Night fell on the Village of Eldenthyr
The villagers gathered at the ancient stone circle. Farmers. Fishers. A few trembling old warriors gripping rusted spears. Children clung to their mothers. A hundred faces bathed in torchlight, eyes wide with fear—and hope.
At the center stood Lyssa, scroll in hand, her expression unreadable. The silk cloth draped over her shoulders fluttered in the breeze, her pale skin glowing under the twin moons.
She raised the parchment.
"I, Lyssa of Eldenthyr, summon thee, warrior of the scroll! I assign thee a mission—"
Her voice was swallowed by a sudden, howling gust.
Lightning split the sky.
The ground rumbled.
The scroll cracked—then burst into fragments of stone and dust. A blinding beam of light erupted upward, piercing both moons.
And from that light... he fell.
Literally.
A man tumbled out of the sky, landing face-first in the ground with a dull thud. He wore only boxer shorts decorated with cartoon tanks and a wrinkled t-shirt that read "World Conqueror." In his hands, clutched like a lifeline, was a glowing black Ephone.
"HUH?!"
He smelled woodsmoke. Pine. Wildflowers. Something roasted over open fire.
Then came the voices.
The whispers.
The… gasps?
Alexander groaned and pushed himself off the ground, Ephone clutched tightly in his hand.
"HUH?!"
He scrambled to his feet, holding the device up like it could ward off danger.
"Wh—Where's my cabin?! Where's my beer and barbeque?!"
The Ephone's screen flickered, glitching from the paused victory screen of War Dominion IX into a strange new interface.
[ Summoning Successful. World: GAIA ]
[ War Dominion IX – Mobile Field Command Mode Active ]
The villagers gasped louder. They had formed a wide circle around him, wide-eyed, and whispering like they were in the presence of something divine.
But more than that…
The village was full of women.
Stunning women.
Busty elves, curvy mature ladies with silver hair and wide hips, tan or white huntresses with toned legs wrapped in partial leathers. Some old, some young, all beautiful in their own strange, seductive ways.
Loose blouses. Thigh-revealing skirts. Smooth skin shimmering under the soft twin moonlight.
Their ears were long. Their eyes gleamed.
And their chests?
Gracious. Glorious. Gravity-defying.
One particularly well-endowed girl leaned forward, eyes drifting low.
"…Is that… his sword?"
A pale-skinned girl beside her blushed.
"I-I think it's still sheathed… b-but it's... massive."
A mature woman with a sly smile licked her lips.
"No wonder the spell dragged him in. The ritual responds to raw power."
Alexander blinked.
"Wait—what sword are you talking abou—OH GOD."
He looked down.
As he remembered he removed his pants after being spilled by beer:
In their place: only boxer shorts with cartoon tanks and a wrinkled t-shirt that read "World Conqueror."
And judging by the rising gasps and smirks around him...
They could see too much.
"WHAT THE—?!" Alexander's brain screamed. No way, I'm old! There's nothing left for them to see! Those days are gone! I'm retired! Only a silhouette they can only see as his memories betrayed him. Back then, he'd been teased mercilessly as"General Junior" they called it, snickering behind mugs of ale.
"I-It's cold!!" he yelped, slapping both hands over himself.
He instinctively held up his Ephone to divert his attention, the glowing black screen caught a glimpse of himself. His white hair was gone and blue hair? He rushed on the homescreen and tapped on the camera and proceeded to take a selfie but before he could capture he saw himself. The image he saw during the character verification was 27 year old Alexander Reyasu. What is happening?
Alexander tried to focus on his reflection, on his strangely youthful face, but the whispers drilled into his ears. He knew exactly what they were talking about.
It couldn't be… could it?
Slowly, dreadfully, he looked down.
His soldier stood fully erect.
And in that instant, Alexander's soul evacuated his body.
He tried to adjust the cloth as best he could. He was red from ears to chest. His brain was buffering hard.
And then—she appeared.
The crowd parted like silk, giving way to a commanding presence.
Tall. Blonde. Busty.
