Blackpine's Debt Could Never Be Repaid

Deep in the Rift Valley, the body of the Grayblood Lesion visibly shriveled.

But on the White Fang Fief battlefield, no one dared move just yet.

The Mobile Knights held their defensive stance, their front rank's lances leveled, their tips fixed on the Rift Valley.

The Tower Gunners and Repeater Crossbowmen stayed at their posts, hands resting on scorching mechanisms and gun carriages, eyes trained on the charred earth.

Everyone feared another red thread might spring from a crack in the mud.

Only a few sounds remained around the Rift Valley: bubbles rising and bursting in the dead water below, severed cables trembling in the wind with a metallic hum, and embers crackling in the distant burn trenches.

On the high platform, Otto opened his mouth. "It's over" stuck in his throat and would not come out.

Hughes said nothing either. Staring at the black mass of roots, he forced out a low warning: "Don't move. Keep watching."

On the battlefield, Fabien was just as tense.

He raised his iron-gauntleted hand and pressed it downward toward the troops. "Nobody move. Light it up once more."

Two Bomb Knights loaded flares and hurled them beyond the edge.

The flares burst in a blaze of light. Ghastly white light swept across the bottom of the Rift Valley. Several thick main vessels had shrunk and folded in on themselves, while fine red threads lay severed in the muck like insects scorched to death.

"Hook it. See what happens," Fabien ordered.

Several knights switched to long-handled hooks and Flying Anchors.

They reached over the edge, caught the outer rim of the root mass, and hauled it back. The thing tipped sideways, but apart from shedding a few chunks of black flesh, it did not react.

Fabien pointed to several patches of glistening soft