Likeland Flood Part I

The rain from last night had left the castle courtyard damp and chilled, but Ren didn’t seem to mind. He stood alone at the far end of the yard, his cloak soaked, his eyes distant. The echoes of battle still rang in his head—the ambush at the drill camp had nearly taken him.

Footsteps approached, steady and soft.

“You survived,” came a voice, calm but carrying weight.

Ren turned. Kawasumi Mai, clad in her modest black training attire, stood just a few steps away. Her eyes weren’t judging him. They were studying him—measuring the damage not on his body, but in his soul.

“I did,” Ren muttered. “Barely.”

Mai stepped closer, her gaze never wavering. “Not many come back from an ambush like that. You didn’t just survive—you adapted.”

Ren forced a bitter smile. “Adaptation doesn’t mean I’m ready.”

Mai shook her head slowly. “You’re wrong. You’re more ready now than most ever will be.”

There was a pause between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Then Mai’s voice dropped to something gentler. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

Ren glanced at her, curious.

“I served on the front lines once,” she continued, her tone shifting like a soft breeze across a battlefield long forgotten. “Under Lieutenant General Futaba Watari. It was chaos—blood and steel and screaming skies.”

Ren’s eyes widened. “You fought in the old border war?”

Mai nodded. “That’s where I met him. Nakazawa. He was with Daisuke Hiryuu’s Armored Knight Division. Always wore that steel like it was part of his body—invincible, proud. Said no one could ever bring down a Knight.”

Her voice cracked for just a moment, but she kept speaking.

“We fell in love. Got married. I resigned. Lived a quiet life.” Her fingers curled slightly. “Until he didn’t come back from the Battle of Southern Border.”

Silence blanketed them. Even the wind held its breath.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said softly.

Mai inhaled deeply. “I teach now. Sword, footwork, discipline. But grief... grief rewrites you. Every time I train someone, I remember him. So I teach more than just the blade—I teach how to move. To live.”

Ren’s voice was steady when he finally spoke. “I’ve realized something too. Stealth won’t always be enough.”

Mai raised an eyebrow.

“Kawasumi-sensei,” Ren said, turning to Mai, who regarded him with calm eyes. “I’ve been thinking… I need to learn how to end fights quickly — without relying on weapons or brute strength.”

Mai nodded slowly, a faint smile touching her lips. “You mean unarmed combat?”

Ren met her gaze firmly. “More than that. I want to master Kyusho Jitsu — the art of striking pressure points to immobilize or disable. If I learn it, I can neutralize enemies silently, without killing or being seen.”

Mai’s eyes brightened. “There’s a master here in Brickvia — Sensei Takumi Ishida. He’s a recluse but one of the finest in Kyusho Jitsu. If you’re serious, I can take you to him.”

Ren’s heart quickened. This was more than training — it was survival, and a chance to fight on his own terms.

Far from the training ground, in the heart of Brickvia Castle, The grand hall was dimly lit by flickering torchlight, shadows dancing across the ancient stone walls. A storm raged outside, thunder rumbling like a distant war drum, as the council gathered around the heavy oak table. The air was thick with tension, every breath weighed down by the recent disaster.

King Hikusa stood at the head of the table, his tall frame rigid with barely contained fury. He stared out a narrow window, rain streaking the glass like tears. His voice cut through the heavy silence, low and sharp.

“How did Suragato breach our defenses so easily? The drill camp was a vital training ground! Our men—our future warriors—were slaughtered before they could even raise their swords.”

Queen Kurenai stepped forward quietly, placing a steadying hand on his arm. “Majesty, your anger is justified, but rash decisions made in haste will cost more lives. We must be deliberate.”

Hikusa’s eyes flicked to her, burning bright. “Deliberate? Our borders are bleeding while we debate. If we do nothing, more lives will be lost. What do you suggest we do, Kurenai? Wait for the enemy to march into our homes?”

Lieutenant General Futaba Watari, standing beside the queen, straightened her shoulders and met the king’s gaze with unyielding resolve. “Your Majesty, with all respect, the recent attack exposed a fatal weakness: our lack of proper fortifications. I recommend constructing a fortified wall encircling Brickvia’s territory.”

The room stirred. Minister Watanabe Ozaki stepped forward, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. His tone was measured but firm, carrying the weight of bureaucracy and politics.

“Your Majesty, honorable generals, while the idea of a fortified wall is appealing from a military standpoint, we must consider the broader impact. Diverting funds from health care, education, and commerce to such an expensive project could destabilize our city’s well-being. Our people depend on these services. If we neglect them, we risk internal collapse.”

Futaba’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Minister Ozaki, security is the foundation on which health and prosperity rest. Without defense, schools and markets are meaningless. We must prioritize the safety of Brickvia.”

Ozaki shook his head slowly. “A massive wall is not only costly but could isolate Brickvia politically and economically. Our trade routes may suffer. Our allies might perceive us as turning inward, closing ourselves off.”

King Hikusa’s face darkened. “Is it your position that we should remain vulnerable to keep appearances?”