A woman stepped forward with the confidence of a lioness and the attire of a warrior priestess. A tightly-fitted leather corset hugged her figure, her battle skirt slit at the thigh. Steel shoulder guards rested over bare arms. Her long, golden hair shimmered in the moonlight.
She stopped just inches in front of him, arms folded beneath her chest—which only elevated the situation.
Her golden eyes scanned him from head to toe. Slowly. Deliberately.
Alexander gulped.
"You're not what I expected from the Lottery," she said, lips curling in amusement.
"But I'm not disappointed."
He stammered, lips twitching as his brain stalled.
"…Wh–What???"
Where the hell am I? Is this some TV prank in a medieval LARP?
He gestured wildly at himself. "And why am I young again?!"
Lyssa tilted her head. Her ears turned red. As she saw something
She snapped her fingers. "Bring me a warm blanket," she ordered, not taking her eyes off him.
Then she turned back, clearing her throat. "Before I answer anything… may I ask your name?"
Alexander blinked. "Ah—where are my manners? I am Alexander Reyasu, former Colonel of Operations and Strategy for the country of—"
"Lyssa," called the old man, returning—not with a blanket, but a coat.
She frowned, accepted it, then handed it to Alexander.
"What do you mean former instructor?" she asked, tone shifting. "Here. You could cover yourself up."
Alexander hesitated, then pulled the coat around himself.
"War strategy. Never mind that. Just call me Aexl for short... or General Aexl as he remembers his code."
"General AE?" she asked.
He sighed. "No. General Aexl. With XL."
Lyssa frowned, mind spinning.
It can't be...
She tried to say his name again, but it came out as "A..e..." — more breath than sound.
No. He wouldn't be. It has to be a coincidence...
If this was really him, the man from that scroll... then he'd have an army with him.
She glanced again. But he's alone. Damn it... I think we hit a stone.
Still, she exhaled. Well… better than nothing.
Straightening her posture, she spoke:
"I am Lyssa of Eldenthyr. Village Chief."
She gestured behind her.
"This old man is Old Roderick. You are currently in Eldenthyr."
Her voice softened — barely.
"I'm sorry for summoning you. But… we need your help."
She straightened, eyes narrowing as if bracing herself.
"We needed a commander. A strategist. And you said… you were a former."
Aexl's gaze swept the village.
Almost all women. Weary, yet hopeful.
He looked up — twin moons, full and heavy.
Then down — to the ash where the scroll had burned.
Then he noticed it:
The tension in her shoulders. The tightness in her jaw.
She was trying to look composed.
But this wasn't a ceremony.
It was a desperate gamble.
Suddenly —
The screen blinked awake in his hand, vibrating softly.
Lines of blue light pulsed like veins.
A tone chimed. Cool. Mechanical.
[War Dominion App Active: Status - Summoned]
[Mission: Undernegotiation:Defeat the incoming 500 orcs –0/500]
[Rewards: Not Applicable]
[Deploy: 0 / 0 Units]
[Weapons | Artifacts | Units | Scrolls]
He lifted the Ephone, staring.
"…Orcs?" he muttered.
A breath caught in his throat.
His voice cracked.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Elves. Orcs. A medieval fantasy world full of busty women…
And me — Under two moons he muttered.
A hush fell.
Then the whispers began.
"Is he casting a spell?"
Old Roderick took a step back, eyes wide behind his wrinkles.
Lyssa's eyes locked onto the glow.
No chant. No motion.
But the air around him shifted.
Is that his wand…? Then he's not just a commander… he's a General Mage too?
She swallowed.
But now wasn't the time to be amazed.
She stepped forward — no longer composed, but desperate.
"General Aexl… you think you can help us?"
She lowered her head, fists clenched.
"We are in desperate need of your help."
Aexl caught the weight in her voice — the raw plea behind it.
But his mind was spiraling.
He stared down at his boxers.
Then back at her.
"Lady… look, I feel you." He raised both hands, exasperated.
"But to be honest? I think I need saving more than you do right now."
He gestured at himself — the coat draped awkwardly over his half-naked body.
