The morning broke red. Not sunrise — warning. Smoke crawled across the sky like veins in a dying heart. The forest that had once guarded Camp Drakon now carried whispers of steel, footsteps, and war songs. Every bird had vanished. Every sound had weight.
Ares Drakon stood at the edge of camp, coat darkened by ash, eyes on the horizon. He didn't move when the scouts returned — three shadows, breathless and blood-spattered. The youngest dropped to one knee, clutching a cracked radio.
"They're coming," he rasped. "Two warbands from the west, maybe more from the river. Trikru markings. Hundreds."
The silence that followed was colder than fear.
Ares didn't flinch. "Then they finally learned to march."
He turned toward the heart of camp. "Call Clarke. Octavia. Anya. Council. Now."
The command tent was built from scavenged metal and stitched hides, smelling of oil and smoke. Maps covered the table — rivers, ridges, coordinates written in Clarke's precise hand. Torches burned low, throwing long shadows.
Clarke arrived first, steady despite the exhaustion that traced her features. She didn't need to ask permission; she simply stood at his right, a quiet presence of faith. Octavia followed, posture sharp and coiled. Anya entered last — calm, calculating, her Grounder tattoos glinting under the firelight.
Ares studied each of them. "You've all heard the report. Trikru converging from three directions."
Octavia's jaw flexed. "Then we hit them first."
Anya shook her head. "Trikru never come blind. If they move in daylight, they expect victory. Attacking now invites the whole clan."
Clarke's tone was level. "We need layered defenses and a fallback path to the river. We can't outnumber them, but we can outlast them."
Ares listened — not for ideas, but for resolve. The air between them tightened until even the torches seemed to wait.
He drew his dagger and pressed the blade into the map, slicing a clean line through the center of the valley. "No chaos. No half-orders. From this moment, we move under command."
He turned to Clarke. "You manage logistics and medical supply. I want casualty routes, water rations, and field treatment stations before dusk."
"Yes, Commander." Her voice was soft, but certain. There was no hesitation. No question.
"Octavia," he continued, "you'll lead the vanguard and the scout rotations. No flanking breaks without direct signal."
"Got it." Her eyes gleamed. "Finally."
"Anya," he said last, "you handle the Grounder detachments. I want Trikru deserters and allies folded into formation — no symbols, no old loyalties. Only Drakon."
Anya's hand went to her chest in silent pledge. "They will kneel or fall."
Ares nodded once. "Good."
He stepped back and faced them all. "From this day forward, Camp Drakon follows a single chain of command. No rebellion. No disorder. Obedience is survival. Defiance is death."
No one spoke. The air vibrated, and the faint shimmer of the Primordial Ascent System flared before his eyes.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: CHAIN OF COMMAND ESTABLISHED]
Command Hierarchy Registered — Drakon Protocol v2.0
Leadership Parameter +10 % Morale Stability +8 %
Loyalty Synchronization: Clarke (99 %), Octavia (96 %), Anya (94 %)
New Trait Unlocked: Code of Dominion — Order through unity amplifies combat efficiency under direct command.
He sheathed the blade. "You wanted freedom," he said quietly. "Now you have order instead. And order wins wars."
Octavia smirked. "And if they don't like it?"
"Then they'll learn to."
By midday, the camp moved like a machine. Clarke organized triage points with Raven and Harper, marking paths with white paint salvaged from the dropship. Octavia drilled recruits until they collapsed, then made them rise again. Anya oversaw the mixed Grounder units, her voice cutting through the air in harsh Trigedasleng commands, translated and echoed by Kael.
Ares watched them all from the central tower — silent, analytical.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: DOMAIN DISCIPLINE +12 %]
Efficiency Bonus Active — Fear Reduced / Compliance Increased.
Sub-routine engaged: Morale through Precision.
Below him, discipline replaced chaos. Spears were sharpened, barricades reinforced. The rhythm of hammers echoed like a heartbeat.
Clarke approached, dust smudging her cheek, clipboard in hand. "Medical stations ready. Water stock secure for three days. But we'll need a supply run if the siege lasts longer."
He looked down at her — and the flicker of system light behind his eyes dimmed for a heartbeat.
"You've done well," he said. "Better than expected."
She smiled faintly, brushing hair from her face. "You taught me to expect more."
Their hands brushed as she passed the report. The contact was brief — but the link between them thrummed alive.
[HEARTLINK ACTIVE – Clarke Griffin]
Emotional Sync: 87 %
Cognitive Resonance: Stable
Shared Intent Detected → "Protect Him at Any Cost."
