"If you fail to defend the gates by nightfall, you will be executed at dawn."
— Stormwatch Royal Edict, Final Clause
Jag gasped.
His body hit cold stone, rough and unforgiving. Wind howled past narrow slits in the castle walls. Somewhere distant, a horn blared three short blasts. Then silence.
He blinked against the biting cold.
Gone were his room, his keyboard, the flickering screen of his monitor glowing with the final wave of a Kingdom Rush speedrun. In its place was a vast stone chamber, carved with ancient runes and battle banners soaked in age.
He wore armor.
Steel breastplate, leather underclothes, pauldrons engraved with the crest of a three-headed hawk. The weight pressed against his shoulders—not just physically, but symbolically.
This was a throne room.
No, a war chamber. Torches burned in sconces. Men stood in grim lines. Veterans, all of them—grizzled, silent, and battle-worn.
And every single one of them was staring at him.
[SYSTEM INITIATED.]
Welcome, Jag Arclight.
You have been reincarnated.
Role Assigned: Prince of Stormwatch Citadel
Time Remaining Until First Assault: 14 Hours
Primary Objective: Survive Wave One.
Failure Penalty: Execution by Public Order.
May the gods pity you.
"Wh-What the hell...?" Jag whispered.
A man in black robes stepped forward. His face was gaunt, voice cold. "You are awake. Good. His Majesty, the king, is dead. You are now Prince-Regent of Stormwatch."
Jag blinked. "I—what?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "There is no time for your confusion. The High Council voted. Bloodline or not, the throne needs a body—and the Tower chose you."
He turned and gestured.
[Title Acquired: Prince-Regent of Stormwatch Citadel]
[System Interface Unlocked]
A light shimmered in front of Jag. Semi-transparent panels appeared—just like a HUD in a game. His gamer instincts kicked in, despite the fog in his head.
[NAME]: Jag Arclight
[TITLE]: Prince-Regent
[LEVEL]: 1
[LEADERSHIP]: 3/100
[SKILLS]: None
[UNITS AVAILABLE]: 0
[RESOURCES]: 500 Gold
[TOWERS BUILT]: 0
[MORALE]: 22% (CRITICAL)
[TIME TO FIRST WAVE]: 13:59:45
"You have half a day to prepare for the first attack," the robed man said. "A band of gnolls from the Vale are approaching. Scouts estimate twenty-five brutes and two warbeasts."
A knight stepped forward. Red cape, iron eyes. "Our militia is crippled. We lost half the men last week to frostworms. If we don't build new towers or rally recruits, we won't hold."
Jag's mouth opened.
No words came out.
This was the kind of thing he'd planned for a thousand times—in games. But now it was real. The System was real. The enemies would kill him. And if he failed?
Public execution.
He staggered to his feet. "I need… I need to see the map."
A flicker.
[Command Accessed: Citadel Defense Grid]
A 3D projection lit up the war table: the surrounding region of Stormwatch Citadel, carved into a mountainside facing the east. Paths twisted through snowy hills, leading to the inner gate.
Markers blinked red along the mountain trail—enemy approach points.
Three tower pads glowed blue.
Available Build Sites:
West Ridge Outpost (Choke Point)
Cliffside Roost (High Elevation)
Broken Path Barricade (Open Ground)
Available Towers:
[Barracks Tower – 150 Gold]
[Archer Tower – 200 Gold]
[Mage Tower – 250 Gold]
[Dwarven Bombard – 300 Gold]
Gold: 500
Jag's hands trembled. But he tapped his fingers—just like old times.
"Barracks at West Ridge. Archers on Cliffside. That's 350 gold."
[Command Confirmed.]
[Barracks Tower Constructed – Lv. 1]
[Archer Tower Constructed – Lv. 1]
[Gold Remaining: 150]
The knight nodded. "Not bad, Prince."
The title stung. He wasn't a leader. Not really. Not yet.
