It was the final day and the sun was setting. Owen was a bag of nerves during the last two days, but thanks to Cedric and Lome, he didn’t have time to think about what was coming. Hours he had spent in gruelling combat with them. Not only them, but he had also sparred with Mirian, Thorin, and Draed. They all wanted a go at their new Lord, and Owen obliged them.

Thanks to Cedric’s guidance with the sword, Owen had learnt a lot during the two days of sparring. At the beginning, Cedric would win 9 times out of 10 as the difference in experience was just too big of a gap.

That didn’t last very long at all. Because of Devil’s Reflexes, Battle Hardened, his overwhelming advantage in Stats, and Owen’s new sword, he was able to forcefully build a ladder over that gap in only a few hours. Owen was too fast, too strong, and his reaction speed was at a point where Cedric couldn’t get a single edge in. It was the same for all the others. Mirian and Rehan proved more difficult because of their speed, but again, Owen overcame it soon enough.

The biggest hurdle was Draed. He was incredibly slippery, and the range advantage was difficult to overcome since Owen didn’t have a movement Skill. The first couple of hours were pure pain. Draed had removed the heads of his arrows, but each time it struck his flesh, it hurt. Only after the 3 hour mark, did Owen finally learn how to use his advanced reflexes to parry the arrows in mid-air.

Now, as the temperature dropped in the desert, and the skyline turned a gorgeous orange, he had called everyone over to the centre of the triangular fort. From the Builders, to Bimnpottin, to the Miners, and his fighting force. Everyone was sitting by the kindling fire. Old cacti replaced fire-wood. Dried out, it was much the same; just resulting in more smoke than usual. They knew the light wouldn’t last long, for when the tsunami arrived, it would devour every inch of light that existed. But for now, it felt blissful.

Clark, the Chef, had prepared a feast for everyone using the bountiful meat Owen had Plundered. Tucked away in his spatial storage, nothing perished or spoiled. It was the perfect refrigerator. He passed Owen a plate, who was meant to eat first. Owen wouldn’t argue; he was starving.

On a plat made of stone, sat a juicy steak that was charred with a criss-cross pattern. Next to it, were a handful of vegetables that Bimnottin had just grown in the last two days. It was the sight of perfection. Owen had no reservations as he picked up with his hands, and bit into the crispy edge. His teeth glided through the meat and a mouthful of juice chased the bite. The tender beat and the mouthwatering juices exploded on his taste buds. Salt and a hint of citrus notes that hugged the rub of the meat was a testament to the love and passion Clark had put into his work. And Owen savoured it, moaning in pleasure.

Everyone broke out in laughter as heat brushed across his cheeks. Owen said through a mouthful of food, “Clark, you’ve outdone yourself. Truly.”

“Ah,” he said with a kind smile. “If my cooking can raise the spirits of my Lord's subjects, then that’s all the glory I need.”

Owen looked at Cedric and smiled. Returning his attention back to Clark, Owen motioned for him to sit down. “You’ve hold yourself up in the kitchen for 6 hours now, come, sit with us. Enjoy the fruits of your labour.”

“I won’t say no to that, my Lord,” Clark said, sitting down next to Mirian. He smiled at the lady, only for her to ignore him, and place her full attention on the plate of meat she was just handed. She dug in, sinking her teeth into the tender meat. Her eyes lit up. It was so cute.

I wonder if Clark had ties to a mediaeval-like world? A chef for a noble family, maybe? Owen thought. It was interesting watching these people. Just from the way they talked, the way they interacted with others, and the clothes they had upon being summoned, told numerous stories.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

For example, Cedric was exceptional at teaching swordsmanship. He moved with grace and rarely talked if not spoken to. He wore tidy hard-leather armour that was inscribed with beautiful workmanship. It told Owen he was raised in a good family and taught how to act while in the presence of a Lord.

Bimpnottin cared little of how anyone viewed him. He devoured the meat on the plate without care about how much mess he made. With how much time he spent tending to his farm, that told Owen perhaps the gnome was in charge of gardens back home. And that he rarely left home.

Draed often spoke to himself. Owen had heard that some wood-elves often spoke to the plants and the trees around them. Of course, that was just from various fantasy stories he had read. He didn’t ask the real reason in fear it was a rude topic of discussion.

The fact was, everyone here had lives of their own. And Owen would fight to the death for them if need be.

“I wanted to say a few words,” Owen announced when everyone had finished their meal. “It’s been an honour fighting by your side. This is not the end. These walls that you see around will become taller, thicker, and just like us, they will last longer than tomorrow. I’m not really good at this whole leader’s speech,” Owen said, eliciting a few chuckles from everyone. “Let’s kill the bastard orc and get out of this desert, shall we?”

Everyone shouted and clapped, cheering, their spirits from having their bellies full and united against a common enemy. This may not yet be their home, but it was soon to be. Owen didn’t want to just stop here. He would create a place that these people could call home, they could start families if their memories allowed it, could create a life of their own in this hellish place.

And for that, he’d annihilate his enemy and any other that threatened him.

No quarter.

No mercy.

***

Atop the battlements of the wall, Owen looked to his left and right. Archers lined the wall, arrows already knocked and waiting. Owen leaned over the wall and looked down to his warriors who were ready for the melee.

The tension in the air was so thick, Owen could cut it with his blade. Even through the unique aspect of his Battle Hardened Skill, his heart struck like a percussive instrument. Blood pumped through his body at an alarming rate as all of his senses rose to their peak.

Lome was sitting atop Shelldon, axe at the ready. The greenish black eyes behind his eyes flickered menacingly. Thorin the centaur, dragged his powerful hooves in the sand, eyes locked onto the hungry orcs waiting at the barrier.

The enemies were starved. With their food reserved burned to ash, and the Sand Hound Rift destroyed, they had no food. With their water supply tarnished and poisoned, they were running on fumes. If his barrier had lasted for a single more day, perhaps there wouldn’t even be a fight; they’d die on the spot.

But seeing their weakened constitution offered no reprieve as Owen locked eyes with the orcen Lord. Even with no food and water for an entire 2 days, the orc didn’t look phased in the slightest. Just what was his body made of? Tissue and muscle? Owen didn’t believe it. He had to have something else powering him. His Lord Emblem must be frightening.

The barrier around his land shifted from a deep blue to a translucent, glass-like hue before finally shattering completely. Mana rose into the air like a cascade of bubbles.

Suddenly, the orcen Lord let out a deafening war cry, so loud that Owen had to cover his ears to prevent them from bursting.

Elena, who had been charging her shot all this time, released her arrow. Imbued with the power of the moon, it cut through the air toward the orc. He grinned and stepped aside at the last moment. The arrow grazed his cheek, leaving a deep wound.

Owen ordered all his archers to fire, and they unleashed a volley of arrows, pelting the weakened. But with shields and having received arrow fire for the past couple days, it did little to reduce their numbers.

Owen frowned. Why wasn’t the Lord advancing? What was going on?

His heart sank as he heard the war cries of more orcs coming from the mountain. Owen gnashed his teeth. They had copied his tactics.

Bimpnottin and all the miners were in grave danger.