Afternoon on the sixth day.
The sun hung low in the sky, bleeding orange light across the jagged hills. It was the afternoon of the sixth day, and Sam's army had been fighting almost without pause for two days straight. The exhaustion was palpable. Armor dented, shields cracked, weapons chipped — yet the Twilight Troops marched on, their discipline unbroken.
Sam walked at the front, his boots crunching against stone, Sun Blade strapped across his back. Without Helios blazing above, the march felt heavier, slower. The Phoenix still slept at the manor, absorbing the Sun Fruit's power, leaving Sam to walk as a mortal among his legion.
The Twilight Troops stretched in disciplined lines: ninety Solar Warriors in rose‑gold armor, fifty Lunar Lizard Knights with spears gleaming, and ten Shade Assassins melting into shadow. Their armor clinked softly, their boots thudded in rhythm, and their breaths fogged in the cold afternoon air.
The world felt alive with menace. Carrion birds circled overhead, streams ran dark beneath the canopy, and crude orc fortifications loomed in the distance. Sam's Eyes of Horus flickered, catching details others missed — bones scattered along paths, war drums echoing faintly, smoke rising from pyres.
The Orc Tribe struck first. Pig‑headed brutes surged from the hills, wielding axes and warhammers. Their armor was crude but thick, their bodies massive, their roars shaking the ground.
"Formations!" Sam shouted.
Solar Warriors locked shields, forming a wall of rose‑gold steel. Lunar Lizard Knights leveled spears, hissing. Shade Assassins vanished into shadow, circling unseen.
The clash was brutal. Warhammers slammed into shields, splintering wood. Axes bit into armor, cutting deep. Solar Warriors struggled to hold the line, their sabers flashing desperately. Knights speared orcs mid‑charge, but many were dragged down by sheer brute strength. Assassins appeared behind leaders, blades sinking into flesh, but even wounded orcs fought on, refusing to fall.
Sam conjured a Lightning Spear, the weapon humming with stormlight. He hurled it into an orc, lightning exploding across its body. The brute convulsed, paralyzed, before collapsing. His Eyes of Horus revealed weaknesses — gaps in armor, hesitation in swings — guiding his army's strikes.
The battle dragged on for hours. Orcs fought with relentless fury, wave after wave crashing against the Twilight Troops. Casualties mounted; shields shattered, spears broke, blood stained the ground. By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, only 100 Twilight Troops remained, but none below Tier 3. Their discipline and strength had carried them through.
The ground trembled. From the hills emerged the Tier 5 Orc Lord, pig‑headed and massive, wielding a warhammer the size of a man. His armor was crude iron, his tusks gleamed, his roar shook the battlefield.
He raised his hammer, voice booming. "Puny human! I will crush you!"
Sam's jaw tightened. This was no ordinary foe. This was a Beast Lord.
The Orc Lord charged directly at Sam, hammer raised. Sam met him head‑on, Lightning Spear in one hand, Lunar Blade in the other. The clash was brutal. The hammer slammed into the ground, shaking the earth. Sam dodged, driving the spear into the Orc Lord's chest. Lightning exploded, paralyzing the brute.
But the Orc Lord fought on, swinging his hammer with terrifying strength. Sam staggered, barely deflecting the blows. His troops struggled to hold the line, the battle teetering on the edge of collapse.
Then, from the shadows, five Shade Assassins struck together. Blades pierced the Orc Lord's flesh, shadows tearing him apart. The brute roared, staggering, before collapsing under their assault.
The System's voice cut through the chaos:
[You have ascended to Tier 4.]
[Twilight Troops have ascended. All surviving soldiers are Tier 3 or higher.]
[Shade Assassins remain Tier 6.]
Sam exhaled sharply, chest heaving. The Orc Lord was dead. The battle was won.
The battlefield was silent at last. The roars of the Orc Tribe had faded into the hills, leaving only the crackle of fire and the groans of the wounded. Sam stood among the corpses, Lunar Blade dripping with blood, Lightning Spear fading into sparks at his side. His chest heaved, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight.
Around him, the Twilight Troops gathered their fallen. Solar Warriors lifted broken shields, carrying comrades whose sabers had fallen from lifeless hands. Lunar Lizard Knights hissed softly, mourning their kin. Shade Assassins stood in silence, their red eyes glowing faintly, shadows curling around them like mourning veils.
Sam's army had been reduced to 100 soldiers, but none below Tier 3. Every survivor was hardened, ascended, tempered by battle. The Shade Assassins, now ten in number, remained at Tier 6, their presence darker and more lethal than ever.
Sam raised his voice, steady but heavy. "Build the pyres."
The soldiers obeyed. Wood was gathered, corpses laid upon the flames. The fire rose into the night sky, consuming armor and flesh alike. The army stood in silence, heads bowed, honoring the sacrifice of their comrades.
Sam watched, his chest tight. For a moment, he thought of returning to the domain, regrouping, resting. But then he clenched his fists, hardening his resolve.
"No," he whispered. "We march on. The orcs are broken. Home awaits."
