Ravel hands over a stack of hastily scribbled reports. "As for the second city… food distribution has begun. We escorted caravans from the nearby villages. People are calming down."

Jared flips through the papers briefly, then tucks them under his arm.

"Not perfect," he mutters, "but enough for people to sleep at night."

Ravel glances cautiously at him. "There are still rumors, sir… about how the baron's army died. People say monsters destroyed them. Others say it was a work of another noble."

General Jared exhales slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he surveys the city from the half-repaired wall. Workers hammer planks into place, mages redraw damaged magic circles on the ground, and soldiers drag debris into organized piles.

"Rumors," he mutters. "There's always rumors."

Ravel nods uncertainly. "Yes, sir. Some say the baron angered a high ranking noble. The people are… uneasy."

Jared snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just let it be. Rumors will die eventually," he says, his voice firm but controlled. "Even if one of those rumors happens to be true, they can't do anything about it. Our job is to get this territory ready for His Lord, Duke Charles."

Ravel bows his head. "Understood, General."

Jared shifts his gaze toward the horizon, where Nam City lies far beyond the hills. His tone drops a notch.

"What about our intelligence team? Have they contacted us yet?"

Ravel stiffens. He glances down at the small, rune-carved communication device in his hand. The crystal embedded in its center is cold and dark.

"…It's still silent, sir. Not a single message since they left."

Jared's jaw tightens.

"By now," he says slowly, "they should have reported. Even a short status update. Something."

Ravel hesitates. "…Should we assume the worst?"

Jared turns his head sharply toward him. "I don't assume anything. But we might need to take these monsters seriously. Whether it's a tribe or a new faction, they're moving in a way we haven't seen before."

He looks down at the streets below, where dozens of soldiers hurry to reinforce the gates.

"If our scouts can't even send a warning," Jared adds quietly, "then whatever wiped out Grell's forces may still be moving."

Ravel swallows. "General… what are your orders?"

Jared straightens, voice firm and steady—the voice of a man used to preparing for war.

"Tell everyone to reinforce the walls," he says. "Repair every crack, every weak point. Get the defensive cannons operational. I want all traps reset, and the magic circles fully restored."

"Yes, sir!"

Jared steps forward, placing a hand on the cold stone of the newly repaired wall. He stares out into the distance, expression dark and unreadable.

"And Ravel…"

"Yes, General?"

"Send a message to Duke Charles at once. Tell him this land is stabilizing... Also ask for reinforcement, at least three general."

Ravel bows sharply. "Right away, sir!"

Ravel runs off toward the command post, boots thudding against the stone.

General Jared stays on the wall, arms folded, wind tugging at the red cape draped over his armor. His expression shifts—no longer simply stern, but genuinely troubled.

"Three generals…" he mutters under his breath.

In the Alnera Kingdom, a single general is a force capable of leveling an entire city.

Three of them showing up would be enough to make any lower noble piss their pants.

Jared exhales sharply.

"If those monsters attack the Baron's territory," he says quietly, "I need more than courage. I need overwhelming force."

Footsteps approach.

A lieutenant climbs the steps, saluting sharply. "General Jared! The south gate has been reinforced. We're repositioning the long-range ballistas as you ordered."

"Good," Jared replies without looking at him.

Jared faces the horizon again. The wind grows colder, carrying the distant scent of forests and ash.

"Monsters who can erase armies and silence scouts…" he murmurs. "This is beyond a normal monster attack."

His fingers tighten against the stone wall.

"A threat that requires three generals… means a threat that can damage this kingdom."

He narrows his eyes.

"And I refuse to let it reach Duke Charles' doorstep."

----

Duke Charles sits behind his heavy oak desk, pen tapping lightly against a stack of documents as he works through another endless list of reports. The grand chamber is silent except for the quiet scratch of ink and the occasional flutter of paper.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Charles stops writing immediately.

"Enter," he says.

The door opens smoothly, and the head butler steps inside, bowing deeply.

"My lord," the butler begins, "I have received a message from General Jared. He is requesting reinforcement… of three generals."

Charles' hand freezes mid-air.

He slowly lifts his gaze. "Three?"

"Yes, my lord."

Charles leans back in his chair, eyebrows drawing into a tight line.

"Why? Is the situation in the Baron's territory so severe?"

The butler shakes his head. "No, my lord. According to General Jared… the territory is stabilizing. Food and order have been restored."

Charles' expression hardens. "Then what is the reason?"

The butler folds his hands in front of him. "General Jared believes that monsters are preparing to attack the Baron's territory. And he stated he cannot defend against them alone."

Charles goes silent.

He taps his finger once… twice… against the arm of his chair.

Monsters again.

Are they truly that much of a threat? Enough to push Jared to ask for three generals?

For a man like Jared peak tier 6, battle-tempered, unshakable, to request that much support…

Either he is being overly cautious—

—or something genuinely dangerous is near.

After a long moment, Charles exhales.

"So even the monsters are becoming a problem now…" he mutters.

The butler remains still.

Finally, Charles straightens, resolve settling over him.

"Very well. Send three generals."

The butler bows. "Three generals, my lord. Understood."

Charles raises a hand. "Make sure they are high-level tier 6. I want competent men reinforcing Jared."

"Yes, Duke Charles."

Charles turns his gaze toward the large window, watching the soldiers training in the courtyard below. His voice lowers, becoming colder.

"We need to be prepared. The three Marshalls have been… bold lately. Too bold."

The butler's brows twitch slightly. "Indeed, my lord."

"Right now they are tearing at each other for influence," Charles continues. "But once one gains the upper hand…" His eyes narrow. "Who knows when they will turn their ambitions toward the throne."

The butler keeps his head bowed.

Charles sighs quietly. "The royal family must remain strong. If we show even a moment of weakness…"

"We cannot afford that," the butler finishes softly.

"No," Charles agrees. "We cannot."

He moves away from the window and returns to his desk, picking up his pen again.

"Send the orders immediately. Jared will get his reinforcements."

"At once, my lord."

The butler bows deeply and hurries out of the chamber.

Left alone again, Charles stares down at the message crystal on his table—still faintly glowing with Jared's urgent request.

"Three generals… just to hold them off," he murmurs.

His fingers curl slowly.

"…What kind of monsters are we dealing with?"

-----

The forest shudders.

A deep, rolling vibration ripples through the ground as the massive horde moves in unison, shaking loose leaves from the trees and sending birds scattering into the sky.