The metallic stench of blood mixed with mud still lingered in the late afternoon air.
Verdant Territory had just narrowly survived a wipeout crisis. The corpses of nearly twenty mutated wolves lay piled up in the narrow alley between the storage depot and the blacksmith workshop. But what drew everyone's eyes the most was the massive, wagon-sized body of the 'Iron-Armored Bear' lying dead in a pool of dark blood.
Lloyd stood with his arms crossed, looking at the beast's carcass before him. The severe headache from intensely using [Micro-Management] to control his units had begun to subside, but the 'Mana' value on his status bar in the corner of his vision still flickered in the single digits. The young Baron's body was so frail and exhausted he looked like he could be blown away by the wind.
"Elder Aura, can you sense anything?" Lloyd asked, breaking the silence.
The blind old woman in her shabby cloak slowly knelt beside the Iron-Armored Bear's corpse. Tim, the messenger boy, stood close by, supporting her with a fearful expression. The wrinkled, freckled hand of the former Forest God priestess gently reached out to touch the beast's forehead, exactly where the pitch-black 'Magic Tattoo' was carved.
Sizzle...!
The moment her fingertips touched the mark, faint grey smoke wafted up along with a sound like searing meat. Elder Aura instantly yanked her hand back, her pure white eyebrows knitting tightly together.
"It burns... it's hot as hellfire," the old woman muttered, her voice raspy and laced with deep concern. "This is definitely not a naturally occurring wound, My Lord. It is twisted magic... Someone used a dark power to dominate the wild beasts' souls, forcing them to abandon their instincts and swarm here."
Uncle Ben, the village hunter standing guard nearby, swallowed hard. "I-I told you they didn't come for food! Someone deliberately sent them to slaughter us!"
"But who?" Frank, who was wiping blood off his rusted pitchfork, interjected. The scrapes on the youth's body were beginning to scab over, but his eyes remained full of caution. "Our village is so destitute, we don't even have a scrap of iron to plunder. What would they gain from killing starving peasants?"
Lloyd remained silent, his brain processing rapidly.
'In a base-building game, if someone sends units to harass a base at the edge of the map...' Lloyd thought to himself. '...it means they either want to cripple our resource economy, or they're "testing" something.'
Lloyd sifted through the original body's memories for potential enemies. The Veltine Empire? Unlikely. The capital nobles wouldn't stoop so low as to use heretical magic on a forgotten border territory nobody wanted. The Free Tribe Federation? They revered nature and would never use magic to control wild animals like this.
That left only groups specializing in dark magic, or a local political enemy who wanted to see this territory quietly crumble to ruins.
"Right now, we can't conclude who is behind this," Lloyd summarized flatly before turning to command the villagers who were resting and catching their breath. "But one thing's for sure, the game developers of this world aren't kind enough to give us a long break between Waves. Frank! Take some men and butcher this bear and the wolves. At the very least, we get extra provisions. Dry the hides—we might need them to patch the roofs."
"Understood, My Lord!" Frank replied firmly. The youth grinned eagerly before waving over the able-bodied men to help with the work.
Though everyone was still exhausted, the atmosphere of victory and the hope bestowed by the young Lord gave the villagers a renewed surge of energy.
However... the smiles of Verdant Territory's people did not last long.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
The sound of horse hooves and wagon wheels crushing the dry earth echoed from the main dirt road south of the village. Lloyd whipped his head around. A sharp throb in his temples warned him that his body was not ready to handle a new problem.
As the dust settled, a medium-sized wagon drawn by two purebred horses came into view. Those horses looked fatter and healthier than the entire village combined. On the wagon's canvas cover, the emblem of a 'Hawk carrying a gold coin' was intricately embroidered.
It was the family crest of 'Baron Reinhardt', the ruling noble of the region Verdant Territory fell under!
The luxurious wagon parked in the open square at the center of the village, violently clashing with the surroundings filled with rubble and the stench of blood. A tall, thin middle-aged man wearing a deep red velvet cloak stepped down from the wagon. He immediately pulled out a pristine white handkerchief to cover his nose the second his feet touched the ground. His face displayed undisguised disgust.
"Oh... Light Goddess have mercy, what is this putrid stench?" the man in red complained in a snobby, affected tone, before casting a condescending glare around. "This trash village gets filthier by the day."
"That's 'Rufus', Baron Reinhardt's tax collector, My Lord!" Tim whispered with a trembling voice beside Lloyd. The boy instinctively backed away to hide behind Elder Aura.
Lloyd let out a long sigh. The monster problem had barely been resolved, and a political problem was already at his throat. He calmly stepped forward, maintaining a proper distance.
"Welcome to Verdant Territory, Sir Rufus," Lloyd greeted in a flat tone, devoid of fear but not overly submissive. "I am Lloyd Weston, Lord of this territory. What business brings you here personally?"
Rufus raised an eyebrow. He looked Lloyd's pale, frail body up and down before letting out a scoffing laugh.