Ozaki met the king’s gaze without flinching. “No, Majesty. I propose a more pragmatic approach: establish new fortified posts at strategic border points and increase patrols along vulnerable routes. These are manageable costs and can provide immediate improvements without crippling our economy.”

Futaba’s voice sharpened. “Temporary fixes won’t hold. Suragato and their allies will adapt. A wall is a long-term solution—permanent and formidable.”

The queen raised a calming hand. “Perhaps there is a compromise. Begin with the border posts and patrols as you suggest, Minister. Simultaneously commission an engineering study to assess the feasibility and cost of the wall. We can then build in phases to balance defense and economic health.”

The room grew silent as the council absorbed the proposal. King Hikusa finally exhaled, the storm inside him beginning to subside.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “We will begin with border posts and increased patrols immediately. But if the enemy strikes again, the wall will be built—no matter the cost.”

Ozaki nodded. “I will draft budget revisions for approval.”

Futaba gave a curt salute. “I will oversee the construction and coordinate patrol strategies.”

Kurenai smiled softly. “Together, we will protect Brickvia. For our people, and for the future.”

The thunder outside rolled once more, as if affirming their resolve.

The next morning, Kawasumi Mai took Ren to the Kyusho Jitsu dojo. They moved quietly through the narrow streets of Brickvia. Ren’s heart beat fast with a mix of nervousness and resolve as Mai led him to a modest wooden gate tucked behind the bustling eastern market.

Mai knocked twice in a sharp, practiced rhythm. The door creaked open slowly, revealing an elderly man with piercing eyes that seemed to look right through Ren. His posture was straight, but there was a calm strength in his presence.

“Mai, you bring a new student?” the man said, his voice low and steady.

“This is Ren,” Mai replied with respect. “He wishes to learn the art of Kyusho Jitsu.”

The man scrutinized Ren silently for a moment before nodding. “Kyusho Jitsu is no simple skill. It requires more than just strength — it demands patience, precision, and understanding of the body’s hidden points. Are you ready to commit fully?”

Ren met the man’s gaze without flinching. “I am.”

With a slight bow, the master stepped aside. “Then enter. Your training begins now.”

Ren stepped inside the quiet dojo, the air thick with focused energy. Wooden floors gleamed under soft light, and training dummies stood like silent sentinels along the walls. The Kyusho Jitsu master motioned him forward, beginning the lesson with a steady, deliberate pace.

Outside, Mai gave a small nod of encouragement and turned away from the gate. She disappeared down the narrow street, leaving Ren to his new path.

As she walked back toward the castle, Mai’s thoughts lingered on Ren — determined, yet untested. She hoped the old master’s teachings would give him the edge he needed to survive what lay ahead.

Inside the dojo, the master’s voice was calm but firm. “Kyusho Jitsu is the art of vital points — spots on the body where a precise strike can disrupt, disable, or even end a fight without brute force.”

He stepped forward and demonstrated, pressing a finger gently against a training dummy’s neck. “Here, a strike can cause dizziness. Here, on the ribs, it can knock the breath out. But it requires exact knowledge and perfect timing.”

Ren watched closely, muscles tense, absorbing every movement.

“Now, you try,” the master commanded.

Ren hesitated, then reached out to tap the dummy’s side where the master had indicated. It wasn’t just about strength — it was the precision, the understanding of anatomy that mattered. The master nodded approvingly but said, “Good start, but your timing must be sharper. Kyusho Jitsu is a dance with the enemy’s body.”

For hours, Ren practiced — each strike deliberate, every move controlled. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his determination did not waver.

By the day’s end, though exhausted, he felt a flicker of power — a new way to fight without relying on weapons or stealth alone.

The moment Ren returned from the dojo, his name was already on the next operation list.

A summons from the central garrison awaited him, stamped with the seal of Colonel Koizumi Kotaro, commander of the Military Engineering Division. The message was brief: “Prepare to move. Report to the staging grounds west of Brickvia. Threat level: active.”

Now officially enlisted, Ren wore the dark green uniform of the Engineering Division, a fresh Private Second Class insignia stitched on his shoulder—symbolizing his rank and new beginning. The fabric was coarse, the boots stiff, but the weight of the insignia made it real. He was no longer just a survivor or a refugee—he was a soldier with duty.

At the western edge of Brickvia’s territory, near the shattered trade lines, a critical mission was underway—constructing a fortified border post to secure the region from future incursions. Intelligence hinted at strange activity in the west, but nothing confirmed. Still, the terrain was too vulnerable, too exposed.

Colonel Koizumi greeted the arriving unit in full uniform, standing on a rise above the construction site. Trenches were being dug. Timber was stacked high. Guards patrolled the nearby hills.

“We’re not just building walls,” Koizumi began in his tactical briefing, addressing the selected personnel. “We’re planting a statement—that Brickvia will not fold under pressure.”

Ren listened closely, standing among carpenters, soldiers, and engineers.

Koizumi continued, “The western sector has long been a soft target. That changes now. Our orders are clear: complete the outpost, monitor enemy movement, and prepare fallback strategies.”

He glanced briefly toward Ren.

“You’ll be operating under Engineering Command,” he said. “But make no mistake—this won’t be a simple construction job. There’s movement in the hills. You’ll be our eyes while we’re working.”

