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[b]Time: 7:05 AM
Location: Nan Gau, Adventurers’ Guild / City Proper[/b]

For a brief moment after the last words left the floor, silence held the meeting hall.

Not the calm kind.

The kind that presses against the ears, heavy and expectant—like the breath drawn before a scream.

Ryota stood unmoving at the center of the hall, arms folded, single visible eye sweeping across the gathered adventurers. When he spoke again, his voice was lower now, no roar to it—measured, deliberate.

[b]“You have all given answers worthy of warriors,”[/b] he rumbled. [b]“And you have all spoken truth.”[/b]

His gaze lingered on Varius for a heartbeat longer than the rest—not friendly, not hostile. Appraising. Then it slid to Yumi, the great scythe resting near her feet, and to Emily, whose questions had cut closer to the bone than most steel ever did.

[b]“There is a mind behind this,”[/b] Ryota continued. [b]“And it is close enough to touch us already.”[/b]

A low murmur rippled through the hall.

[b]“The dead adapt because they are guided. Whether by a sorcerer, a relic, or something worse, I do not yet know. What I do know is this: Nan Gau will not survive if we chase ghosts into the mountains while our walls crumble.”[/b]

He turned slightly, gesturing toward the wide paper map laid across the central table—a rough charcoal sketch of Nan Gau, its gates, its streets, the northern approach marked by jagged strokes.

[b]“We hold. We observe. We respond.”[/b]
A claw tapped the map once. [b]“No one acts alone.”[/b]

Before further orders could be given—

A horn sounded.

Not the deep, steady alarm horn that signaled a confirmed breach.

This one was short. Sharp. Uncertain.

A beastkin runner burst through the meeting hall doors, breath ragged, fur bristling.

[b]“Western approach!”[/b] he barked in Bestial before switching to Common. [b]“Movement in force—undead silhouettes in the ash fog! At least a hundred—maybe more!”[/b]

Almost on cue, the air in the hall changed.

A chill slid along exposed skin. The lantern flames flickered, bending unnaturally, as if pressed by an unseen current. From outside came the sound of wind—too sudden, too directional—carrying with it the faint smell of rot and burned mana.

Ryota’s eye narrowed.

[b]“…Too early,”[/b] he growled. [b]“They are testing us.”[/b]

Another runner shouted from the corridor, this one slower, shaken.

[b]“Commander—visibility is dropping across the city. Fog rolling in from the north and west. It’s… wrong. Hurts to breathe near the corpse pits.”[/b]

Outside, through the open hall doors, the morning light dimmed as a grayish haze crept between buildings. Shapes moved within it—or seemed to. Shadows doubled, tripled, then vanished when stared at too long. Somewhere beyond the walls, something howled—not undead, not beast, but hungry.

Ryota straightened to his full height, presence filling the room.

[b]“This is the feint,”[/b] he announced. [b]“And the storm that comes with it.”[/b]

His gaze swept the room, settling briefly on each of them—on steel, on scythe, on trembling resolve, on quiet calculation.

[b]“Frontline forces will not overcommit west.”
“Interior chokepoints remain manned.”
“Anyone with eyes sharp enough to read the fog—watch it.”
“And anyone who feels the mana shift—remember where it pulls.”[/b]

Another horn sounded—this one from the north. Longer. More strained.

Nan Gau was being probed from multiple directions now.

The undead had not yet struck.

But the city could feel them breathing at the edges of the world.

What do you do?