The word VICTORY had yet to fade from the screen when Kroq-Gar’s vision suddenly went black.
The monitor was still glowing.
The fans inside the computer case were still spinning.
Yet it felt as though someone had struck him across the back of the skull with a club.
His consciousness plummeted into darkness.
The last thing he heard was the battle cry he had chosen himself.
“For Sotek!”
Then came the rain.
Cold rainwater struck his face, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and rotting vegetation.
Kroq-Gar tried to raise an arm to shield himself from the downpour, only to discover that it refused to move as he expected.
No.
That wasn’t right.
It wasn’t refusing to move.
It was simply too heavy.
With considerable effort, he opened his eyes.
A massive claw covered in deep blue scales filled his vision, resting against a thick stone pillar.
That hand, if such a thing could still be called a hand, was easily three times larger than a human palm.
Each finger ended in a hooked claw sharp enough to tear through armor.
Blue-green veins faintly pulsed beneath the scales, swelling in rhythm with the powerful beating of his heart.
Kroq-Gar’s gaze slowly traveled upward.
His forearm was covered in the same dark blue scales and was as thick as the trunk of a young tree.
His heartbeat quickened.
Cold blood, distinctly inhuman, surged through his veins.
“What…”
He tried to speak.
What emerged from his throat was not a human voice.
It was a deep growl ending in a faint hiss, like the breathing of some enormous reptilian beast lurking in the depths of a cavern.
“You have awakened.”
A voice answered him.
Kroq-Gar, or rather, the enormous body he now inhabited, abruptly rose to his feet.
His perspective shot upward until his eyes were nearly three meters above the ground.
The entire world suddenly looked different.
He lowered his head.
His legs were covered in blue scales, each one so thick with muscle that they would have put any human bodybuilder to shame.
Hard abdominal scales protected his massive torso, rising and falling with every breath.
Behind him, a powerful tail swept through the rain and sent muddy water splashing across the ground.
The tail was part of him.
He could feel it.
He could even sense the cold rain striking every individual scale along its tip.
“Lord Kroq-Gar?”
The voice came again.
Kroq-Gar turned his massive head toward its source.
Standing before him was a Lizardman much smaller than himself.
The creature barely reached his chest.
Its slender body was covered in blue-green scales, while a long, narrow snout opened and closed slightly as a pair of golden slit-pupiled eyes watched him nervously.
A crude feathered cloak hung from its shoulders.
In its hands was a roughly carved wooden staff crowned by a dim crystal.
Then, without warning, information surfaced in Kroq-Gar’s mind.
Skink Priest.
Tekuna, Favored of the Heavens.
Lore of Heavens.
Kroq-Gar froze.
How did he know this Skink’s name?
He had never seen this face before, assuming something so reptilian could even be called a face.
And yet the information was perfectly clear, as though it had always been carved into his memories.
No.
Not his memories.
Kroq-Gar’s memories.
He took a step backward.
His enormous foot sank deep into the mud.
Rainwater streamed across his scales, gathering along the spines running down his back before flowing away in thin rivulets.
He could feel every drop striking his body.
He could smell rotting vegetation, wet soil, and the faint mineral scent of ancient stone.
His body was overflowing with strength.
This was nothing like the swollen ache of muscles after a workout.
This was something primal.
Savage.
A terrifying physical power that could erupt at any moment, capable of tearing apart flesh and shattering stone.
But Kroq-Gar had no time to appreciate it.
Because there was something else inside his mind.
A translucent interface floated somewhere within the depths of his consciousness.
It had been there all along, like something lingering at the edge of his vision that he had only now thought to examine directly.
It was an army roster.
Six unit cards stood neatly arranged before him.
Each card contained a moving image.
The first showed a regiment of Saurus Warriors standing silently beneath a forest of spears, bronze shields held firmly at their sides.
The second displayed a similar formation, except the scales of these warriors shimmered beneath a faint golden radiance.
Occasionally, they opened their jaws, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The third showed small Skinks clutching short javelins, chattering quietly among themselves.
The fourth contained another regiment of Skink Javelin Warriors.
The fifth showed heavy creatures breathing in deep, guttural growls.
Kroq-Gar immediately recognized them.
Cold Ones.
The armored reptilian mounts clawed impatiently at the earth while their scaled riders sat astride their backs, long spears gripped tightly in their hands.
The sixth card contained only a single creature.
A massive beast stood motionless beneath the rain, three enormous horns rising from its head.
Every so often, it swept its thick tail from side to side.
Its hide was as rough as stone.
A Stegadon.
At the very bottom of the army roster was a small golden portrait depicting the face of a Skink.
Beside it was a name.
Tekuna, Favored of the Heavens
Lore of Heavens
Kroq-Gar knew these unit cards.
Yesterday…
No.
Only moments ago, he had been moving them around on his computer screen.
“Lord Kroq-Gar?”
Tekuna spoke again, a hint of unease creeping into his voice.
Kroq-Gar drew in a deep breath.
Rainwater entered his nostrils, carrying with it the rich, heavy scent of the jungle.
Slowly, he raised one enormous scaled hand and held it before his eyes.
This was no longer a game.
His fingers curled inward.
Sharp claws sliced through the air.
He could feel every contraction of muscle and every movement of bone.
This was not an animation.
Not data.
Not pixels on a screen.
This was real.
“I…”
Kroq-Gar’s voice rumbled from his throat.
To his surprise, he discovered that his new vocal cords were capable of producing far more complex sounds than he had expected.
“I am fine.”
His deep voice ended in a reptilian hiss.
Tekuna clearly understood him.
The tension visibly drained from the Skink Priest’s body.
“You were unconscious beneath the storm for three sunrises, my lord,” Tekuna said, moving slightly closer.