Even with it on, he looked more like a swindled traveler stripped of his belongings than any kind of hero.
"Is this…" he pointed down at his appearance, then up at the crater beneath him,
"…what a savior's entrance is supposed to look like?!"
Aexl rose from the summoning circle, brushing ash off his boxer shorts.
He squinted up at the twin moons glowing in the sky.
"I don't even have pants!"
He scanned the crowd again — beautiful-faced villagers, perfumed and wide-eyed, standing amidst the fading mist of ceremonial smoke.
"Summoning, sure — I get that." He waved vaguely at the scroll ash.
"But maybe this is just… I don't know. A sick gig? Some twisted fantasy cosplay setup?"
He clawed at his face, trying to peel off an invisible mask — but of course, nothing came off.
Then everything fell silent.
Too silent.
Aexl's voice lowered, more tired than angry now.
"Can I have a breather first? Please?"
He exhaled.
"Everything's happening so fast. You're throwing orcs at me like it's no big deal. I get that you're desperate."
He pointed gently at her.
"And yeah — I'm a former. Colonel. Strategy. All that."
"But even in my world… We did debriefings before the apocalypse."
Aexl exhaled, gaze fixed on the dirt.
"In my past life…" he began, his tone shifting — less emotional, more tactical, "when something like this happened, we'd send in recon first. Quiet eyes. Then ops teams. You investigate the scenario, gather intel, assess force count, resources, terrain…"
He paused.
"This… this is too sudden. Too fast. There's too much I don't know."
His voice, once sharp with a general's authority, began to soften — not from weakness, but from weight.
"And I know what happens when you walk blind into war. I've seen it."
His words slowed. His eyes lost focus.
What started as a trained man's breakdown of battlefield protocol…
…ended like a story told by an old man at a campfire.
But this time, he wasn't surrounded by comrades.
He was surrounded by people waiting to be saved.
As Aexl sounded more like an experience general became a storyteller of past glories
Dozens of villagers stood frozen.
Some in awe. Others murmuring in fear.
A few looked like their hearts had cracked.
The atmosphere that was once buzzing with hope dimmed like a fire caught in a rain. Even the sky seemed heavier, like the moons themselves were mourning.
And Aexl felt it. As he felt he overspooked
That silence.
That expectation.
That slowly unraveling belief that maybe, just maybe, they'd summoned someone who could change their fate.
He swallowed hard, eyes drifting back to Lyssa.
And in the quietest, most human voice he could manage, he muttered:
"Sorry… I need more time."
I cant do saving if i dont no what is happening first
Lyssa lowered her head. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"It's okay.. it's just that... I was hoping..."
A hand rested gently on her shoulder.
Old Roderick.
"That's enough, Lyssa."
He stepped forward, straightening as best his back would allow.
"You've done your best. For now, let the man have his time," he said—yet as Old Roderick looked at Aexl, his eyes narrowed. Not the sort who runs. Not with that look.
Steel whispered as Roderick slid his blade free; Lyssa's gloom snapped to alertness at the sound—
"ORCS! ORCS!" a teenage rider screamed as his horse barreled into the square. He vaulted off mid-stride, tumbled to his knees before Old Roderick, dust pasted to his sweat-slick face.
"Sire!" he gasped. "Orcs spotted—Entrace of the Forest of Overgrowth!"
Lyssa's eyes sharpened. "But Toby said the main column was still days away—marching toward the Cliff of Echo. That takes three days!"
Roderick hauled the boy up. "Stand, Dobi. What did you see? Scouts? Riding worgs?"
Dobi nodded, trembling. "Yes… worg riders. Five of them."
The square fractured—shouts, sobs, feet scraping to flee—
And then Aexl's Ephone buzzed in his hand.
[ Summoning Successful. World: GAIA ]
[ War Dominion IX – Mobile Field Command Mode Active ]
[ Tactical Information ]
( View )
Aexl tapped. The screen blazed, spilling blue light across the square.
