Time began to flow once more.
The solidification and conclusion had been but an illusion; time did not pause at the moment the cannon fired. As the terrifying white light diluted into ordinary sunlight, as dust settled and smoke gradually dispersed, what followed must continue.
Dora trembled as she scrambled to her feet, the taste of rust in her throat, the roar still echoing in her ears. She'd collided with something—a lump now swelled on her temple. The pain was insignificant compared to the aching throughout her body. For a few seconds, Dora thought she'd gone blind. She stared wide-eyed into the pitch-black void before her until her eyes burned and the darkness began to fade. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly glanced behind her.
The next moment, she almost wished she hadn't seen anything at all.
What had struck her was a splintered piece of wood from the hut she'd just left. The artillery's range didn't cover the Amazonian village, yet its blast had reached the hut hundreds of meters away. Dora and Catherine had just finished their shift, leaving the hut to rest before heading back to the front lines. Before she left, the wounded man lay on the hut's bed. The medic and Catherine were inside tending to the poor soul whose condition had begun to stabilize. Minutes after she ran out, a white light ripped through the sky. Dora was thrown several meters by the blast wave, and the hut was leveled to the ground. No one survived.
She might have screamed, or maybe not—her ringing ears caught no sound. She charged toward the rubble, frantically clawing at the broken walls. Unstoppable blood dripped from her nose onto her wrist, then her fingers began bleeding too, as the black haze around her vision started gathering once more.
The Amazonian village was littered with fallen bodies. Though not directly hit, the shockwave and sonic blast had left the weaker among them reeling. Children trembled like newborn fawns, stumbling to their feet only to collapse back to the ground. The Amazon Queen's brow furrowed tightly. Alert sentries spotted the silhouettes of the human army in the distance—after clearing half the forest, they were now separated only by a long stretch of open ground and a few rows of trees. Many were bewildered, many terrified. The Amazon Queen and her guard reacted first, frantically rallying their people with gestures and shouts.
They had a tough battle ahead.
Armor and weapons remained ready at their sides, allowing the warriors to assemble swiftly, though many still reeled from dizziness and ringing ears. Non-combatants had packed their belongings long ago; even if the final battle came unexpectedly, they were not entirely unprepared. Men lifted the gravely wounded, including Dora, unconscious amidst the ruins hundreds of meters away. The severely injured, the elderly, and the children would evacuate with them. Before their escape, the warriors must hold back the approaching enemy.
On the vast, shell-scarred expanse, the massive human army found its purpose.
Low-ranking soldiers, ignorant of artillery's power, were gripped by terror spreading through their ranks. Those who'd defied orders and stared into the fire now covered their eyes, wailing as they rolled on the ground. Officers at every rank barked orders, knocking out fainting cowards, kicking blinded men from the ground, herding the troops like sheepdogs. Though less disciplined than the Amazonians, the human army suffered negligible casualties. The chaotic ranks eventually formed, and soldiers outnumbering the enemy several times over assembled into formation, marching toward the still-smoldering clearing.
A soldier quietly pinched a clump of earth. Scorched soil, hot to the touch, crumbled between his fingers, dry as sand.
The ground hadn't caved in from the bombardment, but everything on it had been flattened. No debris remained from the core projectile's trajectory, as if an unseen maw had swallowed everything whole. Trees and structures not struck directly toppled outward, the once-gentle air currents now sharp as blades, heavy as hammers. The army thrust like a dagger into the stripped forest. Behind the vanguard, the colossal cannon responsible for this devastation was slowly hauled forward.
Beneath the surface, Marion shook her head as if to dislodge the flickering light spots before her eyes. Tashar had cut the projection just before it happened; she'd been staring at the ground footage relayed from the watchtower, her eyes stinging wet from the blinding glare. She shook her head hard once more and pleaded again, "My lady!"
Tasha understood. The werewolf girl was deeply worried about her new friends. She wanted to see how they were doing. She wanted to join the fight. Ever since the day she'd obeyed orders and left, Marion had been visibly restless. Every time Tasha opened the surface projection for her, she'd watch intently, even though the human army appeared only as distant specks—the underground city couldn't build watchtowers too far from itself. Tasha suspected that if she left the projection running around the clock, the girl would likely camp beside it twenty-four hours a day.
The dungeon continued expanding toward Angaroth Forest. The furthest tunnels lay barely a hundred meters from the human army. Emerging from there could indeed catch them off guard. But what good would it do?
This wasn't a small squad—it was an army. Thousands of soldiers might sound like a meager number, but when arrayed before your eyes, they appeared overwhelming. The Skeleton Sea tactic required vast numbers of skeletons. The ones in the Tashan Graveyard were no match for the humans; sending them all in would be nothing but cannon fodder. Marion was alone. No matter how skilled she was in combat or how quickly she could recover through healing, she couldn't possibly fight a thousand enemies single-handedly. The Artisan Dwarves weren't combat-ready. The Ghosts couldn't get close to the battlefield.
Would proximity even matter? Summoning ghosts and casting spells demand considerable mana. Tashar's current reserves were far too meager to deploy ghosts as human bombs—a one-hit-and-done unit would be utterly useless. Moreover, once ghosts and skeletons entered the fray, there'd be no turning back. The monsters' appearance would be an open admission of their presence, greatly increasing the likelihood of humans discovering the dungeon. Tasha had no confidence whatsoever that she could wipe out every enemy who witnessed the truth.
So she answered, "No."
Marion's ears drooped. She lowered her head in obedience. She endured the silence for ten minutes before finally asking, "What's happening on the surface now?"