As the flames consumed the fallen, the System's voice echoed in Sam's mind, delivering the tally of their hard‑won spoils:
[Loot Acquired: 1000 Beast Cores.]
[Loot Acquired: 4 Beast Lord Cores.]
[Loot Acquired: 10 Troop Tokens.]
[Loot Acquired: 20 Wolf Pups.]
[Loot Acquired: Low‑Tier Weapons.]
[Loot Acquired: Blueprint: City Wall.]
Sam stared at the glowing notifications. The Beast Cores pulsed faintly in his bag, a mountain of energy waiting to be spent. The Beast Lord Cores gleamed like jewels, each one a step closer to his domain's ascension. The troop tokens promised reinforcements, the wolf pups potential mounts or companions, the weapons crude but usable.
The blueprint shimmered in his hands, lines glowing faintly. A city wall — strong, tall, protective. Twilight Town could be fortified, shielded against raids and assaults.
Sam exhaled sharply. The loot was immense, but the cost had been high. One hundred soldiers remained. The rest had fallen.
The march back to the domain was slow, the army weary. But Sam knew they could not return empty‑handed. A Shade Assassin had whispered of one final threat nearby — a Tier 4 Serpent Nest.
They reached it by dusk. The nest was a pit of writhing bodies, serpents coiling and hissing, their scales glistening in the fading light.
"Formations," Sam commanded.
Solar Warriors raised shields, Lunar Lizard Knights leveled spears, Shade Assassins melted into shadow. The serpents struck, fangs flashing, venom dripping. Shields splintered, spears shattered, but the army held.
Sam hurled Lightning Spears into the pit, explosions of stormlight tearing serpents apart. His Eyes of Horus revealed weak points — the base of the skull, the soft underbelly — guiding his troops' strikes.
The battle was swift but brutal. Venom burned through armor, soldiers staggered, but the serpents fell one by one. Finally, the nest lay silent, corpses smoking in the fading light.
The System's voice echoed:
[Loot Acquired: 1 Beast Lord Core.]
Sam exhaled sharply. The final core. He now had five Beast Lord Cores, enough to ascend his domain to Tier 3.
By nightfall, Sam and his army reached the domain. The gates opened, villagers rushing to meet them.
Cheer erupted, voices rising in celebration. "The Twilight Lord has returned!" "The army lives!" "Twilight Town is safe!"
But the joy was tempered by grief. The villagers saw the reduced numbers, the empty ranks where friends and family had once marched. Tears filled their eyes, hearts heavy with loss.
One elder whispered, "They fought for us. They died for us. We will never forget."
Sam raised his hand, silencing the crowd. "We have won. But we have paid dearly. Honor the fallen. Celebrate the living. Twilight Town will rise."
The villagers bowed, acknowledging both victory and sacrifice. Twilight Town felt alive, but tempered by grief.
The fires of the pyres still smoldered when Sam stepped back into the domain. His armor was dented, his body aching, but his mind remained sharp. He knew the System's rules well — the free daily troop summon could not be wasted.
He raised his hand, calling upon the System.
[Daily Summon Activated.]
Light flared in the courtyard. Ten new soldiers appeared, their armor gleaming, their weapons sharp. They bowed before Sam, voices unified: "Twilight Lord."
Sam nodded, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we rebuild."
The army dispersed, tending to wounds, sharpening blades, and preparing for what lay ahead. Twilight Town buzzed with activity — villagers cheered, children ran through the streets, merchants hammered signs into shops. Yet beneath the joy lingered grief, the memory of fallen soldiers burned into their hearts.
Sam walked into the manor, each step heavier than the last. He collapsed onto his bed, the weight of battle pressing down on him. Sleep claimed him swiftly, dragging him into darkness.
Morning came. Sunlight filtered through the manor windows, warm and gentle. Sam stirred, a weight pressing against his chest.
He opened his eyes.
A small black‑and‑blue striped tiger cub sat atop him, its two bright blue eyes staring into his. The cub's fur shimmered faintly, stripes glowing like stormlight. It purred softly, warmth radiating from its tiny body.
Sam blinked, stunned. "What…?"
The System's voice whispered:
[Bond Established: Storm Tiger Cub.]
[Origin: Lightning Egg.]
Sam exhaled sharply, realization dawning. The egg he had bonded with days ago had hatched. The cub was his gift, his companion, his storm‑born ally.
The cub tilted its head, eyes gleaming with intelligence. It pressed its nose against Sam's chest, purring louder.
Sam smiled faintly, exhaustion fading. "So… you're mine now."
The cub growled softly, a playful sound, before curling against him.
Outside, Twilight Town stirred. Villagers bustled in the streets, children laughed, merchants opened shops. The army trained in the courtyard, their numbers smaller but stronger, every soldier Tier 3 or higher. The Shade Assassins melted into shadow, their Tier 6 presence a constant reminder of the battles yet to come.
Sam rose, the cub perched on his shoulder. He stepped into the courtyard, the villagers bowing, the soldiers saluting.
The Twilight Lord had returned, stronger than ever.