"I thought you died from the plague a month ago, Baron Lloyd," Rufus intentionally stressed the title with a mocking tone. "Judging by your state, you should hurry up and die so this territory can be fully transferred back under Baron Reinhardt's control."
"Watch your mouth!" Frank, unable to tolerate the insult, instantly lunged forward to shield Lloyd. His towering frame of over 185 centimeters, drenched in blood, made Rufus gasp and stagger a half-step back.
"Lowly peasant! You dare threaten Baron Reinhardt's man?!" Rufus snapped back, though his voice shook. The two guards accompanying the wagon immediately drew their swords.
"Stand down, Frank," Lloyd gently tapped his subordinate's arm. "We don't have problems with guests... as long as the guests speak with reason."
Frank gritted his teeth but obediently stepped back, standing guard closely behind as commanded.
Lloyd turned back to face Rufus. "Let's get to the point. You are here to collect the annual tax, are you not?"
Rufus brushed his cloak as if disgusted by the floating dust. He pulled out a parchment sealed with red wax and unfurled it with an arrogant posture.
"Correct! Today is the deadline for the final quarter's advance tax," Rufus announced loudly so all the villagers could hear. "According to the quota assessed by Baron Reinhardt, Verdant Territory must pay a tax of 500 silver coins, 50 sacks of wheat, and 200 logs of high-quality timber... Load it all onto my wagon immediately!"
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The declaration fell like a lightning bolt in the middle of the crowd.
"Five hundred silver coins! Fifty sacks of wheat!" Uncle Ben exclaimed hysterically. "Sir Rufus! Are you joking with us?! The entire village only has enough rations to last five days. We couldn't even scrape together ten silver coins!"
"That is not my problem!" Rufus retorted coldly. "The Veltine Empire runs on gold and discipline, not the excuses of losers!"
Lloyd tried to keep his expression completely stoic. He looked past Rufus's shoulder at the carriage, using his brain to calculate the resources he had just seen on the [Mini-Map] .
[Food Resources: 5 days]
[Wood Resources: 12 units]
[Treasury: 0]
"Sir Rufus, as you can see..." Lloyd gestured to the dead Iron-Armored Bear and the shattered village fence. "Our territory was heavily attacked by a mutated monster horde not even an hour ago. We've exhausted all our resources on defense. I am invoking my right as the Landed Lord to request an emergency tax 'Deferment' for three months."
It was a fundamental law of the Empire. If a territory suffered a disaster, the noble could request a deferment. Lloyd knew this well from the original body's memories.
However, Rufus burst into unrestrained, mocking laughter.
"Deferment? Hahaha! Lord Lloyd, you are truly naive and painfully optimistic!"
Rufus rolled up the parchment. His eyes turned cold and malicious. "Do you think my master, Baron Reinhardt, doesn't know how destitute this village is? Do you honestly think this astronomical quota was set because he actually expected to get anything from you?"
"What do you mean?" Lloyd narrowed his eyes, his voice icy enough to freeze the surrounding air.
Rufus let out a sneering chuckle. He flicked his expensive velvet cloak, which was gathering dust, and stepped forward to confront the haggard young Baron face-to-face.
"The laws of the Veltine Empire clearly state..." Rufus drawled out the words with intentional provocation. "If a lesser noble fails to deliver the full tax to their regional ruling Lord for three consecutive periods... that Lord has the rightful authority to 'seize' and confiscate the territory back to the central administration."
The tax collector's eyes glinted with cunning. "And if I recall correctly, your Verdant Territory has missed its payments twice already... This makes the third time."
A suffocating silence instantly descended over the village square.
The villagers who had just been celebrating their victory were now pale as paper. Uncle Ben collapsed to his knees. The hoes slipped from the hands of several strong men.
"Baron Reinhardt... wants to seize our land?" Elder Aura mumbled, her voice trembling. "This barren land where barely anything grows? For what purpose?"
"To clear the trash out of sight, you old crone!" Rufus snapped in annoyance. "Your territory is nothing but a parasite sucking up central relief funds. Baron Reinhardt wants to clear this area out to build a military outpost to monitor the trade routes with the Free Tribe Federation!"
Lloyd listened silently, the mind of the former Esports athlete rapidly processing this new data.
'I see...' Lloyd thought, his eyes narrowing. 'This isn't a standard side quest about collecting taxes. It's a "Scripted Loss" event set up by the antagonist.'
In the world of politics, forcing an enemy into bankruptcy was the cleanest, most seamless method. Baron Reinhardt didn't need to send troops to kill Lloyd and risk being accused of assassinating a fellow noble. He just had to set an unpayable tax wall and wait for the laws of the Veltine Empire to execute Lloyd legally.
Verdant Territory was situated next to the primordial forest and mountain ranges. Even though crops couldn't grow, it was a 'Strategic Chokepoint' of immense value if converted into a smuggling route or a frontline fortress.
"You blood-sucking leeches!"
A ferocious roar pierced the tension. Frank couldn't listen to this injustice any longer. The giant youth surged forward, raising the pitchfork—still soaked in the Iron-Armored Bear's blood—high into the air.
