The hall buzzed with anger.
Accusations flew like arrows—Lyssa's gamble, Maevra's schemes, Aexl's strange device.
"Scammed again!"
"He's no general, just another fraud!"
"We gave up our wheat for this?"
Their voices tangled into a storm. Two hours wasted, and still no plan.
Aexl sat in silence, arms folded. To him, it sounded less like a war council, more like a pack of civilians playing soldier. His jaw tightened.
This isn't a strategy. This is a funeral in slow motion.
The noise pressed harder, drilling into his ears until something inside him snapped.
He rose.
"Everybody… LISTEN!!"
The command cracked across the chamber like artillery fire.
Silence crashed down. Even the torches seemed to hush.
It wasn't just loud. It was command — cutting, undeniable, the kind of voice that carried battlefield weight.
The chamber froze. Silence slammed down so heavy that even the clicking of night insects beyond the hall felt louder than breath. No one dared to speak, as if a single word might get them cut down.
Lyssa felt it first—like a boot pressing against her chest. That voice, sharp and absolute, was too familiar. Father… It carried the same steel her father once used when drilling soldiers on the training grounds, a tone that allowed no hesitation, no weakness. Her fists clenched at her sides.
Juvia felt it too, though in a far less noble way. That command—it wasn't just authority, it was manliness condensed into a single breath. Something inside her fluttered, low and dangerous. Tch… must be the beer, she told herself, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. And yet, sweat trailed down places that had nothing to do with fear.
Old Roderick, however, stood straighter, his weathered body remembering. His hand shifted to the hilt at his side—not out of threat, but instinct. I know this, he thought. This is how true generals command—without needing a blade, without needing to shout twice. His eyes slid toward Lyssa. Her father… he was like this man.
And Selene—her mother at her side—stood with warrior's posture, as if pulled upright by invisible strings. Her eyes glittered dangerously, narrowed not in defiance but calculation. That voice, that presence, it resonated with her own buried hunger. If I follow him… maybe, just maybe, I'll get the revenge I want. I only need to stand at his side.
But the command was not hostile. It was dominance, not threat — authority made sound.
Aexl let the silence breathe, then pushed his voice into it, steady and rising.
"Look, I get it. You've all been duped. I've been duped too — into this situation! You think I wanted to be summoned here? I was just trying to play a game, a game that shaped my career, that pushed me into strategy and warcraft… and what do I get? This." He gestured down at himself. "I came here not even wearing a pants on" trying to joke things out not to show arrogant
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then, weak chuckles escaped. A few villagers cracked nervous smiles. Someone coughed into their hand to stifle laughter. The tension thinned — not gone, but loosened, like a knot tugged just enough to breathe.
"But," Aexl continued, his tone shifting into something quieter, more honest, "I know what it's like when hope turns out to be a lie. When what you believe in crumbles. I've experienced war all my life. I've simulated thousands of battles. And I know this truth... there's always that moment. That one terrible moment where you either surrender, or you push forward, even when it looks impossible."
He glanced around the room, locking eyes with villagers one by one. "You're scared. I would be too. But fear doesn't mean you stop thinking. It means you start planning not bickering."
The silence that followed was thick.
Lyssa scowled. "What can we do war is not our forte, those of us who knew it pushed to something greater hoping for hope!"
Aexl Spoke I need intel, Information about the enemy where they are now the terrain, Map, What do we have
"Everybody," Lyssa cut in sharply. Her voice Commanding, "Lets provide him what he needs, Get the map, Roderick get the briefing board, lets see if we are really scammed or not"
The hall was stifling. Smoke from the torches curled into the rafters, mixing with the sharp tang of ink and the musty smell of old parchment. Villagers crowded in, arms full of maps, cracked scrolls, and a warped wooden board they set down with a heavy thud.
Aexl scanned each one as they were unfurled—fingers brushing over ink-stained lines, eyes tracing ridges, valleys, troop marks. Every time he finished, his Ephone buzzed faintly in his hand.
