The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long golden rays across the training fields. Dust swirled in the air. Javelins thudded into hay targets. Cuckoos clucked, screeched, and charged on command. What had started as chaos was now transforming into rhythm.
Aexl stood tall atop Kentucky, scanning the field like a general surveying his army.
Sweat-streaked villagers rode in loose formations. Some missed. Some hit. Some fell. But all were improving.
This was progress.
He grinned.
"Lyssa!" Aexl called out, pointing dramatically from the saddle as Kentucky strutted with regal flair beneath him.
"Get the three hunters. I've got big, feathery plans for them."
Lyssa raised an eyebrow, but turned sharply without protest, her long golden hair catching the light like a battle flag.
Aexl then twisted in his saddle to face another rider—Selene, who was effortlessly guiding her mount through tight turns, firing arrows mid-motion and tossing javelins like it was second nature.
"And you, Selene," he said with a grin, "since your cuckoo's already pulling off stunts like a feathered ballerina... assist Roderick with the next phase."
Selene smirked. Her raven-black hair fluttered in the breeze as she raised one brow in reply. Her cuckoo let out a sharp, perfectly timed ku-kooh! as if to punctuate the order.
Aexl leaned forward slightly in the saddle, eyes gleaming with mischief and command.
"Ladies and gentlemen... the age of horse-riding is over."
He snapped his fingers.
"This—" he gestured grandly at Kentucky "—this is the future."
As if on cue, Kentucky reared up, claws kicking dust into the wind, wings spread wide like a conquering god-bird.
"Ku-kuoooooh!!"
The majestic war-chicken cry echoed across the field, sending a few nearby birds fluttering into the sky.
For a single moment, even the most skeptical villagers stared in stunned awe.
The Cuckoo Corps had begun.
Lyssa arrived on horseback or rather, cuckooback.. her posture confident atop the massive feathered beast she'd somehow managed to tame. Its plumage shimmered under the sun, bronze and ivory catching the breeze like banners on a battlefield.
Behind her came three more riders.
Three hunters, fresh from the wild, bows slung over their shoulders, pelts and game hanging from their side packs. They rode like men who didn't need saddles to feel balanced, their birds moving with practiced, unshaken grace.
Near the shaded edge of the training field, Aexl was busy overdoing something only he could overdo.
He had dismounted and now stood next to Kentucky, fluffing the bird's newly strapped armor with unnecessary devotion. His fingers smoothed every strap, adjusted every buckle, and realigned the ceremonial chest plate as if Kentucky were preparing for a royal inspection. He even spat on the metal once and rubbed it in with a cloth, humming to himself like a horse groomer in love.
Lyssa cleared her throat politely and gave a little wave.
"General," she called, her voice formal yet relaxed, "these are the three hunters you asked for."
Aexl turned slowly, hands still gripping Kentucky's reins like a proud parent showing off a beauty pageant contestant.
He looked at the first hunter.
Tall. Lean. Long flaxen hair tied at the back. Sharp angular features and a perpetual squint like he was always aiming at something just over your shoulder. There was something... familiar about him.
"This is Legolaf," Lyssa said simply.
Aexl tilted his head, squinting hard.
"Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope. Too close to Grimli. My brain can't take it," he muttered, rubbing his temples like a war trauma just activated. "I'm calling you Lego. Just so I don't short-circuit."
Legolaf… now Lego, nodded in silence, completely unbothered.
Lyssa moved on.
"This is Quink."
Quink gave a single nod. He was a broad-shouldered beast of a man, the kind you'd expect on the cover of a gym poster or as the default character in an MMORPG. His pointed ears and faint tribal markings completed the elf-ranger look.
Aexl glanced from Lego to Quink. Then slowly raised his hand, forming a subtle switch gesture with two fingers, like a spy issuing a coded signal during a black-ops mission.
The two hunters blinked.
Quink tilted his head.
Lego just narrowed his eyes.
Lyssa, unimpressed, raised a brow.
"...Should I know what that means?"
"Nope. You're good," Aexl replied, casually brushing the moment aside like it was classified information.
She sighed and pointed to the last one.
"And this... is Gruff."
Gruff was older. Wiry. Wrinkled in all the right ways. Scar along his cheek. Wore a half-cape for no reason. The kind of man who probably slept in trees and chewed on bone without seasoning.
The older hunter grunted. It was short, guttural, and apparently enough.
Aexl stepped back and scanned the trio like a martial arts master surveying his next disciples.
"You three," he said, his tone deepening with theatrical weight as he began pacing in a slow circle, "sharp-eyed, calm, experienced. You've likely tracked prey through fog... frost... and flatulence."
The hunters exchanged side-eyes. Gruff scratched his chin.
Aexl kept going.
"Warriors of the woods. Killers of deer. Kings of camouflage. And—most importantly—masters of traps."
He stopped. Dead serious now.
The shed around them creaked gently in the breeze, casting shade across the small wooden table placed at the center. Maps, metal parts, ropes, bundles of strange herbs, and old rusted spike traps sat atop it like offerings.
