The silent, omnipresent hum of the protective barrier had become the backdrop to their lives, a constant reminder of both their safety and its impermanence. Seated in the opulent war room of his fortress, Ray "Thorzen" Silver stared at the Viewing Room's image of the tranquil, sunlit clearing. The countdown displayed in the corner of his vision was a drumbeat marching toward an uncertain future.
[Protective Barrier Integrity: 8.6%]
[Estimated Duration: 2 Days, 4 Hours, 18 Minutes]
A little over two days. The grace period was nearly over. The real world was about to intrude upon their sanctuary.
But they were not the same clan that had huddled in a dark cavern. For them, the fourteen days that had passed in the real world—the full duration of the barrier's protection—had been a grueling, transformative ninety-eight days within the accelerated time stream of Aethelgard. The Coliseum had been their crucible.
"Status report, Athena," Ray commanded, his voice calm, resonating with newfound power.
"Compiling now, Ray."
A cascade of data streamed across his vision, a testament to their relentless effort.
Ray "Thorzen" Silver - Status Update
Level: 13 (Evolved from Level 11)
XP: 20,305 / 120,000
HP: 1,400 / 1,400 (+300)
MP: 350 / 350 (+50)
Skill Points: 144 (Held)
Attribute Points: 0
Attributes (After Level 12 & 13 bonuses: +10 to all per level):
· Strength: 147
· Constitution: 147
· Dexterity: 147
· Intelligence: 147
· Wisdom: 147
· Charisma: 147
A fierce grin touched his lips. The even distribution had paid off spectacularly. He was no longer just strong; he was a perfect physical and mental specimen, a true apex predator whose base form could now likely wrestle the Minotaur he'd assimilated and win.
His gaze shifted to the reports on his six Sentinel Generals. Their growth, fueled by the Coliseum's double XP and their own relentless drive, was staggering, though it varied based on their roles and time spent in the field.
· Hector (Minotaur Warrior): Level 16. The black-furred behemoth had become the cornerstone of their frontline. His gore attacks now caused minor tremors, and his charge could shatter stone pillars in the Coliseum.
· Wan (Troglodyte Guardian): Level 14. His metallic scales could now deflect steel blades with a shower of sparks. He had become an immovable object, a living bulwark who protected his training partners with unwavering devotion.
· Zog (Kobold Warrior): Level 10. While his field mission had limited his Coliseum time, his real-world experience had honed his raw combat skills. His red scales now had a chitinous gloss, and he fought with a brutal, efficient style.
· Torac (Orc Warrior): Level 12. Fortified with Thorzen's attributes, the once-brutish orc had developed a calculating edge to his rage. He had mastered leveraging his weight and power with shocking agility.
· Guy (Goblin Assassin): Level 10. His time scouting had sharpened his innate talents. A living phantom, he could maintain his Sneak skill while running at full tilt, his daggers always finding the chinks in simulated armor.
· Fan (Goblin Warlock): Level 10. Her connection to the Void Realm itself seemed to empower her. She had developed a new spell, "Shadow Bind," that coiled darkness around her foes, slowing and silencing them.
They were no longer just revived souls; they were a brotherhood of veterans, forged in endless, safe battles and real-world peril.
"The scouts?" Ray asked, his mind returning to the most immediate concern.
"Their communication stones have been silent per operational security, but their vital signs, monitored through the Seed Garden, remain strong," Athena reported. "They are due to check in within the hour."
"Good." Ray stood, his chair scraping against the marble floor. "It's time for the next phase. The Sentinels are our spearhead, but the entire clan must become a fist. It's time to give them their shields."
He strode from the war room, descending to the fortress courtyard where the three Sentinels who had remained at base were waiting: Hector, Wan, and Torac. They stood at ease, but the air around them crackled with contained power.
"The barrier falls in two days," Ray announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "You have become everything I hoped for and more. But a general is only as strong as the army he commands, and a warrior is only as safe as the shield at his back. Today, you will not just be Sentinels. You will be Masters."
