The Ephone rose from his hand, weightless, drifting to the center of the room as if answering his words.
[Recruitment Complete]
Berserker Unit — Led by Armenia, the Wolf of the Teutoburg Pass — ready for deployment.
The screen pulsed, casting a ceremonial light that bathed the dim chamber in a haunting glow. It felt like a ritual, like something ancient awakening. Aexl tapped the notification.
The interface dissolved into thin air.
In its place, a summoning circle ignited on the floor, glowing symbols etching themselves into the stone with impossible precision.
Then came the wind.
Sharp. Cold. Metallic.
It smelled of pine needles, frostbitten trees, and the iron scent of blood-soaked soil. It was the breath of a battlefield long buried by time.
The circle flared, and from within it... a figure stepped forward.
Her presence hit him like a war drum, each beat pounding in his chest.
She was tall. No, massive.
Nearly six and a half feet of coiled power wrapped in divine confidence. The air shifted with her very presence, like the room itself was too small to hold her.
Atop her head, wolf ears twitched, dark-tipped and alert. Her hair flowed in molten waves, deep copper strands tumbling across her shoulders like fire running wild.
Her armor shimmered in crimson, cobalt, and sun-gold hues. It blended metal and leather into a living tapestry of Germanic warfare. Her upper body was protected, but her lower half wore only a skirt-like battle wrap. Her bare thighs, sculpted and scarred, told stories of endless campaigns. Thick boots wrapped her calves, tribal and brutal.
This was no ordinary summon.
Not a soldier. Not a champion.
She was a goddess of conquest given flesh.
Her muscles shifted beneath bronze and leather with the grace of a predator. Each step she took was deliberate, weighty, final. Her golden eyes fixed on Aexl, bright with cunning, but burning with something more primal. She smiled, and her fangs flashed in the light.
Not human.
Not safe.
But glorious.
Her voice rolled across the room, low and heavy, every syllable carrying the gravity of history.
"Commander," she said. "I am Armenia, Wolf of the Teutoburg Pass. My fangs have shredded emperors. My claws have broken kings. Point me to the enemy... and the earth will drink their blood before the sun sets."
She stepped forward. Not just toward him, but into his memory.
Aexl blinked. Once. Twice.
"...Wait. What?"
This didn't make sense.
Teutoburg's warlord was Arminius.
The Cheruscan. A man. A legend.
One of the very first lords he had recruited when he played War Dominion 1.
Back then, Arminius was strict. Tactical. Cold and precise. The man for ambush, undying fury, lead berserker units, and break formations with clean, historical logic.
And now… this?
The name remained.
But the warlord was gone.
In his place stood a wolf-eared woman, tall and terrible — draped in allure and drenched in fury.
His eyes drifted, not out of lust, but disbelief.
Those thighs, shaped by war.
That waist, coiled like a spring.
The hardened leather wrapping her chest like a monument to power and beauty.
Where were the hundred troops he expected?
Where was the army?
And yet, his mind began to betray him.
He had imagined this summon would lead a vanguard. One hundred warriors crashing into the orc horde like thunder.
But now... another vision took hold.
He saw her alone.
A battlefield soaked in silence.
Trees blackened by fire.
And Armenia, standing tall above a mound of slain orcs.
Her copper hair whipped in the wind.
Her eyes, still glowing gold, scanned the ruin like a goddess surveying tribute.
Blood coated her legs. Her boots dripped with it.
She didn't need an army.
She was the storm.
No no no, Aexl muttered no man is an army
Aexl found himself stepping closer, drawn in without resistance.
He needed to see her again. To understand what he had summoned.
Armenia remained still. Watching. Waiting.
Aexl picked up the Ephone.
It pulsed in his hand.
And a new message appeared.
[Bond Recognition]
This unit was unlocked by satisfying a condition…
by honoring the gift of a Wild maiden.
Unyielding Spirit — All female units under your command will never retreat unless directly ordered, or you retreat yourself.
Cat Walk — All female units under your command move without audible footsteps in forest terrains.
Aexl stared at the screen. Then at the towering wolf-eared warrior.
He raised a brow.
So the system really rewards… that kind of thing?
Armenia stepped forward, planting the butt of her massive axe—nearly as tall as she was—onto the wooden floor. The solid thunk echoed like a judge's gavel.
"I answer your call, Commander," she said, her voice fierce and unwavering. "My wolves and I will fight until your enemies are nothing but stories whispered in fear."
Aexl blinked. Then frowned.
"Wait... your wolves? Where are they?"
He looked her over again—too long, probably. The red and blue armor, the tribal tapestry trims, the bare, powerful legs that promised speed and violence, the ever-twitching wolf ears… all of it screamed battle-hardened. Yet something about her made lingering far too easy.