"What the…?" Aexl breathed—just as the projection burst into the air, ghost-light hanging above the device. Gasps rippled. Mothers clutched children. A pair of old warriors dropped their spears.
Lyssa's lips parted. "…Magic?"
"Magic…" someone whispered. "He's a mage!"
"No," Aexl said, eyes locked on the map's edge where thick clouds walled off detail—Fog of War. His voice changed—harder, sharper: the voice of a commander.
"Enemy advance—column formation. Speed steady, not rushed." His finger traced the faint red arc beyond the fog. "Five hundred, maybe more, in the main host."
Roderick frowned. "You can read that?"
Terrain knit itself together in light: the village, the gate, the winding road beyond. Red markers crawled along it—labeled in hovering script: WORG RIDERS.
Bird's-eye view. Force markers. Exactly like the game. Aexl tapped the tag.
[ Update: Scouting Force — Currently Encamped at Entrance of the Forest of Overgrowth ]
[ Estimated Time of Arrival: 12 Hours ]
He muttered, "Tomorrow… they'll be here."
[ Enemy Scouts Detected — Estimated Count: 5 ]
[ Units: Worg Riders ]
[ Threat Proximity: Immediate within 12 Hours]
[ Update: Main Host — Marching via Cliff of Echo, ETA 3 Days ]
Aexl didn't flinch. He flicked back to the scouts' stats like he was reading an old field report. No armor. Cleavers only. Scouts, not vanguard. Fast and reckless.
He lowered the phone; blue glow washed his face. His words sliced cleanly through the panic.
Scouts first, horde after. Classic. Push eyes forward to keep the column safe. If we don't cut them, they report, and the main force gets a perfect read on this village.
The Ephone buzzed again.
Then the map shimmered a faint red, closing in fast at the entrance of Eldenthyr gate. One and two silhouette markers peeled away from the encampment and arrowed straight toward Eldenthyr, the icon pulsing faster.
"What's this…?" Aexl squinted.
His stomach dropped. He turned to Dobi. "Kid… you were followed."
The crowd stiffened.
"BWOOOOOM…! BWOOOOOM…!"
"BWOOOOOM…! BWOOOOOM…!"
The villagers' murmurs flipped—hope to fear—in a heartbeat.
The warning horn tore through the night. Hope bled out of the whispers, replaced by raw panic.
The Ephone buzzed again.
As the projection instantly been sucked inside the Smartphone then a prompt appeared
The villagers looked to Lyssa. Lyssa looked to Roderick. Roderick's hand tightened on his blade.
Then, one by one, their gazes settled on the stranger in a borrowed coat.
Aexl lifted his head, blue light flickering in his eyes.
"Scouts mean intel," he said flatly. "If they get back, your three days shrink to one. Where are your soldiers?"
Roderick straightened. "Only five of us here. I sent the others earlier—to fetch weapons from the broken fortress."
Aexl's eyes narrowed. "How soon can they return?"
Lyssa's reply was quick, firm. "An hour… maybe two."
Aexl drew a sharp breath. "No time. We either flee or fight. And right now—" his gaze swept the villagers, "—flee is not an option."
The Ephone buzzed again. The marker's counter pulsed in red:
10… 9… 4… 3… 2… 1…
[ Tactical Choice Required ]
[ Intercept Scouts — Y/N? ]
Aexl's thumb hovered only a second before pressing down.
"…We intercept."
[ Mission Accepted: Subdue the Incoming Worg Riders ]
Reward:
*Gain the Eldenthyr as a territory
All the Achievement of Eldenthyr will be reflected to you
*Gain Ability The General of Eldenthyr Valkyrie Warrior (lvl 1)
Woman warrior under your command shall gain the following
Boost Attack, Accuracy and Defense +100%
Gain the Berserker Ability the more they bleed they become dangerous
Mounted warrior gain charge when mounted
*Gain Ability The Strength of a General (lvl 1)
Ability to wield any weapon
*Gain the Ability The Stamina of a General (lvl 1)
Stamina is unlimited
And for the first time that night, the fear of Eldenthyr found a direction—
toward a man they now began to call General Aexl.