Stonealign didn't scream either.
Which would've been easier, somehow. A scream you could treat. A scream meant pain was still tethered to the body.
Instead, he just grunted as the detonation wave hit, stumbled backward with half the trench wall sliding after him, and folded like a tent with no poles.
Embergleam was already moving. I was three steps behind her. Splitjaw said something sharp—orders probably, couldn't hear—and Quicktongue's call echoed from the fallback tunnel in a pattern I didn't want to translate.
I got to Stonealign's side in time to see the glyph-burn across his ribs. Not fatal. Not clean either. The stone dust in his lungs wouldn't kill him.
Probably.
System pinged:
[Critical Unit Status: Disabled]
[Settlement Cohesion: Unstable – Emotional Sync: Flickering]
[Recommended Action: Sovereign Rally or System Recall]
I shut it off.
Not helpful. Not today.
The trench was a mess.
Mossfields torn open. Golems down to half-spark. Hoarder had taken a graze from the ranger again—he was limping back with a grin that looked more like an apology. Bitterstack was hauling support crates like they were shields. Someone had drawn a glyph on a mosspatch that didn't even activate—just smeared itself into panic.
And I stood there in the middle of it.
Sovereign. Builder. Firestarter.
Staring at my people bleeding in a hole.
I tried to say something.
The start of a rally. A call. A word. Anything.
What came out was:
"I—"
That was it.
That was all I had.
Embergleam didn't reach for me. She just moved closer.
Scribbles appeared at my other side, holding something. A burned flag. One of the trench sigils we'd set up weeks ago.
It was charred down the middle. Still warm. Still whole enough to carry.
He didn't say anything either.
System pinged again, quieter this time:
[Sovereign Flame Sync: Dormant – Awaiting Directive]
[Recognition Thread Stalled – Affirmation Pending]
I wasn't sure what it wanted from me anymore.
I wasn't sure what I wanted from me anymore.
But I knew this:
We weren't dead.
Not yet.
It would've been a good moment for the fire to do something dramatic.
Flare up. Roar. Breathe prophecy across the battlefield and declare me a chosen ember of legend, etcetera.
Instead, it just waited.
Which felt worse.
Quicktongue dropped beside me. "Outer Guild line's pulled back," he said. "Not retreating. Just holding formation. Two healers tending their flank. Scout squad's resetting a perimeter on the north ridge."
I blinked. "They're... defending?"
He nodded. "They're not throwing everything at us."
Which meant only one thing.
"They're waiting on him," I said.
"Yeah."
Splitjaw grimaced. "They think they've already won. Just letting the hero mop up what's left."
I looked at our lines. At the way the goblins were dragging barrels up slope with nothing but rope and curses. At Bitterstack distributing shards like they were lottery tickets. At Hoarder, limping, scrawling new ridge paths into dirt with one claw and not complaining about the arrow in his thigh.
No one here thought we were done.
Even if the walls did.
I stepped forward.
Didn't know what I was going to say until I heard it come out of my mouth.
"You know," I said, voice dry, "I've had a lot of bad ideas. Letting the fire take over? Definitely up there. Putting Splitjaw in charge of meat rationing? Maybe worse."
He snorted. That was good.
"But staying?" I said, louder now. "Staying when they told us we were just monsters? Staying when the system didn't think we'd make it through the night? When every map said this place was a footnote?"
I raised my head.
"We stayed anyway."
Scribbles stepped forward. Flag in hand.
"We're still here," I said. "And if they want to find out why, they can come ask."
The flag went up.
Burned. Torn.
Whole enough.
The flame pulsed behind my eyes like a held breath finally let go.
[Recognition Event Triggered – Emotional Threshold Crossed]
[Title Gained: The Flame That Stands]
[Effect: Morale Loss Immunity While Sovereign Is Present]
[Sync Status: Reinforced – Node Pulse Stabilized]
[Myth Track Updated – Identity Anchor Formed]
The moss around me glowed faint gold. Not magic or illusion.
Belief.
Not in me.
In Ashring.
The system wasn't done.
[External Observation Noted – Hero-Class Adventurer Engaged – Visual Lock Confirmed]
I turned.
He was watching.
Not curious. Not impressed.
He stepped forward once.
And drew his sword.
System pinged:
[Myth-Class Engagement Triggered – Next Phase: Full Party Clash Imminent]
[Warning: Duel Protocol on Standby – Confirmed: Sovereign vs Hero]
And I smiled.
Tired. Angry. Alive.
"Well," I said. "Let's find out what happens when legends get in each other's way."