No. Not now. Focus.
He rubbed his temple, trying to force Selene's voice back into memory.
"After all this… when the orcs are dead…I'll reward you with something better."
That was what he needed. Not another distraction in the shape of a six-foot goddess.
"I need the unit," he muttered.
Armenia's golden eyes snapped to him, sharp and amused.
"You need the unit?" she echoed.
"Yes. Yes," Aexl said quickly, snapping upright.
She tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a smirk.
"I can summon them, if you like. But it might be... a little cramped."
"...Cramped? Summon what?"
"My berserkers," she said, the grin widening, revealing a flash of her deadly canines.
"Twelve warriors. My wolves in human form. Each one fights like a storm given flesh. But be warned, Commander… summon them inside this hall, and you'll have broken walls, splintered tables, and nowhere left to sleep."
Aexl swallowed. "Yes you're right but why only twelve?"
Armenia tilted her head confused. Her golden eyes narrowed for a moment, like a wolf scenting weakness. Then she offered a slow, deliberate smile—elegant, but edged with hunger.
"Our strength reflects your rank, Commander," she said calmly. "Right now, your level is two. At this level, we can only field a dozen."
Her tone was respectful… but for now rang with quiet challenge.
"Six berserkers per commander level. That is your limit… until you rise."
Aexl stared.
"Level two? That's pathetic."
His mind raced through War Dominion's mechanics. Commander levels unlocked deployment slots, sure—but the base purchase always came with a hundred troops. Not twelve. And certainly not a woman who looked like she had stepped out of an ancient saga and into his room, dragging the weight of a thousand victories behind her.
"If I'm the commander," he asked, slowly, "then what… exactly are you?"
"I," Armenia said, planting her axe into the floor with a solid thunk, "I am your warlord."
Aexl blinked.
Warlord?
In War Dominion I, warlords weren't part of basic recruitment.
They never stood on the battlefield.
They were just... portraits.
Avatars in the top-right corner, maybe a glowing silhouette if morale was high.
Aexl remembered his old gameplay sessions, zooming in on a tightly packed unit of spearmen.
He'd swipe the screen, tilting the map, following the 100-strong phalanx across the valley.
And there—always in front—stood a lone figure holding the banner.
A man.
Maybe Arminius himself.
Or just some faceless flag-bearer.
He waved the flag either way.
Victory, defeat, rally… didn't matter.
The man never fought.
He just stood there.
Aexl turned toward Armenia again.
She was still. Present. Breathing. Real.
No, this wasn't the same.
This wasn't a symbol.
This was a warlord in the flesh… and the most alluring one he had ever seen.
He narrowed his eyes, watching her as the thought formed.
"Wait… so do you fight too? Or are you just here to wave flags?"
He lifted an arm and lazily mimicked the banner-waving motion, like he used to see in-game.
An awkward sideways swirl, like a parade gone wrong.
Armenia didn't move.
Her golden eyes watched him, unblinking.
She knew him.
Deep down, beyond the difference of time and interface,
She had served this commander before.
The same soul. The same voice.
But something now… bound her tongue.
She couldn't explain it.
Not yet.
And no words could prove it better than action.
She stepped forward.
Raised her axe.
A massive, double-edged slab of steel that pulsed with quiet fury.
Then she swung.
A blinding arc sliced through the air.
SWUNG—
CLANG—!
Aexl's instincts kicked in.
His M9 bayonet was already in hand, bracing the axe mid-air.
His off-hand, gripping the MI6 grip, forced the angle down.
Steel screamed against steel.
The force shattered the floor where the axe finally landed, carving a deep scar into the stone.
Blarg.
Dust exploded upward.
Silence followed.
Tense.
Heavy.
Aexl stood there, still holding the M9 in a defensive brace.
Then he smiled
Like the question was answered.
And a bond was formed.
Before Aexl could say anything to Armenia, the door suddenly burst open with a loud BANG.
Lyssa together with other women stood in the frame, flushed and breathless, her eyes darting between him and the towering wolf warrior who stood beside the summoning circle.
She blinked twice, then snapped, "What is happening here?! Who is she... and why do you have another person—from another continent?!"
"Continent?" Aexl echoed, confused.
Lyssa groaned. "No, no, forget that—there's no time! The sun's about to set! What's the plan? All the traps are already armed. Boulders in place. Hay soaked and stacked, Here you are having a sweet moment with her instead of discussing final tactics?!"
She stomped moving forwad, fuming. "Based on Dobi's report, the orcs haven't slowed down since this morning. They're in a full sprint. If they keep this pace, they'll reach the rendezvous slope by midnight!"