From a short distance away, Roderick peeked in from behind a tent flap. He had left the reins of the training field to one of the younger female guards and now hovered near the shed like a kid sneaking peeks at a secret club meeting.
Aexl noticed.
He gave Roderick a quick smile and then turned back to the three hunters.
this morning I have done recon mission and survey the battlefield
As tactical view came to life again as soon as i press the app on the phone, no strange reaction well they have seen this many times already, as i pressed
[ Tactical Overview ]
Accessing Map...
The map shimmered to life in midair, translucent and shifting. Terrain details stitched themselves together—trees, ridges, elevation lines. Then, a series of red dots emerged, blinking ominously as they crawled slowly across the edge of the projected landscape.
[ Update: Main Host Detected ]
– Route: Marching via Cliff of Echo
– Estimated Arrival: 2 Days, 5 Hours
– ETA: 4:00 PM, Local Time
I pinched my fingers together and zoomed in. The holographic image shifted like a modern command center screen. Just like Earth—except the stakes were real.
The red dots showed a slow but steady march, the orc host nearing the mouth of the cliff trail. Beyond that... fog. A white haze pulsing softly across the projection—unscouted land.
A soft voice interrupted.
"To be honest, since last night I have been curious about this?" Lyssa whispered, stepping closer, her hand reaching out
It phased through the image.
"What sort of magic do you use for this?" she murmured, mesmerized.
Aexl glanced at her. "Focus."
With a tap, he highlighted a red icon—an orc encampment perched near the Cliff of Echo.
The map instantly reacted, drawing a faint crimson trail from the camp to the village.
ETA: 2 Day, 5 Hours
Lyssa gasped, eyes widening as she traced the glowing red path. "The orcs…"
"Are coming," Aexl confirmed. "But we're not going to wait for them."
Lyssa kept brushing the map, her fingers passing through clouds and icons. "This… this map... It's like a goddess's vision..."
"Seriously?" Aexl muttered under his breath, dragging the map back with a finger flick like a gamer adjusting his camera angle.
She kept poking at the map, awe-struck and totally ignoring him now.
He gritted his teeth.
"Are you gonna listen to the plan?" he said, looking up with deadpan irritation. "Or do I need to start poking you too?"
Lyssa froze. Then her cheeks flushed deep pink.
Lyssa suddenly stopped mid-poke, her eyes going wide as if caught red-handed in class.
Her voice softened. "...Listen."
Aexl raised an eyebrow. "Alright then. Here's the plan."
The map shifted again, responding to my fingers as I zoomed in on the terrain.
The orcs were still marching, that much was certain. But I'd seen enough campaigns—on Earth and now here—to guess where they'd camp next.
I tapped the open plain just past the exit of the Cliff of Echo. A wide stretch of land, clear and sloped, overlooking the valley with sparse trees and tall grass. No cliffs. No boulders. No cover.
"Probably here," I said, highlighting it with a flick. "Flat ground. High visibility. No blind spots. Easy to defend."
Lyssa leaned in, eyes narrowing at the spot. "But it's... open. Doesn't that make them vulnerable?"
"It's perfect for them. The only threat is from the Forest of Overgrowth... but that's more than a kilometer out. Any monster wandering out of those trees wouldn't reach them in time to matter. From a commander's view, it's the ideal location."
Then I paused, watching the red markers crawl across the projection.
"But more than that... it's perfect for their arrogant minds."
Lyssa frowned. "Arrogant?"
"They're orcs marching in plate armor," I said. "Disciplined. Measured. But make no mistake—they believe you're nothing more than peasants with pitchforks. They see Eldenthyr as a soft target. A forgotten village led by a girl and guarded by grandfathers."
My eyes narrowed on the trail.
"They don't just expect to win. They expect to roll over you without breaking stride. That's why they'll camp here—out in the open. Because they don't think you're worth hiding from."
A murmur ran through the room.
"And that," I continued, a smile tugging at my lips, "is good for us."
Lyssa looked at me carefully. "Why?"
"Because they won't expect pain," I said simply. "They'll march relaxed, confident, lazy in their night watch. And when they do... we'll greet them with something better than pitchforks."
I tapped the forest icon near our village—the dense green zone on the map flared to life, expanding into a layered 3D image of trees, terrain height, and dirt trails. I pinpointed a section near the eastern edge.
"By tomorrow night," I said, marking a crimson dot within the tree line, "they'll likely settle here. That's their staging point."
A red path traced from the cliffside to that very spot.
[ Time to Arrival: 1 Day ]
I dragged the map again and let it settle. My gaze lifted from the screen and swept the room.
"By the night after tomorrow," I said quietly, "they'll be here."
Silence pressed in.
"They're not coming to raid," I continued, tapping the crimson path now snaking toward Eldenthyr's gate. "They're coming to erase us. To wipe us out."
Roderick stepped forward, arms crossed tight. "We'll be ready," he said, voice steady. "They'll bleed before they reach our walls."
Another presence entered the shed.
Selene.
She didn't speak. She stood just inside the threshold, watching me with those cold, sharp eyes. Listening.
I turned back to the map and tapped the village icon.
