The dawn hung low, the cold air of the Yamato valley biting, and the sky weighed down by gray clouds. At the eastern gate's watchtower, two young soldiers rubbed their eyes. "What do you see beyond the fog, Hiro?" Yuto asked, his voice trembling. "I... I can't believe it. Look at the line of Qihuang Shin's war machines," Hiro replied, his eyes widening. "Steel and gears coated in green poison, creeping slowly like a wave of death." Behind them, a line of silver-armored infantry stood ready, the red and gold banner of Emperor Wu Xianying fluttering in the northern wind. "We can't give up," Yuto added, "Our ancient texts will favor the brave."

  News spread like wildfire among the townsfolk. The emergency drums beat loudly, and the doors of the main houses creaked open. "Come on, hurry! We need to get to the main hall!" shouted a servant. "What's going on, sir?" asked a guard, trying to grasp the situation. "We need to rush! Everyone is gathering; there may be an external threat!" he replied, tension evident in his voice. Servants, guards, elders, and the people who had just begun to smile again rushed toward the main hall. The morning atmosphere was filled with a near-silent panic: no screams, just swift movements, tense gazes, and anxious breaths.

  Nobuzan, though her body felt heavier, stood at the forefront of the stone courtyard. "We can't back down now," she said firmly, surveying her surroundings. Her hair was neatly styled, and her silver-blue kimono added an undeniable aura of leadership. Seiran beside her, though pale, whispered, "Nobuzan, I'm scared. What will we do if they attack?" However, Nobuzan replied confidently, "We will stand our ground. The people trust us." Ryumaru and other elders stood behind, holding back their doubts. "Only the cowardly refuse to acknowledge reality," Ryumaru said, glancing at all the eyes fixed on Nobuzan, "But we stand with you." Yet all eyes—both the people and the guards—were on one figure: Nobuzan Oda, the woman who had become a symbol of hope.

  Nobuzan raised her hand, her voice breaking the tension:

  “I know, today we are afraid. I know the enemy out there brings iron dragons, foreign magic, and old grudges. But I also know—no wall can be breached without the hearts of its people first crumbling!”

  “Yes, we are afraid, but we will not surrender!” shouted a young guard, his spirit ignited. “We will fight until the end!”

  “I, Nobuzan Oda, carry a child within me, and I carry all your hopes in my soul,” Nobuzan continued, looking toward the guards. “If today we must stand before death, I will not run.”

  An elderly servant in the back nodded, “We are all here with you, Nobuzan!”

  “Right!” shouted the young girls, tears on their cheeks. “We will fight for our future!”

  “I stand here not because I am unafraid,” Nobuzan continued, “but because I know, if we surrender to fear, Yamato will be lost forever—and our children will inherit a land without a home, a name without meaning.”

  “We don’t want to live without a home!” cried a mother from the crowd, her voice filled with emotion. “For the sake of our children, we must fight!”

  “Anyone who wishes to surrender may step away,” Nobuzan said confidently, “But anyone who chooses to stand firm, stand beside me. For today, history will be written by those who endure the most, not by those who easily forget their roots!”

  Silence. Then, one by one, the guards drew their spears, and the elderly servant gripped a broom, feeling inspired. The young girls held back their tears, exchanging glances, feeling the courage among them. The roar of their voices rose:

  “Together with Oda! Together for Yamato! Together for the future!”

  “We will not back down!” shouted a young man, rallying his neighbors. “We fight together!”

  Ryumaru nodded—his old eyes held tears, but his gaze was resolute. “We cannot retreat,” he said softly, “we must stand united.”

  “Indeed, every elder here has made a choice,” another elder replied, “we will not return without victory.”

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  Other elders, even the most skeptical, stepped forward. “We fully support you, Nobuzan. Prove that hope can triumph!”

  While Nobuzan led in the courtyard, Fitran moved swiftly to the command room. “Quick, technicians! I need you here now!” he shouted, his tone firm but betraying a hint of tension.

  As the technicians and several young guards gathered, he pulled out a new defense map. “Look!” Fitran pointed with his finger, “Qihuang Shin thinks we will hold out like before. Waiting behind walls, right?”

  “But today, we are no longer a nation that relies solely on our name,” he continued, his eyes alight. “The spiral railgun is ready at the western tower. Traps are set at three points!”

  Kenji, a young technician with a panicked face, asked, “But, Fitran-sama, what if the enemy knows about these traps? What should we do?”

