They left on the morning of the fifth day.
No fanfare. No speeches.
Harold had taken Dalen aside the night before. Whatever was said left the younger lord looking troubled — but no one else knew what the conversation was about.
The steady rhythm of boots on dirt echoed through the morning mist as soldiers assembled outside the gate. Wagons were hitched. The tatanka, after several days of rest, pawed the ground eagerly, ready to move again.
The Hold woke early — not to stop them, but to watch. Soldiers said goodbye to friends they'd made among the villagers. There were tears. The adventurers embraced, traded gear, promised to meet again. One team had found mushrooms that looked suspiciously like popular ones from Earth and passed them around the night before. Most of them were waking up dazed and fogged.
It was funny to watch. At least it seemed like they'd had a good time.
Dalen stood near the rebuilt berm, one hand raised to block the morning sun, looking out over what his Hold had become in just a few short days. His new captain, Toman, stood behind him, already drilling the first few squads into formation.
It wasn't perfect. But it was starting to look like something that might last.
Harold gave Hale a silent nod, and the column began to move.
Thirteen days after leaving Harold's Landing, the army began the march home — the same route they'd come.
Wounded rode in wagons. Supplies were organized by function: medical, alchemical, dry goods, weapons. Hale had restructured the unit, declaring the current force the Prime Century — hardened veterans who had earned that title in fire. The fresh recruits waiting at the Landing would form the next.
They weren't returning with the numbers they'd set out with.
They'd left with nearly 200 legionaries and 60 adventurers. Now, only 142 soldiers marched — nine of them still wounded in ways Harold couldn't fix with what he had. Eyes. Limbs. Organ damage. Things he'd need more advanced alchemy and components to treat. Of the 60 adventurers, just 22 were returning. The rest should have respawned at the Landing — minus one perk each.
Some would call that a victory. No permanent deaths. The relic was secured. A major threat was eliminated.
But Harold knew better. He'd need every legionary he could get. The recruitment portals wouldn't last forever. They were meant to give humanity a foothold — not an infinite army.
They couldn't have done it without the adventurers, and Harold made sure to thank each of them personally. On the march back, he began compiling a more detailed bestiary of the Basin and its monsters — perks, drop rates, habitats. If adventurers could plan their builds more effectively, their impact would increase dramatically.
He thought of Vera's sniper shot. Of Sarah's team's theft and sabotage. They were sharp tools. And Harold planned to build more.
They'd chosen to return via the same path. It was slower — but safer. Exploring a new route with reduced numbers was too great a risk. There were still dens out there, and if they stumbled across a big one, they might not survive it.
Each night they stopped, Harold gathered Hale, Carter, and Garrick around the fire. Not just to review — but to plan.
He didn't believe in ruling from a vacuum. Some things had to be kept close, yes. But not everything.
So he told them what he envisioned next.
Where he planned to start his new villages.
How critical the quality of your first village was — because once a Lord upgraded to a town, the number of additional villages they could found depended entirely on the tier of their starting one:
Bronze: 1
Silver: 2
Gold: 3
Epic: 4
Legendary: 5
That's why Harold was so confident Dalen's Hold would eventually fall into his domain. They had no way to compete. His start was simply better.
But the real trick, Harold explained, was the timing.
The sooner he promoted to Town, the sooner his own villages could start generating resources and, more importantly, their own recruitment portals. It created a chain effect.
"Landing becomes a city," Harold said, sipping a hot cup of tea. "That unlocks villages becoming towns. And then those towns spawn more villages. It snowballs."
The others listened in silence.
Harold looked across the fire. "My village stones? They don't start at bronze. They start one tier under the spawning stonel."
He let that hang for a second.
"And the original was Legendary."
Carter blinked. "So… all your villages start at Epic?"
Harold nodded once.
"That's higher than 99% of Lords will ever reach," he said. "Last time, I only saw four Epic Lords. None were Legendary. Then when all those villages become a town they can spawn a stone at Gold."
The silence grew heavier.
"So," Carter said slowly, "we're going to snowball in a way no one can compete with."
Harold gave a one-shoulder shrug and raised his tea. "Kind of, yeah, we'll just be recruiting too many people everyday."
He glanced back at the fire.
"But there's a catch. When you're ready to promote to City, there's a test."
Carter frowned. "What kind of test?"
"An army," Harold said. "It assaults your town. Real consequences. It hits your walls, your people, everything you've built."
He exhaled slowly.
"Last time, only 30% passed that test on the first try. Towers were decimated."
Garrick looked horrified. "That's… awful. Why?"
"Because most Lords weren't ready. Still fumbling with the system. Never left their walls. Never fought for their land. So when a real army hit them?" Harold's voice dropped. "It broke them. And some never recovered."
The fire crackled.
"After City status," Harold said quietly, "a lot of Lords started conquering each other. That's where a lot of humanity died. So much so they were unprepared when the other races started to expand."
He didn't say anything else for a while.
Eventually, he added:
"When I become the first City? I'll post on the forums. Step-by-step. So others don't trigger it unprepared."
Garrick nodded slowly.
Then Harold said. "That's when our job gets harder."
Hale asked, "What does that mean?"
Harold didn't answer.
The next night, he pulled Hale aside.
Recruitment was always the long game — and Harold had started early.
He'd given Hale a list of names before they marched, people he needed added to the network. He didn't say why. Just that they mattered.
Some were people that become famous adventurers, others were crafters that ended up a big deal. Others were administrators, some generals, some of the most effective people from his last life and Harold wanted to gather them all to him.
