[FOURTEEN DAYS AGO]
Alperen was studying the map.
The city of Samara. On the northern border, two million inhabitants, poor, forgotten. One of the least valuable cities in the Openag
Kingdom.
A perfect target.
"I can't get Plan Three," he said, without taking his eyes off the map. "First phase - intelligence. Second phase - sabotage.
Third phase - attack."
Shadow stood before Fox and Snake.
"Shadow. You will be the first to enter the city. Within a week, you will find out the following: the complete layout of the
garrison barracks—how many entrances, how many exits, guard shift times. The security arrangements at the governor's
palace. The location of the weapons depot. And most importantly—men who can be bought."
"Understood, sir."
"Fox. You'll map out the sewer system. Samara is an old city, it has underground tunnels. I need to know where we can get in
and where we can get out."
"I'll do it."
"Snake. You'll blend in with the people. Keep your finger on the city's pulse. Who hates whom, who owes what. And
slowly spread the poison—gossip, rumors. That the governor is robbing the people, that children are dying of hunger."
"The poison will be ready."
Alperen nodded. "First week: intelligence. Second week: preparation. Fourteenth night—the attack."
[FIRSTWEEK-DAY1]
Shadow entered through Samara's southern gate.
He was dressed as an ordinary merchant—worn clothes, dusty boots, a sack full of cheap goods slung over his shoulder.
The guards barely glanced at him.
"City entrance tax. Five copper coins."
Shadow handed over the money and
entered the city.
His first impressions were mixed. Samara was truly a poor city. The streets were covered in filth—horse manure, rotten
vegetables, unidentified liquids. Most of the houses were wooden, their roofs patched with rags.
But it was also crowded. Two million people were crammed into a small area. There was a vendor on every corner, a beggar on
every street, a fight in every square.
Perfect, Shadow thought. No one knows anyone. Easy to disappear.
His first stop wasthe Dirty Pig Inn.
The inn lived up to its name. The walls were stained, the ceilings low, the air musty. But it was cheap, and no one asked questions.
Shadow sat down in a corner and began to observe. The regulars at the inn were interesting—merchants, laborers, beggars,
but also smugglers and thieves. Men who spoke in low voices, averting their eyes.
The underworld.
Shadow called for a servant girl. "Bring
wine. And information."
The girl raised her eyebrows. "What kind
of information?" "Who's the boss in this
city? In the underworld." "Five silver
coins."
The Shadow handed over the money.
"There are three names," the girl said. "North district - Blind Wang. East - Knife Chen. Center and south - Snake Lao."
"The strongest?"
"Snake Lao. But he's hard to reach. Paranoid." "What do
you know about the garrison?"
"Five more silver coins."
Shadow paid.
"Three thousand soldiers. Half of them untrained—they were gathered from the villages, given spears, and made into soldiers.
The other half are slightly better but demoralized. Pay is late, the food is bad, the commanders are corrupt."
"Who are the commanders?"
"The commander-in-chief—General Huang. Fat, lazy, never seen battle. But he's not stupid—he knows how to survive. His
deputies—Wu, Zhang, Lin. All three are Level 1. Wu is the most dangerous—a real fighter. Ruthless. The soldiers fear him, but
they respect him too."
"The governor?"
"Chen Bao." The girl spat on the ground. "He's been robbing the people for twelve years.
Drunk, fat, cowardly." "Level 1 warriors?"
"Seven of them. Three garrison commanders. Two mercenaries—working for the governor. A retired gladiator.
And..." "And?"
"Old Feng." The girl lowered her voice. "No one wants to talk about him. He lives north of the city, at the foot of the mountain.
He's been there for fifty years. No one knows his level, but... people fear him."
Shadow etched that name into his mind.
[FIRSTWEEK-DAY3]
The Fox entered the sewer system.
On the western edge of the city, he found an entrance beneath an abandoned mill. An old, rusty cover—it looked as if no
one had opened it in ten years.
Inside, it was dark.
