The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the air remained so heavy with moisture that it felt as though water could be wrung from it by hand.
Kroq-Gar sat upon the stone platform, his tail hanging over the edge of the steps and swaying gently from side to side.
He didn’t even notice himself doing it.
It was an unconscious habit of this body, no different from a human bouncing their leg while lost in thought.
At the moment, his attention was entirely focused on the translucent panel floating before him.
No one else could see it.
Tekuna had walked past him twice earlier.
The Skink Priest’s golden eyes had swept across the empty space in front of Kroq-Gar without the slightest reaction.
From Tekuna’s perspective, his lord was simply sitting there, staring intently at absolutely nothing.
The Skink Priest assumed Kroq-Gar was still troubled by his mysterious three-day unconsciousness and wisely chose not to disturb him.
The number on the interface changed.
[Geomantic Energy: 510/1000]
A moment later, it changed again.
[Geomantic Energy: 511/1000]
Kroq-Gar’s tail stopped moving.
Something was wrong.
This recovery rate was far too fast.
Since awakening yesterday, he hadn’t paid much attention to the exact rate at which his Geomantic Energy recovered.
He had assumed it regenerated as slowly as resources accumulated in the game.
Perhaps ten or twenty points a day, forcing him to wait half a month before constructing a new building.
But now…
[Geomantic Energy: 512/1000]
Two points in less than a minute.
Kroq-Gar straightened.
His enormous body shifted slightly upon the stone platform as he stared fixedly at the number and began counting silently.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
…
[Geomantic Energy: 513/1000]
Six minutes.
One point.
That meant ten points every hour.
Kroq-Gar’s slit pupils narrowed.
He immediately began calculating.
Ten points an hour.
Two hundred and forty points a day.
Four hundred and eighty points in two days.
He already had more than five hundred.
At this rate, it would take less than two days for his Geomantic Energy to reach its maximum capacity.
And once it reached the limit…
Anything beyond that would be wasted.
In the game, overflowing resources were merely inefficient.
Here, it meant watching precious resources that could be used to raise armies disappear into nothing.
He had to spend it.
Kroq-Gar focused his consciousness on the interface.
The construction menu unfolded before him.
A row of gray, unconstructed buildings appeared.
His gaze immediately locked onto the first one.
[Saurus Barracks, Level 1]
[Requirements: 200 Geomantic Energy, 50 Stone]
[Effect: Unlocks recruitment of Saurus Warriors with Shields and Saurus Spearmen.]
Two hundred Geomantic Energy.
He had more than five hundred.
Even after spending two hundred, he would still have over three hundred remaining.
At his current recovery rate, the expenditure wasn’t even worth worrying about.
The real problem was stone.
Fortunately, the entire city was made of it.
Ruined masonry lay everywhere.
Some fragments even retained carvings dating back to the age of the Old Ones.
Of course, if Kroq-Gar ordered his followers to tear down an intact temple to build a barracks, Tekuna might molt on the spot from sheer horror.
But the collapsed walls around the city’s outskirts were another matter.
Fallen pillars.
Broken foundations buried beneath vines.
Ruins that had remained untouched for thousands of years.
Surely no one would object to putting those to use.
“Tekuna.”
The Skink Priest’s head appeared from below the stone steps almost instantly.
Apparently, Tekuna had been crouching there the entire time, carefully rearranging the feathers of his cloak.
The instant he heard his lord’s voice, he sprang upright.
“Yes, my lord.”
“The field of collapsed pillars on the southern side of the city.”
Kroq-Gar rose and pointed south.
“How much usable stone can we recover from there?”
Tekuna blinked his golden eyes.
He clearly hadn’t expected the question.
But he was a capable priest.
He did not question his lord.
He simply provided an answer.
“Those are the ruins of the Fourth Temple, my lord.
The pillars are obsidian, while the foundations are made of bluestone.
According to the construction standards established by the Old Ones, a single intact pillar can be cut into approximately sixty units of standard building stone.”
Tekuna paused briefly.
“Three pillars have already collapsed.
Another two are leaning against the neighboring pyramid.
I do not believe they will remain standing much longer.”
He recited the information effortlessly.
These Lizardmen seemed to carry the architectural layout of the entire city within their minds.
Even though the Temple-City had long since fallen into ruin, they still remembered the location of every pillar.
“Dismantle the fallen ones,” Kroq-Gar ordered.
“Move the usable stone to the western side of the plaza.”
He looked toward the open ground.
“I want a Saurus Barracks built there.”
Tekuna froze.
Not from hesitation.
From shock.
His golden eyes swept across Kroq-Gar’s face, as though confirming that his lord truly meant what he had just said.
A Saurus Barracks.
In the game, it was nothing more than an icon.
A building added to a construction queue.
But here, within a lost Temple-City that had slumbered for untold thousands of years, the construction of a new military structure meant something entirely different.
It meant revival.
It meant that this dead city was beginning to live again.
“As you command.”
Tekuna bowed his head.
His voice was noticeably higher than usual.
