The sky had begun its slow bleed past midnight, with indigo fading into a bruised lavender hue. Mist rolled gently between the trees, drifting like smoke from a sleeping dragon.
Aexl raised his hand and signaled a halt with two fingers.
"Break time," he said, dismounting from Kentucky, who let out a satisfied grunt—like a horse finally allowed to fart.
The Valkyrie unit pulled up beside him and took a short breather. One of them soon stepped forward.
"We'll return ahead to prepare for the next phase," she said.
Aexl nodded. "Make sure Lyssa is informed about tonight's skirmish."
With a crisp two-finger salute from atop her cuckoo, the rider turned and took off toward Eldenthyr.
Their bird's wings sliced through the mist, parting it cleanly like knives through butter.
The rest dismounted, groaning in fatigue, their bodies aching from adrenaline and impact.
The hunters dropped by the fire, bruised, muddy, and proud.
Gruff slumped beside the kindling, pulling flint from his pouch and sparking life into the dried moss. He didn't speak at first. Just sat there, chewing what looked like orc jerky and throwing in a handful of weird brown nuts into a pot.
The bubbling smell hit like a train.
Aexl's nose twitched. "That's… wait. Is that coffee?"
Gruff grunted. "Forest brew. Close enough."
The nuts popped and cracked, steam rising with a bitter, rich aroma that smelled like regret and late-night strategy games.
Quink sniffed. "Not bad. Beats orc breath."
Lego, silent as always, handed everyone wooden cups without a word.
Gruff stirred the pot lazily. "That bird… Uno." He patted his mount's feathered shoulder. "Didn't flinch once. Rode clean. Followed every shift in my breath like it had my thoughts memorized."
The massive cuckoo beside him blinked, then leaned in, nudging Gruff's arm.
"That ain't a mount," Gruff continued, voice low. "That's a damn partner."
Aexl sat nearby, Katana propped against a log. He watched the steam curl into the sky and let out a breath. For once… he didn't have a joke.
Aexl sat beside Kentucky and pulled out his Ephone.
The screen flickered, then pulsed with that now-familiar, eerie glow.
[War Dominion Interface – Log Summary]
Existing Command Coins: 10
• Orc Eliminations (x50) → +750 Coins
• Elite Unit Defeated: Orc Commander → +40 Coins
[Total Coins: 950 Command Coins]
He raised a brow. "Nice haul."
He smirked.
His thumb hovered over the glowing icons.
[Taverns]
[H-Lords] [Specialist] [Gatcha]
He tapped [H-Lords].
The screen went dark.
A cold mist spread across the screen like frost crawling up glass. Cards appeared—but each was veiled in thick black fog. No icons. No names. Only ghostly silhouettes and triple question marks. Except for one with details
[ ??? ]
[ ??? ]
[ ??? ]
He tapped one.
[Unit Locked – Condition Not Met]
[Hint: Capture a Wild Maiden's Heart]
(Price: 800 Command Coins)
[Gatcha]
Even the Gacha tab mocked him:
[Recruit Spin – 1,000 Coins / Pull]
Random chance: Normal → Epic Units
[You do not have enough Command Coins]
Aexl narrowed his eyes. "So still not enough to spin the wheel, huh?..
He clenched the Ephone tighter.
"So even the Gacha's locked behind tribute," he growled.
Behind him, Gruff stirred the nut-coffee concoction. Steam curled into the air.
He looked around at the quiet fire, the way the hunters sat in easy silence, the birds gently preening themselves.
His mind drifted to games again—troop morale, fatigue, bond levels.
"Is this what a true squad feels like?" he thought, watching Gruff feed his cuckoo the last of his roasted tubers. "Not just pixels or stats. But presence."
Lego finally broke his silence.
"Four," he said simply.
Gruff raised an eyebrow. "Four what?"
"Orcs," Lego replied. "I counted. Got Four. You?"
"Eight," Gruff said with a hint of pride.
Quink looked embarrassed. "Two or Three not sure…"
Gruff clapped him on the back. "Next time, aim above the neck. No helmet, just ugly."
They all chuckled.
Even Aexl managed a smirk. "You're all learning. Next time, we flank harder. More rotation. Less mercy."
Lego glanced at him. "That move… when you took the commander's head. You learned that in your world?"