The smell was unbearable—rotten, sour, dead. Centuries of filth, rat carcasses, and unidentifiable things. He lit his
fox torch and began to move forward.
The tunnels were like a labyrinth. The main artery was wide and relatively clean. The side branches were narrower, more
dangerous. Some had collapsed, some were flooded.
At every junction, he marked the walls. He was mapping it out.
Two hours later, he reached the first significant point—the Gamizon barracks.
There was a wooden cover on the ceiling of the tunnel. Light filtered through the edges of the cover. Above, there were sounds—
footsteps, conversations.
It must be the kitchen, he thought. He marked the
spot. Four hours later, he reached the second point—the
governor's palace.
This was more difficult. The tunnels beneath the palace were better protected—iron doors, rusty but sturdy. But
one door was ajar.
He approached, looked inside. A small room—like a storage area. And a staircase.
An emergency exit. An escape route for the governor.
This information was invaluable.
[FIRSTWEEK-DAY5]
The snake was wandering around the market.
She was dressed as an old woman—hunchbacked, wrinkled, trembling. No one would suspect an old
woman. "Did you hear?" she asked a vendor while selecting vegetables. "That the governor is
building a new palace?" The vendor frowned. "What palace?"
"Outside the city. A magnificent palace made of stone. Built with our taxes, of course." The
seed had been planted.
He entered a coffeehouse.
"Terrible news," he said to the man next to him. "Three more children have died in the northern district. From
starvation." The man turned. "What? Who?"
"I don't know. But I heard there's a feast every night at the governor's palace. Roast pork, rivers of wine... While children are
dying of hunger."
The man clenched his fist. "That dog." The
snake smiled inside.
The poison was spreading.
[WEEKTWO-DAY8]
Shadow met Knife Chen.
The place was a slaughterhouse—filled with the smell of meat and bloodstains.
"Who sent you?" Chen's voice was sharp. He was playing with a knife. "There's
a job offer. A big one."
"What kind?"
"The city will change hands. The governor will leave. A new order
will be established." "And me?"
"You'll keep your current position. You can take over Snake Lao's territory."
Chen paused. "What do you want?"
"Men for D night. Men who can quietly handle the gate guards." "How many?"
"Ten will be enough."
"In exchange?"
"All of Snake Lao's lands. And official protection in the new order." Chen
smiled. "Deal."
[SECONDWEEK-DAY10]
The Snake had infiltrated the garrison kitchen.
She worked as a cook's assistant disguised as an old woman. On the night shift. Her job
was simple—the water tank.
At midnight, when no one was looking, she went over to him. She took a small bottle out of her pocket—clear, odorless,
tasteless.
Sleep-inducing herb extract.
It wasn't lethal—it just induced deep sleep. Eight to ten hours. Most of the soldiers would start falling asleep after breakfast.
But there was a problem.
Those on the night shift didn't eat breakfast. They were fed from a separate kitchen, a separate source. They would stay awake.
At least five or six hundred soldiers.
Yılan had reported this. Alperen had said, "It doesn't matter." Yılan
poured the bottle and went back to work.
[WEEKTWO-DAY12]
Alperen was holding the final meeting.
"Reports."
Shadow: "Garrison - three thousand soldiers, half of them inadequate. Commanders: General Huang is not dangerous but
clever, Wu is truly dangerous. Night shift - five to six hundred soldiers will be awake. I have the duty rosters. The north gate is
the weakest."
"Fox?"
"The sewer map is complete. One entrance to the garrison kitchen, three entrances to the governor's palace. The safest route
is marked."
"Snake?"
"The poison is ready. But the night shift won't be affected—they're supplied from a separate source."
Alperen thought. "How many people?"
"Between five and six hundred."
"Acceptable. The plan remains
unchanged." He turned back to the map.
"One o'clock at night - Chen's men open the north gate. Fifty of our soldiers enter the city and split into three groups."
"Alpha group - weapons depot. Set it on fire."
"Beta group - garrison barracks. Lock the doors, start a fire." "Gamma group -
governor's palace perimeter. Cut off escape routes."