[ Knowledge Acquired: Eldenthyr Village ]
[ Knowledge Acquired: Eldenthyr ]
[ Knowledge Acquired: Continent of Noh ]
The device hummed like a living thing, feeding him scraps of clarity while the world pressed in closer.
Old Roderick finally spoke. His voice was rough, but steady—the kind that once barked commands over the din of war.
"Scouts report five hundred orcs. No worgs. That means they're not raiders, they're an expeditionary force. Confident, heavy, like an army sent to collect tribute." He planted a scarred hand on the board. "This morning they were sighted near the Cliff of Echo. But after tonight's worg attack, I've sent Dobi and Tobi to confirm again. No room for mistakes now."
A quiet dread rippled through the room.
Lyssa broke it with a voice too soft to be casual. "What's your plan, then… General?"
The word hung like bait.
Aexl inhaled slowly. "First—your numbers. What's the actual strength here?"
"Guards. Twenty." Roderick's gaze slid to the sisters. "That count includes me, Selene, and Lyssa."
"…Twenty-one, if you add me?" Aexl frowned. His eyes swept the line of figures he'd seen earlier. "Those women with the spears and shields you're calling them guards?"
"That's right," Roderick said without hesitation.
"No men?"
"We've got me, three hunters, and two young scouts, Tobi and Dobi. But hunters aren't soldiers."
The words landed like stones in a bucket. Aexl could almost hear the math in his head turning to ash.
Before he could speak, Lyssa cut in, sharp as a blade. "That thing of yours." She jabbed a finger toward the rectangular device in his hand. "Can it summon an army, or is it just for flashing lights?"
Aexl felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. "…I don't know yet."
His thumb slid across the glass. The screen bloomed to life, cold blue light bleeding against the fire-lit hall. Dozens of villagers leaned closer, eyes reflecting the strange glow like moths drawn to a flame.
Aexl muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone:
"Units… if this works…"
The War Dominion IX interface opened, clean and familiar.
[ Units Tabs ]
[Retinue] [Militia] [Army] [Mounts] [Siege] [Mercenaries] [Specialist] [H-Lords]
His finger hovered for only a heartbeat before tapping each tab in turn.
[Retinue] → [Empty]
[Militia] → [Empty]
[Army] → [Empty]
[Mounts] → [Empty]
[Siege] → [Empty]
[Mercenaries] → [Empty]
[Specialist] → [Empty]
The menu loaded, then froze. All the same. Black screens, framed only by the margin of the app, as if mocking him with silence.
Not even a slime. Not even a goblin recruit. Nothing.
The word rang across the device in merciless script:
[ Empty ]
Aexl's jaw tightened. His thumb slid to the final tab... something he didn't remember from the earlier versions of the game.
[H-Lords]
He frowned. "H-Lords… Hero Lords?" His mind flashed back to War Dominion I where generals could be recruited in taverns after meeting certain conditions. But here? Why the "H"?
He tapped.
[H-Lords]
[ ??? ]
[ ??? ]
[ ??? ]
Even the unit portraits were blank silhouettes, their forms human-shaped yet shrouded in mist.
He tapped on one. [ Unit Locked – Condition Not Met ]
Aexl's grip tightened. For a second, he swore he could feel the weight of all those five hundred orcs pressing down on his shoulders, laughing at his empty hand.
"…Figures," he muttered. His voice was low, almost a growl. "Conditions. Always conditions…"
The villagers leaned closer, waiting. The hall had gone so silent he could hear parchment shifting in the draft. All eyes fixed on him—on the man with the device that expected an army… and delivered only shadows.
Aexl's thumb lingered on the darkened [Units] screen when the Ephone jolted again—different this time.
A new message scrolled across the display, crisp as a blade's edge:
[ New Ability Unlocked: General of Eldenthyr — Valkyrie Warrior (Lv.1) ]
— Female warriors under your command: Attack, Accuracy, Defense +100%
— Gain: Berserker Ability — the more they bleed, the more dangerous they become.
— Mounted Warriors: Charge Attack unlocked.
His eyes narrowed. So if I lead those women guards… they'll fight under this buff? But how?
He looked up sharply. "Roderick. Who's leading them now? Guards?"