Ren saluted sharply. “Understood.”

The mission would test more than brick and mortar—it would test resolve, awareness, and the ability to hold ground with minimal bloodshed. The team was to set up perimeter defenses, coordinate surveillance rotations, and ensure rapid communication with Brickvia Castle in the event of contact.

For Ren, this was not just an assignment—it was a chance to apply his new principles. To guard territory without unnecessary force. To shield, not slaughter.

But the unease in the air suggested the storm hadn’t passed yet.

Whispers had reached Brickvia for weeks—rumors of Kuchiwara forces moving stealthily across the western border. Now, the truth was undeniable.

The Kuchiwara Kingdom, known for its aggressive expansion and mastery of swift cavalry, had launched a sudden invasion of Likeland Castle, a vital stronghold nestled within Brickvia’s western territory. This fortress wasn’t just an ordinary outpost—it was the beating heart of the region’s commerce and trade routes. Whoever controlled Likeland controlled the flow of goods, wealth, and influence.

For the Kuchiwara, domination of this castle meant cutting off Brickvia’s western lifeline and strangling its economic power. Their motive was clear: seize control of the commerce hub and cripple Brickvia’s hold on the region.

Several days had passed since the mission to construct the western border post began. The sound of wooden beams clanking into place, voices shouting orders, and the rhythmic pounding of tools filled the camp. Amid the organized chaos, Ren remained vigilant, frequently climbing to high ground to scout the surrounding terrain. His instincts—sharpened by training and tempered by recent battles—had grown attuned to the land’s subtleties.

That afternoon, the wind carried an unsettling scent—dust, sweat, and iron. From atop a jagged ridge, Ren noticed a faint disturbance in the distant treeline near Likeland Castle. A plume of dust twisted up into the pale sky, subtle at first, then swelling with alarming speed.

Ren’s eyes narrowed. He crouched, steadying his breath, and observed. Shapes emerged—armored riders, glinting in the muted sun, surged forward beneath the Kuchiwara Kingdom’s banner. Their cavalry advanced in waves, weaving through the trees with disciplined precision. Behind them, tightly packed infantry columns surged through a collapsed section of the castle’s western wall.

“No… they’ve already breached,” Ren muttered.

The defenders within Likeland Castle, caught off guard, scrambled to respond. Archers loosed arrows from the ramparts, but the assault was too swift. Kuchiwara’s forces had exploited a vulnerability—perhaps from within. As Ren observed, soldiers with hook blades and tower shields secured the gate from inside, allowing more troops to pour into the compound.

This wasn’t a raid. It was a full-scale occupation.

Ren bounded down the slope, racing across uneven ground back toward the encampment. Splinters and mud flew under his feet as he made his way to the command tent, where Colonel Koizumi and his officers stood hunched over a map of Brickvia’s western defenses.

“Colonel Koizumi!” Ren called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs of discussion.

The officers turned, and Ren delivered his report swiftly but clearly: “Enemy troops have breached Likeland Castle. I saw cavalry and infantry moving through the western gap—fully armed and advancing rapidly. The castle is being overrun.”

Koizumi’s brow furrowed, and he stood straighter, eyes fierce with urgency. “Then the enemy has made its move,” he said grimly.

Without hesitation, he turned to a nearby soldier: Corporal Maeda Mizuhara, a wiry, sharp-eyed young soldier from the Engineering Division, clad in a dark green uniform bearing the unit's insignia and a two silver stripe of rank at the shoulder.

“Mizuhara,” Koizumi commanded, “you’ve got the legs and the instincts. Ride to Brickvia Castle. Deliver this message to King Hikusa himself—no delays, no detours. He needs to know Likeland is under siege.”

Corporal Maeda Mizuhara saluted crisply. “Understood, sir.” He mounted a brown mare already saddled near the post, adjusted his satchel, and kicked off with practiced ease. His silhouette faded into the horizon, galloping east through the misty woodlands.

Ren watched him go, the thunder of hooves echoing like a war drum. The siege had begun, and Brickvia’s response would determine whether the west stood or crumbled.

As the echo of Corporal Maeda Mizuhara’s galloping horse faded into the wind, Colonel Koizumi turned back to the command table with a tightened jaw. The officers surrounding him glanced between the map and one another, the weight of the news pressing down like a storm cloud.

“We’re too exposed,” Koizumi said, stabbing his finger at the western frontier on the parchment. “If Kuchiwara gains control of Likeland, they’ll have a clear path through the mountain passes. That puts Brickvia’s flank and our supply route in danger.”

The engineers, usually tasked with construction and maintenance, stood in stunned silence. This wasn’t just a matter of borders anymore. War had arrived early—and it had breached the walls of their own projects.

Koizumi looked up. “We can’t abandon the border post, but we also can’t remain blind. If we don’t assess the enemy's next movements, we risk being surrounded.”

His eyes met Ren’s. “You’ve got sharp eyes and quick feet. I’m ordering you to return to the ridgelines and monitor Kuchiwara’s movements. Do not engage. If you see anything that suggests a larger force is mobilizing beyond the castle, report immediately. Understood?”