"Two o'clock - I enter through the main gate. The Mammoths lead
the way." "Dawn - The city is ours."
D NIGHT
[00:45-NORTHGATE]
Four guards were on duty.
Two were half-asleep, two were rolling dice. The night was cold, the moon hidden behind
clouds. "Did you win again?" said the first guard.
"My luck's been good." None
of them noticed the shadows.
Ten figures approached from the darkness. Chen's men with knives.
The first guard—hand from behind, mouth covered, throat slit.
The second tried to turn—knife plunged into his chest.
The third tried to scream—"ATTACK—" The word was cut off. The fourth
never woke up.
Fifteen seconds. Four bodies. Zero sound.
The door lock was broken.
[01:00 -BREACH]
Fifty soldiers slipped into the city.
The night was dark, the streets empty. Samara was
asleep. Alpha group turned west—the armory.
Beta group went underground - the garrison
barracks. Gamma group advanced north - the
governor's palace. Everything was going
according to plan.
For now.
[1:30 AM - WEAPONS DEPOT]
The Alpha team reached the target.
There were two guards at the door. Two arrows, two bodies.
They went inside. Hundreds of weapons—swords, spears, bows, arrows.
"Oil."
The soldiers opened the barrels. They poured the
oil everywhere. The sergeant threw the torch.
WHOOOOSH!
The flames spread instantly.
Samara'sfirstscream came from the armory.
[01:45AM-GARRISONBARRACKS]
The Beta group was inside.
Fox was in front, twenty soldiers behind. They had moved from the kitchen to
the corridors. "Lock the doors."
The four exit doors were locked from the outside. Heavy wooden beams, iron chains.
Fox opened the oil barrel.
"Begin."
Oilspilled everywhere—from the kitchen to the corridors, from the corridors to the
barracks. Fox lit the torch.
He paused for a moment.
Three thousand soldiers were sleeping inside. Most were already under the influence of the sleeping potion. But those on the night
shift...
It doesn't matter. The orders are clear.
He threw the torch to the ground.
[01:50 AM- AWAKENING]
Sergeant Wei Zhong was standing at the barracks door.
He was the night shift commander. Fifty years old, a twenty-year veteran. His family was in the city—his wife, three
children, two grandchildren. Something was wrong.
The smell ofsmoke.
"FIRE!" he shouted. "EVERYONE UP! FIRE!"
The night shift soldiers—four hundred and fifty of them—jumped out of their
beds. "EXIT! TO THE EXIT!"
They ran. They reached the door.
The door wouldn't open.
"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Wei Zhong kicked the door. It didn't budge.
"Locked! Locked from the outside!"
The smoke was thickening. The fire was approaching.
"WINDOWS!" WeiZhong shouted. "BREAK THEWINDOWS!"
The soldiers rushed to the windows. There were bars—iron, sturdy. "Break
them! With chairs, tables, anything!"
The soldiersstruck. Struck. Struck.
One bar broke.
Two bars.
Five bars.
The soldiers began throwing themselves out. A two-story drop—broken bones, sprains, but NOT DEAD. Wei Zhong was
among the last to jump.
He fell. His shoulder dislocated. But he got up.
He looked back.
The barracks were burning. Flames were coming out of the windows. Screams from inside—those under the influence of
the sleeping drug couldn't wake up. They were burning.
But there were soldiers outside. Four hundred and fifty of them—wounded, angry, but
ALIVE. And ARMED.
Most had grabbed their swords asthey leaped from their beds.
"LISTEN UP!" Wei Zhong shouted. His voice was powerful—twenty years of command
experience. The soldiers turned.
"This is an attack! We don't know who they are, we don't know how many there are. But THIS IS OUR CITY!" The soldiers
listened.
"Our families are here! Our children are here! These dogs are burning our homes!"
Anger was rising.
"We'llshow them hell! WITH ME!" Four hundred and
fifty soldiers shouted.
And they moved.
