"M-me?"
Kreig's voice cut through the still air, a fragile tremor hanging in its echo.
He struggled to find words.
"L-Lord, why me…?"
'What the hell! Is Abel actually nuts!? I, being a leader, is something unheard of! Is he blind or something? Is he tripping? What kind of situation is this...'
Kreig thudded as Abel's fingers happened to land on him.
He was astounded.
Abel didn't even bat an eye. He simply stretched his hand, his fingers pointed, and then he scanned the group using his mere fingers, and then it landed on Kreig!
Some glared, sharp and threatening, the sudden declaration caught everyone in shock. Even though they thought the lord was mocking them, even among the cleaners, disgust was evident.
Others scoffed or chuckled, unable to hide their disdain.
"Why him?" Someone mumbled, each syllable armed with mockery.
"He looks like he'll snap in a breeze… what's with that pathetic knife?" Some chuckled.
Their laughter crawled through the empty space like smoke.
'These bastards!'
He could merely clench his teeth as he succumbed in shame. It travelled beneath his skin, causing him to tremble not in fear but in despise.
'I don't even have the strength to speak for myself...!'
Some among them stared with envy, recognizing the authority that came with leading, even if only cleaners.
But most looked at him as if he were dead weight.
"What's your name?" Abel's cold voice broke the crowd's rising murmur. At once, they realized the lord wasn't merely making things up.
"K-Kreig. Kreig Haven, My Lord,"
He stuttered, looking for the appropriate words to announce his name.
"I see," Abel murmured. His tone was unreadable, cold, and disinterested. Then, he shifted his gaze to Daren as if signalling something.
'T-that's it...?' he sighed, slowly retracting his bow.
"There are 1,000 combatants under our faction," Daren then spoke, stepping forward with his usual brusque clarity.
"After hiring you lot, the number stands at 1,275. Sounds impressive to you, I'm sure." He paused, his eyes wandered through the crowd.
"But against an Orc Lord with 1,500 elite fighters? Not even close."
"Still," he continued, "every 10 kill nets you one silver shard."
'One silver shard…? Holy...'
There are two currencies in this world:
Essence and Shards.
Shards follow a simple hierarchy:
Bronze → Silver → Gold → Platinum → Sovereign
100 bronze = 1 silver
100 silver = 1 gold
…and so on.
One silver shard per 10 kill?
That's too far-fetched, almost as if a sweet talk.
The crowd, however, instead of doubting, turned even more alive. They shared a similar thought: Lord Abel is in a dire situation and is willing to drain his storage to pass the predicament.
The temptation was strong, even Kreig's resolve was shaken to its core, he thought: "Do they deem their lives worth as silver?"
He couldn't help but swallow.
'Indeed, ten kills for a silver is worth it, but against something they're unfamiliar with, it will never be worth their souls,' his thoughts, clicking his tongue inwardly. 'But even with that amount, I will never put my life on the line.'
The temptation was too strong for some, and although many were skeptical, it's not that they can go back once they've already gone.
'Something feels awfully wrong...'
***
"This is the explored region so far," Daren said, uncurling a broad scroll. Its parchment basked in crimson and obsidian, revealing a detailed map. "As you all know, the endless abyss is home to treasures and terrors. It resists expansion, devours progress, and most of all, invites enmity from the unknown," he paused. "But, if this major war is won… thy rewards will never be forgotten."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some looked excited, rushing to go, while some looked in doubt.
Kreig shifted his gaze to the map and was astounded.
He was fascinated by the word 'treasure', not when Daren mentioned the rewards, but rather, he gazed intently at the map.
It pulsed as if a flicker, the domain's territory marked neatly, but the land uncovered was semi-transparent, as if in the making.
Then… something flickered on his head, the map wasn't drawn in his hand. It pulsed faintly…
'Is that thing a skill…?'
His eyes widened upon the thought.
"Dominion's grasp…," someone among the crowd muttered. "The moment a lord reaches level 2, Tier III, they gain access to that skill… A living map showing activities, status, and boundaries… to think that the lord would be of this level."
Kreig swallowed, his fingers clenching deeper in his palm.
'A level 2, Tier III lord…'
Everyone was surprised by the revelation. The scroll was but a fraction of the power a Level 2, Tier III lord possesses. Although some looked utterly dumbfounded, the minority, like the five chosen leaders, kept their unwavering stature, though their eyes emitted some anticipation.
"The enemy is located in the far East. It will take at least an hour to travel on foot. Before we proceed, replenish your energy for it'll be quite a straining walk." Abel's voice silenced the mumbling of the crowd, and he paused.
"The mercenaries take the front. Our troops serve as backup… should things go south. You have an hour to prepare.
...
An hour passed in no time, and Abel's army had already assembled. Soon, Abel and Daren arrived as well, their robed clothes now turned into an appalling armor that covered their body, but not their face. They arrived riding a horse, causing some eyes to turn envious.
Kreig was one of those who were jealous.
Not only was he jealous, but he was also worried that he would not be able to keep up with the pace, as he was not physically fit.
Finally, Lord Abel gave an order to march forth, his eyes stern and resolute.
...
The army bathed under the warmth of the sun. The earth shook as the steps of the army of thousands echoed in the tense atmosphere.
The mercenaries were situated in the front, though the cleaners were supposed to be at the back, around the same distance from Abel's army. Daren was too strict and made them walk along the Combatants.
On their way, Kreig's eyes narrowed as he intently focused, observing the field; he familiarized himself with the air, his knife, which was sheathed, held tightly, and his eyes shifting from the encircling forest.
He moved in caution, avoiding conversation with others, keeping a nonchalant, unbothered personality.
The shadows cast by the trees slowly vanished as they passed through the forest.
A cold breeze of a wind blew by, and the whole army halted at once.
Far from the exit of the forest was the vast plains, a domain in its very middle, one almost as big, if not much bigger than Abel's.
"We've arrived." A piercing chill passed the whole crowd, his face warped into a disorienting smile.
"Now, show your worth!"