Hours passed like war drums—steady and unstoppable.
Jag walked the battlements, soldiers murmuring as he passed. His authority was paper-thin, but the presence of the System—floating panels, glowing eyes—made them wary. The Tower had chosen him, and in this world, that meant something.
The high cleric handed him a scroll. "Your task is written. It is binding."
Jag read the parchment.
Defense Directive: Day One
Objective: Repel the first wave.
Secondary Objective: Maintain Barracks survival at >50%.
Failure Consequence: Death.
Bonus: Survive without falling back = +100 EXP, +1 Trait Unlock
He clenched his fists. "Fine. I'll fight."
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, a horn echoed in the wind.
[ENEMY WAVE INCOMING.]
Type: Gnoll Marauders (x20), Warbeasts (x2)
Estimated Arrival: 03:00 minutes
Weather Effect: Cold Winds (-15% Archer Accuracy)
Morale: 28% (UNSTABLE)
Jag rushed to the Cliffside Tower. Two archers stood there—both barely out of their teens.
"Don't shoot until they clear the ridge," he barked. "Make every arrow count."
They stared. One saluted. "Y-Yes, Prince!"
Then the roars came.
Dark shapes emerged from the snowy trail. Gnolls, tall and spiked, their snarling mouths foaming. Two warbeasts thundered behind them—massive, tusked quadrupeds with iron armor fused into their flesh.
[Combat Engaged.]
Archer Tower Damage: 18 per volley
Barracks Troops: 3 (Militia, Sword & Shield)
Warbeasts HP: 120
Militia HP: 40 x3
Jag: No Combat Role Assigned
Jag gritted his teeth. "Damn it. I'm just a spectator?"
[WARNING: Command Interference Detected]
[Would You Like to Assign Yourself a Combat Role?]
Options:
Frontline Commander (Risk: High)
Tactical Overseer (Risk: Low)
Battle Cry Support (Cooldown: 10 mins)
He didn't hesitate.
"Assign me: Battle Cry Support."
[Confirmed. Battle Cry Skill Unlocked.]
– Increases ally morale by 15%
– Duration: 15 seconds
– Cooldown: 10 minutes
The fighting began.
Militia charged the ridge—outnumbered, undertrained. The gnolls howled and clashed steel on steel. Arrows flew. Some missed in the wind. Others struck home.
One militia man fell—bitten through the throat. Another ducked, barely surviving.
Jag slammed his fist into the tower's edge.
[Battle Cry: ACTIVATED]
He roared—not with lungs, but with will.
A blast of golden energy rippled out from the barracks. Soldiers straightened. The last man standing bellowed and drove his sword deep into a gnoll's chest.
Morale Boosted: 28% → 46%
The archers cheered. "He's… he's doing it!"
A warbeast surged forward—too fast.
It struck the barracks, smashing the structure partially and sending rubble flying.
Barracks HP: 42%
[Secondary Objective: FAILED]
Jag's heart sank.
But the archers landed a final volley—arrows piercing the beast's eye. The monster stumbled—and fell.
One last gnoll tried to run.
The remaining militia stabbed him through the back.
[Wave Complete.]
Enemies Defeated: 22
Barracks Survival: 42%
Objective: SUCCESS
Bonus: FAILED
EXP Gained: 60
Resources Gained: +200 Gold
Morale: 52% (STABLE)
Jag collapsed against the wall.
His arms shook. His vision blurred. Not from exhaustion—he hadn't even fought.
But this was no longer a game.
He had given orders that cost lives. Boys were dead. One man had lost an arm. A tower lay damaged. And he had watched it happen.
The knight from before stepped beside him. "You did what no one expected. You held."
Jag nodded, hollow.
But the System didn't let him rest.
[New Task Unlocked.]
"Rebuild the Barracks. Recruit New Soldiers. Prepare for Wave Two."
Time Limit: 12 Hours.
Failure = Public Execution.