[2:00AM-MAINATTACK]
Alperen was waiting outside the city.
Smoke was rising from Samara. Screams were carried on the wind.
"Sir." The Shadow approached him. "The plan is working. The garrison is burning. The gates
are open." Alperen nodded.
"Forward."
Three mammoths moved.
The ground shook.
When they reached the main gate, the resistance began.
The city guards—about thirty men—had drawn their weapons.
"ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
Alperen laughed.
"Mammoths. Crush
them."
The first mammoth crashed into the door. Wood splintered, iron
bent. The second mammoth charged through the breach. It
attacked the guards.
The third mammoth provided support
from behind. Thirty seconds. Thirty
bodies.
The door was open.
[TIME02:15 - STREETS]
Alperen entered the city.
And chaos greeted him.
The streets were
PACKED.
People were fleeing—women carrying their children, the elderly crawling, men shouting. Flames lit up the sky. Smoke was
everywhere.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Alperen shouted. No
one listened. Panic had taken over everything.
A woman stepped in front of Alperen—holding her baby, her eyes wild.
"PLEASE! MY CHILD! SOMEONE HELP!"
Alperen pushed her aside. The woman fell. The baby began to cry.
It doesn't matter. Focus on the target.
"Soldiers!" he shouted. "Clear the way! Use force if necessary!"
The soldiers tried to advance. But the crowd was too dense. Every step involved pushing, shoving, falling.
Even the mammoths were struggling. The giant creatures were crushing people—unintentionally, but crushing them
nonetheless. Screams rose up.
"Damn it!" Alperen clenched his teeth.
Then he heard another sound.
War cries.
[TIME 02:20 - FIRST CLASH]
Wei Zhong's soldiers had arrived.
Four hundred and fifty men—wounded, angry, burning with vengeance.
"ATTACK!" Wei Zhong raised hissword. "DEFEND THIS CITY!" The soldiers
charged.
A1peren's eighty-eight soldiers met them. In the street,
amidst the civilian crowd, the two armies clashed. Sword
against sword. Spear against shield. Blood and steel.
Alperen drew his own sword.
He began to advance.
The first Samara soldier in his path was a young boy—perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old.
The boy shouted in a trembling voice and swung his sword.
Alperen blocked the blow and
counterattacked. The boy's neck was
severed.
He fell.
Alperen didn't hesitate. He moved on to the next one.
The second soldier was more experienced—in his forties, his face scarred.
Three moves. Four moves. On the fifth move, Alperen plunged his sword into the man's chest.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Alperen was advancing.
Leaving a body behind with every step.
But the Samara soldiers did not give up.
For every soldier who fell, another took his place. They had families behind them—in this city, on these streets. They had
nowhere to run. They had no choice but to fight.
And they were fighting to the death.
Alperen's soldiers were advancing, butslowly. They were paying with blood for every meter.
"Sir!" A soldier came up to him—his arm was bleeding. "The left flank is under pressure! There are too many enemies!"
"Send in the mammoths."
"The mammoths are stuck! The streets are too narrow; they can't
move!" Alperen clenched his teeth.
This wasn't going according to plan.
[TIME02:45 -HANSTREET]
The battle had moved to Han Street.
A narrow street—tall buildings on both sides, only wide enough for five men to walk side by side in the middle. Alperen's
soldiers were at one end of the street.
Samara's soldiers were at the other
end. In the middle—civilians.
Hundreds of civilians. Crowded together, frightened, screaming
people. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Alperen shouted.
They couldn't move. Behind them were Samara's soldiers. In front of them were Alperen's soldiers. They were caught between two
fires.
An old man begged, "Please! Let us pass! There are children among us!" Wei Zhong raised his
voice: "Civilians to the back! TO THE BACK!"
But the crowd was too dense. Movement was
impossible. Alperen made a decision.
"Move forward." "Sir?
Civilians—"
"I SAID MOVE FORWARD!"
The soldiers advanced.
And entered the civilian crowd.
What happened was not a battle.