Then he spun around and hurried down toward the lower levels of the temple, his short legs moving at astonishing speed.
As he ran, a series of sharp hisses escaped his throat.
The sound swept through the ruined city like a gust of wind.
The entire Temple-City came alive.
Skinks emerged from everywhere.
Some crawled from cracks between ancient stones.
Others appeared from behind curtains of vines.
A few emerged from underground entrances Kroq-Gar hadn’t even noticed.
Chattering excitedly, they streamed toward the southern ruins like an army of green ants.
Some carried ropes.
Others hauled crude crowbars.
A few carried nothing at all but sprinted ahead with incredible speed.
Soon, they surrounded the three fallen obsidian pillars.
Ropes were secured.
Crowbars were wedged into cracks.
At Tekuna’s shrill command, dozens of Skinks pulled together.
When the first section of stone finally broke free, the entire pillar released a deep, rumbling vibration.
A flock of brightly colored birds nesting among the ruins burst into the air, circling above the rainforest.
Kroq-Gar watched from the temple platform.
For a moment, he considered helping.
The strength of his current body was probably worth twenty Skinks.
But he stopped himself.
There was something more important he needed to do.
Adapt.
He descended into the central plaza.
His Saurus Warriors were assembled there.
Two regiments of Saurus Spearmen stood at the front.
Their spears rose like a forest of sharpened wood and bronze, while their shields reflected the sunlight breaking through the clouds after the storm.
They stood completely motionless.
Like statues cast from bronze.
Behind them waited the Blessed Saurus Warriors.
A faint golden radiance shimmered across their scales beneath the sunlight.
Their breathing was perfectly synchronized.
It was almost as though the entire formation shared a single pair of lungs.
Kroq-Gar approached.
He stopped before one of the Saurus Warriors.
The warrior looked up at him.
Its slit pupils were amber.
Crude leather and bronze plates formed its armor, while the spear in its hands was longer than Kroq-Gar was tall.
“What is your name?” Kroq-Gar asked.
The Saurus blinked.
For several seconds, it remained silent.
Then it released a short, guttural hiss.
Two syllables.
“Go-Tek.”
That was his name.
Not a number.
Not the name written on a unit card.
A name.
Kroq-Gar nodded.
He said nothing more.
Instead, he reached out and patted Go-Tek on the shoulder.
His enormous scaled hand struck the leather armor with a heavy thud.
The Saurus Warrior’s body sank slightly.
His knees bent.
Then he straightened again.
Too much strength.
Kroq-Gar quickly withdrew his hand.
He still wasn’t accustomed to the sheer power of this body.
What he had intended as a simple pat on the shoulder had nearly knocked a fully grown Saurus off his feet.
Go-Tek looked up at him.
There was no resentment in those amber eyes.
Only something brighter than before.
Kroq-Gar continued forward.
He walked through the ranks of Saurus Spearmen.
Then through the formation of Blessed Saurus Warriors.
Every warrior watched him in the same silence as Go-Tek.
Their gazes remained fixed upon him.
Steady.
Unwavering.
As though each of them had placed the weight of their faith upon his shoulders.
Kroq-Gar felt something strange beneath those gazes.
A burden.
But not one that threatened to crush him.
It was a realization.
These Lizardmen were alive.
They could think.
They had names of their own.
They were not unit cards on a computer screen.
They were not numbers he could sacrifice before reloading a save file and starting the battle again.
They were alive.
And he was about to lead them into war.
Kroq-Gar had just reached the front of the formation when the scouts returned.
Two Skinks burst from the depths of the rainforest.
Broken leaves and mud covered their scales.
They stopped simultaneously three paces away from Kroq-Gar, lowered their heads, and released several short hisses from their throats.
A salute.
One of the Skinks had a small knife strapped across his back.
He raised his head and began his report.
His voice was rapid, carrying the naturally high-pitched cadence of his kind.
Yet Kroq-Gar understood every word.
Each sound that reached his ears seemed to translate itself automatically into meaning.
Forty li to the north, beyond the dense jungle, there was a large clearing where the trees had been cut down.
A city stood there.
If it could even be called a city.
Its walls were built from crude logs and packed earth.
The wood had turned black.
Not the ordinary black of natural decay.
This was the color of organic matter that had rotted so deeply that corruption seemed to seep from its very core.
Above the gate hung an enormous eight-pointed star.
Heavy iron chains held it in place.
The chains were almost completely rusted.
Yet they had not broken.
Approximately six hundred people lived inside.
The scout hesitated.
Then he raised a claw and gestured toward his own face.
The inhabitants had been corrupted.
Their skin was covered in uneven layers of hardened growths.
Some had an additional hand protruding from their cheeks.
Others had mouths split open almost to their ears.
Some dragged wet, glistening appendages behind them as they walked.
The scouts couldn’t tell whether they were intestines or tentacles.
Whatever they had become, they were still alive.
They could move.
They could shout.
And they were digging a pit in the center of their settlement.
No one knew what had been buried beneath it.
The earth surrounding the pit had turned completely black.
Worse still, the corruption was spreading.