"We just fought to the death to protect this land! And you come to rob us blind?! I'll kill you!"
"Frank! Stop!" Lloyd commanded sharply.
The tips of the pitchfork stopped dead, inches away from Rufus's throat. The tax collector's two guards hurriedly stepped in front of their master, pointing their broadswords at Frank with trembling hands—the residual pressure from his SSR talent was simply too terrifying.
"Step back to your position," Lloyd ordered again. His eyes held no rage, but an eerie, bone-chilling calm. "Assaulting a noble's retainer will make us full-fledged rebels... and that is exactly what they want."
Frank ground his teeth until his jaw muscles bulged. His grey-blue eyes glared murderously at Rufus. But he lowered his weapon and stepped back to guard his Lord, strictly following orders.
Rufus, whose face had gone pale as a sheet and who had nearly collapsed, hurriedly straightened his clothes. He tried to put on an arrogant front to mask his cowardice.
"Hmph! Your lapdog is as barbaric as you'd expect from a border peasant!" Rufus spat on the ground. "Lucky for you that you still have some sense left, Baron Lloyd. Otherwise, all of your heads would be mounted on the city walls by tomorrow."
The man in red glanced at the pile of monster corpses in the background. A smirk formed on his face when he spotted something valuable.
"Since you claim you have no money and no grain... I shall grant you mercy as a special exception," Rufus pointed at the colossal bear carcass. "The hide of that Iron-Armored Bear and the meat from those mutated wolves... hold enough value to cover 'half' of your overdue tax."
"What?!" Uncle Ben's eyes bulged. "Are you insane?! That's our very last source of food! That meat is the only thing that will keep this village from starving to death in the coming winter!"
"So what? That is not my problem!" Rufus shot back mercilessly. "I will give you time to butcher the meat and skin the hides. Then, bring every last grain of wheat in your storehouses to make up the rest of the tax value."
Lloyd stood perfectly still, not uttering a single word. But inside his head, he was furiously pulling up system windows to calculate the damage.
[Current Food Resources (Including Monster Meat) : 15 days]
[Remaining Resources if Tax is Paid: 0 days]
If he paid this ridiculous tax using all the monster meat and the last handfuls of wheat they had left, Verdant Territory wouldn't have a single meal to put in their stomachs by tomorrow. The villagers who had just survived being torn apart by monsters would instead die a slow death by starvation.
But if he refused...
"I will give you exactly 'three days' to think about it, Baron Lloyd," Rufus declared harshly, his tone laden with a blatant threat. "In three days, I will return with Baron Reinhardt's army."
The man in red stepped up onto his wagon, looking down at Lloyd as if looking at a bug.
"If my coffers are still empty by then... I will deem Verdant Territory in 'Rebellion' and in intentional defiance of the Veltine Empire's orders! I shouldn't need to explain the laws of treason to you, that the penalty is the execution of the entire territory!"
Rufus snapped the reins. The luxurious wagon slowly turned around, leaving behind a mocking laugh that cut deep into the hearts of every villager.
"I hope we meet again while your head is still attached to your shoulders, sickly Lord!"
The dust from the wagon wheels billowed once more as the tax collector's caravan slowly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a dead silence that felt as heavy as a mountain pressing down on Lloyd's shoulders.
Not a single person in the village dared to speak. Even the bravest, Frank, stood with his head bowed and fists clenched tight. A new wave of despair, crueler than the fangs of wild beasts, was gnawing at everyone's hearts.
Lloyd closed his eyes. The piercing headache from his low mana state returned to assault him. He took a deep breath and opened the system window to check one last time for the day.
[Emergency Quest Alert: Blood Tax Crisis]
[Condition: Pay the tax within 3 days OR face Baron Reinhardt's army]
[Penalty for Failure: Game Over (Death and loss of territory) ]
Two distinct choices appeared clearly in the former World Champion's head.
Option One: Dump all available supplies, sacrificing the beast meat and the last sacks of wheat to pay the tax and buy time. But that meant he would have to watch the villagers, including Frank and Tim, starve and die of hunger in less than a week. The Trust level he had just built would collapse beyond repair.
Option Two: Refuse to pay this unjust tax, keeping the supplies to feed his people. But the price was being branded a rebel and facing Baron Reinhardt's 'Standing Army'—a fully armed force outnumbering them tenfold—in exactly three days!
"So it's Hell Mode difficulty..." Lloyd muttered softly to himself, a faint, desperate smile pulling at his dry lips.
It was a chessboard rigged for the player to lose. No matter which piece he moved, only ruin awaited at the end.
The chilling evening wind swept through the village square, blowing dead leaves and dust into the air. Lloyd opened his eyes. His dark blue gaze drifted to the [Tech Tree] window, which remained almost entirely locked, and to his completely empty resource counts.
"Only three days left..."
Lloyd's voice was faint, yet it echoed loudly within the dead silence of Verdant Territory.
Slowly starve to death... or rise up and die on the battlefield?
The former RTS World Champion, who had never surrendered to a disadvantageous situation, was now facing the most difficult decision of his second life!
(End of Chapter 5)