Aexl's gaze swept over the villagers—tight faces, clenched jaws, eyes full of questions.
He straightened. Chin up. Voice sharp like a drawn blade.
Thinking fast.
"Don't worry. They're coming," he said loud enough for all to hear. "Just now, I was talking to them. No matter what—they are coming!"
He gave Armenia a quick smack on the arm for effect.
The villagers exchanged glances. The fear that gripped them started to loosen.
"But even if they don't," Aexl added, raising a hand toward the towering warrior beside him, "don't think we're outmatched. With the right timing, this woman could take on all 450 orcs herself."
Gasps shot through the crowd.
Some villagers stared like they were looking at a living myth.
"That doesn't mean we sit around!" Aexl barked, voice echoing through the square. "We work. We prep the ground. Every strike matters. Armenia will do her part — and so will we!"
Beside him, Armenia smiled. Slow. Confident. The kind of smile that turned fear into steel.
War Dominion… don't fail me now.
The thought struck through Aexl's head as he assembled the next phase. If that summon went through, if those berserkers arrive... they'll seal the deal.
Lyssa stepped up beside him, reading the tension in his face.
"Is there a problem?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Everything's under control."
He turned slightly. "Roderick."
The older warrior stepped forward.
"I need something specific. Tell the hunters — rest. Make them sleep now. We need them sharp tonight to set the traps."
Then Aexl scanned the left side of the square.
Villagers stood at the ready. Women gripping tools, rusted blades, spears, and whatever else they could find.
He turned back to Lyssa, eyes serious.
"From them, pick twenty able-bodied women. Form a unit. Place them on the right slope — stagger their formation."
He continued.
"The rest, those who can still fight, bring them to your rear. Make them the supply line. If anything breaks down, they're the ones who'll keep things moving."
His hand dropped to her shoulder, firm and steady.
"I'm counting on you to see it through — exactly as planned."
Lyssa paused.
She felt it — his faith in her. Not just words, but weight. A command. A trust.
And somehow... it lightened her own burdens.
She remembered yesterday. The shed. The projection, the surreal terrain and markers. She remembered him explaining every quadrant, every fallback position.
Now, as she saw him turning, coordinating Armenia and Selene like a seasoned field commander, she whispered to herself.
"…Yeah, I've been rude," Lyssa murmured to herself, eyes lingering on Aexl's back.
She had carried the weight of this village for so long — the expectations, the fear, the constant responsibility. It used to crush her shoulders like a yoke she couldn't set down.
But now… something had shifted.
That same burden felt lighter.
Not because it was gone.
But because someone else had picked it up beside her.
She watched Aexl move, issuing orders with confidence, doin some weird poses and actions like teaching Selene with something, then shifted talking tactics with Armenia.
He was taking everything on — not out of pride, but because he believed it was necessary.
She exhaled, a soft breath escaping as the truth settled in.
You're carrying it now, aren't you… all of it.
Deep Breathe Then
"Elders and children — head to the broken castle! The rest of you, help fortify the Rendezvous Slope!"
She moved fast, issuing commands, voice clear. For the first time, it felt like the village was truly under someone's command — and not just surviving.
Aexl muttered to himself, eyes flicking toward Selene and Armenia. He already knew what roles they would play.
But then his gaze rose upward.
The sky stretched above them — cloudless. Dry. The final rays of the sun fading behind the slope.
No clouds. No rain. Just cold creeping in with night.
Selene noticed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Before he could answer, Armenia cut in, arms crossed.
"He's wishing for rain."
Aexl turned, surprised. "How did you—?"
"We're in sync," she said with a confident smirk.
Aexl groaned. "No, not that kind of sync. Sync as in—ugh, forget it." He glanced toward Selene. "Don't get the wrong idea."
Selene shrugged. "I don't mind. As long as the orcs die."
"Yeah…" Aexl grunted.
"Rain?" she asked again.
"Yes. Enough to turn the slope to mud. Slow them down. Mess up their formations."
He scanned the skies one more time. "It'd be perfect. And if we had oil to light the hay, we could trigger fire traps."
"Rain?" Selene repeated, brow lifting. "Actually... Maevra sold us something. Said it could help with our water problems."
Aexl froze. "She what? You still have it!?"
"Well… something."
"A water pump?" His eyes lit up. "Tell me it's something to flood the road."
"A what?"
"Never mind. Just show me what she gave you!"
Selene darted off toward Lyssa, who was still issuing orders. The two exchanged words quickly. Then Selene jogged back, holding something under her cloak.
She stopped in front of him, smiling just a bit.
"Let's get you the rain you need."
****
We headed out, Lyssa at the front with Selene and Aunt Mereia tagging along. She led us to the falls where the stream's water roared down—its flow cutting past the ruins of an old house, half-collapsed and sunk deep in the current.
And then I saw it.
Sitting there like some retired old man on a rocking chair, staring at the falls… was not a water pump.
Not a magical spout.
Not a mighty water elephant.
It was a frog.
A fat, green frog.
Casually humming to himself.
I squinted. "What the hell does that have to do with water?"
Lyssa gestured like she was revealing some ancient treasure. "This… is Kyro."
"…A frog," I deadpanned.
"A very special frog," Lyssa insisted.
She snapped her fingers. Madam Juvia stepped forward with a wooden box, handing it over like it contained the crown jewels. Lyssa opened it with agonizing slowness.
Inside was… a lute.
My jaw dropped. "No. No way."
Kyro saw the lute.
And something in him changed.
His eyes went wide—like a man spotting the love of his life across a battlefield.
He gasped. He leapt from the chair with a soggy splat, tears already welling in his warty eyes.
