The Will to Live Is My Strongest Skill

Cold. Darkness. The stone ledge overlooking the bunker's guest sector was narrow.

​Noah sat with one knee pulled up, his eyes locked on the heavy oak door behind which King Valdes slept. This vantage point was the only spot that offered a perfect view of the entire corridor. It would have been manageable, if not for his companion.

​Elyria perched on a stone protrusion just above his shoulder. Her wings twitched, casting a faint greenish glow. Out of sheer boredom, she began to hum a tedious forest melody under her breath.

​"Shut up already," Noah spat, not turning around.

​"Yeah, yeah, of course," Elyria replied indifferently.

​She paused for three seconds. Then she struck up the exact same tune, half a tone louder.

​Noah's jaw twitched. I can't abandon my post, but enduring this mocking piping in my ear is beyond my strength, he thought.

​Noah dropped from the ledge for a fraction of a second.

​Below, at the seam of the masonry, a sharp metallic snap echoed. He flashed back up to the perch instantly. Only now, his left hand clamped around a bundle of fresh, sap-filled roots that Elyria had spent three hours carefully weaving along the wall yesterday to reinforce the sector.

​Noah pointedly raised the severed vines to her tiny face. He drew his dagger and, right before the spirit's eyes, began to shred them into pieces.

​The singing died instantly. The severed roots Noah was shredding suddenly convulsed in his palm. A split second later, they shot upward, erupting into rapid growth and binding his wrist in a vice grip. Thick woody veins snaked up his forearm to his shoulder, pinning his arm flat against the stone wall.

​"Oh, so we're fighting? Fine," he exhaled softly.

​The dagger in his right hand flipped into a reverse grip. The blade bit into the wood with a dull crack, severing the bonds in three precise strikes. Breaking free, Noah bolted from the ledge, dissolving into the corridor's deep night shadows.

​He moved noiselessly, shifting his trajectory every second to throw her off balance. Noah flanked her from behind, lunging out of the dark, his hand already rising to pin her against the masonry with the pommel of his knife.

​She caught the slightest ripple in the air. At the exact moment Noah was poised to strike, thin, whip-like vines erupted from the mortar joints. They coiled around his striking arm and both legs instantly. Noah froze mid-stride, his blade halting an inch from her head.

​"Gotcha," Noah whispered suddenly.

​Instead of resisting, he spun the dagger through his fingers, slashing the vines on his legs, and with a violent jerk hurled one of the severed chunks straight at Elyria. The root hissed through the air and froze, halted by her magical ward a millimeter from her nose.

​In the same heartbeat, Noah showered her with a handful of severed debris he had scooped up with his free hand. The dense cloud of leaves and splinters completely blinded Elyria for a fraction of a second. Seizing the opening, Noah relocated instantly, appearing right behind her.

​But just as his fingers were about to close around her wings, the space behind the curtain of foliage flashed with a brief emerald spark, and she materialized on the opposite ledge.

​Noah grimaced, lowering his empty hand.

​"Teleporting is cheating, you know," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the dagger.

​Suddenly, a heavy, groaning creak echoed from the residential block. The oak door of the forge slowly swung open, spilling a thick column of warm yellow light across the stone.

​Darwin appeared on the threshold. He wore nothing but trousers, his beard wild, a fire poker clenched in his fist. He yawned loudly into the empty square, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

​"Who goes there..." he grumbled, scanning the darkened courtyard.

​Noah managed to snatch the tiny spirit around the torso with both hands, while Elyria twisted, digging her small fingers into his long hair with all her might.

​Both froze, barely breathing.

​In perfect unison, without breaking their holds, they leaned backward, sinking deeper into the freezing alcove of the ledge.

​Darwin lingered on the threshold for another ten seconds. He shook his head, spat, and shivered in the nocturnal draft.

​"Must be seeing things..." he muttered, stepping back inside.

​The door closed. The bolt clicked into place. Night silence swept over the square once more.

​The moment the light died, Elyria yanked Noah's hair with renewed fury.

​"This is all your fault!" she hissed in his ear, barely audible.

​"Your own fault! Stop humming your garbage!" Noah unceremoniously loosened his grip, dropping the spirit back onto the stone protrusion.

​They sat facing each other, chests heaving from the frantic exchange. For a heartbeat, they glared at each other with pure venom, then leaned forward simultaneously, slamming their foreheads together in defiance. Noah's eyes gleamed dangerously, while thin green sparks began to swirl around Elyria's fingers once more.

​Seven hours later.

​Morning light barely pierced the seams in the bunker's ceiling. From a distance, the familiar rhythm of axes and the low hum of the waking forge carried through the air.

​Iron rolled out of his quarters, turning the rims of his chair. Noah emerged from the corridor to meet him. He looked disheveled, to say the least: his jerkin was slashed in several places, a small green leaf clung to his shoulder, and a fresh scrape marred his forehead.

​"How did it go?" Iron asked quietly, stopping his chair. "Anything suspicious?"

​Noah rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily and shook his head.

​"From the king—nothing. Except for some reason, Darwin barged out into the square in the middle of the night with a fire poker. Nearly blew our cover."

​Iron looked closely at Noah's scrape. I think I know exactly why, Iron thought.

​"Alright, good work. Go rest."

​The previous night. Immediately after supper.

​Behind the heavy oak door of the royal quarters, Arian quickly inspected the window latches and drew the heavy drapes. The two other guards stood rigid by the entrance, hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

​King Valdes stood near the table, slowly unbuckling his heavy pauldrons. He turned to his men, his gaze hard but steady.

​"Listen to me carefully," he said, low but distinct. "Tonight—no weapons. No killing."

​Arian raised an eyebrow in surprise but kept his peace.

​"If we start a slaughter, the city will seal the mines, and Iron would sooner detonate this bunker than yield his technology. We must show them we are not the enemy. Questions?"

​The guards stood to attention in unison.

​"None, Your Majesty," Arian replied quietly.

​Present day.

​Iron returned to his quarters. He checked the locks on his wheelchair.

​With a practiced motion, he straightened the thick woolen blanket over his knees. He brushed a speck of phantom dust from the armrests.

​His mind was clear, cold, and calculated. The night's anxiety had entirely ebbed away.

​The engineer gripped the rims, and the chair rolled quietly across the stone floor of the bunker, charting a course toward the grand negotiation hall.

​Arian was already waiting outside the workshop door. At the sight of Iron, he stepped back without a word, clearing the passage.

​Through the half-open door drifted the scent of forge smoke and fresh tea. King Valdes was already seated at the workbench. His helm rested to the side, while a clean sheet of parchment and an inkwell sat upon the timber tabletop.

​Iron pushed the heavy oak door open. The wheels glided over the threshold, crunching softly against the fine stone grit.

​"Good morning, Valdes," Iron said calmly, bringing his chair to a halt opposite the king.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!