Chapter 10: The First March
The tenth dawn blazed over Kael El's domain, the violet-gold sky shimmering with a restless energy that matched the hum of his settlement. The manor stood proud, its walls scarred but unyielding, while fifty thousand subjects bustled—warriors sharpening spears, mages weaving barriers, and crafters stacking resources. Kael leaned against the manor's gate, the Stormforged Blade in hand, its lightning edge glinting as he twirled it idly. His flirty smirk held firm, a cool dominance radiating from his relaxed stance.
Day 10. Time to stop waiting. His dark eyes gleamed with unwavering confidence, a quiet pride burning beneath his chill exterior. Fifty thousand souls, a fortress, and a taste of blood—most lords would've hunkered down. Kael? He thrived, his resilience a steady flame. Defense is cute, but I'm here to conquer.
A sharp ding sounded, the system panel flaring up.
"Day 10: Post-Peace Period. Territory Level: 2. Population: 50,008 Subjects. Food Stock: 4 Days Remaining. Resource Yield: +10% (Lv. 2 Bonus)."
Kael's smirk widened, a playful edge cutting through the morning air. "Four days, huh? Guess we're hunting more than game now." His calm under pressure was unshakable—war was his grind, and he'd mastered it. The battlefield loot was sorted, his crew was armed, and Territory Lv. 3 loomed—three nearby territories to claim. Time to expand.
Gavrin approached, his ledger brimming with numbers, his grizzled beard streaked with soot. "Lord Kael, stockpile's set—five hundred spears, four hundred shields, plus the battlefield haul. Copper's smelting now." His Resource Hoarder at 5,000% made every scrap count.
Kael clapped his shoulder, grinning flirty yet firm. "Gavrin, you're my goldmine. Prep a supply caravan—two hundred spears, a hundred shields. We're moving out." Gavrin nodded, scribbling fast, and Kael turned to the Summoning Altar. Eight summons left. Let's stack the odds.
He pressed a hand to the Mana Crystal, voice smooth and teasing. "Alright, gorgeous, give me something sharp."
The altar flared, and a ninth figure emerged—a tall woman with raven hair and a curved blade at her hip. She knelt, voice low and steady. "Lord Kael, I am Nyra. Perk: Blade Dancer – +50% melee agility, precision strikes."