Larin watched over the vast network of traps through his spell Observe. Every place bearing his imprint allowed him to see as if standing there himself. His senses stretched across the ridge, the forest floor, even the faintest disturbances in the undergrowth. He cast [Sinlung], his form blurring into the surroundings, becoming little more than a ripple in the air.
It didn't take long for movement.
Kirati scouts advanced in a tight spearhead formation, swift and disciplined—but not all moved with the same conviction. The one at the front, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, led with authority. The others followed, their steps hesitant, their grips on their weapons too tight. None bore the mark of a conceptual magi, which meant this was no elite unit—just fodder.
"Be careful," the leader growled. "We're practically inside Xiaxo territory, though the borders on the map say otherwise. Do well, and you and your families will be free."
The words were meant to motivate, but Larin heard the lie in them. These weren't volunteers.
Just as the leader finished speaking, Larin triggered Sinking Bog. The earth beneath the man's feet turned liquid, swallowing him in an instant. His scream was cut short as the ground sealed over him.
"Fuckin' Tribals!" one of the armored scouts snarled, stepping back. "This place was supposed to be free of traps-was the report false?"
Before his companion could answer, Larin detonated the Shatterbark bomb hidden between them. The explosion tore through the two, leaving nothing but mangled flesh and shattered armor.
Silence.
The remaining scouts—now seven—froze, eyes darting wildly. Larin let them sweat for a moment before speaking.
"I overheard your conversation," his voice echoed, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Lay down your weapons, and I'll spare your lives."
A woman in the back, her hands shaking around a short spear, let out a bitter laugh. "They have our kids, our families. What good is surrender?"
"We'll figure it out," Larin said. "I could kill all of you right now. Can you say the same about surviving if you keep fighting?"
They looked at one another-farmers, laborers, people who had never wanted this war. One by one, their weapons thudded against the dirt.
Larin opened a magic circle, and glowing footprints appeared on the ground. "Follow these. Stray, and you'll trigger more traps."
He led them to a clearing tucked away from the main paths. A small spring bubbled at its center, the water clear and untouched. To Larin, these springs were sacred, places where the land's magic ran pure. But the captives only saw danger.
"Did we make the wrong choice?" a gaunt man muttered.
"Is he going to kill us and take our heads?" another whispered.
Larin materialized before them with Veilstep, his form solidifying from mist. "You have my word. There's no honor in killing those who've surrendered."
The woman who had spoken earlier-lean, with a farmer's calloused hands—stepped forward. "Then what now? The Kirat don't take kindly to deserters. Our families—"
"Tell me everything," Larin said. "Where they're held. Patrol routes. Weak points. I'll see them freed."
They were not soldiers.
The woman, Nalani, had been a potter before the conscription. "They came at dawn," she said, voice hollow. "Told us every household had to send one fighter. If we refused, they'd burn the village."
A younger man, Daren, rubbed his wrists where manacles had chafed. "They don't even keep our families locked up. They just… tell us that if we run, they'll know. And they'll kill them."
"How?" Larin asked.
"Mages," Nalani spat. "They put some kind of mark on us. If we die or desert, they know."
Larin's jaw tightened. The Kirat Empire had always been ruthless, but this was something else—psychological warfare disguised as conscription.
"They rotate scouts every three days," Daren added. "The real soldiers stay back, sending us ahead to trigger traps like yours."
"Cannon fodder," Larin muttered.
Nalani nodded. "Exactly. They don't care if we die. They just want to wear you down."
Larin studied the crude map they drew in the dirt—villages marked with stones, patrol routes sketched with a stick.
"This one," he said, pointing. "The garrison is small?"
"Only a handful of real soldiers," Daren confirmed. "The rest are like us—conscripts."
A plan formed in Larin's mind. If he could free the families, these people wouldn't just be spared—they could become allies.
"Stay here," he ordered. "The spring will hide you from tracking spells. I'll return when it's done."
Nalani grabbed his arm. "You're really going to help us?"
"I'm going to make the Kirat regret ever stepping into Xiaxo land."
Larin moved like a shadow, [Sinlung] masking his presence as he slipped past patrols. The village was just as Daren had described—a cluster of homes with a makeshift barracks at the center.
Two actual Kirati soldiers lounged outside, bored. The rest of the "garrison" were conscripts, their postures slumped, their eyes empty.
Larin didn't need to kill them.
He waited until nightfall, then struck.
With a swift and fluid gesture, Larin stabbed the air and grabbed it, as if holding onto something towards the guards. His eyes glowed azure and in an instant, the guards did not even know they were dead. They simply dropped on the ground.
The conscripts froze, weapons half-raised.
"I'm not here for you," Larin said, stepping into the firelight. "I'm here for your families."
A moment of silence. Then-
"The houses at the edge," one whispered. "They're locked in the granary."
Larin didn't waste time. The granary's lock shattered under his magic, and soon, bewildered men, women, and children stumbled out.
"Nalani? Daren?" an older woman called. "Are they-"
"Alive," Larin said. "And waiting for you."
When Larin returned to the spring, the captives-now freed from their fear-knelt in relief as their families embraced them.
Nalani looked at him with something like awe. "You kept your word."
"Now you keep yours," Larin said. "The Kirat think they can drown us in numbers. But every conscript who turns against them is another crack in their empire."
Daren grinned, sharp. "So what's next?"
Larin's answering smile was just as fierce.
"You retire at the Border Fort, I doubt you will be conscripted. Your information will be vital. I will write a letter you will deliver. Make sure to do your best."