The road leading into the Squatters' District was long and worn down by years of neglect. The air felt different here—thick with smoke, the stench of unwashed bodies, and the distant crackling of scattered fires. The deeper the Grimknights rode into the district, the clearer the devastation became.
Collapsed buildings leaned against each other like drunks in the alleyways. Makeshift barricades lined the streets, built from broken carts, shattered furniture, and rusted sheets of metal. What little remained of the government's influence here was limited to a few small outposts, their banners dirtied and frayed.
The people, however, were still here. Some huddled near small fires for warmth, their eyes sunken from hunger. Others gathered in tense groups, speaking in hushed voices, their expressions shifting between anger and fear. The revolution wasn't just an idea here—it was an everyday reality.
Kaiser exhaled sharply as he guided his horse past a group of malnourished children, their thin frames barely clothed against the chill. "This place is worse than I imagined."
Elric, riding beside him, nodded grimly. "This is what war does. No matter who wins, the people lose."
Henry remained silent, his gaze scanning the district. There was no denying it—this place had already fallen.
As they ventured deeper, it became clear just how much control The Children of Woodsaw had seized. Red banners with the symbol of the revolution—crossed axes behind a burning tree—hung from rooftops. Armed men patrolled the streets, most wearing patchwork armor, but their expressions carried the certainty of victory. They no longer feared the government.
"We should keep a low profile," Espada muttered. "We might not be wearing Royal Guard colors, but these people will still see us as outsiders."
Henry agreed. The last thing they needed was a fight in unfamiliar territory.
Their caution, however, did little to keep them unnoticed.
A group of men, rough-looking and armed with clubs and blades, stepped out from a nearby alleyway, blocking their path.
One of them, a burly man with a scar running down his jawline, narrowed his eyes. "Haven't seen you lot before. What business do you have in our district?"
Henry pulled back his hood slightly, revealing his face. "We're just passing through. No trouble."
The man studied them for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle. "No one just 'passes through' anymore." His eyes landed on Henry's shield. "That's Royal Guard equipment."
Before the tension could escalate further, a voice cut through the air.
"Let them be."
A figure emerged from the shadows, a man in his late thirties, rugged but composed. His leather coat was worn but sturdy, his belt lined with knives. He carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to danger.
"Who are you?" Henry asked cautiously.
"Gregory Malter," the man replied. "A bounty hunter… or at least, I used to be." He crossed his arms. "Now, I work with the revolutionaries."
Henry studied him carefully. There was no recognition between them, but Gregory clearly knew a warrior when he saw one.
"You were Royal Guard," Gregory stated bluntly.
"Not anymore," Henry replied.
Gregory smirked. "Convenient." He gestured at the Grimknights. "You're either with the revolution or against it. So tell me, what brings you to the Squatters' District?"
"We're not here to pick sides," Henry said, keeping his tone even. "We want to understand what's really happening here."
Gregory's expression darkened. "What's happening?" He gestured toward the ruined buildings, the starving people, the streets soaked in filth and despair. "This is what's happening. The government abandoned us long before the revolution began. The only reason these people even have a chance is because Carous Gelheim and his men fight for them."
Henry met his gaze without flinching. "And what happens when the revolution wins? What happens after the city falls?"
Gregory's smirk faded. "Then we rebuild. And if you're thinking about getting in our way… well, I'd advise against it."
Espada crossed her arms, unimpressed. "You sure about that? Because from what I see, this place is already a graveyard."
Gregory's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, a man in tattered armor rushed over to him. "Sir, we have a problem—resistance fighters were spotted near the supply route."
Gregory swore under his breath. "Damn loyalists still clinging to false hope." He turned back to Henry. "Stay in the district too long, and you'll have to pick a side." With that, he walked off, disappearing into the chaos.
Once he was gone, Elric muttered, "That guy rubs me the wrong way."
Henry didn't respond. Instead, he turned to the others. "We need to find someone still loyal to the government. If we're going to act, we need information first."
After some asking around—most of which involved bribes, threats, or Espada simply being persistent—they were led to a half-collapsed warehouse where a group of resistance fighters were hiding.
