Evan woke before sunrise, though he had barely slept at all. His mind kept replaying the repeater test, the glow of the vent channels, the clean sequence of shots, and the silent shock on Rhel’s face. It felt unreal to hold a weapon that could change an entire kingdom. But the weight of responsibility pulled him straight out of bed.

The fortress was quieter than usual. No clashing drills, no shouted commands. Soldiers patrolled silently with compact units strapped to their belts. The tension from the standoff on the ridge still hung in the air like a cold mist. Evan walked toward the workshop rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Taron stood outside pacing with nervous energy. When he spotted Evan he rushed forward. “Master Marshall, something strange happened. One of the night guards swore he saw movement near the lower wall. He said a shadow figure climbed the stones.”

Evan frowned. “A scout from the rival kingdom”

Taron shook his head. “No tracks, no sign, nothing left behind. But the guard is certain someone was there.”

Rhel appeared moments later with a grim look. “We checked the wall before dawn. Someone tried to pry out a piece of stone near one of the new mana anchors. They were careful but not careful enough.”

Evan felt his stomach drop. “Someone was testing our defenses.”

“Yes,” Rhel said. “And they were inside the perimeter.”

The workshop door opened and several craftsmen looked up nervously. The mood was heavy, far from the excited energy of the past days. Evan stepped inside and saw what caused the tension. One of the compact weapons lay in pieces on a table. Not because it had failed, but because someone had taken it apart.

Evan leaned close. “These cuts are too clean to be from panic. This was done with intention. Someone wanted to know how this weapon works.”

Taron swallowed. “None of us touched it last night. We checked every worker who stayed.”

Rhel stepped to the table. “Whoever took this apart knew enough to remove pieces without breaking them. They knew what they were looking for.”

Evan lifted a channel ring with two fingers. It was intact, but the surface had faint scratches from probing tools. Whoever had done this was either a trained craftsman or a spy with knowledge of weapon structures.

“This is bad,” Evan said. “If they understand even a fraction of how the chamber works, they might try to copy it.”

Rhel nodded. “We have to assume our rivals know about the compact unit now.”

One craftsman spoke with fear in his voice. “Master Marshall, if they learn the repeater design—”

“They will not,” Evan cut in. “No one here except me and Taron know how the full chamber cycle works. And the prototype never left the workshop.”

Rhel placed a hand on the table. “We need to tighten security. Double guards around the workshop. No one enters without my approval.”

Evan nodded slowly. “Do it. Because if more scouts slip in, they will steal everything.”

He took a long breath and forced his focus back to the work. “We cannot stop building because of fear. If our enemies want to steal our ideas, then we stay ahead of them.”

Taron straightened his shoulders. “Then what do we build today”

Evan walked to the chalk wall and drew new lines with steady movements. “We refine the repeater again. Make it lighter. Make it harder to copy. And we add safety locks so only your soldiers can operate it.”

Rhel raised a brow. “You can do that”

“Of course. Structure is structure. If we carve identification lines into the trigger frame that respond only to specific mana signatures, then the weapon will not fire for anyone else.”

Taron blinked. “Personal mana locks. That is something even the royal battlemages do not have.”

Evan smiled faintly. “Then we build it before they do.”

He grabbed tools and set the repeater frame on the bench. The craftsmen gathered in a circle. He carved delicate grooves along the trigger plate, humming softly as he shaped the metal. The grooves formed intricate patterns that glowed faintly in response to mana.

Taron’s eyes widened. “So when a soldier grabs the weapon—”

“The lines recognize their mana. Only theirs. Anyone else gets nothing.”

The craftsmen whispered in amazement.

Rhel spoke softly. “Marshal, you are building things this world has never seen.”

Evan tightened a plate and looked up at him. “Then let us build faster than our enemies can learn.”

Hours passed. The workshop buzzed with controlled energy. Crates filled with repeater parts. Lens makers polished crystals with steady motions. Metal shapers aligned channels with new care.

Then a horn blast echoed from the walls.
Short. Sharp. Urgent.
The signal for a breach.

Rhel drew his sword immediately. “Marshall stay inside.”

Evan grabbed a compact unit from the nearest crate. “Not a chance.”

They rushed outside. Soldiers ran toward the northern courtyard where smoke drifted above the stone. Evan felt his pulse hammer as he followed Rhel around the corner.

A section of the courtyard wall had been cracked open—not by siege gear but by a small precise blast. The stone was shattered only at the center. Clean. Deliberate.

Evan stared at it.
No ordinary spear could do that.
No crude tube could do that.

Whatever caused this was small, controlled, and accurate.

Exactly like the weapons Evan had been building.

Rhel turned to him with a cold realization. “Marshall… someone out there is using precision magic.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Then we are not the only ones building something new.”

The world had started changing—and not only inside Ironhold.