His golden slit-pupiled eyes reflected Kroq-Gar’s towering silhouette.
“The geomantic currents have been in turmoil.
I feared you had fallen victim to a curse of Chaos.”
“Chaos.”
Kroq-Gar repeated the word.
Something awakened inside his body.
His heartbeat surged.
The muscles beneath his scales tightened instinctively.
His tail suddenly lashed outward.
Snap!
A vine as thick as a human arm was torn apart.
It wasn’t anger.
It was hatred.
A hatred carved into every bone and every scale of this body.
A hatred that required no reason.
No explanation.
It was as natural as breathing.
The instant Kroq-Gar’s body heard the word Chaos, it had already prepared itself for battle.
He could feel the emotion surging through him.
He tried to suppress it.
He couldn’t.
More importantly, he didn’t want to.
The hatred was too pure.
Too exhilarating.
Like plunging red-hot iron into freezing water and watching steam explode into the air.
“Chaos.”
He said it again.
This time, it wasn’t a repetition.
It was confirmation.
Kroq-Gar raised his head.
Rain struck his enormous snout.
Only now did he truly see where he was.
The ruins of a city.
They stood upon the shattered platform of an ancient stone palace.
Massive blocks of stone lay scattered across the surrounding ground, covered in moss and tangled vines.
Yet even after countless years of decay, the city’s former grandeur remained unmistakable.
The stone pillars were so enormous that more than a dozen men would have been needed to encircle one with their arms.
The broad stairways were wide enough for horses to gallop across.
Pyramid-like structures rose layer upon layer into the distance, their silhouettes fading into the curtain of rain.
This was a Lizardmen city.
A lost Temple-City.
Along the city’s outskirts stood crude wooden palisades and watchtowers, clearly constructed long after the original city had fallen into ruin.
They were crooked and primitive compared with the ancient stone architecture, but they remained intact.
Figures of Lizardmen patrolled along the fortifications.
Then Kroq-Gar noticed something.
In one corner of the ruined city stood an enormous structure built entirely from black stone.
It resembled some colossal beast crouching against the earth.
Crude wooden totems protruded from its roof.
It was clearly not a relic of the Old Ones.
Every other structure in the city had been built from white or gray stone.
Only this building was black.
The moment Kroq-Gar’s gaze settled upon it, a line of text appeared beneath the army roster in his mind.
[Skink Spawning Pool: Can recruit Skink Cohorts (Javelins) and Skink Skirmishers.]
“That is…”
“The spawning ground established by our northern scouts, my lord,” Tekuna explained, following his gaze.
There was a trace of dissatisfaction in the Skink Priest’s voice.
“During the days you were unconscious, they could maintain only the most basic patrols.
The flow of power through the Geomantic Web has become unstable.”
Power.
Kroq-Gar focused his consciousness on the interface.
Another number appeared above the roster.
Geomantic Energy: 500/1000
Several lines of information appeared beneath it.
[Building: Skink Spawning Pool, Level 1]
[Available Recruitment: Skink Cohorts (Javelins), Skink Skirmishers]
[Building: Saurus Barracks, Level 1, Not Constructed]
[Requirement: 200 Geomantic Energy]
It was almost identical to the construction interface from the game.
Kroq-Gar slowly clenched his fist.
His claws pressed into the gaps between the scales of his palm.
The faint sting of pain reminded him once again that everything around him was real.
He wasn’t dreaming.
He had transmigrated.
And somehow, he had become Kroq-Gar.
The legendary Lizardman warlord.
The ancient warrior who rode a mighty Carnosaur into battle and wielded a divine spear against the enemies of the Old Ones.
“My lord?”
Tekuna’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Do you have any commands?”
The Skink Priest stared up at him.
Its small golden eyes were filled with absolute trust and expectation.
Kroq-Gar looked down at him.
Two regiments of Saurus Spearmen.
Two regiments of Blessed Saurus Warriors.
Two regiments of Skink Javelin Warriors.
One regiment of Cold One Riders.
One Stegadon.
And one Skink Priest.
Nearly seven hundred warriors.
Kroq-Gar didn’t know where in the world he was.
He didn’t know how powerful the forces of Chaos were here.
He didn’t even know why he had been brought to this world.
But there was one thing he did know.
In the game, Kroq-Gar had led the Lizardmen in their endless war to purge Chaos from the world.
That was the campaign he had spent hundreds of hours playing.
And now he was standing here himself.
He possessed Kroq-Gar’s body.
Kroq-Gar’s strength.
And behind him stood Kroq-Gar’s army.
So what he had to do hadn’t really changed.
Kroq-Gar turned toward the northern reaches of the city.
Beyond the curtain of rain, a thin column of black smoke could barely be seen rising into the sky.
It wasn’t natural.
Some ancient instinct buried within this body told him that something about the scent carried from that direction was wrong.
Rot.
Corruption.
Something twisted and unnatural.
A cold, sickening presence that made every scale on his body prickle.
“Tekuna.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The Skink Priest immediately straightened.
“Send two of our fastest scouts north.”
Kroq-Gar’s voice rumbled like stones grinding deep beneath the earth.
“Find out what’s beneath that smoke.”
Tekuna’s golden pupils narrowed slightly.
But he asked no questions.
The Skink Priest simply bowed his head.
“As you command, Lord Kroq-Gar.”
Two small figures soon emerged from the lower levels of the ruined city.
They darted through the pouring rain and disappeared into the dense jungle to the north.
Kroq-Gar remained atop the ancient stone platform.
Rainwater streamed endlessly across his scales.
Behind him stood the silent ranks of his Saurus Warriors.
Hundreds of spears gleamed beneath the storm.
Kroq-Gar stared toward the distant column of black smoke.
He was Kroq-Gar now.
And he was going to kill Chaos.