Ren nodded firmly. “Understood, sir.”

Koizumi then turned to his second-in-command. “Mobilize defensive positions around the camp perimeter. Dig trenches to the west—make use of the elevation. Assign watch rotations every four hours. Everyone needs to be alert.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

Without waiting for further discussion, the engineers broke into motion. Orders were shouted. Shovels were retrieved. Reinforcements for the watchtowers were prepared. Within minutes, the air around the construction site had shifted—no longer a peaceful build site, but a fortified frontier post under the threat of war.

Ren moved swiftly up the slope once more. He had no weapon on his back—only the discipline of his training, the precision of his footwork, and the awareness of terrain most soldiers overlooked.

The war had taken its next step—and so had Ren.

Inside the high halls of Brickvia’s main castle, The Grand Chamber—a space reserved for matters of critical importance—was tense with silence as King Hikusa sat tall upon his elevated seat, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Before him, Corporal Maeda Mizuhara knelt in formality, recited every detail of Ren’s discovery. “Your Majesty... Likeland Castle has been breached. Kuchiwara troops are believed to be occupying it. Their presence is not temporary—they’ve begun setting up supply carts, watchtowers, and defensive stakes around the perimeter. The area is no longer neutral ground.”

At those words, a ripple of alarm passed through the chamber. Ministers and commanders exchanged murmurs. Queen Kurenai, poised beside her husband, narrowed her eyes but said nothing yet.

King Hikusa remained still for a moment longer, then slowly exhaled through his nose. His voice, when it came, was calm—but laced with cold fury. “Kuchiwara has overstepped their boundary. That castle lies within Brickvia’s rightful territory.”

“They did not declare war,” one of the older councilors muttered. “This is not an invasion—it’s theft by silence.”

Another added, “And a direct insult to our sovereignty.”

King Hikusa raised one hand, and the murmurs ceased. “If we allow this to stand,” he said, “we surrender not only Likeland but our dignity as a kingdom. I will not sit idly while our land is swallowed piece by piece.”

His words echoed through the chamber.

“But we must act with precision,” Queen Kurenai finally spoke. “An impulsive strike may unify our enemies. If this is Kuchiwara’s ploy, we must not answer like fools drawn into their net.”

King Hikusa nodded once, then stood. “Summon my war council. Yamada Masahiro, Watari, Tabrizu, and the rest of our high command. This incursion will not go unanswered.”

Not long after, the war chamber was heavy with tension. Candlelight flickered against the stone walls as King Hikusa stood before the massive map of Brickvia’s western territories. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as the gathered generals and ministers exchanged uneasy glances.

King Hikusa’s voice broke the silence, low but commanding. “Likeland Castle—the heart of our western trade, the lifeline of our kingdom—is lost. Seized by Kuchiwara invaders under the very nose of our defenses.”

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the room.

“If we let this stand,” he continued, voice hardening, “it will be the beginning of the end. Their foothold here will choke our economy, sever vital trade routes, and invite further incursions. Brickvia’s sovereignty will unravel.”

Yamada Masahiro, ever composed, stepped forward, his eyes burning with determination. “Your Majesty, we must act decisively and with precision. A full frontal assault risks heavy casualties and gives the enemy time to reinforce. Instead, I propose a coordinated strike from multiple fronts—north, south, and east. We will surround Likeland, cutting off all escape and resupply.”

Tabrizu’s gaze sharpened. “Distraction will be our greatest weapon. We will deploy forces to bait the enemy, drawing their focus away from the true points of attack.”

A murmur of agreement swept the chamber.

Watari, known for his cold pragmatism, added, “The approaching storm offers cover. The thunder and rain will mask our movements—if we can move swiftly, the enemy will be caught off guard.”

King Hikusa’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed their words. “Very well. Masahiro, you will command this operation. Gather your trusted generals—Tabrizu, Suzuki, Hiryuu, Watari—and prepare the troops immediately. Delay is a luxury we do not have.”

A heavy silence hung as the weight of the order sank in.

“Likeland must be ours again,” the King declared, his voice a razor’s edge. “We fight not only for land but for the soul of Brickvia. Fail, and our kingdom will crumble.”

Masahiro bowed deeply, voice steady but resolute. “I swear, Your Majesty, we will bring Likeland home.”

The council broke, the air charged with a mix of fear and fierce resolve. Outside the walls, the storm gathered strength, as if nature itself awaited the coming clash.

The campaign to reclaim Likeland Castle had begun—and none could predict the cost.

Orders were dispatched. Camps erected overnight along the western border simmered with restless energy beneath the heavy skies. Rain hammered the tents, mingling with the sharp clang of armor and whispered commands.

Colonel Koizumi Kotaro, his dark green cloak soaked and heavy with rain, assessed the terrain through narrowed eyes. His engineering division had formed a temporary camp, bracing against the gale while scouts and tacticians gathered initial terrain data. Water pooled around their boots, and visibility waned by the minute.

“We need eyes on the western ridge,” Koizumi said, turning to a group of engineering troops assembled nearby. “Sergeant Takeda Aoi, you’ll lead the reconnaissance.”

