"..." The Old Elf froze, forgetting to breathe, blink, and even talk. His mind reeled, bombarded with a whirlwind of emotions. The sheer magnitude of the revelation was too much for him to bear. Not only had he discovered that his new lord commander was a Dragonblood, OH NOOOO!

But he also knew of the existence of the last LIVING DRAGON!

'And his blood is in my possession!' Eldarion exclaimed silently.

He only managed to snap back to reality when he sensed the vial slipping from his grasp.

"!!!" He immediately clenched it tightly, securing it close to his chest. He wouldn't risk carelessly letting the vial slip from his hands and shatter. 'I-I need to be careful.'

The weight of the vial felt like the weight of the world itself, and Eldarion's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to process the enormity of what he held. The knowledge that he now possessed the blood of the last living dragon, a being of immense power and significance, sent shivers down his spine.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Eldarion forced himself to focus. He turned to Aron, attempting to unleash a barrage of questions, but Aron silenced him with a raised hand.

"Apologies, Keeper, but this is the part where you must trust me, no questions for now," Aron said firmly.

Eldarion nodded, though his mind was still buzzing with curiosity and uncertainty. He understood the gravity of the situation, and he knew that Aron must have his reasons for withholding information.

'Perhaps since he's a Dragonblood, the last dragon is one of his parents or ancestors?'

Suppressing his urge to pry further, Eldarion instead focused on the task at hand. He carefully secured the vial of dragon blood, ensuring that it was safe. This was a responsibility unlike any other he had ever known, and he vowed to guard it with his life.

He stood there, clutching the vial close to his chest with a sense of purpose renewed, Eldarion turned to Aron once more, his expression resolute. "I trust you, my Lord Commander," he said firmly. "Give me one week, and I'll make sure that the potion will be ready by then, how many do you need?"

Aron displayed a smile replying with a question, "How many men do we have?"

Eldarion nodded in understanding. "Then I suppose I better get to work."

…

A week passed in the blink of an eye, well perhaps 'A blink of an eye' for the rest of the world. But for the Frostguards, that week was hell on earth for one simple reason—training.

Following the example set by his dear mentor, Aron put them through the same grueling training Thyra had subjected him to.

'Heheh~Suffer as I suffered,' Aron chuckled, watching them sprawled on the snowy courtyard.

The training commenced at the crack of dawn, around 4:00 AM, and concluded precisely at noon. A grueling eight hours of physical torment.

It might seem insignificant compared to the 22 hours of daily training Aron endured with Thyra. But under the harsh climate and the frigid temperatures where your saliva would instantly freeze if it left your mouth, those eight hours were beyond grueling.

The Frostguards endured endless drills, running through snowy fields, practicing combat techniques, and enduring the biting cold without complaint because of one thing.

Seeing their Lord Commander training with them and going through the same hardship as them gave them the will to keep going. Not a single one of them voiced a complaint.

They began to respect Aron, and their opinion of him grew even more. He never treated them unfairly. Yes, he was harsh on them, but that was only during the training. He answered all of their questions and even guided some of them personally on how to wield weapons or exercises, providing valuable tips, tricks, and insights.

His commitment to their growth and development was unwavering, and it earned him the unwavering loyalty and admiration of the Frostguards. Despite their past as criminals, some even contemplated pledging their loyalty beyond their initial obligation—serving their sentence.

Following the training sessions, Aron would spend the remainder of the day reviewing the reports and the lists that Eamon made.

Yes, lists, not just one list. When Aron skimmed through them, he faced the embarrassed Lieutenant Eamon with a blank expression, uttering, "So basically, we need everything?"

From medical supplies to building materials, iron, steel, clothes, food, and even the most basic necessities like socks and underwear. It was a stark reminder of the remaining challenges they must face in rebuilding and fortifying their stronghold.

'This wouldn't have happened if those blasted supply caravans hadn't vanished… no, not vanished, taken,' Aron sighed heavily, opening a large, worn leather-bound book.

