The army moved at dawn, leaving the wolf dens behind and pressing deeper into the Forest of Torment. Sam marched at the front, Sun Blade strapped across his back, boots crunching against damp earth. Without Helios blazing above, the march felt heavier, slower. The Phoenix still slept at the manor, absorbing the Sun Fruit's power, leaving Sam to walk as a mortal among his legion.
The Twilight Troops stretched in disciplined lines: ninety Solar Warriors in rose‑gold armor, sixty Lunar Lizard Knights with spears gleaming, and ten Shade Assassins melting into shadow. Their armor clinked softly, their boots thudded in rhythm, and their breaths fogged in the cold morning air.
The world felt alive. Carrion birds circled overhead, streams ran dark beneath the canopy, and crude goblin banners hung from trees, marking territory. Sam's Eyes of Horus flickered, catching details others missed — claw marks on bark, wolf tracks pressed deep into mud, signs of riders moving ahead.
Back in Twilight Town, life was shifting. The villagers had begun to organize themselves into roles.
• A group of dwarves had opened a smithy, hammering crude goblin weapons into usable tools.
• Human farmers tilled soil near the shield's edge, planting seeds with cautious hope.
• Children carried buckets from the endless flasks in the town hall, laughing as they splashed each other, marveling at how the water never ran dry.
One villager remarked, "It feels strange… to have safety again. To wake without fear of raiders."
Another added, "The Twilight Lord fights for us. Twilight Town will grow. We will make it worthy of his name."
The town was no longer just surviving. It was beginning to thrive.
By midday, scouts reported movement ahead. Goblin riders burst from the trees, mounted on snarling wolves. Their armor was crude, their weapons jagged, but their speed was terrifying.
"Formations!" Sam shouted.
Solar Warriors locked shields, forming a wall of rose‑gold steel. Lunar Lizard Knights leveled spears, hissing. Shade Assassins vanished into shadow, circling unseen.
The riders struck. Wolves slammed into shields, snapping jaws at exposed flesh. Goblins hurled spears, some piercing armor. Solar Warriors held firm, sabers flashing in disciplined arcs. Knights drove spears into wolves mid‑charge, breaking formations. Assassins appeared behind riders, blades cutting throats before vanishing again.
Sam conjured a Lightning Spear, the weapon humming with stormlight. He hurled it into a rider, lightning exploding across wolf and goblin alike. Both convulsed, paralyzed, before collapsing.
The skirmish ended with goblins retreating, but not without cost. Several Solar Warriors lay dead, shields shattered. Two Lunar Lizard Knights bled out on the forest floor, their spears broken. The army had taken losses.
Sam clenched his fists. Even victory carried a price.
The ground trembled. From the trees emerged the Tier 5 Goblin Chief, riding a massive wolf armored in bone and iron. His tribe gathered behind him, hundreds of riders snarling, their wolves howling in unison.
The Chief raised his jagged axe, voice booming. "Kill the human! Kill the Twilight Lord!"
Sam's jaw tightened. This was no skirmish. This was war.
The goblin riders charged in waves, wolves snarling, goblins screaming. Solar Warriors braced shields, the impact shaking their arms. Wolves leapt over the wall, tearing into ranks. Knights speared mounts mid‑charge, hissing as they struck. Assassins targeted rider leaders, cutting them down in shadow strikes.
Sam marched with his soldiers, Lightning Spears crackling in his hands. He hurled them into riders, explosions of stormlight breaking charges. His Eyes of Horus revealed weaknesses — a rider's exposed flank, a wolf's hesitation — guiding his army's strikes.
The Goblin Chief charged directly at Sam, axe raised. Sam met him head‑on, Lightning Spear in one hand, Sun Blade in the other. The clash was brutal. The Chief's wolf snapped at Sam, but he dodged, driving the spear into its chest. Lightning exploded, paralyzing the beast.
Sam's Eyes of Horus revealed the Chief's weakness — a fracture in his armor, a hesitation in his stance. Sam struck with the Sun Blade, cutting through the gap. The Chief roared, staggering, before collapsing.
The tribe broke. Riders scattered, wolves fled into the forest. The battle was won.
System messages flooded Sam's vision:
[Loot Acquired: Beast Cores.]
[Loot Acquired: 1 Beast Lord Core.]
[Loot Acquired: 3 Troop Tokens.]
[Loot Acquired: Low‑Tier Weapons.]
Sam ordered the bodies of his fallen troops gathered. A pyre was built, flames rising into the night sky. The soldiers stood in silence as their comrades were burned, the fire consuming armor and flesh alike.
Sam watched, his chest heavy. For a moment, he thought of returning to the domain, regrouping, resting. But then he clenched his fists, hardening his resolve.
"No," he whispered. "We march on. The orcs await."
The army regrouped, their morale tempered by loss but strengthened by victory. Sam looked to the horizon, knowing the Orc Tribe lay ahead.
The gates of the forest opened into broken hills. The soldiers marched onward, silver and rose‑gold armor gleaming, shadows stretching, lightning crackling above.
The war for Beast Lord cores continued.