The next few days passed in a tense but controlled rhythm, where patience became their greatest discipline and silence their strongest shield. They did not move unless necessary, did not speak louder than required, and did not allow themselves to grow careless despite the stillness stretching longer than expected. Every waking moment was spent refining the plan, revisiting the dungeon layout Patrick had drawn, committing every corridor, every turn, and every guard position to memory until there was no room left for uncertainty. Lucas led these sessions with quiet authority, asking the same questions in different ways, forcing them to think, to recall, to anticipate failure before it could ever happen. Patrick would redraw sections from memory again and again, sometimes altering angles slightly to ensure he truly remembered and not just recognized. Wesley would challenge placements, Darmian would calculate timing gaps, and Bartho would point out risks that others might overlook. Nothing was left assumed, nothing was left incomplete, because they all understood that once they moved, there would be no time to think twice.

Outside of planning, they maintained a careful routine that did not attract attention. Patrick occasionally stepped out to secure food, moving through the streets with the confidence of someone who belonged, never lingering long enough to be remembered. The others stayed inside, resting in turns, maintaining awareness even in stillness. The house remained quiet, its worn walls holding the weight of what was coming. There were no unnecessary conversations, no distractions, only focus layered over tension that none of them voiced but all of them felt.

Lucas spent much of this time cultivating. Seated apart from the others, he allowed his breathing to slow and his mind to settle, guiding the flow of energy within him with precision. The Yin energy he had absorbed from Nyx moved through his meridians with a smoothness that felt almost unnatural compared to the raw, unrefined surges he had once struggled to control. It responded to him now, not resisting, not clashing, but aligning with his intent as though it had always belonged there. He cycled it carefully, letting it deepen, strengthen, and integrate rather than forcing rapid growth. Each passing moment sharpened his awareness, grounding him further, preparing him not just physically but mentally for what was ahead.

Time stretched like that, long enough that it almost felt suspended, until it broke.

Lucas was deep within his cultivation when it happened, his senses turned inward, his focus anchored in the steady circulation of energy, when something shifted without warning. It was not sound, not movement, not anything external that could be seen or heard. It was a pulse, faint but distinct, rising from within the connection he shared with the Ice Belle. For a brief instant it felt distant, like a ripple across still water, but then it sharpened, becoming undeniable, carrying with it a clarity that did not need words to be understood.

His eyes opened instantly.

The link was active.

Alive with intent.

And the message it carried was unmistakable.

The attack on Lechia had begun.

Lucas rose in one smooth motion, the calm he had maintained now turning into decisive action without hesitation. The others noticed immediately, the shift in his presence enough to draw their full attention before he even spoke.

"It has started," he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt.

Vorde straightened at once, his expression tightening with focus. "The signal."

Lucas nodded once. "This is it."

There were no questions, no delays, no second thoughts. Everything they had prepared for, everything they had waited for, had finally aligned. The moment was no longer approaching.

It had arrived.

They did not move immediately after receiving the signal, because moving too early would defeat the entire purpose of waiting. The plan depended on pressure building elsewhere, on attention being pulled away in waves rather than all at once, so Lucas held them back and let the situation outside develop exactly as it should. The tension inside the house shifted from anticipation to restraint, which was harder to maintain, because now they knew the war had already begun and every instinct pushed them to act, yet discipline kept them still.

Patrick and Wesley took turns stepping out to gather information, each time leaving at different intervals and returning through different paths so no pattern could be traced to them. They moved like they belonged, spoke when necessary, listened more than they spoke, and paid attention to the small changes that revealed larger movements. Each time they returned, the picture outside became clearer.

"They have started mobilizing," Patrick reported the first time he came back, closing the door quietly behind him as the others gathered. "Not full deployment yet, but orders are being passed. Units are preparing to move."

Wesley returned later with more detail, his expression sharper than before. "It is no longer preparation. Movement has begun. Columns are forming and heading out in intervals, not all at once. They are spacing it."

Darmian frowned slightly. "To avoid congestion."

"And to maintain control within the capital," Bartho added.

Lucas listened without interrupting, his gaze steady as he processed every word.

Patrick stepped forward again. "They are heading toward Lechia. Reinforcements. The usurpers are committing more forces."

Wesley crossed his arms. "And not just regular soldiers. I saw higher-ranked units moving as well. Not all of them, but enough to matter."

Lucas gave a small nod, as if confirming something he had already concluded.

"It is as expected," he said.

They all looked at him.

"The moment Lechia was attacked, Rus would respond," Lucas continued. "They cannot afford to lose control there. It is too important to them."

Patrick nodded slowly. "So they pull from here."

"Yes," Lucas said. "Not everything. But enough."

Wesley exhaled quietly. "Which means fewer eyes here."

"And slower response time internally," Darmian added.

Bartho glanced toward the door. "But also increased tension. They will be more alert, not less."

Lucas acknowledged that with a slight nod. "Which is why we do not mistake movement for weakness."

The room fell quiet again, but it was a different kind of silence now. Not waiting without direction, but waiting with confirmation.

Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.

Exactly as Lucas had predicted.

Outside, the capital of Rus was beginning to stretch its forces toward a distant battlefield, unaware that in doing so, it was creating the opening that had been carefully anticipated.

And inside that opening, Lucas and his group were already in place, watching, measuring, and waiting for the precise moment when waiting would end and action would begin.