Despite the passing of nearly a full week, none in the growing camp felt that enough time had been afforded to them. Even with the aid of mages and machines, even with tanks of bleeding-edge geopolymerase to turn dirt and clay to solid rock with, their fortifications were still barely comparable with that looming mass of rock and stone at the center of the battlefield.

Not only had Makhus had his armor repaired between the initial defensive battle and now, he had, with the Iron Brotherhood engineer’s aid, applied the same modifications he had done to the Nameless armor to Acala’s right arm, so that he would be able to use Iron Philosophy right away when he eventually got a grip of the named suit. The design differences between the two, even just from seeing the R-Arm module, were staggering to say the least - the Nameless suit resembled the mass-produced aesthetic of most other Second-model tank suits, merely sleeker and lighter, whereas Acala’s right arm was… Well, the best descriptor would be organic, bulbous perhaps, reminiscent of certain exotic armors made from the shells of giant beetles.

His burns, irritating though they were, were beginning to heal well enough. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the camp, Zefaris made a minor breakthrough in using the Philosopher’s Eye to project glyphs, devising one which would mimic Ricoshot’s kinetic mirroring function with aid from an old man who she recognized. It was one of the forward scouts from the initial battle, and as it turned out, the self-same man who had created the warded forward bases in the FDZ.

“It’s a strong concept you’ve got, I used to know someone who did something similar, just… He used a slingshot instead,” said the old man with sadness in his voice, before he took a swig of some high-proof liquor made from forest berries, going by the smell.

“Nevermind my mopin’. What you want to do is really make full use of the eye’s visual calculus, the things were designed to eliminate the limitations of manually drawing glyphs with yer hand or a wand. Don’t ask how I know, I read it in a book a long while ago. Anyhow, here’s what I’d do…”

The old man went on to scribble a more complex version of the glyph, describing in painstaking detail how and why his altered composition was better for the specific purpose Zefaris wanted, commending her for coming up with a relatively optimal glyph on her own to begin with.

Yet again, across the camp, Jorfr ritualistically exsanguinated two hares which had been captured on the march, draining their blood for his own purposes while handing them over to one of the camp cooks to be made into stew. The norseman had been pleasantly surprised in the effectiveness of his magic against these clay monsters, finding that rapidly freezing the water within their forms was just as effective as it was against flesh at reducing mobility and causing them to come apart from the expansion. Combining his own techniques with those of Ignis-wielders had turned out to be even more efficient, as the claymen’s material properties allowed them to hold onto a great deal more heat than any fleshly body, thus causing them to functionally explode under thermal shock if Jorfr smashed them with his hammer while it was suffused with ice.

The Borean drew upon the earthly spirits again and again, painting himself in the blood of these offerings, and in so doing, creating a buffer that would allow him to temporarily bolster his connection with them in a time of need. He would’ve gladly shared in his rituals with Zelsys, but he knew well that one had to develop their own personal rituals for occasions such as this one, as large-scale rituals which would have a positive effect for many different people demanded expert preparation and resources well beyond some sacrifices. By the time he was done, the sun had set, and for a short while, only the campsite’s many smaller light sources and the near-constant strikes of lightning illuminated his surroundings.

But then, upon the night of the would-be penultimate day, the blue moon rose into the heavens and wrenched the clouds apart. In spite of the Living Storm’s otherwise impenetrable cover the moon’s azure countenance pierced through, its appearance forcing an eye to form amidst the clouds, a great godray shining upon Ubul’s stone egg. As the camp was roused to high alert, so too did the claymen appear to be alarmed by the occurrence, freezing where they stood and craning their necks to gaze moonwards. Even as some of them were shot down where they stood, they remained unresponsive, as if they were no longer being made to move.

Cries of alert sounded, communications channels became hectic, thousands of men and women alike took up their stations around the battlefield’s perimeter. The Sixty-Six, too, scrambled to action, making final preparations, kicking back elixirs and swallowing pills in order to rouse their bodies to performance beyond normal ability.

Zelsys loaded a Type-1a shell into her arm-cannon and began engine breathing, stockpiling Fulgur within her second stomach.

Zefaris loaded Pentacle’s cylinder full of five Mogralt-alloy Burst Ball bullets with Atrine-enriched Nitro Powder, repeating something similar with Tempesta, only using hardened “Breaker” slugs.

The Mercenary, too, had his own special anti-materiel ammunition, even if he loathed to use such precious rounds; Drakebone Bullets a lesser analogue to true Dragonbone ammunition.

Bherad ensured the spindle upon his back was wound tight, that his needle-rapier was unblemished and impeccably sharp, before wrapping the weapon in a long, incredibly narrow talisman the width of measuring tape. With this, he could pierce even solid stone... For a time.

Strake finished smoking a cigarette, double-checked vital engine seals, and got inside his tank. Even in idle, its smoldering fury began to seep into his brain within seconds.

Collier, too, double-checked certain important parts, ensuring that everything was loaded, and got into the cockpit.

Halxian mentally went over arcane formulae for keeping the reaction inside his arm stable while he braced for the pain he knew he would soon put himself through. Despite his possession of an assistant tablet, he had not yet succeeded in solidifying his inheritance into spiritual muscle memory.