Now Hale gave him the update.
Hale explained that the network was growing. They spoke using coded forum messages but it was hard to get nuance across that way.
There were some other actors out there trying to do the same thing as well that were interfering. Hale and Margret had started the process, trying to get every person to the Landing as they could.
They were using a variety of ways.
There was a Lord outside the basin who was building ships but guess he wasn't very nice about it. Hale's contact was investigating the ships as a way to leave and make it to the Landing only to find out the shipbuilder hated the Lord and was planning on building the ship and leaving as soon as it could float. He jumped at the chance to serve a lord that would shelter him.
Another was working as a merchant. A few lords had started within a couple days of each other. They had found each other and started a brisk trade with each other. He was just waiting to start a large caravan and get the guards he needed before setting off for the mountain pass that Harold had told Hale about.
The most interesting was a man that Hale told him was already on the way. Guess he was a friend of Hales from back when. Hale told him where he was and he just started walking.
He assured Harold that everything was working.If everything worked out he would have the intelligence arm he needed.
The next night Harold grabbed two mugs of strong tea and headed to see Sarah. It wasn't coffee or a good beer but it would do for now.
Sarah sat cross-legged, a battered mug in her hands, sipping the thick, earthy tea the medics swore was "good for calming nerves." It tasted like boiled moss and dirt but she drank it anyway.
Across from her, Harold leaned against a log, cloak draped over his shoulders, armor buckled loose. He didn't say much — just sipped slowly from his own mug, eyes half-lidded, gaze fixed on the flames like they held answers he hadn't decided to share yet.
It had been a while since they'd had time to just sit.
Not plan or lead. Not fight.
Just… be siblings again.
Sarah nudged him with her boot.
"You always get quiet after a win. You know that?"
Harold didn't look away from the fire.
"Not quiet. Just thinking."
"That's what I mean. We win, and you start brooding like you lost your dog."
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You've got a brood aura. Real alpha warlord energy."
He smirked. "Alpha warlord energy?"
"Big sad commander who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. The soldiers love it."
"And you don't?"
"I'm your sister. I'm contractually obligated to mock you."
He sipped his tea. "Fair."
They let the quiet stretch — not awkward. Just easy.
Sarah glanced at him sideways after a while.
"How is it?"
"How's what?"
"Coming back. To Gravesend."
He didn't answer right away. The fire crackled between them.
"I've been wondering since we came here," she said, more softly now. "After everything that happened to you out here. After what you survived."
He looked up at the stars. Let out a slow breath.
"It's strange," he said at last. "Not what I expected."
"You thought it'd be worse?"
"I thought I'd feel… more. Anger. Fear. Something."
He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his cup.
"Instead, I saw people hanging on by threads. So I just started fixing things."
Sarah tilted her head. "That's very 'you.'"
"What?"
"Taking your trauma and turning it into a construction project."
He gave a dry chuckle. "Better than bottling it up and punching walls."
"I do not punch walls."
"You literally broke your hand in high school because—"
"Okay, first off, I had just been dumped—"
They both laughed. A bit too loud. It felt good.
Then, Sarah looked at him again, the humor ebbing.
"You're not what I expected."
He frowned slightly. "No?"
She shook her head.
"To you… you died. After living through twenty years of horror in a world no one was ready for. You lost a wife. You were tortured for years Harold. You watched humanity fall apart. And then you came back — two decades early — and you just got to work."
Her voice didn't break, but it carried weight.
"To me, my brother went to bed ignoring me like usual… and woke up possessed. Up before dawn. Scribbling in notebooks like a madman. You stopped eating. Barely slept. Your hands shook. You muttered to yourself for hours. You scared me, Harold."
He said nothing.
"Then you finally told me. Everything. And I didn't believe you. Not really. Thought it was grief. A breakdown."
She looked around, eyes scanning the shadows beyond the firelight.
"But now we're here. And it's all true. More true — and more insane — than anything you told me back then."
She gave him a long look.
"And you're still not what I expected. You're more at home here than you ever were in that house. Especially after Mom and Dad died. I think this world suits you."
She hesitated.
"Harold… I wasn't a very good sister, was I?"
But Harold turned to her, quiet for a beat. Then scooted a little closer, setting the tea aside.
"Sarah… I wasn't a very good brother."
She blinked, but he held up a hand.
"No — let me say it. After Mom and Dad died, I buried myself in work. I had to finish school, take care of the bills, make sure we stayed afloat. I told myself I was doing it for you… but I wasn't there for you. Not in the way you needed."
He let the fire speak for a second.
"You lost your parents, too. But I didn't treat you like someone grieving. I treated you like another responsibility to manage. And I'm sorry for that."
Sarah's expression didn't change for a long time. Then — slowly — she gave him the smallest smile.
"If it helps… we got closer. Here, I mean. He explained. We traveled together for a few years before I met my wife."
Sarah blinked. "Finally gonna tell me about her?"
"Nothing to really tell. It didn't last."
He snorted softly. "You hated her."
"Did I?" Sarah's smile turned distant. "Yeah… I probably did. End of the world does weird things to people. Sometimes you cling to whoever's nearby."
He looked at her with surprise. "When did you get so smart?"
She moved to slap a hand against him but he just grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug.
He didn't say anything at first but then I'm glad you're here Sarah."
Then — just as the fire cracked again — she murmured:
"I'm glad you're here too."
Really rough map of the Landing from before Harold Left