The retreat never became a retreat.

  It became a collapse.

  Smoke swallowed the plains, thick and choking, rolling over shattered ground as if the land itself were trying to hide. The thunder of guns no longer came in scattered bursts—it came in waves, overlapping, relentless, chewing through discipline and courage alike.

  “Hold formation!” Selene Vael shouted, her voice raw. “Don’t scatter—don’t—”

  Another gun roared.

  A knight spun sideways, armor dented inward like soft clay, crashing into two others as they fell together. No blood sprayed, no dramatic flourish—just bodies hitting dirt with terrible finality.

  “This isn’t a battlefield anymore!” one of her lieutenants yelled. “It’s an execution ground!”

  Selene loosed another arrow, its harmonic hum barely audible beneath the chaos. It struck a cluster of Valenreach soldiers and detonated, sending men flying, tearing weapons from hands—but when the smoke cleared, more were already stepping forward.

  And behind them—

  More camps.

  Selene’s breath caught.

  Through the haze, banners rose one after another. Valenreach crimson. Different markings. Different divisions.

  Each camp carried the same thing.

  Guns.

  “Captain…” a knight whispered beside her. “That’s not reinforcements.”

  Selene stared in disbelief. “How many?”

  A scout stumbled back from the ridge, face pale. “Almost every Valenreach camp in the sector. They’re advancing to the front lines. All of them are armed.”

  Another volley thundered, closer now.

  Malrec Veynholm’s voice echoed faintly through the smoke, distorted by distance and madness.

  “Data confirmed! Deployment successful across multiple units! Oh, this is history, my dear soldiers!”

  Selene clenched her jaw.

  “This was never a single test,” she said quietly. “This was a rollout.”

  The realization hit her knights like a second удар.

  “They’re going to massacre the front,” someone said. “All of it.”

  A gun misfired nearby, exploding in sparks and screams—but even the malfunction only delayed the inevitable. The Valenreach lines advanced anyway, stepping over their own fallen without hesitation.

  Selene felt her mana slipping, her arms heavy, her bow dimming.

  “We can’t win this,” her lieutenant said. “Captain, give the order. Full withdrawal.”

  Selene opened her mouth—

  And the world changed.

  Not with thunder.

  Not with fire.

  But with silence.

  A single flame appeared in the chaos.

  Small. Steady. Impossible.

  The guns froze mid-recoil. Smoke hung unmoving in the air. Shattered dirt and splinters stopped mid-fall. Knights were caught mid-step, mid-shout, mid-breath.

  Even the wind died.

  Selene blinked.

  “…What?”

  Footsteps echoed.

  Slow. Calm. Deliberate.

  A man walked through the frozen battlefield, untouched by the stillness. His armor was polished silver trimmed with gold, bearing the sigil of the Crestfall Royal Knights. A long coat draped from his shoulders, and in his left hand—

  A candle.

  Its flame burned quietly, perfectly upright despite the absence of air.

  Selene recognized him instantly.

  “By the Crown…” she breathed. “Royal Captain…”

  The man inclined his head slightly. “Captain Selene Vael.”

  “Sir—” She struggled to move. She couldn’t. No one could. “Sir Alaric—?”

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  “Alaric Thornevale,” he said. “Yes.”

  He glanced around at the frozen carnage, eyes cold.

  “So this is Candlight’s first use in open war,” he murmured. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

  Selene forced the words out. “Time… it’s stopped.”

  “Entirely,” Alaric replied. “As long as the candle burns.”

  He raised it slightly. The wax was thick, reinforced with runic bands—no ordinary candle.

  “You brought a long one,” Selene said.

  Alaric smiled faintly. “Long enough to save what remains.”

  He walked past her, examining frozen Valenreach soldiers, circling a gunner mid-trigger pull.

  “So Malrec succeeded,” Alaric said. “Distributed firearms across the camps. Crude, unstable—but overwhelming.”

  Selene’s voice shook. “They’re going to erase the front lines.”

  “They already have,” Alaric said calmly. “Elsewhere.”

  Selene’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “I passed three Crestfall positions on my way here,” he said. “All lost. Same sound. Same smoke.”

  He looked back at her.

  “This isn’t a battle, Captain Vael. It’s a catastrophe.”

  Alaric knelt beside a frozen gun emplacement, studying it like a scholar examining a relic.

  “Black powder ignition. Metal slugs. No mana dependency,” he muttered. “Even the weakest peasant could kill a knight with this.”

  Selene swallowed. “Then stop time longer. Let us destroy them now.”

  Alaric’s gaze hardened.

  “That’s not how Candlight works.”

  He stood. “I can act. You cannot. And anything I change will only take effect after time resumes.”

  “So we’re helpless,” Selene said bitterly.

  “No,” Alaric replied. “You’re positioned.”

  He began moving—fast now—rearranging shields, tipping gun barrels upward, placing fallen knights behind cover, shoving explosives and powder kegs away from Crestfall lines.

  Sweat beaded on his brow.

  “This much manipulation…” he muttered. “Even frozen time has weight.”

  He stopped near Malrec.

  The mad scientist was caught mid-laugh, mouth open, eyes alight.

  Alaric stared at him for a long moment.

  “You,” he said quietly. “Are a problem that time alone can’t erase.”

  He reached out—then hesitated.

  “No,” Alaric decided. “You escape today. That’s how tragedies become legends.”

  He stepped back.

  The candle flame flickered.

  Selene felt pressure crash back into the world—

  Sound returned like an explosion.

  The guns fired.

  The repositioned barrels sent shots screaming harmlessly into the sky. Powder kegs detonated away from Crestfall lines instead of within them. Knights who should have died fell behind cover instead.

  The battlefield lurched.

  “What—?!”

  “Their guns turned—!”

  “Push! PUSH NOW!”

  Selene screamed, mana flaring.

  “ALL UNITS—ADVANCE!”

  She loosed arrow after arrow, harmonics screaming through the air. Knights surged forward, emboldened by the sudden shift.

  Alaric staggered as the candle guttered lower, wax burning fast.

  “I can’t do this again,” he warned, voice strained. “Make it count.”

  But even as Crestfall pushed—

  More Valenreach camps crested the ridges.

  More guns.

  Endless.

  Selene saw it then.

  Victory here wouldn’t matter.

  Even if this camp fell… the war had already changed.

  The thunder returned.

  And the catastrophe deepened.