The cabin smelled of smoke and meat, a scent that clung to the air despite the open window. Outside, the creek gurgled over stones, a constant sound that almost faded into silence. A faint wind carried the scent of pine and the sharper tang of barbecue sizzling over the firepit.
Alexander Reyasu, a sixty-year-old retired Colonel, sat alone at a worn wooden table. Medals of Valor, Certificates of Excellence, and tournament trophies hung neatly on the wall. His hand idly turned the neck of a half-finished beer bottle as his eyes drifted over the framed accomplishments that lined his life: close-combat awards, marksmanship honors, flight school certifications, and a dusty college plaque for fencing and kendo.
Tucked among them was the strangest trophy of all: a squat plastic cube with the faded engraving, War Dominion I: Hell Difficulty Clear. A relic from his youth, a strategy game everyone once called "impossible." It was a victory not for generals or politicians, but for his own will and mind, grinding through impossible odds until the victory screen was his alone. He smiled faintly. That one, at least, was truly his.
Alexander lifted the bottle in a quiet salute toward the odd trophy. "The game that started it all," he muttered, almost as if addressing an old friend. The hunger for strategy and command that the game had once scratched had driven him into uniform. The numbers and cool graphics on a screen had later become maps, orders, and real lives on the line.
He remembered drafting plans, shifting units like chess pieces, and crushing resistance with surgical precision. Operations that unraveled enemies not by strength but by foresight. Yet, when the smoke cleared, the medals were given to the generals, the politicians gave speeches, and he received another hollow commendation for a wall already crowded.
This was modern war is sterile, sanitized, with rules and referees. History's conquerors were different. Genghis Khan razed dynasties. Alexander the Great marched without retreat. Napoleon swept across kingdoms, crowning himself emperor by right of conquest. They didn't file after-action reports or wait for approval. They simply took. Land. Wealth. Relics. Power. And the women. That was conquest—the right to rule through fire and iron. The Glory, The villain became the hero; the hero became a god.
Alexander drank deeply, the bitterness of the beer a grounding comfort. His lips curved into a thin smile. "thirty-five years of service, and all I did was keep the peace. But peace was never my nature. I was born in the wrong era."
On the table, his phone buzzed. The screen glowed with a single message: War Dominion IX — Installation Progress: 90%. He raised the bottle to the phone. "From one to nine," he muttered. "Hopefully, you'll scratch this itch before I croak."
The smell of smoke—not pine or tobacco, but burning meat—snapped him out of his reverie. "Shit—" He lunged toward the firepit, where the barbecue was already blackening. In his scramble, the beer tipped, dousing his pants and nearly drowning his phone.
"Damn it all—" he cursed, tearing his trousers off to save his phone and his dinner. As he salvaged the meat, the phone chimed.
[ Installation Complete. ]
His laptop blinked in unison, both systems finished. He wiped his hand and tapped the app.
[ WELCOME BACK, GENERAL AEXL. ]
[ Or should I say… Colonel of Operations & Strategy. ]
Alexander blinked, his lips quivering in a mixture of disbelief and awe. "The game recognizes my career? Gaming has really changed in this many years."
[...It has been a long time.
So much has changed.
The people of Eldennorde needs you....]
[ WOULD YOU LIKE TO LOAD FROM YOUR PREVIOUS PROGRESS? ]
Alexander blinked at the screen. "Load from my old save?" he muttered. "No, I want something fresh."
He tapped [ No ].
[ WOULD YOU LIKE TO RUN A CHANGE LOG? ]
Alexander chuckled, shaking his head. "No need. I'd rather explore it as I progress."
He tapped [ No ] again.
The prompts came quickly.
[ ARE YOU READY TO BE COMMANDER? ]
(Yes) (No)
He tapped [ Yes ]
[ DO YOU WISH TO CONQUER GAIA ONCE MORE? ]
(Yes) (No)
"[ Yes ] again."