He felt the pulse of her heartbeat as if it echoed in his own veins.
"I'll hold the line," she whispered. "Even if you fall."
"I won't fall."
She looked up at him — not questioning, only affirming faith. "I know."
Evening settled heavy and golden. Ares stood before the assembled camp. Hundreds of faces stared back — Ark delinquents, Grounder defectors, hybrids like Kael — all tempered by war and bound by his will. Firelight painted their eyes with reflection.
He raised his voice just enough to carry. "Fear keeps you alive. Discipline keeps you human. You will feel both tonight."
He let silence follow.
"This camp stands because you obeyed when others would have run. You trained when others would have begged for mercy. You listened. And now the world listens back."
The crowd straightened unconsciously. The word listens carried weight — the kind that meant survival.
"Trikru think we're sky-children playing at kings," he continued. "Tomorrow they'll learn what happens when the sky fights back."
[SYSTEM UPDATE: MASS MORALE TRIGGER – 'THE KING'S VOICE']
Allied Resolve +15 %
Fear Response –10 %
Trait Evolution: Authority to Command – Tier II (Unyielding)
Anya stepped forward, placing her spear butt to the ground. "The clans will hear of this night," she said. "And they will bow."
Octavia grinned. "If they live long enough."
Clarke stood beside Ares, her voice quiet but cutting. "They'll follow you into hell, if you tell them to."
He turned slightly toward her. "Would you?"
She didn't blink. "I already have."
The camp settled into eerie stillness. The sky above glowed with the dull red of distant fires. Patrols shifted positions, traps rearmed. Every sound was catalogued in Ares's mind.
He paced the perimeter wall, Kael at his back, until the system flared again.
[SYSTEM ALERT: HOSTILE SIGNATURE DETECTED – RANGE 200 m]
Threat Classification: Trikru Scouts / Forward Raiders
Estimated Numbers: 8–10
Tactical Recommendation: Interception before Main Force Arrives.
"Octavia," he called. "With me."
She appeared instantly, eyes bright with anticipation. "Finally."
Clarke started to follow, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "You stay here. If I fail to return in an hour, you take command."
Her hand caught his wrist, firm and warm. "Then I'll be waiting for you in an hour."
The faintest ghost of a smile touched his mouth. "Good."
He turned to Anya. "Seal the gates. No panic orders. Anyone who breaks formation — execute."
She nodded once. "As you command, Heda Drakon."
The forest beyond Camp Drakon was black and close. The air smelled of rain and blood-sap. Ares moved through it like a shadow. Octavia flanked left; Kael followed low and silent, almost invisible despite his size. They didn't speak.
A twig snapped — deliberate.
Ares's hand rose in signal.
Ten shapes slipped from the trees, painted in ash and bone. The first warband. Scouting ahead of the main force.
They saw him — one man standing alone, unarmed.
A mistake.
They rushed.
The system's hum deepened in his skull.
[COMBAT MODE ENGAGED]
Domain Bonus: +15 % Strength / +10 % Agility within Territory Drakon.
Allied Coordination Synced – Octavia, Kael.
Skill Activated: Command Aura (Tier II) – Enemies within 15 m morale –20 %.
Ares met the first blade with his arm; steel cut skin, but not bone. His counter-punch crushed the attacker's throat. Octavia struck from the flank, fast and vicious, blades glinting gold in the dark. Kael moved through the rest like thunder — each blow ending a life.
Seconds later, silence returned. Eight bodies fell. Two fled.
Ares wiped blood from his hand onto the earth. "Let them run."
[SYSTEM NOTICE: FIRST ENGAGEMENT SUCCESSFUL]
XP +1200 Level Up Pending Review.
Trait Acquired – Storm Sentinel: +10 % Perception to all future battles initiated by Host.
Enemy Morale across region: –8 %.
Octavia crouched beside a fallen Trikru, ripping the clan marking from his armor. "They'll tell stories about this."
"They already are," Ares said.
Kael lifted his head, sniffing the air. "More coming."
"Good."
He turned toward the distant lights of Camp Drakon. The horizon flickered with movement — torches, shadows, an army forming.
The storm had arrived.
He sheathed his weapon and whispered, almost to himself, "Then let the world learn who commands it."
[SYSTEM PROMPT: MAIN QUEST UPDATED – THE WALL OF IRON]
Objective: Defend Camp Drakon against three converging warbands.
Reward: Territory Dominion Expansion / Evolution Trait Unlock – King of War.