  “Ah, Kenji, that’s a good question,” Fitran replied with a wide smile. “Then we give them one exit—” he laughed, “but that exit leads to a chasm! We don’t want a perfect strategy, just the courage to turn plans into victory.”

  “Every step must be calculated!” Fitran continued seriously, looking at everyone around him. “We will exploit their uncertainty.”

  A young guard, Yuuto, added, “And what if they’re not foolish enough to get caught?”

  “Ah, Yuuto! They may be clever, but we will be cleverer!” Fitran replied confidently, “We will wait until the last second to pull the trigger!”

  Under Fitran’s command, the technicians moved like ants. “Come on, hide these spiral cables behind the rocks!” Fitran instructed. “Carefully install the magic detonators on the main pillars!”

  The young guards, initially hesitant, now looked at Fitran with respect. “You’re right, Fitran-sama,” Kenji whispered. “We will follow your orders, no matter how difficult.”

  “That’s the spirit I was hoping for!” Fitran said, returning their gaze with a smile. “We are not just foreign in-laws here. I am the shadow commander who will read the enemy’s mind before they can take a step!”

  Yet behind this newfound unity, whispers of paranoia still echoed. “Hisayuki, have you seen Masanori again?” asked a guard anxiously. “Yes, he’s always by the kitchen! Something seems off,” Hisayuki replied, his eyes probing.

  “Who is talking to the kitchen guard?” Masanori questioned suspiciously. “I must be careful; they might be talking about us.” In the kitchen, two servants exchanged messages. “He’s suspicious,” whispered one servant, “Do you think we can trust him?” The other servant replied, “We must stay vigilant. Look how they watch these quiet corridors.”

  Senzaburo, now more cautious, chose to observe rather than speak. “Something is troubling,” he murmured softly. “Too much suspicion among us, Senzaburo. We must unite,” another elder said firmly. “But what if there’s a traitor among us?” Senzaburo retorted, his eyes sweeping the crowd. Other elders nodded, reminding that not all suspicion had faded—but the enemy’s fire outside the walls had successfully diverted most attention outward.

  The sun crawled higher. “Listen! The sound of the steel wheels of the war machines is getting closer!” shouted a guard in panic. “Get ready! This could be a bad omen!”

  The war drums of Qihuang Shin grew louder. From atop the tower, the red and gold banners fluttered, the sound of metal trumpets echoed like the wailing of demons. “We must not retreat!” General Kato shouted passionately, “Who dares to step forward?”

  The enemy general—clad in black armor adorned with dragons—stepped forward to the gate. He glared sharply. “We cannot let him dominate this battlefield,” he said loudly. He carried a magic loudspeaker, his voice booming across the valley. “Oh people of Yamato! Surrender your new leader, Nobuzan Oda! Hand over the spiral weapons you stole from the land of China! Or today, the entire valley will become a grave of iron!”

  “Nobuzan has fought for us! We must not surrender!” shouted a community member passionately.

  “Silence, everyone!” Nobuzan shouted, her voice resonating with authority. “Can’t you see? This is a defining moment!” She didn’t respond with threats but instead looked at Fitran through the crowd. Fitran nodded slowly, the worry clear on his face. “We cannot retreat, Nobuzan. The time to show who we are has come.”

  Nobuzan raised her voice, loud yet steady, “Listen, people of Yamato! Here, today, we do not stand alone!”

  “Come, Qihuang Shin! Yamato is not guarded by a single name, but by thousands of hearts that fear no power! Today, we will prove: your iron and poison are not enough to extinguish our spirit!”

  “For Yamato!” the soldiers cheered, while the servants and young women added to the fervor. “We will not back down!”

  In the distance, the sound of machines echoed, and Fitran stared intently at the Qihuang Shin forces preparing their war machines. “They will not stop,” he said passionately, “But neither will we!”

  At the top of the western tower, Fitran stood beside the spiral railgun pulsing with blue magic. “We fight for the future, not just for today,” he said. “Down here, the trap cables are ready to be triggered. Everything is set; we are just waiting for the signal.”

  In a world half in ruins, Fitran realized that victory does not come from a perfect strategy, but from the courage to plant hope even in dire moments. He knew that today, the history of Yamato would be written in blood and spiral light, or buried alongside the names that never dared to fight.

  “What will you do, Fitran?” asked a soldier who approached. “Are we ready?”

  “We have no choice. We must trust each other and fight. That’s what makes us strong,” Fitran replied, looking confidently at the troops. “We will remember this day as the day we stood together!”