The old man straightened, his hand pressed against the bandage seeping red. "I am."
"With your side bleeding like that?" Aexl's voice was flat, cutting.
Roderick bristled, forcing a step forward before pain jerked him back. He grabbed his ribs, teeth bared. "Don't take me lightly, boy. I've stood in command longer than you've lived."
Aexl rose, his chair scraping back. His voice carried over the murmurs. "I have a plan. But I won't risk my life for nothing. If I'm to fight, I need an army I can command, an army I can shape."
Lyssa's silver eyes locked onto his. "You mean you don't already have one of your own?"
Aexl gave a slow, confident smirk. Bluff, but convincing. "I do. But they'll take time to dispatch here."
The villagers stirred at that, whispers running like sparks across dry straw.
"From the west?"
"Maybe the north?"
"Gods, if he has reinforcements…"
Aexl's words hung in the torchlight.
"So what's it gonna be?"
The villagers stirred like restless leaves in the wind.
"He's not even from here…"
"Summoned yesterday and already demanding an army?"
"What if he runs at the first charge?"
Suspicion clung to the air thicker than the smoke.
Aexl's gaze swept the hall, steady, commanding. "Look guys, I didn't ask to be summoned here. But I know war. I've seen what numbers do when they crush a village unprepared. If you want to fight it your own way, fine—die standing. But if you want to live, if you want your children to live—then give me the reins. trust, Let me lead."
The silence that followed was heavier than iron.
Roderick's face twisted between fury and pain. He opened his mouth, but no words came—only a hiss as blood welled through his fingers. His shoulders sagged.
Lyssa's silver eyes caught the firelight. For the first time, the hard edge in them softened, just a fraction. She stepped forward, her voice clear, cutting through the hall.
"Then let it be bound."
Her words stilled the room.
Aexl replied like a contract?
Then lyssa said make an oath, oath? Aexl replied
Her words stilled the room. Yes she said standing up as she continue
"I, Lyssa—Village Chief of Eldenthyr—call upon the ancestors as witnesses. General Aexl, do you swear to serve Eldenthyr as its General? To lead our guards, to fight for this village, to stand with us until the end?"
The hall held its breath. Even the whispers stopped.
Aexl tilted his head, half amused, half solemn. So it's like that here. No contracts, no ink. Just oaths and eyes watching. Binding words heavier than law.
His smirk returned. "I do."
Gasps and stifled laughter broke the tension.
"I do? Sounds like a wedding," someone muttered. The hall chuckled nervously.
Then a shadow leaned close. Selene. Black hair brushing his shoulder, voice a whisper only he heard.
"Kneel. Speak it properly. Accept it."
Instinct guided him down to one knee. His voice rose, loud and steady.
"I, Alexander Reyasu, take the role of General under Lyssa, Village Chief of Eldenthyr. Before these people, before the ancestors, I swear it."
The torches flared, smoke curling like banners.
Lyssa stepped closer, her tone solemn, regal. "Then I, Lyssa, accept your oath. From this moment, you are General of Eldenthyr. The woman guards—including myself and Selene—are yours to command. Compensation shall be granted within our means."
The Ephone buzzed violently in his palm.
[ Position Accepted: General of Eldenthyr ]
[ Command of Eldenthyr Guards Transferred ]
(Would you like to rename the unit?)
Applause crashed through the hall. Relief spilled out of the villagers—some clapped, some wept, some whispered prayers.
"Finally, hope…"
"…Let the Goddess bless him…"
"…Just pray he doesn't demand wheat."
Aexl rose slowly, Ephone still glowing in his hand. He had no army of steel, no cannons or firepower. But he had soldiers now—and an oath that bound them.
He exhaled. Slow. Controlled. His gaze swept the hall, then lingered on Lyssa. In that moment, something clicked: this world bent its knee to monarchs, to crowns, to bloodlines.
He let the mask slip.
"To be clear…" His voice carried, cold as steel. "I didn't come here to save you. I came here to conquer. For a start this protection is just part of my conquest And as compensation—" He raised a finger, pointing at Lyssa. "
I want her. As one of my wives."