Aexl blinked, his thoughts scrambling.
Midnight?!
He dropped the Ephone earlier—back when Armenia nearly cleaved him in half.
He spun around, searching the floor.
There—lying by the cracked stone where the axe had struck.
He scooped it up, the screen still vibrating furiously.
14:20. Military time.
Notifications stacked like spam.
No wonder it had been buzzing nonstop when he woke.
He tapped the latest message.
ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!
Update:Main Host Detected
— Estimated Count: 450 —
Units: Orc Raiders
Threat Proximity: Immediate
Arrival Estimate: 12 Hours
Aexl stared at the screen.
He ran a hand through his hair.
The original plan was falling apart.
After last night he had assumed the orcs would be exhausted, forced to rest, slowed by weight and terrain.
But now…
"Reckless," he muttered.
Not the orcs.
Himself.
He thought he had time.
Time to do another skirmish tonight. Time to prepare.
Time to test warriors and think.
But war waited for no one.
His eyes sharpened.
Inside his head, something shifted.
His mind began to thread again—fast, cold, strategic.
Lines moved. Terrain redrew itself.
Pieces began to click.
The commander was back.
Tactical Overview
Accessing Map…
A new projection bloomed before Aexl.
Battlefield Overview
The interface flickered to life, casting light across the room.
A floating 100x100 square grid spun in the air, zoomed in on the rendezvous slope.
The orcs were moving fast—icons shifting across terrain like sprinting ants.
A timer counted down: ETA 12 hours.
"They're running a marathon," Aexl muttered. "This is full of aggression."
Everyone stared.
Lyssa. Selene.
Even a few villagers peeking in from the corridor.
The projection looked like wizardry, like something out of a forgotten age. Aexl's fingers pinched and swiped the air, zooming in on each layer..
Traps marked not shown but exisiting , boulders prepped to fall, soaked hay set at intervals, even dead Worg killed yesterday are in the overview as the slope entrance where he spiked the orc riders dead body show. On top of it a system message
SystemMessage
[ Orc Morale is slightly reduce ]
He nodded. "Good."
But Lyssa snapped him out of it. Feeling inferior to the woman in front of her
Her voice cut through the silence. "By the way who is she?" She pointed sharply at Armenia, still Standing across her, standing tall and proud towering lyssa height
Before Aexl could answer, Selene leaned in from lyssa behind. Her eyes flicked to Armenia… and her expression tightened ever so slightly.
A subtle flicker of jealousy crossed her face.
"No, no, this isn't what you think—!" Aexl blurted, waving both hands.
He swallowed hard. Holding his head
There was no time to explain.
The app. The summoning. The interface.
It was all too much, and honestly, telling them this is the reward after what happened with Selene at the stream…
His face flushed red.
Lyssa narrowed her eyes. "Why are you blushing?"
"We've been busting our asses setting traps, and here you are, playing around with some exotic woman from another continent?!"
"It's not like that!" Aexl choked, waving his hands frantically. "No, no, no—!"
Lyssa stared at him, eyes flaring with heat. Then she turned.
"Let's go," she snapped over her shoulder. "We can fend off the orcs on our own. We don't need some perverted general who flirts with his summoner day one and frolics with foreign women the next."
Her voice cracked like a whip.
It wasn't just anger. It was betrayal.
She had trusted him. Counted on him.
Now, all she saw was distraction wrapped in fur and muscle.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Then..
Chaos.
Murmurs exploded.
Several villagers gasped audibly and scrambled out the door, scandal echoing off the walls like a broken alarm bell.
Everyone bolted.
Except Selene.
She remained where she stood, arms crossed loosely beneath her chest.
Her eyes didn't leave Aexl's face.
A single smile tugged at the corner of her lips—soft, sly, and dangerous.
Like she already knew the truth.
Like she knew everything.
Like she saw through him.
"I can explain!" Aexl called after them, then turned to her. He exhaled hard, catching Armenia's golden stare still locked onto him.
That look.
It wasn't confusion.
It was knowing.
As if she had seen what happened by the stream together with selene
He shook it off. No time for that.
"Selene, sorry—just give me a second to put my pants on," he said flatly, straightening up.
"Tell everybody I'll meet them up on the slope"
Then he turned.
Eyes locking on the wolf woman in front of him.
Armenia stood straight, her chest out, posture ready. Her axe is already in hand.
"You," Aexl said, voice low and solid, "show me the warriors."
His tone dropped into command.
"I need a win tonight."
Armenia's lips curled into a grin.
Her golden eyes gleamed with promise.
Bloodlust rolled off her like heat from iron.
"Then win," she said, lifting her weapon.
"It shall be."