Sam moved through the castle like a man who had learned to carry a city in his pockets. The war room door opened before him, a dark mouth that swallowed the morning light and gave back the map of his domain: tables strewn with parchments, a wall of pinned reports, a low table where One kept the day's priorities in neat, shadowed stacks. Vlad followed, a red silhouette against the stone; Indra padded at Sam's heels, a warm, impatient weight; Dionysus rode his shoulder like a living ornament, mandibles clicking with curiosity.
"One," Sam said as he stepped into the room. "Debrief."
One's voice was the same as always—calm, precise, a shadow that could be trusted to hold facts without drama. He delivered Five's recorded report in a clean, prioritized cadence: the Phoenix Guard's strike had been decisive; roughly one hundred goblin riders at Tier 5 had been neutralized; over four hundred prisoners were now moving under Lux's escort toward Twilight; the Phoenix Guard remained intact and had taken no losses; scouts were exhausted but functional. One had stored the details while Sam slept and had them ready to be summarized the moment Sam woke. It was the kind of efficiency Sam had come to rely on.
Sam nodded and let the facts settle. He reached into his storage ring and pulled out two roasted Burst Bird legs, handing them to Indra and Dionysus. The cub and the spider accepted with the blunt, animal gratitude of creatures who measured kindness in food. Indra devoured his leg with in a bites, delighted crunches; Dionysus nibbled delicately and then, to everyone's surprise, took a second. The small domestic scene—beasts eating, a Champion standing in the doorway, a lord listening to reports—felt like a quiet anchor in a world that had lately been all motion.
Helios landed on the war room balcony and peered in, feathers catching the light like a living banner. He listened to One's report with the slow, patient attention of a creature that had seen empires rise and fall. Vlad, arms folded, let out a low sound that was almost approval.
"Lux and Five did well," Vlad said. "No losses. That's decisive."
"It saves time," Sam agreed. Time was a currency he could not afford to waste. Twilight City could hold five thousand people now, the System had said; the walls and the watchtowers and the Colosseum had all been built with speed and purpose. But capacity was not the same as care. Feeding and sheltering four hundred newly rescued souls would be a strain, and Sam's first orders reflected that reality.
"One," he said, "dispatch fifty Moonlight Cavalry to lead twenty carts. Send them to the rendezvous points Lux marked. Bring the captives back in shifts. Prioritize the injured."
"One will carry the order," One replied, already using shadow communication to make it so.
Sam asked about the beasts. "Status of the wolves and the Earth Serpent eggs?"
"One reports all wolves tamed and healed," One said. "Most are Tier 3–4. Approximately six Tier‑5 alpha wolves. Earth Serpents have hatched; Tier 2, green and gray scales, roughly three meters long and half a meter thick. Twenty additional eggs are preparing to hatch."
Sam allowed himself a small smile. The ranch was a resource and a responsibility. He tapped a finger on the table and added another order. "Have all Solar Warriors and fifty Moon Mages meet at the ranch with at least one hundred wolves and the Earth Serpents. We'll begin bonding and training immediately."
One's shadowed form slipped away to carry the message through the city's quiet veins. Sam turned to Vlad. "We'll need to integrate these beasts into the army and into the city. Training, handlers, wards. Everything."
Vlad's expression was steady. "You're building an army and a home at the same time. That's the right kind of hard."
Sam used his free daily troop summon on the Moonlight Cavalry. Ten spectral riders shimmered into existence and folded into the barracks' ranks—small, efficient reinforcements that pushed his total to one hundred and ninety Moonlight Cavalry. He sent them to the barracks with a curt nod. The cavalry were a backbone; more riders meant more reach.
Then he spun the Daily Gift Roulette. The wheel clicked and sighed and produced a troop token: Tier‑3 Nature Mages. Green smoke unfurled and ten figures stepped into the war room—elves and humans, two rabbit‑kin among them, robes the color of deep leaves with golden trees stitched over their hearts. They smiled like people who had been given a field to tend rather than a tower to study in.