Inside, a group of weary warriors sat around a war table, their weapons within arm's reach. At the head of the table sat an older man, his broad shoulders and scarred face marking him as a seasoned warrior.
"Roland Vask," the man introduced himself. "I take it you're not here to join the revolution?"
"Not quite," Henry said. "We're looking for ways to help without aligning with them."
Roland studied them, then nodded. "If you want to help, then listen closely. There's a supply convoy scheduled to pass through the outskirts of the district, and the revolutionaries are planning to ambush it. If we lose that supply line, the government loses what little foothold we have left in the district."
Henry glanced at the others before nodding. "We'll handle it."
The following evening, they waited at a narrow street where the convoy would pass. The revolutionaries struck as expected, and the Grimknights engaged them in open combat.
The fight was brutal. Bjorn waded through enemies like a force of nature, swinging his axes without hesitation. Espada moved like a phantom, her blade finding the gaps in her opponents' defenses. Kaiser used Phantom Step to slip past enemies, his dagger cutting deep before vanishing again.
Then, a new figure entered the battlefield.
A tall man with a spear, his stance commanding, stepped forward. He was in his late thirties, battle-worn but exuding confidence.
"Dante Viel," someone whispered in fear.
His Hand of God ability—Time Manipulation—became apparent as he froze time for a brief moment, repositioning himself mid-attack. Before Henry could react, Dante's spear grazed past his shield, nearly breaking through.
Realizing the battle was turning against them, Henry ordered a retreat.
They escaped with the supply convoy intact, but they had made an enemy of The Children of Woodsaw.
As they regrouped with Roland, he gave them a nod of approval. "You've helped, but you've also painted a target on your backs."
Henry exhaled. "Then we'll be ready for whatever comes next."
Far from the battlefield, Carous Gelheim received word of the battle. He sat at his war table, eyes narrowing as he read the report.
"They're still holding out?" He scoffed, tossing the parchment aside. "No more delays. Crush the resistance. Wipe them out completely."
The order was given.
The war was no longer creeping forward—it was charging toward its climax.
Deep within the crumbling ruins of an abandoned building in the Squatters' District, Roland Vask stood before his gathered forces. His worn face was hardened with determination, though the reality of his situation was grim. Around him, fifty-five civilians turned fighters listened in silence, their eyes filled with desperation rather than confidence.
They weren't soldiers. They were bakers, blacksmiths, farmers, and street merchants—people who had no choice but to fight. Their weapons were just as crude—rusted machetes, barbed sticks, pitchforks, and kitchen knives. Some held onto old crossbows with only a few bolts left to fire.
Despite their weaknesses, they stood in defiance. They had been forgotten by the government, hunted by the revolutionaries, and left with nothing. This was their last chance.
Standing among them, the Grimknights were the only warriors with true combat experience.
Roland exhaled and spoke, his voice carrying across the ruins. "Two days from now, when the second moon vanishes from the sky, we strike."
A murmur passed through the crowd. The timing was intentional. By then, Carous Gelheim and his main army would be marching on Yore. The fort in the Squatters' District, which served as the revolutionaries' command post in this part of the city, would be lightly defended.
It was a bold plan—but their only chance.
A Gamble for Survival
Roland continued, "Carous believes we're too weak to resist. He thinks we're waiting to be slaughtered." He slammed his fist against a wooden crate, the sound echoing through the ruins. "We'll prove him wrong."
He turned toward the Grimknights, raising a hand. "We're not alone in this fight. These warriors have come to stand with us."
The gathered resistance fighters turned their eyes toward Henry and his group. Roland stepped aside, allowing Henry to take center stage.
Henry exhaled. He was no king, no noble warlord. But in this moment, these people needed strength.
He took a step forward and spoke with unwavering conviction.
"You are not just survivors. You are warriors now." His voice carried through the ruined chamber. "They think you're too weak to fight back. They think you will run. But I ask you—who else will fight for your families? For your homes? Who else will take a stand when the rest of the world has abandoned you?"
