Far away from the clashing armies of orcs and men, another power watched the world from lofty heights—the Central Magic Empire, known as the City of All Laws.
The city was not vast in population—barely two million lived within its walls—but its importance outweighed empires of tens of millions. For here gathered the greatest magicians of the age, summoned beneath the banner of the Council. The city itself was a monument to order and arcane mastery, with streets etched in runes and towers built to harmonize ley lines.
At the city's very heart rose a straight, silver-grey tower a hundred meters tall. Its crown was a great sphere, like an unblinking eye gazing down upon the continent. From its platform, one could see the entire city glitter with spell-light.
Upon that platform stood a figure cloaked in black. A faceless white mask concealed their identity, while their robe hung heavy with arcane sigils. They stared silently over the sprawl below until another shadow descended from the heavens.
This second mage floated gracefully down, robes black as night but patterned with scarlet flames. His mask was identical, but the flame designs marked him as one of a different circle. He landed softly beside the first figure.
"Any interesting news of late?" His voice was calm, almost amused.
The first mage, her voice young and crystalline despite the mask, answered coolly. "The eastern lands grow restless. The Magic Empire there clashes with the northern United States of Locke. Alien races stir in greater riots than usual. I sense something larger brewing."
"Our duty is only to observe," the flame-robed mage shrugged. "If mortals and monsters tear each other apart, it is for the Council to decide whether to act."
Then, as though struck by sudden thought, he chuckled. "Yet, in my monitoring of the western mortal kingdoms, I found something… curious."
"Oh?" she tilted her masked head. "What curiosity?"
He leaned closer, as though sharing a secret. "A mortal kingdom, small and pitiful, barely a few million souls… rose almost overnight. Once it teetered on extinction. Yet now it counterattacks, conquers, even marches into the Orc Empire itself."
Her surprise was plain even through the mask. "Attack the Orc Empire? Besides the Tongsley Empire, no mortal nation has dared such a thing. And even they are but mortals to us."
The flame-robed mage spread his hands. "I know only what I observed. Their armies wield weapons that level orc legions. They fight with thunder and iron. Perhaps…" His voice carried a hint of laughter. "Perhaps they will amuse us."
But the first mage's tone sharpened. "Do not be so quick to jest. Mortal kingdoms that rise so suddenly are rarely natural. History shows they are often touched by demons—corrupted with otherworldly power. And you know well, the gate of the other world has grown loose again."
He raised his palms in mock surrender. "Peace, peace. I will keep my eyes open."
Together, they turned their masked gazes eastward, toward orcish lands where Gavin Ward's army carved its path.
---
Gavin Ward's Army
Meanwhile, deep in the Orc Empire, Gavin's campaign pressed forward. Orc armies scattered like dry leaves before his steel thunder. Villages fell into silence, forts abandoned or consumed in fire. Yet Gavin was not blind to the cost—his soldiers bled, supplies stretched thin, and every battle drained his reservoir of "kill value."
[Kill Value: 123,657]
The number gleamed in his mind, a tally of lives taken and enemies crushed. Recently, the rewards had lessened; the orc armies, broken and demoralized, no longer yielded the same bounty. Still, the system offered small prizes.
He purchased the essentials—radios, signal base stations, and perhaps most importantly, mid-20th century medical advancements. With his points, he summoned a medical and scientific team of two hundred, trained in techniques far beyond this world's understanding.
It had cost him tens of thousands of points, but Gavin knew it was worth it. Medicine was no luxury. Armies could march on empty stomachs longer than they could survive disease and infection.
For now, the orc legions broke at first contact, leaving the Kingdom of Ross's soldiers largely unscathed. But Gavin planned for more than battles—he planned for survival in a land far from home.
---
The Experiments
In his command tent, Gavin sat behind a sturdy oak table, maps spread before him. Across the desk stood a man in a white coat—the leader of his newly acquired medical team. The doctor's expression was stern, but his eyes glimmered with the zeal of discovery.
"How goes the progress?" Gavin asked.
The doctor bowed. "We have removed the devices from the captives' bodies. The methods used by the orcs were… barbaric. Pipes fused crudely into flesh, steel plates hammered into skin. The damage was immense."
He paused, disdain curling his lips. "They possess no true science. Their work is brute sorcery—ten centuries behind our knowledge."
"Yet?" Gavin pressed.
"Yet," the doctor's voice quickened, "we have found something remarkable." His eyes burned with fervor.
"Remarkable?" Gavin leaned forward.
"Yes. The devices channel violent, unstable magic—energy no human could survive. Yet these half-orc girls, somehow, are perfectly compatible. Their bodies endure the flood of magic where others would explode. They can wield the raw force directly."
He gestured with his hands as though shaping the vision in the air. "With the crude orc devices, the failure rate is over ninety percent. But imagine, Majesty—if we replaced those clumsy machines with true craftsmanship, refined engineering, guided by our knowledge. We could build units of biological magic weapons that never fail."
The doctor's voice rose to near fanaticism. "An elite corps—half-orc soldiers enhanced with stable devices, wielding both flesh and magic as one!"
Silence hung for a moment. Gavin's expression betrayed little, though his mind spun. The doctor's ambition was clear: not just to heal the captives, but to harness them.
At last Gavin said, "You propose a research base."
The doctor fell to his knees in fervent supplication. "Yes, Majesty! Allow me to build a facility. With resources, with subjects, with time—we can refine this miracle. We can create true humanoid magic weapons, perfect soldiers at your command!"
The words reeked of obsession, but also potential. Gavin's gaze hardened. He thought of Lina's sorrow when she saw her kin twisted into weapons. He thought of the empire that dared such cruelty. And he thought of the inspiration he had already drawn—the dream of soldiers who flew, armed with both steel and sorcery.
"I will consider it," Gavin said finally, his tone grave. "For now, continue your work. Remove the devices, heal those you can. Learn everything you can from what the orcs have left us."
The doctor bowed so low his forehead touched the floor. "To serve His Majesty is our highest honor!"
When he rose, his eyes burned with fanatic loyalty. The system's chosen staff shared a strange trait—all were unshakably loyal to Gavin Ward, their admiration teetering on the edge of worship.
Gavin watched him leave, then leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
The Orc Empire had revealed its darkness. The Central Magic Empire watched with masked interest. And now, Gavin stood at the edge of a new possibility—the fusion of technology and magic, the birth of soldiers who would change war forever.
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