The sergeant stepped forward — a broad-shouldered man with rain dripping from his hair. Beside him stood Corporal Maeda Mizuhara, lean and sharp-eyed, and Private Second Class Ren Karibata, still new but proving to be sharp and reliable.

Koizumi pointed toward the western hills. “That ridge is too quiet. Take your team. Takeda, you lead. Observe everything. If there’s any structure or movement out there, I want a full report.”

“Yes, sir,” Takeda said with a nod. “We move immediately.”

The three men broke away from the main formation, advancing into the dense, rain-drenched terrain. The storm turned every step into a struggle, mud sucking at their boots, branches snapping underfoot. Their dark green uniforms blended with the sodden earth, their presence swallowed by the storm.

After a long walk, the trees thinned, revealing a long valley. And there, through the drifting mist and relentless downpour, the dam emerged.

It was massive — a towering structure of stone and timber built into the side of the mountain. Behind it, the reservoir churned violently, bloated by the storm. Each wave slammed against the dam’s walls, testing its strength. But what caught their eyes next froze them in place.

Armed guards patrolled the dam. Dozens of enemy soldiers — likely from the Kuchiwara Kingdom — stationed along the perimeter. Watchtowers were erected along both ends, and heavy fortifications lined the footpath connecting the ridgeline to the dam.

“They’ve fortified it,” Mizuhara muttered, squinting through the rain. “That’s no ordinary defense. They know the dam’s value.”

Ren studied the enemy formation, his instincts stirring. “They’re guarding it like it’s a lifeline. And it might be — if we breach that wall... Likeland Castle would be hit by a wave big enough to wipe out every last soldier inside. This war might be over before it even begins.”

Takeda gave a grim nod. “First, we report. Colonel Koizumi needs to see this for himself.”

Without another word, they turned back, the storm at their backs and a dangerous idea forming in their minds — one that could change the entire course of the conflict.

When they reached Colonel Koizumi Kotaro’s command post, Ren stepped forward. “Sir, we found the dam on the western side. It’s heavily guarded, but vulnerable.”

Koizumi’s sharp gaze met theirs. “Good work. We must decide our next move carefully. The dam is key to controlling the area.”

Ren exchanged a glance with Takeda and Maeda — the weight of what lay ahead settling heavily on their shoulders.

The air in the battlefield command tent was heavy with urgency as Colonel Koizumi Kotaro spread a hand-drawn map over the table. Surrounding him were Brickvia’s top military minds—Chief Strategist Yamada Masahiro stood focused behind the table, while Lt. General Futaba Watari, Lt. General Ryusuke Suzuki, and Major General Tabrizu watched silently.

Koizumi pointed to a spot west of Likeland Castle.

“This is the Rengakawa Dam, located upstream along the Ergan River. Sergeant Takeda Aoi’s team confirmed it. It’s guarded, but the surrounding terrain offers a window.”

Masahiro narrowed his eyes. “Rengakawa... that dam was built generations ago for irrigation and flood control. If opened or broken, the water would surge straight into the lower plains.”

Masahiro stood over the campaign map, his face illuminated by flickering lanternlight. Raindrops streaked down the canvas walls behind him as his generals awaited orders in tense silence.

“This storm,” Masahiro began, voice calm and steady, “is a shield gifted by the heavens. We’ll use it to control the rhythm of the battlefield.”

He gestured toward the crude map pinned before them. “Our goal is simple: Likeland Castle must be reclaimed—but intact. That means no unnecessary destruction. No compromise to its infrastructure.”

He locked eyes with each commander.

“Lt. General Futaba Watari,” he said, “begin the charge to the west gate. Make them believe it’s our main push.”

Watari gave a short nod, face stern.

“Colonel Ogawa Himura—strike hard at the north gate. Make it loud. Make it brutal. If they think we’re trying to force our way in, they’ll reinforce your side quickly.”

Ogawa gave a sharp grin. “Understood.”

“General Ryusuke Suzuki—you’ll hammer the south gate. Keep the momentum constant. Give no room to breathe.”

Suzuki gave a salute. “We’ll press them hard.”

Masahiro’s gaze turned to General Daisuke Hiryuu. “You and your armored cavalry knights will ride to the east gate. Charge with precision, crash against their line, fall back, then strike again. Keep them guessing, keep them strained.”

Hiryuu nodded, fists resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword. “The hooves of Brickvia will shake their bones.”

Masahiro then pointed toward Major General Tabrizu,“While all gates are under siege, you’ll lead your longbowmen to the eastern hills. From there, rain arrows on the perimeter. Draw out their elite defenders. When they pursue—draw them further out.”

Tabrizu crossed his arms. “They’ll chase.”

Masahiro nodded and looked at Major Shimura Kenji. “You’ll be waiting. Once they’re on the slope—ambush and crush them.”

Shimura bowed his head. “As planned.”

Masahiro’s hand hovered over the map, finger tapping a marked structure on the western edge—Rengakawa Dam.

“And now the keystone—Rengakawa Dam.”