Some in the crowd clenched their fists, others nodded. A fire began to burn in their eyes.
"Strength isn't about weapons or bloodlines," Henry continued. "It's about will. If you stand, you fight. And if you fight, you win."
A few cheers broke out. The morale in the room shifted. They were still outnumbered and poorly armed—but they believed they had a chance. And that belief was power.
The Grimknights' Reactions
As Henry stepped back, Espada leaned slightly toward Kaiser and let out a quiet chuckle.
"Overdramatic," she whispered, shaking her head with amusement.
Elric shot her a glare, his jaw tightening. "Show some respect."
Espada smirked but didn't argue.
Bjorn, seated on a broken wooden crate, continued chewing on a piece of bread, completely indifferent to the tension in the room.
Kaiser, however, was lost in his thoughts. He wasn't listening to Henry anymore. His eyes had settled on Gregory Malter, who stood among the resistance fighters.
"That was Gregory," Kaiser thought to himself, his fingers tightening around his belt. "The one who stopped the revolutionaries back then. I cannot talk to him right now. I don't know how he would react to seeing me."
Kaiser's contract entity, Alzalel, whispered in his mind.
"You fear confrontation?" the ancient ghost murmured.
"No," Kaiser replied inwardly. "I just don't know if he sees me as a friend or an enemy."
But what Kaiser didn't realize was that Gregory already knew who he was.
Gregory had recognized him immediately when he arrived with the Grimknights. He had known Kaiser was part of the group, and it was one of the reasons he had chosen to abandon the revolution and fight for the resistance.
But for now, Gregory remained silent.
Assigning Leadership – Dividing the Grimknights
Roland cleared his throat and looked at Henry. "I need you to divide your warriors. They will lead my fighters into battle."
Henry nodded without hesitation. "Agreed."
Roland rolled out a rough, hand-drawn map of the revolutionary fort. It was crude, sketched on torn parchment with charcoal, but it was enough to plan their attack.
The fort had six major areas that controlled the flow of operations. Each of the Grimknights would be assigned to lead small squads in key locations.
Henry studied the map carefully. They were going to war with untrained civilians, which meant the battle would have to be calculated and tactical.
Roland marked the locations on the map, pointing out weak spots and key points of interest. The plan was set.
A Private Request for Kaiser
As the meeting adjourned, the resistance fighters began preparing for the upcoming battle. Henry and the Grimknights were discussing their attack when Roland approached Kaiser.
"Walk with me," Roland said.
Kaiser followed him a short distance away from the others, into the shadows of the ruins. Roland's face was serious.
"I have a special task for you," he said.
Kaiser frowned. "What is it?"
Roland glanced around, ensuring no one else was listening. Then, he spoke in a lower voice.
"Inside Carous' headquarters, they're holding a girl captive."
Kaiser's expression darkened.
"Who is she?"
Roland didn't answer directly. Instead, he said, "When the attack begins, I need you to slip inside the fortress. Find her." He paused before adding, "Tell her this: 'Angels and devils are all beautiful.' She'll understand."
Kaiser hesitated. "And what if I can't get to her in time?"
Roland's expression was unreadable. "Then don't come back until you do."
The Revolutionaries' Spy – A Leak in the Plan
Unbeknownst to them, a hidden pair of eyes had been watching the entire meeting.
A spy for the revolutionaries, blending into the shadows, had listened carefully to every word.
As soon as the meeting ended, she disappeared into the night, making her way back toward the revolutionaries' fort.
She arrived breathless before Dante Viel, who stood in the candle-lit war room of Carous' stronghold.
"They're planning an attack," she reported. "In two days, when the second moon fades."
Dante's expression remained unreadable. Slowly, he exhaled and turned toward Carous Gelheim.
"If you allow it," Dante said calmly, "I will remain in the fort. The resistance thinks they have the element of surprise. Let them believe it."
Carous smirked and leaned back in his chair.
"Show them hell."
Dante grinned. "Gladly."
The stage was set.
The resistance was preparing for war.
But the revolutionaries were already waiting.
And the Grimknights?
They were marching straight into the fire.