Aexl paused. "Military and anime"
No one responded. A log cracked in the fire.
He cleared his throat. "Look—point is, we move like that every time, and we won't just survive... we'll win."
Quink nodded slowly. "I never thought I'd live to strike Orcs."
"We've all been hunted," Gruff said quietly. "But tonight, we rode as wolves."
Then silence like they remember something sad, chewing through their rations—bread hardened by the chill, slices of smoked meat still warm from the firepot. They said nothing, just stared at the flames as if their thoughts were trapped inside it.
Then...
"To the cuckoos," Gruff said, raising his crude cup.
"To the cuckoos," Lego echoed, barely audible.
"To our Commander Aexl," Quink whispered.
Aexl stared at the flickering firelight, then raised his own cup with a grin.
"To Kentucky. And to weird-ass birds that might save our asses."
They drank.
The forest listened.
And for one quiet breath of dawn, war paused.
Gruff breaks the silence and stands nearby Lego and Quinks, demonstrating a proper javelin grip. His voice was low and steady, like an old war drum in teaching mode.
"Neck," he said, nodding at the imaginary target. "Always above the shoulder. They've got armor everywhere else."
Lego grunted in agreement. Quink flexed his arm, mimicking the motion, nodding with admiration.
Aexl watched them, They weren't subordinates. They weren't soldiers. They were brothers—bonded not by ranks, but by risk. lips curling into a faint smirk.
The fire continued to crackle softly as dusk swallowed the forest. Aexl sat near the flames, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees. The battle haze was fading, but the numbers wouldn't leave his mind.
"500 orcs. Maybe more," he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on the glowing embers. "We only took down 51 tonight."
He opened his Ephone and checked the log:
Gruff: 8 kills.
Lego: 4 kills.
Quink: 1 kill.
Selene: …15?
He blinked. "Fifteen?! More than me" he whispered. "Seriously?"
He turned his head, scanning the shadows.
No Selene.
Where is Selene?
Aexl turned his head, scanning the shadows for Selene… but nothing.
Not a trace.
Not even her silhouette among the trees.
Before he could ask, Gruff stepped beside him and gave a light tap on the shoulder.
"It'll be dawn soon," he said. "The cuckoos are rested."
Aexl stood slowly, brushing the dust from his cloak.
"You're right. Time to head back," he said. "Let the others know it's time to move."
Gruff gave a short nod. "What's the plan after?"
"For now… full rest until morning," Aexl replied. "We need to set up the rendezvous slope."
Gruff crossed his arms. "Me, Lego, and Quinks will stay there. There's an old hunters' treehouse set up already. After seeing how those orcs moved tonight, we've got a good grasp on what to prepare."
Aexl gave him a firm nod. "I trust you with this. We need to funnel them into the path. The traps will help keep them there."
Gruff smirked, tapping Aexl's shoulder.
"Don't worry. We'll give them something to scream about."
He turned to leave.
But Aexl spoke again.
"…Gruff. Have you seen Selene?"
Gruff paused, then glanced toward the stream beyond the thicket of bushes and broken trees.
"I think she went that way," he said quietly. "To be honest… this place is where her husband died."
Aexl's expression didn't change. He stood there, silent, unreadable.
Gruff didn't elaborate. He simply observed Aexl, letting the weight of the moment hang in the mist.
"I knew she was married before," Aexl said softly. "What happened here? With her husband?"
Gruff gave a slow sigh.
"I'm not one to broker someone else's pain. Better she tells you herself," he said. "If she ever does."
He left it at that. With a respectful nod, he turned toward the others and called out,
"Alright, boys. Let's head out!"
Aexl then look at his Ephone
[War Dominion Interface – Command Summary]
Total Coins Earned:
– 150 Existing Command Coins
– +750 Coins from 50 Orc Eliminations (15 coins each)
– +40 Coins from Elite Unit Kill: Orc Commander
[ Total: 950 Command Coins ]
[Summoned By]: Lyssa of Eldenthyr
[Rank]: Village Chief
[Summoning Class]: Stone Tier
[General Name]: Alexander Reyasu
[Level]: 1
[Status]: Lifebound – Mission Accepted
[Command Coins]: 950
[Unit Capacity]: Variable
[Unit List]: (View)
[Territory]: (View)
[Armory]: (View)
[Mission]: (View)
[Return to Origin]: Locked
Enemy left: 450 Orcs
450 more
Sigh…
Aexl moves as he is guided by his feet towards the stream as others gallop away leaving them behind.