He led them into the heart of the fortress, to a vast, empty chamber he had designated as the Armory. In the center, he stopped.
"Prime," he summoned.
The massive Shield Guardian stomped into the room, his presence filling the space. "Thorzen."
"The template is set. The materials are prepared." Ray placed a hand on Prime's stone chest, accessing the perfect blueprint of the Shield Guardian stored within his void. He then turned to his Sentinels.
"Creating a Shield Guardian requires two things: the material form, and a control focus bound to its master. The amulet I found was crude. We can do better."
He focused first on Hector. From his void, he summoned a stream of purified iron, copper, and a minute amount of the diamond dust he'd acquired from the kobold treasure. He willed a control focus into being, not an amulet, but a heavy iron torc, designed to sit comfortably on the Minotaur's thick neck. The torc was inset with a single, tiny, perfectly cut diamond.
"Creation," he whispered.
The torc materialized in his palm. He then turned to the empty space beside Hector. Pouring a river of stone and metal from his void—more than he'd used for the entire barracks—he focused on the blueprint, channeling his will. "CREATE!"
The process was faster than the first time, taking only thirty seconds. A new Shield Guardian materialized before them, even larger and more imposing than Prime, built for pure, unadulterated brute force. Its optic sensors glowed a deep, volcanic red.
"Hector," Ray said, handing him the torc. "Bind your guardian."
Hector placed the torc around his neck. The moment it was seated, a brilliant red light erupted from the gem, connecting him to the new guardian. The connection snapped into place.
Master Hector, a new, deep, rumbling synthetic voice echoed in the room. Awaiting your command.
Hector let out a satisfied snort, the sound like boulders grinding together. "It hears my thoughts."
"His name is Bulwark," Hector stated, his voice filled with pride.
One by one, Ray repeated the process, tailoring each guardian to its master.
· For Wan, he created the sturdiest of the new models, with reinforced plating and a stance meant for anchoring a defensive line, named "Bastion." Its optics glowed a steady, earthy brown, and it was bound by a thick, stone-inset ring.
· For Torac, a guardian with sharper, more aggressive angles on its fists, named "Juggernaut." It was bound by a spiked bracer, and its optics burned with a fierce orange light.
The Armory now held four Shield Guardians, a terrifying and magnificent display of power. The air hummed with their dormant energy and the telepathic bonds connecting them to their masters.
"Your guardians are extensions of your will," Ray instructed. "They can be summoned to your side from anywhere within one hundred yards. Practice this. Learn to fight as one. They are your unbreakable shields and your unstoppable fists."
As the three Sentinels began experimenting with their new partners, a chime sounded in Ray's mind, distinct from Athena's voice. It was the pre-arranged signal from the communication stone.
"The scouting party is reporting in," Ray said, his expression turning grim. "To the Viewing Room. Now."
They assembled before the mercury-like wall. Ray activated the stone's link. The wall shimmered and resolved not into a visual image, but into a hushed, telepathic voice—Zel's.
Chief. We are in position, overlooking Grull's Maw. The situation is... volatile.
"Report," Ray commanded aloud.
The orcs are preparing for war, Zel's mental voice was tight with tension. But not against us. They've conscripted goblins from outlying tribes. Dozens of them. They're being used as laborers, strengthening the palisade and forging weapons. They're treated brutally.
Ray's jaw tightened. The memory of his goblin village's destruction flashed behind his eyes. "Veldrak and Tormuek?"
Chieftain Tormuek is a brute, just as Torac's memories showed. But Veldrak... he's the real power. We've seen him. He conducts foul rituals at a blood-stained altar after nightfall. He's not just a shaman; he's a necromancer, or something close to it. He channels power from a black crystal he keeps on a staff. It reeks of death.
Necromancy. That changed the calculus significantly.