Slowly.
Like ink bleeding across parchment.
Several dozen of their leaders wore proper armor and carried weapons forged from real steel.
The rest wielded wooden clubs and crude stone axes.
But dark red patterns twisted around the wooden weapons.
They hadn’t been carved into the wood.
They were growing from it.
“Who leads them?” Kroq-Gar asked.
“A man,” the scout replied.
“He rides a black horse.
His entire body is covered in armor.
A single horn grows from his helmet.”
The Skink gestured toward his forehead.
“The horn grows from inside.
It has broken through the metal.”
The scout’s voice lowered.
“Every day, he stands upon the wall and looks in this direction.”
“For a long time.”
Kroq-Gar’s tail slammed against the ground.
Crack!
A thin fracture appeared across the stone beneath it.
“He knows we’re here.”
“He knows,” the scout confirmed.
“But he has not moved.”
“He is waiting.”
“Every day, they cut down trees and throw them into the pit.
They burn them, then dig them back out.”
“They repeat the process.”
“We do not know why.”
Tekuna, who had been listening silently, suddenly spoke.
“Sacrifice.”
His voice was sharp.
“They are making offerings to Chaos.”
“That pit is an altar.”
Kroq-Gar turned toward him.
The Skink Priest’s eyes moved rapidly.
Apparently, it was an unconscious reaction whenever Tekuna became nervous.
“They are not summoning reinforcements,” Tekuna continued.
“They are feeding it.”
“Feeding whatever is inside that pit.”
“When it has eaten enough…”
Tekuna’s golden eyes narrowed.
“It will crawl out on its own.”
“How long?” Kroq-Gar asked.
“I do not know.”
Tekuna tightened his grip on his staff.
“Perhaps several days.”
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
“It depends on how quickly they feed it.”
Kroq-Gar fell silent.
[Geomantic Energy: 532/1000]
The steadily rising number seemed to urge him onward.
A Chaos stronghold.
Six hundred corrupted cultists.
An altar that might unleash some unknown monstrosity at any moment.
In the game, Kroq-Gar would have attacked with his starting army without hesitation.
Saurus Warriors to hold the frontline.
Skink Javelin Warriors attacking from the flanks.
Cold One Riders circling around to crush enemy ranged units.
The Stegadon charging straight through their formation.
And Kroq-Gar himself leading the assault.
Five minutes.
Battle over.
But this wasn’t a game.
Kroq-Gar turned his head.
The Saurus Warriors assembled across the plaza were watching him.
Silent.
Resolute.
Without the slightest doubt in their eyes.
They didn’t know what a game was.
They didn’t know about statistics.
They didn’t know that somewhere, in another world, battles could be undone by simply reloading an earlier save.
They knew only one thing.
Wherever Lord Kroq-Gar pointed…
They would charge.
Kroq-Gar drew a deep breath.
The humid air after the storm filled his lungs.
He could smell wet earth.
Freshly cut stone.
The scent drifted from the construction site to the south.
The Skinks had already finished dismantling the first fallen pillar and were carrying the cut stone toward the western side of the plaza.
Soon, he would have somewhere to spend those two hundred points of Geomantic Energy.
Once the Saurus Barracks was complete, he could begin recruiting more warriors.
But that was for later.
Right now, he had nearly seven hundred soldiers.
Seven hundred living, breathing warriors.
Seven hundred Lizardmen willing to charge into battle at his command.
It was enough.
“Tekuna.”
Kroq-Gar’s voice carried across the plaza.
“Sound the mustering drums.”
“We march in one hour.”
The Skink Priest’s eyes shone like sparks.
He slammed the end of his wooden staff against the stone.
Crack!
Blue lightning erupted from the crystal at its tip, dancing through the humid air.
“As you command, Lord Kroq-Gar!”
Tekuna spun around.
His short legs carried him rapidly down the stone steps as a stream of sharp hisses burst from his throat.
The command spread.
The entire Temple-City erupted into motion.
The Saurus Warriors in the plaza turned as one.
Shields struck shields.
A single thunderous metallic crash echoed across the ruins.
The Skink Javelin Warriors immediately stopped their endless chattering.
Like a green tide, they streamed from every corner of the city and assembled in formation.
The Cold One Riders emerged from the pools.
Water rolled from the scales of their reptilian mounts, glittering beneath the newly returned sunlight.
Then the Stegadon rose.
The colossal beast snorted.
Its three massive horns cut through the damp air, gleaming coldly after the rain.
Kroq-Gar descended from the stone platform.
His steps were steady now.
Each footfall landed firmly against the ancient stone.
As his towering figure crossed the plaza, the Saurus Warriors automatically parted before him, opening a path through their ranks.
As he passed, the cold-blooded warriors lowered their eyes slightly.
Not from fear.
From obedience.
Kroq-Gar reached the front of the army.
He raised his right hand.
His enormous scaled fingers spread wide.
Then slowly closed into a fist.
“March.”
His deep voice rolled across the plaza.
The answer came immediately.
Hundreds of shields struck in perfect unison.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.