It was a massacre.
A1peren's soldiers were swinging their swords indiscriminately—enemy or civilian, it didn't matter. Samara's soldiers were
fighting back. The civilians in the middle were being crushed, cut down, trampled.
Screams. Screams everywhere.
A woman—perhaps thirty years old—stood before A1peren. She held a child in her arms.
"Please—" she began.
A Samara soldier attacked Alperen from behind. Alperen
dodged to the side.
The soldier hit the woman. She fell. The child flew from her arms.
Alperen killed the Samara soldier.
Then he looked.
The woman was lying on the ground. Motionless. A pool of blood under
her head. The child was sitting beside her. He was shaking his mother.
"Mom? Mom, get up. Mom?"
Alperen turned and continued moving forward.
It doesn't matter. Focus on the target.
[3:00 AM -WU]
When Alperen reached the end of Han Street, he was waiting.
Wu.
The man Shadow mentioned. The real warrior. The most dangerous one in the garrison.
He was a giant of a man—two meters tall, broad-shouldered, his muscles visible beneath his armor. In his hand, a massive
battle axe.
And he was not alone.
Behind him were twenty soldiers. The best of the best. An elite unit.
"Stop!" Wu's voice boomed like thunder. "You can't go any further." Alperen stopped.
The two of them looked at each other.
"You are the leader of this attack," Wu said. "If I kill you, the army will scatter."
"Perhaps." Alperen raised his sword. "Try it."
Wu laughed. A cold, merciless laugh.
"I saw the young ones. You killed them like children. But I am no child." He attacked.
The axe came down from above.
Alperen leapt to the side. The axe shattered stones—opening a onemeter-deep pit. Powerful, Alperen thought. Very powerful. Level 1's
upper limit. Wu attacked again. A horizontal arc.
Alperen jumped back. The axe passed in front of his nose.
Wu didn't stop. Attack after attack—the axe was performing a dance of death.
Alperen was on the defensive. He was dodging, blocking, but couldn't counterattack.
This man... Alperen clenched his teeth. Not slow. Powerful, but also fast.
The soldiers behind Wu were watching. They weren't intervening—this was a duel between two warriors. "What's
going on?" Wu sneered. "Is running away the only thing you know how to do?"
Alperen didn't answer.
He was waiting.
Open.
Wu attacked again—this time diagonally, from top to bottom, left to right.
Alperen dodged to the left.
But Wu was expecting it.
The axe changed direction. Mid-air, at an impossible angle.
Alperen's eyes widened.
He couldn't escape.
The axe struck his left shoulder.
Pain.
White, pure, searing pain.
Alperen staggered. His left arm fell—useless.
Blood was spurting out. His armor was split in two. Red seeped from flesh and bone. "First
blood." Wu smiled. "Now for the second."
He attacked.
Alperen couldn't defend himself this time. His left arm wasn't working. With only his right hand,
wielding a single sword... He retreated. One step. Two steps. Three steps.
Wu followed. Merciless, tireless.
I'm losing, Alperen thought. This man... is betterthan me.
The thought was like a shock.
Since he had come to this world, he had never lost. The system had given him power. He had reached Level 2. He had thought
himself invincible.
But now...
Wu's axe came down again.
Alperen blocked it—with one
hand.
The vibration numbed his arm. He was almost thinking about the sword.
Thisisn't a game, whispered a corner of his mind. Thisis REAL. Death isreal. Defeat is real.
Wu attacked again.
And Alperen stopped thinking.
Something changed.
Something changed in Alperen's eyes. Fear
was gone. Panic was gone. Calculation
was gone. Only instinct remained.
The instinct to survive.
Wu's axe came down.
Alperen ducked.
The axe remained in the air—Alperen was too close; Wu couldn't strike
him. Alperen's sword pierced Wu's stomach.
Upward.
Liver. Stomach. Lung.
Wu's eyes widened.
Alperen swung hissword.
Wu coughed. Blood came out.
"You..." Wu said, his voice hoarse. "Are you... Level 2?"