[ SELECT DIFFICULTY ]
(Easy) (Moderate) (Hard) (Hell)
He chuckled. "Why wouldn't I? I've got nothing but time now." He tapped Hell.
[ HELL DIFFICULTY CONFIRMED. ]
[ Hell Protocol Initialized. ]
[ CHARACTER VERIFICATION REQUIRED. ]
The phone's camera popped up, showing his sixty-year-old face. The screen flickered, and his image shifted. He swiped right, watching his face age until a skeleton grinned back. "I wouldn't want to end like that," he laughed. He swiped left, seeing his face grow younger until it was a wailing baby. "The baby general… conqueror of Gaia."
Ahahahahahaha!
He swiped back carefully, the screen halting on twenty-seven—his prime.
A body six foot five, lean muscle coiled over bone, built not for brute strength but for speed, agility, and quickness. Short-cropped blue hair, thick back then, cut sharp for service. Not like now, where it barely hides the thinning patches. Damn… Bring back memories. Hard to believe this face belonged to me once.
Most of all, it was the year of his first real mission. The year he stopped being a recruit and learned what it meant to kill, to carry weight that never leaves. Brings back memories I'd rather forget… but also the rush I'd give anything to feel again.
At the bottom of the screen, a single word blinked, steady and merciless:
[ DONE ].
[ CHARACTER VERIFIED ]
Alexander tapped. The image solidified: his twenty-seven-year-old self dressed in the same clothes he wore now—cartoon tank boxer shorts and a faded t-shirt stamped with "WORLD CONQUEROR."
He let out a short laugh. Hah! "Perfect. A young body and the same bad fashion sense."
[ SUMMONING REQUEST VERIFIED ]
[ INITIALIZING CROSS-WORLD SUMMONING PROTOCOL. ]
Alexander's brow furrowed. "Cross-world? What the hell kind of expansion pack is this… DLC for my retirement?" Haha He shook his head. "I fought terrorists for Thirty-five years, and now a game tells me I'm shipping out again? What's next, after-action reports in Elvish?"
The phone pulsed, uncaring.
[ Cross-World Protocol Engaged. ]
The glow erupted.
The cabin walls shattered into shards. The floor gave way beneath him with a thunderclap that rattled his bones. His stomach lurched as if the earth itself had dropped out from under him.
Then came the boom. A deafening explosion of light and pressure like someone had pulled a trigger at point-blank range against his skull. Smoke. Dust. A shockwave that tore the breath from his lungs.
Alexander's consciousness flickered. It felt like falling headfirst into an abyss, tumbling without end. The world dissolved.
Then
Thud..
impact.
He slammed into solid earth, sprawled across soil still trembling from his arrival. Dust swirled around him in thick, choking clouds. The phone in his hand glowed, cutting through the haze.
[ Summoning Successful. Welcome to War Dominion IX
[World: GAIA. ]
[ War Dominion Status ]
[ Summoned by: Lyssa of Eldenthyr ]
[ Rank: Village Chief ]
[ Summoned Class: Stone Tier (lottery) ]
[ General Name: Alexander Reyasu ]
[ Code Name: General Aexl ]
[ Level: 1 ]
[ Status: Lifebound]
[ Coins: 10 Command Coins ]
[ Unit Capacity: Variable ]
[ Unit List: Empty ] [ Territory: Empty ] [ Armory: Empty ]
[ Mission: Classified. ]
A real wind struck his face. He sucked in a ragged breath, the air thick with the scent of woodsmoke, pine, wildflowers, and a faint, dizzying sweet perfume. Then came the voices? whispers and gasps.
He forced his eyes open, blinking through the haze. And nearly forgot how to breathe.
Looming in front of him, framed in dust and sunlight, was a silhouette with pointed ears and cleavage that left little to the imagination.
An elf woman. Beautiful. Fierce. Impossible. And they all have... big boobs?