Fort Nightfall stood where the kingdom ended.
Beyond its walls stretched a land stripped bare by war—forests reduced to skeletal remains, soil stained black by demonic corruption, and the distant tremors of mana storms that never fully faded. This was not a place meant for comfort or glory.
It was a place meant to endure.
Daniel stood atop the fortress walls, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the horizon where humanity's borders bled into chaos.
This is where I build my army, he thought.
The demon army was not advancing recklessly. It was consolidating, probing, learning. The next large-scale offensive would not come tomorrow, nor next month—but when it did, it would be overwhelming.
Daniel needed time.
Time to sharpen steel. Time to temper resolve. Time to grow powerful enough that even demon generals would hesitate.
Fort Nightfall had been abandoned for years—not because it was weak, but because it was too close to death. Previous commanders had requested reassignment. Others had died.
Daniel had accepted it immediately.
That alone had sent a message.
—
Within a day of taking control, orders spread throughout the capital, surrounding cities, and nearby villages.
Not whispered.
Proclaimed.
Daniel sent his Battalion members to go to random regions around the kingdom and look for true warriors, those who are on the verge of giving up, the royal court spies found out this and soon after the news spread like world fire across the kingdom.
People whispered prayers into the night.
Some mocked the rumour. Others trembled at it.
Daniel already had his foundation.
Eighteen warriors—the original Red Flags Battalion—stood behind him. Veterans who had survived battles that would have crushed ordinary troops.
He needed exactly eighty-two more.
No extras.
No replacements.
Seven days later, the gates of Fort Nightfall opened.
And in entered the new recruits, young but with fire in their eyes,
Farmers' sons hardened by labour. Hunters with steady hands and sharp instincts. Street-born youths with eyes too old for their age.
Thirty of them were girls.
None were turned away.
Daniel did not give a speech.
He simply watched.
When the count reached one hundred, he telepathically ordered his gang to return back to the castle with some supplies.
—
Three days later, a royal envoy arrived alone.
A sealed letter bore the king's personal crest.
Daniel read it once.
The king requested that his youngest son be placed under Daniel's command.
A political move—but also a test.
Daniel's reply was short.
He will come without attendants. He will wear commoner clothes. He will train and suffer as the rest.
If he survives, he may remain.
The answer returned within the day.
Accepted.
The boy arrived quietly.
No ceremony. No banners.
Plain clothes. Clean posture. Steady eyes.
"My name is Aaren," the boy said, bowing stiffly.
"Forget it," Daniel replied flatly. "From today, you're a student."
Aaren nodded without complaint.
Daniel noted it.
—
The structure of the battalion was declared that same night.
The first eighteen—regardless of age—were named Elders.
Their authority was absolute.
They enforced discipline. They delivered punishment. They embodied the standard.
The remaining eighty-two were students.
Training began before dawn.
They fought each other until bodies collapsed and yet no rest was given to them , carrying water down the near by village in order increase their endurance, but the surprising thing was the girls didn't slack of the training infact they were very hardworking, Daniel noticed a particular, girl who eseren had brought, she was like a spartan, he commented in his head, she really has an eye for talent,
Daniel told them he had given them a chance of protecting their families and changing their situation by putting food on their plates, he sent, two gold coins to the families, every month and promised to pay them their full once they graduated to full red flags knights, though the kids didn't know the value of a gold coin, it was good to know that their families didn't sleep on empty stomachs, he then saw an improvement in prince Aarens development, he began being aggressive and strength build up through relentless hard work.
They were forced to march with weighted armour through corrupted terrain.
They were submerged in freezing rivers and ordered to meditate while their muscles screamed.
Meals were scarce.
Rest was earned.
Weakness was not tolerated.
Daniel watched everything.
Not once did he interfere.
Not once did he soften the rules.
By the second month, Lilith's weapons were introduced.
Custom-forged tools of war—balanced, lethal, precise.
Spears, blades, bows, chained weapons.
No decorative steel.
Only killing tools.
Seven months passed.
The screams faded.
Bodies hardened.
Eyes sharpened.
Pay was distributed monthly.
The Elders received full battalion wages.
The students received less—enough to survive, nothing more.
Most sent every coin home.
Eseren sent all of hers to her village.
Daniel noticed.
He said nothing.
—
One night, Daniel gathered them all within the inner grounds.
The air twisted.
Reality folded.
They were brought into Daniel's domain—a controlled world dense with mana and danger.
"This," Daniel said calmly, "is the Battalion's secret."
He looked at each of them.
"Speak of it outside these walls," he continued, "and the wolves will eat you."
No one doubted him.
—
That same night, Daniel released Zenn.
The dragon unfurled massive wings beneath the moonlight, its presence shaking the fortress.
Zenn had grown.
Large enough now.
When Eseren mounted its back, her hands trembled—not with fear, but joy.
A dream whispered as a child had become real.
Daniel watched from the shadows.
Almost ready.