Writing inside this book were the profiles of every Frostguard. Their names, race, age, and birthplace, for the criminals it listed their crimes and how long the time of service. Aron saw that the lowest one of them was serving for 25 years.

'So they basically send them to die here. Huh!'

It's impossible to survive that long here, even if there were no monster waves at all, just the damn cold would kill you in the long run.

Aron didn't care about their past; they were now his men, and he was going to make sure that they would survive and defend the Wall.

For now, his real focus was on the lowest section of the profile. It details their power and what magic they have. And some men possess really interesting magical abilities.

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When Eldaroin gave this book to Aron and even before he asked. The old Elf reassures him that only the Keeper and the lord commander can read this book. The book in itself was a magical artifact enhanced by runes. Eldaroin took it upon himself to question each man inside the keep, and since he was a runemaster, lying on him was out of the question. Making every detail inside the book accurate.

In the office and while casually flipping the pages, going from one profile to another, suddenly Aron's eyes caught sight of a particular entry that made him pause.

It was the profile of a young Frostguard. Unlike the others, this profile stood out not for his crimes or his time of service, but for the notation of his magical abilities.

When Aron read his magical abilities, his eyes sparkled in excitement, and quickly called the soldier standing stationed outside his office.

"Yes, Lord Commander," The soldier acknowledged with a respectful bow, fist pressed to his chest.

"Bring me this man immediately," Aron commanded, showing the soldier the young man's profile image.

The soldier nodded quickly, recognizing the urgency in Aron's command. With a brisk salute, he turned on his heel and hurried off to carry out his orders.

As Aron waited for the soldier to return with the young Frostguard, his mind raced with a certain plan. If he could pull it off, their chances of surviving the monster waves would drastically improve.

Moments later, the door to Aron's office creaked open, and the soldier reappeared, accompanied by a young man with a determined expression. The man stood at attention, his posture rigid as he awaited the lord commander's instructions.

"Young man, have a seat," Aron gestured toward a chair, indicating for the young Frostguard to take a seat. The soldier bowed respectfully and exited the room, leaving Aron alone with the young Frostguard.

The man obeyed the command without hesitation, settling into the chair with a mix of anticipation and apprehension evident in his eyes. He waited in silence, unsure of what the lord commander had in store for him.

Aron studied Kaelen intently, his mind whirring with plans and possibilities. This young Frostguard held within him a rare and potent gift—a gift that Aron was going to make the most use of.

"So Luca, that's your name, yes?" Aron's voice carried a tone of authority, but also a hint of warmth as he addressed the young Frostguard.

"Yes, Lord Commander," Luca replied, his voice steady despite the nervous energy that pulsed through him. "My name is Luca."

Luca was a young man of barely twenty years, with short brown hair and black eyes. He was of average height, 1.75 meters, and slim with very little muscle.

Aron nodded, acknowledging Luca's response. "Luca, I've read your profile, and I must say, I'm impressed by your magical abilities, well, ability," he began, his voice carrying a note of genuine interest. "Care to explain it to me in detail?"

At first, Luca hesitated to speak. However, his nerves gradually subsided as he recalled Aron personally teaching him swordsmanship three days prior. While Luca knew the Lord Commander wouldn't remember their brief interaction, it held immense significance for him. It had fostered a seed of respect and admiration for Aron.

"I can swap faces with my target, Lord Commander."

Aron's eyebrows rose in surprise at Luca's revelation. "Swap faces, you say?" he repeated, his voice betraying his intrigue. "That's quite a unique ability, Luca. Please, elaborate."

Nodding, Luca took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Yes, Lord Commander," he began. "My magic allows me to physically wear my target's face as my own, taking their shape, eye color, skin tone, and even hair color and length. In turn, my target would wear whatever face I possess at that moment."

Aron leaned forward, his interest piqued by Luca's explanation. "Fascinating," he remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. "So, you can literally become someone else, is this a racial thing or unique to you?"