He turned to Colonel Koizumi Kotaro. “When the Kuchiwara troops have been lured from the gates and they shut the castle tight, that’s your cue. Lead your engineering team. Scout the guards. Infiltrate. Open the floodgates. We’re not destroying it. Just releasing the water.”

Watari raised a concern. “And the council? If the dam is damaged, they’ll question us. You know Minister Ozaki and the Castle Council won’t stay quiet.”

Masahiro replied evenly, “They’ve already warned against unnecessary spending. If we break the dam, it will escalate budget debates and drag the council into open dissent. But if we simply open the dam gates and use the flood without structural loss, we win the battle and the politics.”

He tapped the map again. “With the castle gates shut, the flood will only wash away the troops caught outside. The castle will remain untouched. That’s the victory we need.”

Lightning split the sky outside. Thunder answered like a war drum.

Inside the tent, each commander stepped back, saluted, and moved swiftly toward their post. Rain swallowed their forms into the storm.

Brickvia forces moved like ghosts in the rain. Thunder masked the sound of marching feet, and the heavens cloaked their presence. All across the perimeter of Likeland Castle, the generals prepared to bring Masahiro’s multi-pronged assault to life.

At the west gate, Lt. General Futaba Watari raised his gloved fist. His troops—disciplined, unwavering—stood ready behind him. With a swift command, he launched the first strike. Clang of weapons echoed like a rising tide. Watari made sure their movements were forceful and direct, a show of brute strength meant to draw the enemy’s full attention.

To the north, Colonel Ogawa Himura led a ferocious spear charge. His soldiers screamed defiance into the downpour, their polished armor glinting faintly under streaks of lightning. Himura himself charged ahead with a halberd in hand, a thunderbolt in human form. Inside the castle, the noise made alarm bells ring in panic.

From the south, Lt. General Ryusuke Suzuki unleashed a relentless rhythm of infantry surges. The gate groaned under the assault. His movements were calculated—enough to keep defenders tied down, never enough to overextend. He knew his role: apply constant pressure and exhaust the enemy.

To the east, General Daisuke Hiryuu and his cavalry thundered across the plain. Their armor gleamed like storm-forged steel. At his signal, the knights crashed into the enemy line, then withdrew in perfect formation—only to circle and strike again. Like a storm tide, they came and went, never allowing the enemy to regroup.

High above on the eastern hill, General Tabrizu positioned his archers under soaked cloaks. “Wait,” he whispered. “Wait…” Then, when the defenders began clustering near the gate, he gave the signal.

“Now! Loose!” He shouted.

Arrows flew in blinding waves, igniting chaos. Several of Kuchiwara’s elite troops emerged, eager to silence the deadly hail.

“Bite the bait…” Tabrizu murmured.

They did.

The moment the enemy forces left the protection of the walls and began charging uphill, Major Shimura Kenji and his hidden vanguard closed the trap. Hidden in trenches and tree cover, Brickvia’s ambush unit sprang to life—blades in the rain, steel in the dark.

Back within Likeland Castle, confusion rippled. Each gate was under heavy pressure. Enemy troops had been drawn outside to face the full might of Brickvia’s generals. Then, one by one, the castle gates slammed shut—an act of desperation, meant to prevent breaches.

Under the cover of chaos, lightning, and war cries, Colonel Koizumi Kotaro and his engineering unit moved swiftly toward the Rengakawa Dam, their boots muffled in the mud. Among them were Sergeant Takeda Aoi, Corporal Maeda Mizuhara, and Private Second Class Ren—the trio who had first spotted the dam earlier.

While they advanced in the shadows, the heart of command pulsed with urgency. Yamada Masahiro stood at the center command tent, his cloak soaked and clinging to his shoulders, eyes fixed on the shifting map before him. Around him, communication runners rushed in and out with soaked reports and urgent updates.

But Masahiro's gaze never wavered from the battlefield.

One by one, each general's signal flare pierced the dark sky.

From the west, Watari’s deep green banners flared above the walls.

From the north, Himura's line surged forward, spears flashing in arcs.

From the south, Suzuki’s siege rhythm pounded like a war drum.

From the east, Hiryuu’s cavalry charged between mud and steel.

From the hill, Tabrizu's archers turned the sky into a forest of arrows.

And then—

A horn blared.

A second.

A third.

Masahiro’s lips curled slightly.

“Every gate,” he murmured, “has been shut.”

Kuchiwara’s forces had taken the bait. Drawn by the pressure from every direction, their commanders had sent most of their troops outside to meet the assault head-on. Now, with panic growing inside, they had sealed the gates shut, hoping to prevent a breach.

They didn’t realize they’d created a trap for themselves.

Masahiro leaned over the table, scanning the crude illustration of the RengakawaDam, a relic of the old frontier built before Likeland rose as a commerce hub.

“If they fail,” he muttered to himself, “we all die soaked in mud and lightning.”

Meanwhile, near the shadowy rise of the RengakawaDam, Colonel Koizumi Kotaro knelt behind a wet outcrop, his cloak weighed down by the storm. The pounding rain masked their approach, but it also soaked everything—mud clung to boots, and even whispers were muffled by the storm's howl.