Sam assigned them without hesitation. "Go to the farmlands. Teach the people to coax more from the soil. Speed up growth. Help the refugees plant and feed themselves."
The Nature Mages bowed, delighted at the prospect of working in the open. Vlad watched them go with a look that was almost wonder. Helios and Dionysus chuckled at his expression. "You haven't seen anything yet," Dionysus said, and Vlad's face betrayed a small, private excitement.
Helios offered a practical idea. "I can give you a lift to the ranch," he said. "It will save time."
Sam agreed. He climbed onto Helios's back with the easy familiarity of someone who had learned to trust a creature's wings. Vlad pretended not to care but his fingers tightened on the pommel of his sword in a way that made Sam grin. The Champion had always been a man of battle; the sight of him watching a Phoenix take flight was almost tender.
The Monster Ranch lay like a green wound in the landscape—pens and corrals and the low, constant noise of beasts. Ranchers bowed as Sam and his party landed. They brought out fifty Earth Serpents and a hundred wolves, the animals moving with the slow dignity of creatures that had been bred for purpose. Justin and Tide, two of Sam's trusted commanders, stood ready. Sam introduced Vlad with a small flourish.
"Lord Vlad," Justin said, bowing. "It's an honor."
Vlad waved them off. "Comrades," he said. "We'll see how well you fight."
The ranchers lined up the Solar Warriors and the wolves. Tide had a quiet smile. "We brought contracts," he said. "We thought—well, we thought some of the mages might want companions today."
Tide's instincts had been right. Sam watched as the Solar Warriors and wolves exchanged blood in a ritual older than many of the cities they now defended. A sun sigil bloomed over the ranch, a small, concentrated star that fed the ritual circle. After thirty minutes of chanting and careful binding, the Solar Warriors emerged in full gold armor, sun etched into their breastplates, swords and lances at their sides. Beside them stood massive orange and white wolves—Solar Wolves—fur flickering with small, spontaneous flames. The System pinged a congratulatory message: a unique troop type had been created. Sam named them on the spot: Sunrise Knights.
The ranchers cheered. Sam felt the small, sharp pleasure of a plan that had worked.
Next came the Earth Serpents. The Moon Mages and Tide stepped forward with contracts and a ritual that smelled of iron and moonlight. Blood was dropped on the parchment; the serpents pressed their heads to the contracts and a bright light flared. When it faded, the mages bore small gems on their foreheads—purple or white—signs of a new bond. The serpents grew, coiling to eight meters and more, scales a mix of purple and gray or white and gray. Tide's serpent was a purple‑gray behemoth, and he patted its head with a grin that was almost boyish.
Sam addressed the gathered troops with a sober note. "The System's shield will change soon," he said. "Get used to your companions. Train with them. We may need every advantage."
As the rituals wound down, a rumble announced the clone's return. Clone Sam rode into the ranch on the back of the Tier‑8 Stone Skin Bear, a mountain of fur and stone that made the ground tremble. Twenty more bears followed, black with plates of gray stone armor. Tiger Guards carried two humming Lightning Prison cages—one small, one large—containing Water Slimes and a handful of Bloodwing Bats. The clone dissolved in a flash of gold and the memories it carried poured into Sam like a tide: the fights, the captures, the bargains struck with a bear that had become a king.
Sam watched the bears with a new calculation. The Tier‑8 was enormous—six meters long, two and a half meters tall, a living wall. He thought of the castle gardens, of the need for a guardian that could stand as both deterrent and symbol. He made a decision.
"Take the Tier‑8 to the castle gardens," he said. "Assign rune‑ward teams and handlers. It will be trained and acclimated there."
A rancher bowed and the Tiger Guards led the bear away, yellow runes sinking into its fur and settling like crowns. Even the Tier‑8's massive shoulders did not resist; the runes took hold and the bear's eyes softened as if it had accepted a new role.
