake is even the right word. Anyhow, let's be grateful for that and move." It was just a heavy, sluggish mana mass pooled where the trench widened, barely active, like a thing that had been fed too much and taught to stay put. Bound, not wild. If Ivan had to guess, it was probably a disposal beast. The Chain liked using collared monsters the same way they used people. Cheap solution to messes no one wanted to touch. It wasn't awake nor was it aimed at anything. Good enough.

Down at the front, the gate team finally came into full view. Yara stepped into the open, shield on her arm, sunburst tabard bright even in the gloom. Gareth took her right, sword ready but not raised. Marcus and Hanno flanked, Elizabeth hanging back with her staff lifted. Guards on the wall stiffened. Shouts. A horn sounded once, sharp and confused. It was not a full alarm, just "someone's here." In the yard, a few of the nearer slaves looked up, hope and fear tangled on their faces.

Yara's voice carried up the slope even without magic.

"By the authority of the Dawnbound Aurora and the Citadel of Dawn," she called, "identify this compound and its controlling interests." Ivan couldn't hear every word of the exchange that followed, but the shape of it was obvious. Slavers started with "we are simple merchants," moved into "you have no authority here," and hit "this is private property!!" very fast. Yara pointed, shield edge indicating the fenced pens and the glint of iron around necks.

The tone of her voice shifted into the one she'd used reciting her orders earlier. She started rattling off clauses such as violations of some Intercontinental Accord about forced transport, denial of personhood, you name it. She made damn sure everyone in earshot knew the Order had seen the collars. That would do.

"Time to go," Leo murmured. They slipped along the slope to the right, using the noise from the front as cover. The ridge curled around, trees thinning where the fort builders had hauled dirt away. The drainage cut waited for them right ahead. It was a narrow trench carved into the back of the ridge, just wide enough for two people to walk awkwardly side by side, twice as tall as Ren. The stone and packed earth walls were slick and stained, a dark slurry trickling down their center.

The smell was awful, mixed with waste, rotten food, and old blood. Rys made a face.

"You owe me a bath after this, human."

"I owe myself a bath after this," Ivan said. They slid down into the channel. The world shrank to the damp stone on either side and the strip of sky above. Halfway up toward the fort's underside, his mana senses snagged on a small, sharp construct ahead.

"Hold," he whispered. A few more steps and it became obvious even without magic. It was a simple glyph scratched into the stone, just at ankle height, over the runoff. It pulsed faintly when his Survey memory brushed it. Trip that, and the fort would scream.

"Alarm ward," he murmured.

"Pretty old school though. Lazy etching, but hooked into their main node." Rys leaned around him.

"Can you fix it?"

"Please," he said. He crouched, careful not to let his boots slap water too loudly, and traced the pattern in the air with one finger as he examined it. The lines formed a crude funnel bringing any mana disturbance into a single spike that would race up into a horn enchantment somewhere above. He reached into his pouch, dabbed the tip of his dagger into a smear of neutralizing ink, and very gently nicked one of the connecting lines at a joint that wouldn't draw attention. The mana shiver steadied, then flattened.

The glyph was disconnected now. Dead enough.

"Done," he said.

"Useful man to have around," Leo observed.

"Now I can believe you really did save the Foxkins from slavers. You're pretty good, Ivan."

"Don't let Gareth hear you say that," Ivan said. They kept going. Near the mouth where the channel met the open gully, the air shifted. A heavy and wet sound came from below, like something breathing sluggishly through a clogged pipe. Ivan risked a glance. Down in the depression where the trench emptied out, a heap of glistening, dark mass slumped against the rocks.

It looked like someone had taken all the food scraps, bones, and gods‑knew‑what else from the fort over the last year, fed it to an oozing thing from a sewer ecology experiment gone wrong, and then chained that in place with a collar of iron spikes. The collar hummed with low, steady mana.

"Ah, that's the thing you noticed earlier, Ivan. That," Leo whispered, grimacing, "is why we don't come down here unless we have to."

"What is it?" Ren asked, voice thin.

"Trash‑eater Slime," Leo said.

"Half‑tamed ooze. They throw waste and corpses in. It dissolves most of it. Every once in a while they prod it and send it uphill if they feel like playing with something mean." The Slime pulsed slightly, reacting to the sound, but didn't fully wake. Collars weren't just for people, it seemed. Ivan let [Architecture of Mana] brush it, just enough to get an outline. The structure was bizarre. It was a natural blob‑logic overlaid with a crude, brutal control array. Several key runes looked…

frayed, like someone had overwritten them too many times without cleaning up.

"If we fight in the drain," he murmured, mostly to himself, "this thing wakes up and eats whoever slips. Not picky. Good to know."

"Can we use it?" Rys asked.

"No need," he said.

"Let's get in first." They eased past, keeping a respectful distance from the lip.