Behind him stretched the ranks of his Engineering Division. These weren’t frontline fighters, but they were trained, disciplined, and prepared to breach and disable fortifications with silent precision. Each man knew the stakes.

Flanking Koizumi were Sergeant Takeda Aoi and Corporal Maeda Mizuhara, both seasoned engineers. Private Second Class Ren stood just behind, scanning the towering silhouette of the dam through sheets of rain.

The Rengakawa Dam loomed like a fortress built by forgotten hands—wide, reinforced with ancient stone, and layered with creaking wooden water gates. The runoff from upstream rivers crashed against its walls, and the thunder above made the whole mountain seem alive.

Takeda whispered, “Guard rotation—twelve men. Three at the gatehouse, the rest along the span. Lanterns in intervals. No sound horns visible, but they’ll signal with fire if it comes to that.”

Koizumi narrowed his eyes. “They’ve anticipated an attack.”

Mizuhara added, “No clear gaps. They’re patrolling tight. Might be a small blind spot on the west side where the ledge narrows, but it’ll be a crawl.”

Koizumi turned to his lieutenants. “No direct assault unless necessary. We’re not here to fight—we’re here to open the floodgate.”

Then, he raised his voice just enough for the front lines of the engineers to hear him through the storm. “The dam must be opened—not destroyed. If we break it, we lose Likeland’s future. But if we succeed in this maneuver, we wipe out Kuchiwara’s forces outside the castle in one stroke. And not a single brick of the commerce district will be harmed.”

Ren felt a chill—not from the cold, but from the weight of the moment.

Koizumi looked at him.

“You’ll lead the forward scout with Mizuhara. Takeda, coordinate the left breach line. Once we confirm a weak flank, we send a group through to reach the crank controls. Keep it quiet, keep it fast.”

He paused, eyes on the structure.

“And pray they don’t light the signal fire.”

Ren crouched low beside Corporal Maeda Mizuhara as the two of them moved along the narrow ledge on the dam’s western flank. The surface was slick with moss and runoff, and each movement demanded absolute concentration.

Ren’s heart pounded harder than ever before. The pressure of the mission pressed heavily on him—this wasn’t training or a drill. This was real. If they were spotted, the whole operation could fall apart. If they failed to open the floodgates, the battle outside the castle could turn into disaster.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the edge of the rock.

I have to stay focused. I can’t mess this up.

Just ahead, Mizuhara raised two fingers—a silent signal. A patrol guard had just turned his back. They had a brief moment where the dam’s blind spot was open.

Within moments, a few soldiers from Koizumi’s team stepped into partial view near the forest line, just long enough to be seen by the patrol. The bait worked—three of the guards stationed near the gate called to one another and began moving down the ridge, leaving only two remaining near the entrance to the dam’s inner chamber.

Mizuhara moved again.

He slid forward with careful steps, moving quickly yet silently behind a column of stone. Ren followed, his breath catching in his throat. His muscles were tense, the rain stinging his skin, but he kept close behind Mizuhara, every step bringing them closer to their target.

From their new position, they could see the control room—an old wooden structure reinforced with stone beams, sheltering a large crank mechanism connected to the water gate.

Mizuhara leaned in and whispered just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

“Two guards inside. No others. Crank looks usable. That’s the control we need.”

Ren nodded, trying to calm his nerves. The room was close—too close—and any mistake could raise an alarm. But this was their chance.

He glanced back toward Koizumi’s hidden line, where the rest of the engineering unit waited for the signal. Mizuhara gave Koizumi a quick hand sign confirming they were set to move inside.

Koizumi watched from a concealed ridge near the dam, the storm cloaking his presence. As soon as Mizuhara gave the confirmation signal, Koizumi didn’t hesitate. He turned to his own scout, soaked and crouched beside him, and gave a sharp nod.

“Signal General Masahiro. Tell him we’re ready.”

The scout took off instantly, darting through the rain and trees toward the rear command line.

Meanwhile, miles away at the temporary battlefield camp, Masahiro stood beneath a large canopy, overlooking the distant castle gates through a rain-slicked spyglass. Moments later, the drenched scout burst into the tent, bowed, and relayed the signal from Koizumi.

Masahiro’s expression tightened. He turned to his aides and barked orders swiftly.

“Send messengers to all flanks—west, north, south, east. Tell every general to pull back from the gates immediately. No one is to remain near the castle walls or the river channel.”

His aides saluted and scattered into the storm, each racing toward a different direction, flags and lanterns ready to signal retreat.

Masahiro lowered his spyglass and whispered to himself, “Now it’s up to Koizumi.”

Koizumi remained crouched behind the rocks, rain streaming down his dark green uniform, eyes locked on the distant outline of the Likeland Castle west gate. Moments later, he spotted them—flags moving swiftly and troops pulling back in coordinated waves.

Futaba Watari’s forces were retreating from the west gate, just as planned. Along the riverbank, his soldiers peeled away from their positions, carefully avoiding the floodplain. The signal had been received.

Koizumi exhaled, tension still etched across his face. He turned to Mizuhara and Ren, who were both waiting just beneath the cover of a stone outcropping near the base of the dam.