Sam called One from the shadows and the Shade Assassin stepped into the light like a thought. He announced a policy that made the ranchers' eyes widen: wolves, stone skin bears, earth serpents, and water slimes would be made available to citizens. Each household could apply for a companion for protection. Ranch visits would be open; contracts would be offered. The idea was radical and practical—arming the people with guardians rather than weapons, giving families a stake in their own defense.
One bowed and prepared to broadcast the policy. The ranchers ran to spread the word. Sam felt the small, dangerous thrill of a leader who had found a lever and pulled it.
He returned to the training grounds with Vlad and his bonds. "We need more troops," Vlad said quietly as they walked. "Walls and beasts are good, but you need men who can hold ground."
Sam nodded. He had been waiting to upgrade the troops he already had before adding more. Now the time had come. He took out troop tokens and began to spend them with the calm of a man who had counted every cost.
Eleven tokens became one hundred and ten Moonlight Cavalry. Twenty tokens became two hundred Sunrise Knights. Seventeen tokens became one hundred and seventy Moon Mages. The air shimmered as troops coalesced—riders, knights, mages—each assigned to barracks or to find their commanders. When the summoning finished Sam's forces had swelled: three hundred Moonlight Cavalry, three hundred Sunrise Knights, a cadre of Moon Mages, Shade Assassins, Nature Mages, and Kings Guard Golems. The System confirmed the totals with a soft chime and Sam felt the weight of it like armor.
He created another True Clone and sent it with five Tiger Guards to scout and capture more beasts. He ordered one hundred Moonlight Cavalry and one hundred Sunrise Knights to hunt and bring back monsters for the ranch. The logistics were dizzying, but Sam had learned to think in lists and contingencies. He had a city to feed, an army to train, and a people to protect.
They ate a small meal in the ranch's low hall—bread, roasted meat, and the easy talk of men who had been through too much to waste words. Helios and Dionysus announced they would hunt; both felt close to advancing in tier and wanted the experience. Dionysus begged to join and Helios, with a reluctant puff of feathers, agreed. They took off into the sky together, a bright streak against the afternoon.
Left with Vlad, Indra, and One, Sam made a small snack and handed the Beast Bond Bloodline Upgrade Crystal to Indra. The cub sniffed it, then, with the blunt curiosity of a creature that trusted Sam's hand, swallowed it whole. The effect was immediate and violent: lightning and wind magic surged through the little body, a visible shiver that made the cub's fur stand on end. Indra's eyes fluttered and he collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Sam carried the sleeping cub to his room and laid him on the bed, watching the small chest rise and fall as the magic rewired the animal's bones and blood. He wondered, not for the first time, what Indra would become. The Beast Bond crystal was a gift and a gamble; it accelerated lineage and changed destiny. Sam felt the responsibility like a physical thing.
Outside, the city moved with new purpose. Troops marched to barracks, ranchers prepared contracts, and Two's shadowed form carried orders like a steady wind. The Tier‑8 bear was on its way to the castle gardens, a living monument to the new age Sam was building. The protection period was about to end and the world would soon judge Twilight by its deeds.
Sam sat by the window and watched the sun slide toward the horizon. He had multiplied his forces, bound new companions to his people, and set in motion a plan that would change the city's face. The choices he had made were bold and costly, but they were his. He had given the people guardians and work and a reason to stand together.
Indra slept on, lightning and wind knitting new strength into his bones. Sam closed his eyes and let the day's noise fall away. Tomorrow would bring new tests—leaderboards and classes and the first System trial—but for now the city breathed and the beasts settled and a giant bear would soon learn the castle's gardens as its home.
He rose and went to the war room. There were lists to make and men to brief and a thousand small things that would decide whether Twilight would survive the week. The work was endless and necessary. Sam felt the familiar, fierce joy of a man who had found a purpose and would not let it go.