The moon rose for the third night. The war against the tusk ants was fiery like yesterday, and yet the men and women of this specific fort had some leeway in their fight against the invaders.

“Keep your shields up!” Orland roared, pacing behind the line that guarded the main entrance. Unlike the previous night, they were stable in their formations and their rotations. The wall stood strong, and the leader kept it intact.

“Change!” he bellowed. The single line exchanged with the one behind, and Orland joined in, taking part in the defense. If it was any other day, he would stand at the back, strategizing the minute details of the formation, fixing any holes that could be seen.

But here, Orland got his hand dirtied. The sword in his hand stabbed right through the head of a pouncing ant as if he was just another grunt on the battlefield. Yet he smiled from ear to ear. The feeling he felt, battling against these tusk ants was lias if he was living back in the days when he first made his name on the battlefield.

‘Incredible,’ thought Orland. The energy, vitality, and strength in his body were even better when compared to his younger days. He was like a man born anew and the status of his numbers was responsible for these immense changes.

At first, he was skeptical of all this nonsense about numbers and attributes. But the display of strength shown by that young man changed his perspective, and the guidance from Tobias the Highbrow affirmed the path he wanted.

On the other side, the young lord of Gardwin took charge. Cyrus commanded his men and women and despite the instability in their defensive line, the likes of Ryden, Dayana, Calrin, and Duran kept the ship afloat. Their individual prowess shone above the rest, and despite that, their camaraderie was far from being a team.

A tusk ant rocketed against a shield, and the one behind fell helplessly on the ground.

“Block the hole!” Ryden roared, urging others to be quick on their feet.

Milly tried to get back up, but her wobbling legs wouldn’t follow her intention. Yet a hand was extended to her. She looked up and it was Dayana. The moon behind her made her appear like an angel from the night sky.

“Get up,” her firm voice resounded.

Milly grabbed onto Dayana’s hand and upped she went. She raised her shield despite the fatigue in her arm, and yet she persisted in fighting at the front line. Milly came in between the one covering for her mistake as she rammed her shield through. But she overshot herself. Her whole body went beyond the line, but someone grabbed her at the last second and pulled her back into the line.

“Don’t get too excited," Dayana said. "We fight to protect and not to chase glory.”

“Yes, my lady,” Milly replied.

Their fight continued. While up above, arrows kept the ant’s number at bay. Among the many in the fort, Teena worked the hardest. Her hands never stopped strafing since the beginning of the night. Each tip of her arrows found its marks, sending the ants into their graves. Before she knew it, her level rose to level ten, earning her an option to choose a new skill at her disposal. Rather than choosing one immediately, she postponed it to gain insight from Zach. As there was no one better to guide her than the man that had kept this fort afloat even without being present.

At the side, Mathias was being his casual self. He prepared bundles of arrows to load into Teena’s quiver, yawning at the same time as if the matter of ants did not really bother him.

“Mathias,” Teena said. She threw her quiver at Mathias as he caught it in mid-air. By the time she finished her three arrows in her hands, her quiver was filled to the brim. She shouldered her quiver to her back and her job continued through the night.

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Mathias, on the other hand, lay back on the floor, taking a nap amidst the ongoing battle. Before he closed his eyes, he viewed his mana points to see where it was at. It was getting close to full, and soon it was time for him to take action.

The night went on. Mathias got up from his feet and distanced himself from the bow enthusiast. He went to the other side of the battlement where the threat was low and the tusk ants were not as many as the other two entrances. He watched from above, looking at these ants moving in a line, heading towards the battlefront at the entrances. It amazed him how disciplined these creatures were as he had never paid attention to things like these back in Brittania. Well to be fair, most of his time was spent drowning himself in between soft massive tits. So for him, it was pleasure from day to night, and he wasn’t going to lie to himself that he did not miss that delight.

Nonetheless, he was no fool. He had his reasons for being here, and the gist of it all was to ensure his survival. He glanced left and right, the indifferent Solksjaer remained cautious. A skill he learned while fleeing from merchant lords, and lesser noble houses as he enjoyed his casanova adventures. While the main reason for being cautious right now was his class identity. It was bound in secrecy as it would be more than just a pain in the ass if someone found out.

Mathias looked down and eyed one of the slower tusk ants heading to the front side of the fort. His wand came out from his tunic, and the blonde-haired man targeted that sole tusk ant. Words murmured through his lips, and in just under a minute, his spell was completed. One might think it was a big improvement from the long five minutes, but there was no flame coming out at the end of his wand.

It was unseen. A strong wind fluttered his golden hair and a second later, the tusk-ant he targeted was dead. He eyed the new message that greeted him, notifying him his new spell had just earned a new level. It was the skill or spell he learned after reaching level ten, and from Zach’s advice as well as his own consideration, he chose the most suitable for someone who wanted to stay hidden. Wind Cutter, a wind-element spell that was hard to see through the naked eye and much more difficult during the night. It was the perfect spell for Mathias to hone, and for the sake of continuing his casanova adventure in this new world, his motivation to get stronger was at an all-time high.

The fort as a whole had grown in strength tremendously after their last night battling against the ants. Humans in general were quick to adapt, and even in such a foreign world, their instinct to fight prevailed over their fear of the unknown. Fifty-five people made this place their home as the majority of them were from Orland’s camp. They held the majority, but they were not the ones in power. The young man in charge was not on either side as he was not even present at the moment. But even then, peace prevailed.

Soon, the night came to an end. The sun gave them a chance for rest as men and women alike let the tension flee from their bodies. Orland gave his command., putting importance on letting his people rest as a prolonged battle was no small matter. Jeyne greeted his father and healed his wounds. Afterward, she went around, and let her skill shined for the rest of the injured. It was all calm and pleasant as if the night did not bother them any longer.

Orland Shieldford, the leader of this band of people retreated to his private quarters. It was an old storage room turned bedchamber for the lord, and despite not being much he was satisfied with what he had. He removed his tunic and revealed his chiseled body that did not fit a man of his age. The Lord of Fortmound did not abandon his old routine despite being the reigning leader. He placed importance on keeping one’s body fit as it was one of the signs of a competent leader.

He took a swig of water from the hand-made mug out of wood. An idea proposed by his precious daughter and realized by an experienced woodworker that was within his ranks. As the precious liquid quenched his throat, he heard a knock on his door. “Who is it?” Orland asked.

“It’s Duran, my lord,” Duran said. “Can I see you?”

There were crude words that were as expected from someone like Duran. A lowborn who did not know proper etiquette. Despite that, Orland was curious why a man from the other side was paying him a visit.

“Come in,” Orland said. The old door creaked, and the grinning Duran came in with a saunter.

“My lord,” Duran gave a slight nod as he did not even bother to close the door behind him.

“State your business, dog of Gardwin,” Orland said. He didn't hide even a hint of his contempt for the Gardwin house.

“I prefer you don’t associate me with the Gardwin, my lord,” Duran said.

Orland raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”

“How about it, my lord?” Duran grinned. “Ally yourself with me, and I will aid you to rob this fort from the hands of those damnable youngsters.”

It was a tempting offer, and Orland pondered.