The smoke from the courtyard breach drifted slowly into the air, forming a thin gray line above the fortress. Soldiers scrambled to secure the area, pushing wagons and shields into place while scouts tracked footprints leading toward the north woods. The air stung with the smell of scorched stone, and Evan knelt beside the blasted wall to inspect the damage.

He ran his hand along the shattered center. “This was no crude strike. The blast was focused. It tunneled inward instead of spreading out.”

Taron crouched beside him nervously. “Master Marshall, that means whoever did this has a weapon like ours.”

Evan shook his head. “Not exactly. The blast pattern is different. Ours compresses energy into a tight beam. This one is more like a punch of mana rather than a slice. Strong but not refined.”

Rhel joined them. “Our patrol tracked the intruder’s path into the woods. Light steps, fast movement, no heavy armor. Someone trained. Possibly a rogue mage or scout.”

Evan stood. “We need to assume they saw the workshop and the repeater. Or at least enough to understand our breakthroughs.”

Rhel frowned. “Which means our time is shorter than ever.”

A runner sprinted toward them. “Commander! We found something near the treeline.”

They followed the soldier to the edge of the woods. On the ground lay a small metal shard shaped into a curved plate. Evan picked it up. It hummed faintly and vibrated with unstable mana.

Taron whispered. “That looks like a sight frame.”

Evan nodded. “A crude attempt. Someone is trying to copy us.”

Rhel’s eyes darkened. “The rival kingdom must have a team working on new weapons. They probably sent scouts the moment they saw the compact units on our walls.”

Evan turned the shard in his hand. The poor craftsmanship stood out immediately. Crooked edges, flawed channel grooves, uneven thickness. Whoever built it was skilled but lacked precision.

He smirked slightly. “They are trying to catch up. Good. That means we are ahead.”

Rhel stared at him. “You are too calm.”

“I am calm because this tells me something important. If they were truly advanced, they would not imitate. They would innovate. But they are copying. That means they understand our threat but not our method.”

Taron exhaled with relief. “So what do we do now”

Evan tossed the shard aside. “We move faster.”

They returned to the workshop where craftsmen waited anxiously. Evan stood in the center of the room and raised his voice.

“Listen up. Our enemies are trying to copy our weapons. They sent someone into our walls. They cracked the courtyard stone with a new device. That means they fear us. They want to steal what we built.”

Gasps and murmurs filled the workshop.

Evan continued. “So we build something they cannot copy. We take the repeater and push it further. We refine it. Strengthen it. And we add countercraft—tools that disable enemy devices.”

Taron blinked. “Disable them How”

Evan pointed at the chalkboard. “If their weapons rely on unstable mana pulses, then we build disruptors. Small devices that scramble the mana lines inside their tools. When they try to fire, the energy collapses.”

Rhel looked impressed. “So instead of fighting their weapons head on, we destroy them before they fire.”

“Exactly.”

The craftsmen leaned in, fascinated. Evan sketched fast shapes: small discs with wide channels that pulled ambient mana inward. He explained how a disruptor could attach to shields or even be thrown like a small stone.

When activated, it would release a pulse that destabilized any fragile mana structure nearby.

Taron whispered. “That would destroy their sight frames and blast tubes.”

Evan nodded. “And they will not understand why.”

The workshop erupted into action. Teams split into new stations. Lens makers shaped crystals for disruptors. Metalworkers carved disc frames. Apprentices mixed mana paste with powdered stone for stability.

Rhel helped organize guard rotations, making sure scouts watched every perimeter.

Hours passed. Evan tested the first disruptor in the yard. He placed a cracked enemy sight frame on a stone block and held the disruptor disc above it.

“Everyone step back.”

He activated the disc.
A soft pulse rippled outward.
The sight frame shattered instantly, splitting down its flawed channels.

The craftsmen cheered.

Rhel nodded. “Good. With these we can break enemy weapons before they become a real threat.”

But then a horn sounded again—from the west wall this time. Not alarm. Not breach.

A messenger arrived breathless. “Commander Rhel! A rider approaches under a white banner. They request a meeting. They claim to come from the Serpent Kingdom.”

Evan froze. “The same nation we saw on the ridge.”

Rhel’s eyes narrowed. “White banner means negotiation…”

Evan shook his head. “Or trickery.”

Rhel turned to him. “Marshall, you are coming with me. If this meeting involves weapons, I want the man who understands more about weapon craft than anyone in this fortress.”

Evan grabbed a compact unit and strapped it to his belt. “Let us see what they want.”

As they walked toward the western gate, Evan felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders.

The rival kingdom was not attacking.
Not scouting.
Not copying.

They were coming to talk.
Which meant the world was shifting again.

And whatever happened next would decide the fate of Ironhold—and the future of every weapon Evan had built.