The fire faded behind them as Aexl stood, his gaze following the sound of distant water weaving between stones.
He made his way through the trees. The moonlight filtered down like pale silk, illuminating the stream in ribbons of silver.
Then he saw her.
A silhouette—fluid and serene—stood waist-deep in the glowing water, steam curling like whispers around her bare skin.
Selene.
She moved like a goddess sculpted from moonlight and sorrow.
Her back was to him. Her long black hair clung to her shoulders, water trailing down the arc of her spine. One hand brushed against her collarbone, the other trailed along the surface of the stream.
Aexl froze, heart thudding.
"No... don't be that guy," he whispered to himself. "Turn back, turn ba..."
His foot slipped.
SCHLP!
He tumbled down the muddy slope with a yelp—branches snapping, rocks clattering...
Then...
He landed face-first into the grass.
His eyes opened.
Directly in front of him.
A scrap of delicate white cloth.
Panties.
What?
The stream shimmered faintly, and the air was so still it felt like even the trees were waiting.
Atop a moss-draped rock, abandoned yet somehow… revered.
White silk, trimmed with lace.
Delicate. Tempting.
Underwear.
In a fantasy world.
I stared at it like it was an ancient relic from a forgotten goddess. My pulse quickened. I rose slowly, each step toward it feeling like a crime.
It's not my fault, I told myself firmly. My brain is innocent. My hands… my hands are the real criminals here.
The "criminals" struck, plucking the treasure from its altar.
"Who's that?"
Her voice came from behind me—low, smooth, with a razor's edge hidden under silk.
Selene.
My shoulders locked. "S-sorry, didn't see anything," I blurted, snapping my back to her, shoving the cloth behind me like a thief caught mid-heist.
"The others have already gone back to the village," I added quickly, hoping that would be enough.
A pause. Then her reply, stretched slow, deliberate.
"…So it's just us."
The hair on my neck rose. My shoulders stiffened. "No—I mean yes—no! I just came to get you—"
Splash.
Another splash.
She was crossing the stream, but not walking—stalking. Each step purposeful, the sound of water displaced just enough to announce her approach.
"Get me?" she repeated, tone dripping with something that made my brain flash warning signs and my gut whisper don't you dare enjoy this.
I swallowed, hard. "It's time to get back. That's what I meant—"
Her presence hit me before her touch did. Then warmth at my back, soft enough to make my heart kick. Her arms slid loosely around my sides, not holding, just… claiming space.
"We're alone, Aexl," she murmured into my ear, each word brushing my skin. "The prize… and the hero."
The traitor in my trousers twitched in betrayal.
Her hand drifted down—slow, testing—until it met mine.
Her fingers curled over it.
"And this…" she purred, a smirk hidden in her voice, "what is this you're holding?"
I froze. My brain scrambled for an alibi.
Say it's a rag. Say it's a surrender flag. Say anything but—
Aexl panicked. Instinct spun him around—
And there it was.
For a split second, his gaze locked on the blessing of the Eldenthyr chest—full, proud, and glistening under the moonlight. Just above, the soft rise of the node; just below… the dangerous triangle of sweetness.
His mind flared red alarms.
Don't stare. Don't stare. Close your eyes, you idiot!
He snapped them shut—too late. The image was already burned into memory.
"This is nothing!" he blurted, voice too high, too fast. Inside, chaos raged.
Brain: not guilty. Hands: absolutely guilty.
The "criminal" hand tightened around the silk lingerie still hidden behind his back.
Then...
Something brushed his lips.
Soft. Sweet. Tickling in a way that made the back of his neck prickle. His brain caught up a moment later.
A kiss.
Not a peck, but a lingering press—her lips molding against his like she was tracing a secret pattern only she knew. The warmth deepened, coaxing, testing.
Then came the taste. Not sugar.
Bitter. Sharp.
Alcohol? he thought. Selene's… drunk?
He barely had time to decide before her hand grabbed him, pulling him closer with sudden, deliberate strength.
Two choices flashed in his mind...
The kind only a general could make.
Fall back.
Or… press on.