Though Luca appeared to be completely human, Aron knew that his appearance wasn't the real one; in the profile, his race was called Chromanyx. A sub-race of lizardfolk known for their shapeshifting abilities.

Luca shook his head. "Yes and No," he explained. "While my race, the Chromanyx, possess shapeshifting abilities, their transformations are temporary. However, mine is permanent."

Aron listened intently, absorbing Luca's explanation with rapt attention. "And what limitations does your ability possess?"

Luca raised two fingers. "There are two, Lord Commander," he explained. "Firstly, I can only utilize my ability twice a day. Secondly, while I can perfectly mimic the target's facial features, the transformation doesn't extend to the rest of my body, aside from skin tone. For instance, if I were to switch faces with a minotaur, I would acquire all the details of their head – the bull-like features, horns, and all. However, the rest of my body would remain unchanged. My legs wouldn't transform into hooves, nor would I sprout a tail. The only alteration would be my skin turning brown to match their fur color."

Aron nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Luca's explanation. "So, your ability would be most effective when used on a target with a similar body type, height, and weight as yourself?"

Luca confirmed his observation with a nod. "Precisely, Lord Commander," he agreed. "The closer the physical resemblance, the easier it is to deceive others.

Aron's gaze flickered back to Luca's profile, scanning the details about how the young man ended up branded a criminal.

"How did you end up here?" Aron inquired, despite already having read the details in the profile. He wanted to hear the story from Luca's perspective.

Luca lowered his gaze, staring at the floor as he recalled his past. "It all stems from my unique ability. My kin, the Chromanyx, ostracized me when I was young. They deemed me different and severed my tail before casting me out into the wilderness to die." He paused, wiping away a tear that welled up in his eye.

"I was lucky that a farmer found me and took me with him where I lived for almost ten years. He even adopted me as his son, and his family became my family."

A flicker of sympathy softened Aron's expression as he listened intently. He poured a cup of water and offered it to the young man.

He accepted the cup gratefully. "Thank you, Lord Commander," taking a sip before continuing his narrative. "One fateful day, a high-ranking official, a wealthy lord perhaps, visited our village. He spotted my sister at the inn and desired her as a concubine. My father refused, so a violent fight broke out"

"What actions did you take?" Aron pressed, his voice gentle

Luca took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. "I lost control when I saw my father bleeding on the ground and my sister being taken away. I grabbed a nearby knife and lunged at the lord, aiming for his heart. However, his bodyguard intervened, deflecting my attack and taking the blow instead."

Luca took another sip from the cold water. "The bodyguard died, and I was captured and sent here."

Aron listened attentively, the profile revealing that Luca was accused of attempting to steal from the lord. However, Eldarion had attached a note confirming the young man's account.

Sadly, even if Luca was in the right and he was only defending his honor and saving his sister, no one would stand for him for one simple reason: the lord's identity.

"Do you know who that man was?" Aron inquired.

Luca shook his head in negation. "No, my lord, all I know is that he was a high-ranking member of society for me to be sent here."

Aron narrowed his eyes, his gaze flitting to the name scrawled on the profile – Lord Theodore of Avaloria, the King's cousin.

An almost inaudible chuckle escaped his lips. 'How convenient… heheh~' he thought, his eyes returning to Luca.

"Luca, if I were to help you in exacting revenge on this lord, what would you offer me in return?"

"!!!" Luca's eyes widened in astonishment at Aron's proposition. He bolted upright from his chair, his gaze locking with those crimson eyes. He felt an unsettling sensation as if Aron could pierce his very soul.

Without hesitation, Luca knelt before the Lord Commander. "Everything, my lord," he vowed fervently.

Aron's grin widened, revealing a flash of sharp teeth. He rose from his chair, towering over the young man. "Excellent! I like your answer, boy. Prepare yourself. In two days, we will embark on a journey. I don't need to tell you to keep your mouth shut. Understood?"

Luca remained kneeling, his head bowed. "Yes, Lord Commander," he affirmed.

"Good. Now, tell me, Luca, have you ever considered becoming a city mayor?"