"The choice you made fits perfectly with what I've heard about you. And indeed, with an enemy lurking in the shadows, practically invisible and unknown, your approach may well be one of the best possible answers."

The master of the cursebinding spire gave a slight nod, expressing his approval of Wang Yu's decision.

"Well, I wouldn't call it the best solution," Wang Yu replied with a shrug. "It's just the only one that makes sense under the circumstances. If possible, I'd rather trouble didn't come looking for me at all."

Better to avoid problems altogether than to solve them later—that had always been his philosophy.

"I used to think the same," the old man said. "That's why I founded the cursebinding spire. But as time went on, I learned that while avoidance can buy you peace, it never eradicates the problem completely.

"Still, I appreciate your help clearing out that pile of old materials in the tower. Expecting Lilya and the other alchemists to manage it would've been wishful thinking. I won't disturb your preparations any further. Good luck."

With that, the elder's form grew faint. He dissolved amid subtle ripples in space until the bottom of the crater was empty once more.

"Do you think we can trust him?"

Wang Yu pressed one hand to the cavern floor, manipulating the rock layers to widen the pit as he asked for Avia's opinion.

"There shouldn't be a problem," she replied. "The cursebinding spire has stood for centuries. Its founder used a self-binding form of wizardry to accelerate his own growth. And if I'm not mistaken right, the current master is a member of House Svein. I suppose he's among one of our ancient ancestors."

She paused briefly, then added, "Family records say he founded the spire to protect those around him during an age of chaos. You know how it was. Our family's magicians were born with extraordinary talent thanks to the devils and the Key. His founding of the spire likely had something to do with them as well.

"Or perhaps," Avia mused softly, "he even had a hand in what my mother once did for me."

She spoke while sorting through her thoughts, and Wang Yu found his own conclusions matching hers. They might never trust him as completely as they did Edward or Charles, but at least he didn't seem like a threat.

Looking back on the chaotic chain of events that had first brought him and Avia together, Wang Yu couldn't help but think that the so-called "protection ritual" her mother performed must have involved the spire's master.

A mage and grand wizard her mother might have been, but even she hadn't the means to sever Avia's ties with a devil and the Key on her own. The intervention of a legendary wizard, such as the cursebinding spire's master, seemed all but necessary. Of course, Wang Yu had messed it all up later.

"Well, that's good news," Wang Yu said with a grin. "I'm part of your family now, after all. No reason for this old ancestor of yours not to look out for me a little."

"That's right."

Avia nodded seriously.

She added, "Next, we'll need Lady Darkness's help to conceal this pit and whatever we're going to bury inside. You keep digging. I'll go find her."

She flashed an OK gesture before heading off. The sound of her steps faded into the cavern's darkness.

Wang Yu returned to his work, expanding the subterranean hollow while Avia whispered a prayer to summon the Lady of the Night.

A towering silhouette emerged from the gloom, bending low so the young woman could speak into her ear.

"So, you wish to use my power to conceal this cavern and everything you intend to place within it?" the Lady of the Night asked.

"Yes, that's right," Avia said. "I hope this won't drain too much of your strength, Lady Darkness?"

"It's of no consequence," the goddess replied. "Beyond maintaining the Prayer Network for my followers, there's little else my power is occupied with. It has only continued to grow. Lending you some of it is well within my means.

"Besides," she added, her voice softening into the darkness, "this cavern already lies within my domain. To shroud it completely is a simple matter for me."

She did not refuse. Power rippled outward from her body, deepening the shadows until even the faintest whisper of sound and heat was swallowed away. In moments, the pit fell into utter stillness, sealed within an impenetrable void.

At its bottom, Wang Yu pressed his palm against the stone and continued digging, his other hand turning over the fragments of the starsteel blade as he considered his next move.

He hadn't expected his strength to grow so rapidly. His starsteel blade, which was fused with the Spellweaver's Tome via the Hammer of Fusion, had lost its value to him.

The tome's output paled beside the raw destructive power he could channel through the Chariot's force, and even the blade's near-indestructible durability no longer made it an ideal weapon.

He was planning to abandon the Spellweaver's Tome entirely and instead make the starsteel blade part of himself. The Chariot's power surged through his veins as he began to disassemble the blade at a microscopic level.

A soft hiss of dust followed as black metallic powder fell into his palm. Bit by bit, the blade crumbled, reduced to particles so fine they could be conveyed through his bloodstream.