The channel ended at a rusted metal grate under the palisade. Once, it might have been solid. Time and poor maintenance had eaten away at the bottom, leaving a ragged gap where someone small could wriggle through. Or someone Ivan‑sized, if he didn't mind leaving cloth behind. Leo went first, then Ren. Ivan followed, feeling wood and iron scrape his back as he slid under. Rys, grumbling softly in Old Vas, came last, her tails flattening to squeeze through.

They emerged behind a pair of low sheds, the scent of stored grain and oil covering the worst of the drain's stink. Shouts rolled across the yard from the front. A deeper horn sounded once, then again. The slavers were finally treating the Dawn presence seriously.

"Quick," Ivan said.

"We set the table, then eat." He moved, hands already tracing patterns in the air. At the corner of one shed where two likely patrol paths converged, he sketched a tiny cluster of runes, fed it just enough mana to latch onto the wood, and flattened it into invisibility with [Glyph Suspension]. It was a simple gravity tweak. Anyone sprinting around that corner would find their feet dragging for a heartbeat. A few paces farther, in a spot where Rys might naturally pivot to strike, he etched another.

This one was a directional shove. It would just be a sudden invisible boot to the back of a man's knee at the right moment.

"Two snares," he murmured.

"Don't step there unless you want to kiss the dirt." Rys gave the spots a wide berth.

"First patrol," Leo warned quietly. Three slavers came racing along the inner wall, although half their attention was on the shouting at the gate. They wore leather armor and carried cheap swords, moving in that loose arrogance of men who thought anyone inside the walls was on their side. The first one hit the gravity snare as he turned the corner. His stride faltered as muscles fought invisible drag. Rys closed the gap and cut his throat before he finished gasping.

Ivan watched the body hit the dirt and found no guilt waiting for him. The second saw that and tried to jerk back, stumbling right into the shove glyph. It kicked his leg sideways. Leo's arrow met his eye a half second later. The third managed one full‑throated shout before Ivan flicked a finger. A very small and very focused [Lightning Spear] slammed into his chest, punching a neat hole through his ribs and dropping him. The shout died unfinished and their bodies crumpled in almost synchrony.

The sheds hid most of the mess from casual glances. Ren stared, eyes very wide. Ivan lowered his voice.

"It's okay, take a deep breath. And just remember, these men would have sold you for parts." Ren nodded despite the whiteness of his knuckles. Leo dragged two of the corpses into the shadow of the shed, grunting with effort. Rys yanked the third by the ankles, which left behind a smear. Not really ideal, but they were short on time. Shouts from the gate grew louder, more panicked. A blaze of bright magic lit the top of the front wall. Elizabeth the Mage was getting involved.

That meant the slavers had pulled out steel. The flare made the slaver mages on the wall look like they were playing with sparkler sticks. Ivan's mental map sharpened as he scanned it, and the scale of Elizabeth's output finally hit him. He'd seen court mages in Sky Reach burn entire alleys for less effort than she was putting into a shield!

"Pens," Rys said, breaking his thoughts.

"This way." She led this time. They skirted along the back line of buildings until the pens came into view. Rough wooden fences, each the size of a small yard, jammed with bodies. Neck rings flashed dull iron in the dying light. A few collars had thin onyx inlays too, the nasty kind with proper enchantments. Guards moved between pens with whips and cudgels, shouting at the captives to sit down and keep quiet. Most of their attention was still on the gate, but the nerves were obvious.

One was already jogging toward the longhouse, probably to relay messages. Ivan took stock quickly. Five pens in this row, maybe more beyond. The nearest three had simple physical locks and minimal glyphwork. The far two glowed faintly with additional wards.

"We start with these," he murmured to Leo, nodding at the closer ones.

"Fast ones. Ren, you only open what I touch." Ren swallowed.

"Okay." Ivan felt the front gate's wards shudder as somewhere out of sight, Yara's voice reached a new pitch. Someone had finally given the order to kill the knights. A horn blared again. Longer. This time, the [Survey Field] echoes showed mage nodes coming fully awake on the towers. The easy part had just ended.

"Right," Ivan said, flexing ink‑stained fingers.

"That's our cue. We move now before their mages get their pants on." They didn't waste any time and hit the first pen. The lock was old iron that was half‑rust and half grease. Someone had slapped a basic mana seal over it, the kind lazy slavers used when they thought fear was enough of a cage. Ivan pressed his palm to the bar and let [Architecture of Mana] sketch the pattern in his head. There were two loops, one anchor, and a brute‑force trigger.

"How cheap," he muttered. He dug a bit of chalk from his pouch and drew a short cancelling rune on the metal. Then he pushed a trickle of mana into it. The seal's lines wobbled and lost their shape before it fell apart. The bolt slid back with a dull clack. Rys pulled the gate open.