Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale-Chapter 105: Echoes of the Unmaking

Deep within an obsidian citadel hidden among jagged peaks, seven figures gathered around a circular table of blackened steel. The air hummed with restrained power, the scent of ozone and burnt metal clinging to the chamber.

At the head of the table sat Zarathor, his fingers steepled before his face—deceptively human in appearance, with sharp, aristocratic features and cold gray eyes that betrayed no warmth.

"The king has moved his army," he said, his voice smooth and measured, yet carrying an undercurrent of something inhuman. "The capital’s defenses weaken. This is our opportunity."

The woman to his left, draped in crimson robes, inclined her head. "Our spies confirm it. The royal guard’s numbers are halved. The seal chamber will be lightly guarded."

A third figure, this one shrouded in emerald, tapped the table with long, delicate fingers. "And what of Bryndis? The young Baron continues to be... problematic."

Zarathor’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Irrelevant. Our goal is the seal. Once we destroy it, neither Bryndis nor the king will matter."

"But the rifts—"

"—were merely a means to an end," Zarathor interrupted. "The Gorath experiment failed to trigger the cascade we desired, but it served its purpose."

Slowly, he pressed a hand against his chest, where beneath his fine silk robes, something pulsed—an unnatural rhythm, too steady, too precise. "The Aether Core I harvested from the Voidspawn has stabilized my condition. The final stage can begin."

The council fell silent. They had followed Zarathor for decades, bound by his vision of a world unmade and remade—a world without the frailties of mortal indecision, without the rot of stagnation.

The crimson-robed woman leaned forward. "And the Baron? He has already thwarted one of our plans. If he interferes again—"

Zarathor’s lips curled into a cold, emotionless smile. "Kael Bryndis is nothing more than a fleeting obstacle. If he stands in our way, he will be removed."

His gaze shifted to the viewing orb on the table, where Bryndis flickered—its walls lined with newly forged weapons, its streets pulsing with industry.

"Let him wage his war against the king. By the time the dust settles, this world will already be burning." He paused for a moment before giving the order. "Send him. Let him have his revenge."

---

Bryndis – The War Room

Kael’s fingers traced the edge of the holographic map projected above the war table, the topography of the region glowing in soft blue light. Victor, Edgar, and a cadre of Bryndis’ officers stood around it, their faces grim.

"The king’s forces will reach Duke Marveil’s territory in five days," Victor said, pointing to a narrow pass marked on the map. "If the Duke is smart, he’ll ambush them here—the cliffs funnel the army into a killing zone."

Edgar crossed his arms. "And if Lucius Drayford is half the strategist they say he is, he’ll see it coming."

Kael zoomed in on the pass, his Arc Nexus humming as it processed terrain data. "Then we assume the king’s army will break through. Which gives us..." He calculated swiftly. "Two weeks, maybe less, before they’re at our gates."

A murmur rippled through the room. Forty thousand against three hundred thousand. Even with the Arcanum Forge churning out weapons, the numbers were dire.

Kael’s fingers hovered over the holographic map, the glowing terrain lines casting sharp shadows across his determined face. The war table hummed softly as tactical markers shifted in real-time, tracking the massive royal army’s advance.

Victor leaned forward, tracing a route through the mountain pass. "If we let them reach Duke Marveil’s territory, they’ll—"

"No." Kael’s voice cut through the room like steel. "We’re not waiting for them to come to us."

Silence fell. Edgar’s eyebrows rose. Alice’s gray eyes gleamed with sudden understanding.

Kael tapped the map, expanding the display to show the full breadth of the approaching forces.

"The king thinks we’ll cower behind our walls. That we’ll let three hundred thousand soldiers march uncontested until they’re at our gates." His lips curled into a rare, sharp smile. "Let’s disappoint him."

Victor’s grin was immediate, his battle-hungry spirit flaring. "Now that’s what I like to hear. What’s the play?"

Kael turned to Alice. "Status of the Skyward Sentinels?"

"Operational and fully armed," she answered without hesitation. "The twin arcane cannons are charged, and the stealth enchantments are stable."

"Good." Kael’s gaze swept the room. "We hit them tonight. A precision strike on their command structure—Torvin, Lucius, their artificers. Without leadership, that army becomes a disorganized mob."

Edgar crossed his arms, but approval glinted in his weathered eyes. "Bold. Risky."

"Less risky than letting them siege us," Kael countered. He nodded to Astra. "Prep the Sentinels. We leave in two hours."

Astra inclined his head. "Understood."

As the others moved to carry out orders, Edgar caught his son’s arm. "You’re taking this fight to them yourself?"

Kael met his father’s gaze squarely. "The Sentinels are our advantage. I won’t waste them on a defensive role."

He flexed his Arc Nexus, the aetherium gauntlet shimmering with latent power. "Besides, I want to see the look on Torvin’s face when his camp wakes up to Bryndis’ answer."

Edgar studied him for a long moment, then chuckled—a rough, approving sound. "Your mother would be proud."

Kael’s smirk returned. "Try not to sound so surprised."

---

Two Hours Later – Skyward Sentinel Hangar

The twin Sentinels gleamed under enchanted lamplight, their sleek, wingless frames humming with restrained power. Kael ran a final systems check as Alice secured her harness beside him in the lead craft.

"All readings optimal," she confirmed, her spirit crystal pulsing in sync with the Sentinel’s mana core.

Astra stood at the second craft’s helm, his silver-gray hair stirring in the hangar’s artificial breeze. "Ready on your command."

Kael settled into the pilot’s seat, his hands resting on the crystal-bound interface. The controls lit up at his touch, responding to thought as much as gesture.

"Bryndis Control," he said, "initiate launch sequence."

The hangar doors slid open, revealing the star-strewn sky.

"Sequence confirmed," came Harold’s voice through the comm crystal. "Godspeed, my lord."

Kael didn’t hesitate.

The Sentinels shot forward on silent wind-forged thrusters, vanishing into the night. Below them, the city’s lights twinkled—forty thousand souls depending on this strike.

But Kael wasn’t thinking about defense.

Not anymore.

Tonight, Bryndis would remind the king what happens when you march on a house of inventors.

Tonight, war would come to the warmakers.

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