Now,” Koizumi muttered under his breath, “Let the water decide.”

He raised his hand and gave the final signal.

Mizuhara nodded without a word, eyes sharp with focus. He then turned to Ren, who, despite his nerves, gave a firm nod back.

The heavy iron door creaked as Mizuhara eased it open, revealing the dim interior of the floodgate control room. Inside, two Suragato guards stood near the control wheel—one leaning lazily against the wall, the other poking the floor with the butt of a spear. They turned sharply at the sound of the door opening.

Before they could raise the alarm, Mizuhara lunged forward.

The first guard barely had time to react. Mizuhara’s shoulder slammed into his chest, knocking him into the wall. The spear clattered to the floor.

Ren hesitated—but only for a second. The second guard rushed at him, blade drawn. Ren ducked low, remembering his kyusho jitsu training.

Target the weak points. Disrupt. Disable.

He stepped inside the man’s guard, striking swiftly at the base of the attacker’s throat, just below the collarbone.

The guard gasped and dropped to his knees, stunned.

Mizuhara delivered a clean blow to his opponent’s temple, rendering him unconscious. The other collapsed beside him a moment later, clutching his chest in pain, unable to speak.

Ren’s breath trembled in his throat, but his eyes were steady.

Mizuhara gave him a quick nod of approval. “Secure them. We’re almost there.”

As Ren dragged the guards to the side and bound their hands with cord, Mizuhara moved to the massive control wheel, gripping its rusted spokes.

Outside, thunder cracked again, rolling across the valley. Koizumi, watching from above with soaked hair plastered to his face, saw the last confirmation signal: a red cloth tied to the outer beam.

The moment had come.

Mizuhara gripped the rusted wheel first, straining against its resistance. The centuries-old mechanism groaned under the pressure of years without use. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing in the confined space like the ticking of fate itself.

“Ren,” Mizuhara grunted, his boots sliding slightly on the wet floor, “Help me turn this.”

Ren rushed over without hesitation. Together, shoulder to shoulder, they heaved with all their strength. Inch by inch, the floodgate began to rise. The metal shrieked like a wounded beast, vibrating through their bones.

Outside, the dam’s main channel rumbled.

Ren’s muscles burned, but he kept pushing. Rain pounded the stone walls, thunder booming as if the heavens themselves were roaring in unison. At last, with one final pull, the wheel locked into place—and the gate released.

A deafening roar filled the chamber.

Ren staggered back to the entrance and stared out toward the valley.

He watched in stunned silence as a monstrous surge of water burst forth from the dam’s mouth. The river swelled instantly, becoming a furious wave, racing like a living thing down the slope. Trees bent, earth tore open, and tents, watchfires, and soldiers were swallowed whole in a matter of seconds.

Troops stationed outside Likeland Castle had no chance to escape.

Ren’s heart pounded as his mind tried to process what he had just done. The rush of water didn’t just carry away the enemy. It swept away certainty, innocence, and something deeper he couldn’t yet name.

He stood there, eyes wide, drenched in both rain and a dawning sense of awe—and guilt.

“I... I really did it,” he whispered. “That flood will change everything...”

Mizuhara placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “It had to be done. For Brickvia. For the war.”

Ren nodded slowly, but the roar of the water echoed in his ears louder than ever—as if it would haunt him for a long time.

Water surged forward like a charging beast, devouring the narrow riverbanks as it hurtled toward the valley below.

Koizumi raised his arm in a sharp signal. Mizuhara and Ren quickly withdrew, the mission complete.

Far in the distance, atop a rain-lashed ridge, Yamada Masahiro narrowed his eyes. The flash signal had been received. His scouts had already completed their rounds. Every Brickvia general—Watari to the west, Hiryuu to the east, Suzuki to the south, and Colonel Himura to the north—had fully pulled their units away from the castle gates and riverbanks. No friendly troops remained near the perimeter. They were nowhere near the castle walls now, all repositioned to higher ground or to the flanks, exactly as planned.

Masahiro gave a solemn nod. “Let it come.”

And then it did.

The flood burst forth with terrifying force. A wide, churning wall of water swept across the open field surrounding Likeland Castle. Rain battered down from the thunderous sky as the flood smashed into the unprepared Kuchiwara forces, who had just minutes earlier poured outside the sealed gates in hopes of turning the tide.

Now they were fighting for their lives.

Caught off guard, soldiers screamed as the water uprooted siege equipment, overturned supply carts, and crushed defensive formations. Dozens were swept off their feet. Some tried to retreat back to the gates, but they were shut tight. The castle stood like an island amidst the storm, but there was no refuge for the troops outside.

Masahiro watched the devastation with grim clarity. The flood had not touched the castle itself, just as he had calculated. Only the Kuchiwara forces stationed outside had paid the price.

From afar, the other Brickvia generals observed the torrent, the thunderclap of nature’s wrath replacing the clash of steel.

And behind the dam, Koizumi’s engineering team stood breathless, staring down at the chaos they had unleashed.

The battlefield had changed—washed clean of enemies, and marked by a single, overwhelming truth:

Brickvia had turned the land itself into its greatest weapon.