Ironhold did not sleep.
The fortress hummed with the constant ring of hammers and the glow of mana crystals as the night deepened. Soldiers rotated watch posts with tight grips on compact weapons. Craftsmen worked in shifts so no station sat idle. Every stone in the workshop felt warm from effort.

Evan stood on a scaffold beside the half finished mana cannon, carving the main compression path inside the barrel. The inner surface had to be perfectly smooth or the beam would scatter. He moved slowly and breathed evenly, his mind locked into the flow of the work. Taron stood below holding tools, never more than a step behind.

“Hand me the thin crystal file,” Evan said.

Taron passed it up immediately. “Master, the vents on the right side are holding. No more heat spikes.”

“Good. Keep checking them.”

He resumed carving. Each stroke left a clean curve, turning the inner channel into a spiraled ribbon of mana flow. It reminded him of the spiral weapon, only magnified hundreds of times. This cannon was not just a bigger repeater—it was a stable engine, built to shape raw power into precision.

Rhel climbed the scaffolding. “Scouts report the forest is quiet. Too quiet. No movement from the Coil Guild. No movement from the Serpent Kingdom.”

Evan didn’t look up. “That means they are waiting.”

“For what”

“For us to finish something big.”

Rhel exhaled. “Then let us give them something worth waiting for.”

By midnight the cannon’s frame stood tall. Its barrel stretched across the supports like a sleeping iron giant. Craftsmen hurried to the base to install the stabilizer core—a large compressed mana crystal tightly wrapped in metal. It pulsed with deep blue light.

Taron stared at the core with awe. “Master Marshall, I’ve never seen a crystal this strong. It feels like it could explode from just breathing near it.”

“That’s why we cage it,” Evan said. “Stability first. Power later.”

Three men lifted the stabilizer while Evan guided them. They locked it into the chamber beneath the barrel. It clicked into place, and the hum deepened as the energy began to flow into the inner channels.

The cannon’s entire frame glowed faintly.

Rhel stepped back. “It looks alive.”

Evan nodded. “It is. And we are about to test it.”

Craftsmen froze.

Taron blinked. “Now Now now”

“Now,” Evan said. “If something goes wrong I want it to happen before dawn.”

They wheeled the cannon toward the courtyard. Six soldiers pushed from behind while craftsmen kept the stabilizers steady. The courtyard was cold, the moon casting pale light over stone and armor.

Soldiers gathered along the walls. Even the mages stepped down from their towers, curious and uneasy.

Evan climbed onto the control platform and checked the focus lens. “Aim it at the northern dummy.”

Rhel’s voice echoed. “Everyone clear the path.”

Soldiers moved aside, hearts pounding.

Evan placed his hand on the trigger lever. The mana in the cannon vibrated, sending a faint tremor through the wood platform. It was more powerful than anything he had handled, but his hands did not shake.

“Charging,” he said.

He pulled the lever halfway. The vents glowed brighter. The crystal hummed deeper. The barrel filled with a swirling spiral of light.

Soldiers gasped. Some took unintentional steps back.

Taron whispered, “Master… if this fails…”

“It won’t.”

Evan pulled the lever fully.

The cannon fired.

A compressed spiral beam exploded outward in a line so sharp it sliced through the air like breaking glass. The shot hit the northern dummy at full force. The dummy didn’t just split—it disintegrated into dust and scattered into the wind.

The courtyard went silent.

Rhel stared. “By the ancestors…”

Evan checked the vents. “Stable. No cracking. No overheating.”

Taron’s jaw hung open. “Master… you built a tower killer.”

Evan nodded slowly. “A long range precision weapon. If the Serpent Kingdom tries anything, they will see this first.”

But then—

A shape flickered on the northern ridge.

A figure. Cloaked. Watching the test.

Rhel cursed. “Coil Guild. They saw the entire shot.”

Evan tightened his grip on the cannon rail. “Let them watch. Let them understand what they’re up against.”

The figure vanished into the trees.

For a moment Ironhold stood in silence—awed, afraid, powerful.

The mana cannon had awakened the night.