"With my current control over my body," he murmured, "this kind of self-modification shouldn't be too difficult."

The fine dust mixed with his blood and spread through his body like dark fire. What once required the focused trance of Extrasensory Convergence now responded to the Chariot's will alone.

As the metallic particles coursed through his veins, Wang Yu drew upon instinct, commanding his flesh and blood to reshape themselves, to forge the body he envisioned.

The fine starsteel grains flowed through Wang Yu's blood until they reached his skull. There, the particles adhered to bone, fusing bit by bit into the cranial structure—merging with what was already a composite of flesh and metal from his earlier experiments and replacing the weaker elements that once compromised its strength.

"Well," he muttered, feeling a faint itch along his scalp, "I'm getting less and less human by the day... but who cares?"

A faint grin tugged at his lips. This kind of operation was far beyond anything a mere human could perform, but it didn't matter. The benefits were undeniable.

As his body grew stronger, as his blood and bones underwent evolution after evolution, there were few places left that could be called a fatal weakness: few save for his brain.

He had no soul to protect it, no safeguard against destruction. That average, mortal brain was the one thing that could still kill him if it broke. He wasn't a biologist. He barely understood how his brain worked, but he knew he couldn't survive without it.

So he had to protect it, no matter what. Pulverizing the starsteel blade and fusing it into his skull was part of that plan. His goal was to forge a cranium so resilient that any foe foolish enough to strike at his head would learn firsthand what "iron-headed" truly meant.

The power that stemmed from his door, that localized golden glow, was even stronger than starsteel in terms of durability. Once it coated his skull, no impact could penetrate it.

But it required Wang Yu's conscious will to activate. If an attack came too fast for him to react, it would be useless. His reinforced skull, however, would always be there—his first and last defense.

Once his skull was strengthened, he guided the remaining starsteel into his spine and the rest of his skeleton until his entire frame gleamed with the resilience of forged steel. Steel and bone: a phrase that had never described anyone more fittingly.

Satisfied, Wang Yu looked around the vast hollow he'd carved. The pit was deep enough now. "Mm. That'll do," he said quietly. "Deep enough to crush anything. Let's hope all this preparation pays off."

He closed his eyes, calling forth every ounce of power within his body...

Meanwhile, the guards of Winterhold rushed forward. "Please, wait a moment, you two, we—"

They were trying to stop the two legends who had escorted Ceylon and Johnson back through the blizzard. But the pair didn't even slow their stride. "We bear no hatred toward you," one of them said evenly, "but we have no words to waste on those who occupy our homeland. We may meet again if these ruins continue to act up."

With that, they vanished into the wind and snow.

"Let them go," one guard muttered, lowering his hand. "The Grand Duke and Commander Uller will be here soon. We won't need outside help."

His comrade patted his shoulder.

"Maybe. Still, I think they wanted to speak their minds after learning the truth about that old war... and perhaps to offer help, in their own way."

The first guard, a member of the Nightblades, sighed. The information he'd received through the Prayer Network had laid bare the grim reality of the war between their two nations.

"Perhaps," he said. "If Selwyn hadn't gambled everything, sacrificing every soul in Winterhold to summon the God of Terror, things might have turned out differently. But for better or worse... no one can say." Others around him murmured agreement. They knew the truth now, but the past could not be undone.

"Hm?"

One of them looked up. A commotion had begun at the far end of the city. Through the snow, a group was hurrying toward the gates.

"The Grand Duke has returned!"

"It's Commander Uller! And—"

"Master Edward is back too! It's been ages since we've seen him!"

The guards' excitement spread like wildfire, their chatter rising above the howl of the wind.

But the returning figures paid little heed to the noise. They led their forces swiftly to the northern wall, where they stopped, gazing out at the storm beyond the protective barrier.

Edward began gravely, "The orcs and dwarves report similar ruins appearing within their lands, each connected to the recent disturbances. But ours seems different. Some factor has set us apart."

His words carried across the Prayer Network to Charles, who remained in the capital, coordinating intelligence through the Church of Nightfall and the Nightblades' web of spies.

The threads of the scattered events came together in Edward's mind. He had not yet learned everything from Ceylon and Johnson, but one thing was clear: this upheaval was no isolated phenomenon.

Could it be, he wondered, that Aleisterre's lack of connection to the ruins wasn't coincidence at all? That this whole chain of events had started when Aleisterre defeated Selwyn and Winterhold fell under its rule?