"If we wait for them to come to us, it'll be a massacre," I said plainly. "Not a skirmish. Not a raid. All of us. Gone."
I zoomed the map out and pointed at the red wave of markers still moving—still following the road to Eldenthyr with military precision.
"I saw their armor up close. It wasn't cobbled together. It was forged. Marked. Organized. They didn't march in packs. They moved in formation."
My voice dropped.
"They're not here to knock. They're here to destroy."
Whispers broke the silence.
"Massacre?" one of the hunters muttered.
Lyssa's lips parted, but no words came.
Even now she understands. This wasn't about defending a village. This was war.
"But," I said, holding up a hand, voice sharp, "that will not be the case."
I tapped a section of the map again—closer to the Forest of Overgrowth. The view shifted, now focused on a narrow, winding stretch of terrain surrounded by hills.
"This is where we'll meet them," I continued. "Here. At this slope."
The projection shifted again, outlining two elevations flanking a long passage.
"To the right, we have a rise of one hundred meters. To the left, a smaller ridge at fifty. Between them... a natural funnel. A path narrow enough for two caravans at most. Or six orcs shoulder to shoulder."
I traced the route with two fingers, then spread them outward to reveal the full kilometer-long corridor that exited the forest trail.
"I'm calling this spot... Rendezvous Slope."
The red markers pulsed at the edge of the cliffside path. Their doom trail.
"Tomorrow, Lyssa, you'll lead a squad to begin preparations. Rope in every able villager you can. Reinforce the ridge, scout the blind corners, start hauling those logs and boulders we talked about."
She nodded firmly.
I turned to the three hunters.
"You three will be crucial. I need your instincts, your traps, and your speed."
Quink straightened. Lego gave a quiet nod.
Gruff, the senior among them, let out a grunt.
"Hunting bears?"
I smirked. "Think of it as... five hundred bears."
Gruff's eyes glinted. "Then this'll be the bear that suffers more."
I nodded in agreement.
"Yes, we can't face them head-on in an open field. Not with armor and numbers on their side. But if we play it smart, if we shape the field... we can wipe them out before they even understand what's happening."
I highlighted key points on the slope—the high ridge, the drop points, the spots to embed traps, boulders, and logs.
"Avalanche-style. Spike traps. Rolling logs. Fire if we have to. Chaos from above while we keep mobile units below for interception. Push and pull. Hit and vanish."
The shed creaked as Selene leaned in from the corner. She had been silent until now, arms crossed.
"But..." Lyssa spoke up, worry in her voice, "it would take a full day just to reach that location."
I turned, already grinning, and tilted my head toward the nearby Cuckoo mounts.
"Maybe on foot. But with those overgrown feather bombs?"
Kentucky let out a soft ku-kooh behind me as if on cue.
"I ran the Echo Ridge in three hours. On a straight path, this here—" I drew a glowing blue line from the village to Rendezvous Slope, "—takes less than an hour. That's our advantage. While they're crawling in full armor, sticking to the road like they own the continent, we use the terrain."
The line pulsed, glowing brighter.
"Alright then," I replied, drawing in a breath.
My voice hardened.
"Tonight we initiate Plan One."
I tapped the screen again, shifting the view to a red marker blinking between the forest and the slope.
"Push and pull harassment. Hit them while they are resting. Control the pace. Slow their rhythm. Make them bleed confidence. If we break their sense of command before the real battle starts..."
I stepped back from the projection, folding my arms.
"They won't realize they've already lost until the slope starts collapsing."
Roderick, Aexl commanded like a true general, The select ten guards most proficient in javelin throwing while riding cuckoos.
They're now our elite force—I'm calling them the Valkyrie Unit.
They'll be riding with me tonight.
He re-centered the map. "The goal is to force them to slow down again—make them camp a few times before reaching us. With our first strike, we alter their pace. Burn their food. Kill a few scouts. Their new ETA here will be behind schedule."
Lyssa frowned. "And what if they don't stop again?"
Aexl's eyes turned cold. "Then we're doomed."
"No... we can't be," Lyssa whispered, fear seeping through.
"Exactly why we don't let them reach the village at all." He pointed back at the forest. "Every attack happens here. Your old playground."
Lyssa blinked, surprised. "We used to play in those woods a lot as kids…"
"Not the 'playground' I meant," Aexl muttered. "But you know the terrain better than they ever will."
"It's sacred to us," Lyssa said quietly. "Like part of our culture… part of us."
"Spoken like a true elven soul," Aexl said. "Except we're in Eldenthyr.."
Lyssa tilted her head. "Elven soul? Why does that matter?"
"Because you'll need that connection. Once the ambush starts, I want the villagers waiting here—" he pointed to an exit route near the southern edge of the forest, "—ready to regroup or retreat if needed."
"You'll lead them."
Lyssa's gaze sharpened. She nodded once, firm.
Aexl continued explaining. Map overlays shifted. Alternate scenarios faded in and out—rainfall, night vision paths, even soil softness for possible trap placements. Lyssa was stunned by how detailed each contingency was.
As they wrapped up, the sun of the day started to fade out. It was already Evening