"Yes."
"Then... why... did you struggle?" Alperen
thought.
"Because you were good."
Wu laughed. A blood-soaked, deadly laugh.
"Good... I'm dying then... Against a strong one..." He fell.
The twenty soldiers behind him froze for a
moment. Then they fled.
[3:30AM-THEROADOPENS]
Wu's death was a turning point.
The news spread - "Wu is dead! Wu has been
killed!" The morale of Samara's soldiers
collapsed.
Wu was their strongest. Their most invincible. If he was dead...
"RETREAT!" Wei Zhong shouted. "CIRCLE THEPALACE!BACK!"
The soldiers began to retreat.
Alperen did not follow.
He stopped.
He looked at his left shoulder. The blood was still flowing. The
wound was deep. "Sir!" Shadow ran to his side. "You're
wounded!" "I know."
"We need to bandage it.
Now." Alperen shook his
head.
He retreated into the shadow of a building. Shadow bandaged the wound—quick, professional
movements. "It's deep," Shadow said. "The bone is visible. We need healing potion."
"Later."
"Sir—"
"LATER."
Alperen stood up. He
staggered. But he stopped. "The
battle isn't over. Keep going."
[4:00AM-LOSINGMAMUT]
When they reached the main street, the bad news came.
"Sir!" A soldier ran over. "The second mammoth has fallen!"
"What?"
"The Samara soldiers had set up an ambush. They rained spears down from the rooftops. Mamut... was shot in the eyes. He went
berserk. He started trampling our own men. We had to kill him."
Alperen clenched his
teeth.
A mammoth.
A valuable unit.
"Casualties?"
"Eleven of our soldiers were killed. Including the mammoth and the ambush."
Thirty-fourlossesso far, Alperen calculated. And there'sstill the palace.
"The other mammoths?"
"One is wounded—has a spear in his leg. But he can move. The third one is fine." "Take them
to the palace. They'll break down the door."
[4:30AM-PALACESIEGE]
The governor's palace.
A large, imposing stone structure. Samara's most solid building. And its
last refuge.
The remaining Samara soldiers had gathered in front of the palace. About two hundred of them—Wei Zhong's men, guards, and
refugees.
The door wastightly shut.
"Bring the mammoths."
Two mammoths—one wounded, one unharmed—approached
the gate. Wei Zhong shouted: "ARCHERS! FIRE!" Arrows
rained down from the roofs and windows.
The mammoths were armored—most arrows bounced off. But some hit exposed spots. Eyes. Inner thighs. The wounded
mammoth bellowed. In pain, in rage.
"CONTINUE!" Alperen ordered. The
mammoths crashed into the door.
The door cracked, but held.
Second impact.
CRACK!
The doorshook.
Third impact.
BOOOM!
The door fell over.
Inside was chaos.
A battle erupted in the palace corridors. Confined spaces, blind servants, unexpected attacks.
A1peren's soldiers stormed in.
Samara'ssoldiers met them.
The corridor battle - the
bloodiest
Alperen himself was fighting. With one hand, his left arm bandaged, but still deadly. A
soldier stepped in front of him—Alperen cut off his head.
Another—he stabbed him through
the chest. Another—he slit his
throat.
But he was growing tired.
Blood loss. Exhaustion. Pain.
Each move felt heavier.
Each enemy he killed became harder to defeat.
[05:00 -THEENDOFWEIZHONG]
When they reached the main hall, Wei Zhong was waiting.
The old sergeant was alone. The soldiers behind him were dead or had fled. He
had his sword in his hand. His face showed resignation.
"Stop," he said.
Alperen stopped.
The two looked at
each other.
"Did you see my family?" Wei Zhong asked. "In the city. My wife, my children..." Alperen
shook his head. "No."
"They're probably dead," Wei Zhong said hollowly. "In the fire. Or in the crowd. Or... by yoursoldiers."
Alperen didn't respond.
"Why?" Wei Zhong asked. "Why did you do this? What did this city do to you?"