"Oh," I muttered. "I get it now. His tears… could flood a river."
"Don't be stupid," Lyssa snapped.
She handed him the lute.
Kyro clutched it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He took a long, shaky breath… and began to play.
A slow, weepy tune spilled out—like the soundtrack to someone losing their childhood home in the rain.
Which, apparently, was exactly what was happening.
The clouds rolled in.
The sky darkened.
Thunder growled across the hills.
And then—
WSSHHHHHHHHHH!
Rain hammered down in sheets, drenching us instantly.
I stared up at the sky, already soaked to the bone.
"WHAT. THE. HELL!? Who is Maerva!? A witch!?"
"A scammer," Selene and Aunt Mereia replied in perfect unison.
I grinned through the downpour.
Perfect.
"So," I asked, wiping rain from my face, "how do we stop the rain?"
Lyssa just smirked and raised a hand.
Aunt Mereia stepped forward, hips swaying in a slow, dangerous rhythm—like she was about to seduce an emperor. She stopped in front of Kyro, tilting his chin up with one finger, her eyes half-lidded with that I-know-you-want-me look.
Then she leaned forward.
Low.
Bending enough that gravity made her generous figure… very apparent.
"Wait—" Even I choked on my words, eyes darting. No, no, not that—focus, Aexl!
Kyro froze. His cheeks turned pink. The lute trembled in his hands.
Then—SWIPE! Aunt Mereia snatched it.
The music stopped.
The rain stopped.
The clouds broke apart like they'd just remembered they had other places to be.
Kyro dropped to his knees, arms outstretched in betrayal. "You… inhumane monsters… you devils!"
"Yah, yah," Lyssa waved him off. "Drama queen."
Aunt Mereia tilted her head, feigning offense, her voice carrying that soft-but-dangerous edge. "And what do you call me, hmm?"
Kyro's face softened, voice trembling. "You… my love… are the sweetest thing I've ever wanted to taste."
Aunt Mereia's expression shifted instantly—from faux irritation to a blushing, fluttering goddess mode.
I crouched beside Kyro, patting his damp head. "I know your pain, buddy."
Kyro sniffled, tiny hands clutching the front of my shirt. "You… do?"
I sat beside him in the wet grass, the world momentarily still. "I do. To be born with a gift… and have it used for someone else's convenience. To be seen not as a soul… but as a tool."
Kyro's lip quivered. "I was once… just a frog. A humble frog with a lute and a dream. I sang beneath the stars, played lullabies for the clouds…"
"That's beautiful," I whispered.
"…Until I met her," Kyro said, eyes growing misty. "Rosa."
I leaned in. "What happened?"
Kyro clutched his hands like the lute was still there. "She wasn't like the others. She didn't hop… she floated. Every ribbit she spoke was a poem. I knew it the moment I saw her — my song had changed."
"A siren in frog form," I murmured.
Kyro's voice cracked. "I gave up everything. My pride… my freedom… even this lute. For one kiss on her mossy cheek… and a peek at her undergarment."
I patted his damp back. "You are a perv—no… you were in love."
"I am in love," Kyro whispered.
Lyssa scoffed behind us. "You exchanged your magical weather-controlling instrument for a woman's underwear. That's what you are."
"No! She took my lute," Kyro growled. "With soft whispers and fluttering lashes. Said my music made the rain sing for her. But when the clouds broke and my heart swelled… she snatched it—mid-song! I haven't played since. Until today."
His eyes narrowed at Lyssa.
"And now you, wretched blonde sorceress in armor, follow her path!"
Lyssa blinked. "Wretched what now? You were sold to us, remember?"
"You devils are all the same!" Kyro accused, pointing a slimy finger. "With your smug glares and wicked smirks—treating artists like tools! First Rosa… then all the women!"
"Whoa now," I said, trying not to laugh. "Let's not compare Rosa's frog-napping betrayal to battlefield rain coordination—"
"I call thee… Lute Thief the Second!" Kyro declared.
Lyssa rolled her eyes. "Are you done?"
"You seduced my strings with a mission," Kyro went on, eyes blazing. "You soaked me in romance, only to wring me dry! My soul is a sponge… squeezed by tyrants! You… heartless… monsters…"
Lyssa stepped over him. "Get over it. The world needs rain, not romance. You're sold to us—unless you don't want your daily tribute."
I muttered, "Tribute?"
Kyro froze mid-tantrum, then smirked. "What's the offer, Master?" he said, looking past me to Lyssa. "But I'm not gonna be anyone's tool."
"Look, buddy," I said, crouching to meet his eyes. "I know it hurts. But think of it this way—you'll save a village… with heartbreak and humidity."
His throat bobbed. "…I will?"
"You did," I grinned. "Kyro the Hero."
Kyro straightened a little, wiping his eyes with one slimy hand. "Then… perhaps there's still a bard left in me."
Lyssa sighed. "Whatever. He's your problem now."
My Ephone buzzed.
I pulled it out, the glowing menu flickering:
[You have gained an Artifact:]
Kero the Frog – Rainmaker
"…What? I gained an artifact?"
I glanced up—just in time to see Aunt Mereia walking off with the lute. I chased her. "Hey! What's the tribute for Kyro, anyway? He's obsessed with it."
Aunt Mereia smiled slyly, leaning in to whisper, her voice low and dripping with seduction. "My underwear."
Everyone mounted their cuckoos to ride out. I spotted Kyro grinning smugly from lyssa's saddle.
I froze mid-stride. Soft almost like breathing "…I think I need those too."
Looking at Armenia
And Armenia, look at me as if she knows what's on my mind and said to my face
"I can give you mine?"