There's more, Fan's voice, laced with a warlock's perception, cut in. The crystal... it's not just a focus. It's a conduit. I can feel it pulling energy from the land, twisting it. He's not just looking for a Dungeon Core, Chief. I believe he's trying to create one. A corrupted one, fueled by death and suffering. The enslaved goblins aren't just laborers; they're likely intended to be the first fuel for his core.
A cold silence fell over the room. A Dungeon Core was a strategic weapon. A Corrupted Dungeon Core, created by a necromancer, would be a plague upon the land, generating endless undead and aberrations. It couldn't be allowed.
Their defenses? Ray asked, his voice dangerously calm.
The main gate is thick, but the palisade walls are rushed in sections, especially on the northern cliff face, Guy reported, his assassin's mind providing tactical data. The goblin laborers are the key. They are resentful, terrified. If they saw a chance to revolt, they would take it. The orcs are overconfident; their patrols are predictable. We have identified three blind spots.
A plan, cold, ruthless, and precise, began to form in Thorzen's mind. The barrier was falling. They could not sit and wait to be besieged by a necromancer and his army. They had to strike first. Decisively.
"The strategy is clear," Ray declared, his gaze sweeping over his Sentinels. "We do not let them finish their preparations. We do not let Veldrak complete his abomination."
He turned to the Viewing Room wall, as if addressing the scouts directly.
"Zel, Zog, Guy, Fan. Your mission parameters have changed. This is no longer a reconnaissance. This is Phase One of an assault."
He began issuing orders, his voice a low, steady stream of commands.
"Zog, Guy. You will infiltrate the orc compound tonight. Your target is the goblin labor force. Use your stealth and your communication stones to identify and speak to their leaders. Show them a sign of hope. Tell them the Changeling Chief who avenges goblin villages is coming. Tell them to be ready to turn on their masters when the signal is given."
Understood, Chief, Zog's mental voice responded, sharp and focused.
"Fan. You will find a vantage point. When the assault begins, your primary duty is to disrupt Veldrak. Use your Shadow Bind, your spells, whatever you can. Do not let him complete a ritual."
It will be done.
"Zel. You are the relay. Coordinate their movements from outside. The moment Phase One is complete, you fall back to the rendezvous point. We will have your rewards ready upon your return."
Yes, Chief!
Ray severed the mental link and turned to the remaining Sentinels in the room. Hector, Torac, and Wan stood with their new guardians, their faces grim masks of anticipation.
"We move out the moment the barrier falls," Thorzen said. "Just before dawn, in two days' time. We will use the Teleportation Gate spell. We will appear at the base of their northern cliff, in their blind spot."
He walked to a large table where a rough map of Grull's Maw, drawn from the scouts' reports, was laid out.
"Hector, with Bulwark, you are the tip of the spear. You and Torac with Juggernaut will smash through their weakened northern palisade. You are the anvil."
The Minotaur and the Orc grinned, a fearsome sight.
"Wan, with Bastion, you will hold the breach. You are our immovable line. Nothing gets past you."
The troglodyte father slammed a fist against his chest in acknowledgment.
"I," Thorzen said, his eyes glowing with a mix of celestial and elemental power, "will be the hammer. And Prime and I will be hunting their leadership."
He looked at each of them, his generals, his brothers-in-arms.
"We are no longer just defending. Today, we bring the storm to Grull's Maw. We shatter their army, liberate the oppressed, and seize this necromancer's power for our own. We will show this world that the clan of Thorzen does not hide behind walls. We build them from the bones of our enemies."
He raised his fist, and the four Shield Guardians in the room all took a simultaneous, ground-shaking step forward, their optic sensors blazing with unified purpose.
"To Aethelgard!" Ray commanded. "One final drill. Then, we go to war."
The white light of the Void Realm enveloped them once more, pulling them into their personal sanctuary of time and training. Outside, the sun began its slow descent. The barrier's gentle blue shimmer held firm, but its fate was sealed. The village below was quiet, its people unaware that their chief and his champions were preparing to step out from behind their crumbling shield and unleash a tempest the likes of which Azeroc had never seen.