"Nothing."
"Then WHY?"
"Because I wanted power," Alperen replied simply. "And this city was on my way." Wei Zhong
laughed. A bitter, broken laugh.
"Power..." he said. "Thousands of people died tonight for power."
"Yes."
"You're a monster."
"Perhaps."
Wei Zhong raised his sword.
"At least..." he said, "I'll die fighting." He
attacked.
Alperen met him.
Three moves.
Wei Zhong was a good soldier. But Alperen was Level 2.
On the third move, Alperen's sword pierced Wei Zhong's chest. The old
sergeant fell.
"My family..." he whispered. "Find them... please..."
His eyes closed.
Alperen looked for a
moment.
Then he moved
forward.
[5:30 AM -GOVERNOR]
Top floor.
Alperen climbed the stairs. He stumbled with every step. Blood loss, exhaustion, everything was piling up. But he
wouldn't stop.
He wouldn't stop.
He reached the top
floor.
The door was locked.
He didn't even have the strength to kick it. He broke the lock with his sword. He
pushed the door open. Inside was Chen Bao.
He was curled up in the corner, trembling, crying. His
nightgown was wet. Beside him were a woman and two
children—his concubine and sons. "P-please..." The
governor's voice was high-pitched and broken.
Alperen
approached.
He looked at the
man.
He was tired. Very tired. Hisshoulder ached. His legs trembled.
But something inside him—dark, hungry, unsatisfied—still wanted more.
"Tonight," Alperen said, "many people died."
The governor trembled.
"It's not because of you. It's because of me. But you... you will be the symbol." "Wwhat?"
Alperen raised his sword.
"The end of the old order."
[DAWN]
The sun was rising.
Red, orange, gold. Colors mingling with the smoke rising above Samara. Alperen stood on the
palace balcony.
His left shoulder was bandaged, his face was pale, he was struggling
to stand. But he stood.
The city lay at his feet.
"Sir."The shadow approached him. "Report."
"Speak."
"Enemy casualties: Around two thousand four hundred garrison soldiers—most in the fire. Around four hundred in street
fighting. All Level 1 fighters are dead—Wu, Zhang, Lin, two mercenaries. General Huang escaped—through the back door.
He is being pursued."
"Our losses?"
"Forty-seven dead. Twenty-three seriously wounded. We lost one mammoth."
Alperen closed his eyes.
Forty-seven.
They had dropped from 138 to
91. "Civilian casualties?"
Shadow paused. "No exact number. But... at least four or five hundred. In the fire, in the crowd, in the street battles."
Four or five hundred civilians.
Alperen looked at that
number.
Should he have felt
something?
He felt nothing.
Only fatigue.
And somewhere inside him—deep down, almost inaudible—a whisper.
This wasn't a
game.
This was real.
And you won.
But the price...
Alperen silenced the whisper.
He looked at the city.
"Samara is ours," he said.
[END OFSECTION 9.5]
WAR STATISTICS:
Duration: 5 hours (00:45 - 05:45)
Alperen's Army:
• Starting Strength: 138 soldiers + 3 mammoths
• Casualties: 47 dead, 23 wounded, 1 mammoth
• Remaining: 91 soldiers + 2
mammoths Samara Garrison:
• Starting: 3,000 soldiers
• Casualties: 2,800 (fire + battle)
• Escaped: 200 (including General Huang)
1. Level Warriors: 5/7 dead
• Wu (by Alperen)
• Zhang, Lin (palace battle)
• 2 mercenaries (gate + street)
• Gladiator: Missing
• Old Feng: Not seen
Civilian Casualties: 450-500
Loot: Not yet counted Alperen
Status:
• Left shoulder: Deep wound (bone visible)
• Blood loss: Severe
• Fatigue: Critical
Dear readers,
What did you think of this chapter? Please leave your thoughts, theories, even your frustrations in the comments! ❤️
Every comment gives me strength and helps me write the next chapter faster.
This story wouldn't exist without you.
Thank you, and see you.