On the surface, both armies had formed their battle lines. Human crossbowmen had their bolts nocked, while Amazon shields were secured to their upper arms. The distance between the two sides slowly closed in silence, the clash imminent. The disparity in numbers was overwhelming. Even before the war began, a tragic sense of desperation hung heavy in the air.
On the surface, Amazonian men led the wounded, elderly, and children through the remnants of the forest. They moved swiftly, seizing every second the warriors had bought. Veterans in their fifties marched alongside young girls onto the battlefield. Each person evacuated had bid farewell to a mother, wife, or daughter. They might meet again later, but more likely, they would not.
Across the land, the smoke from the giant cannon had not yet fully dissipated. Was it an illusion? Where forests once stood, something seemed to echo.
Within the dungeon, Tasha knew nothing of this. The consciousness attached to the ghosts had not returned; the two severed souls had lost connection the instant the cannon fired. The main body residing in the dungeon remained unaware of what had befallen them.
Just as the fragments still lingering on the battlefield could not inform the main body of their current state.
Time rewound to the cannon's firing moment. Both of Tashan's spectral bodies disintegrated into dust simultaneously. The mist forming the specters seemed scattered by a violent gale. The vessel shattered into pieces, releasing the soul it contained. Now defenseless, she began to "burn."
The process was utterly bizarre. She could feel every part of herself disintegrating, yet she felt not a shred of pain. The deafening roar faded into distant white noise. The blinding white light before her eyes dissolved into true void and emptiness. Her thoughts became countless specks of static. She could no longer distinguish up from down, left from right. She lost all sense of time passing, like a snowman melting away.
Was this what dying felt like? Surprisingly, it brought a sense of relaxation—like floating, like falling asleep. Nothing in this world could stir Tasha's interest anymore.
Her thoughts were the first to return.
"You observed the firing of [beep—]. You gained a slight understanding of [beep—] knowledge. You acquired [the basics of [beep—] knowledge]."
"Your kin—the Artisan Dwarves—possess related knowledge and lineage. [the basics of [beep—] knowledge] has been merged into relevant skills. The [Workers Have Power] skill has increased."
"[Workers Have Power] knowledge reserve increased. You now know: This is a cannon!"
"You personally experienced the firing of [beep—], slightly increasing your understanding of [beep—] knowledge."
"You remain under the persistent influence of [beep—], causing your understanding of [beep—] knowledge to continue growing slightly. Note: Persistent exposure may cause irreversible damage. Your body is the foundation of revolution. Knowledge is valuable, but don't be greedy!"
This line of text repeated several times, interspersed with incomprehensible mosaic patterns, jolting Tasha awake from a void where she could neither see, hear, nor move. Half-asleep yet furious, she thought: I would've dodged the damage if I could! It wasn't like I wanted to get hit!
"[Workers Have Power]Knowledge reserves increased. Experience accumulated to critical threshold. You have learned [Basic Magitek Knowledge]."
As if responding to Tasha, the scrolling text finally displayed something new.
"You now know: This is a magitek cannon."
"Magitek Cannon: Though oddly shaped, its power can obliterate half a forest. Expensive yet durable, powered by unclean energy sources, and carrying multiple pollutants—truly an essential weapon for exterminating entire tribes."
No wonder, Tasha thought. Ordinary cannons couldn't possibly pack such destructive force, and she certainly wouldn't have failed to recognize it. This bizarre, quasi-scientific monstrosity was clearly no product of modern science. Thank heavens. If human tech had advanced to blasting half a forest with electromagnetic cannons, what was the point of fighting? Might as well retreat to the countryside and farm.
As the cannon's effects faded, no further progress was made in the arcane knowledge section. Her understanding of the arcane cannon remained limited to its name. There would be no more. Just as the warning had foretold, the tower sand began collapsing once more. This fragment of her soul likely couldn't transmit these experiences and memories back to the main body. She felt as if a single blast had hurled her into another dimension—one without sky or ground, without creatures above or below, where she couldn't even contact Victor. Only she remained...
No, not just her.
Vast swathes of vegetation were obliterated by the cannon fire, along with the birds, beasts, insects, and fish within them (yes, an entire stream evaporated). These creatures possessed no sentience; their souls were as simple and ignorant as slime, dispersing at the slightest breeze. Sacrificing any one of them in the dungeon would not have drawn the Abyss's attention. But when their numbers reached the thousands, it was another matter entirely.
In this void, Tasha touched the Will of Nature.
Ever since hearing the term "Will of the Abyss," Tasha had never truly grasped its meaning. She could only think of it as the title of some great demon lord within the Abyss. After all, how could a region possess a "will"?
In the instant she was touched by the Will of Nature, Tasha finally grasped the term.
Countless tiny lives were born and died here, endlessly cycling, transforming into something as imperceptible as air, yet as indispensable. The Will of Nature emanated from the lush forests, the streams where fish swam, the skies where birds soared. The Will of Nature was the rain that healed parched earth, the force that made seeds sprout, the first spring breeze that awakened hibernating creatures. Just as the Heart of Nature was to the Sacred Tree, the Will of Nature was both the source and the product of nature itself. All sentient beings across this vast land lived under its embrace, sharing a single will—
the will to survive.
The Will of Nature is impartial. It remains unmoved when one creature hunts another; predators starve when their hunt fails, just as prey perish in their jaws. It stirs not at a forest fire's rage; trees turn to ash in the flames, yet seeds will sprout anew from scorched earth. It embraces the most primitive creatures and the most cunning, domineering offspring alike. Yet the blast from the arcane cannon exceeded—destroyed—the limits of its equilibrium. Half a forest vanished beneath its muzzle, leaving not a speck of ash, not a trace of soul, utterly erased from the Material Plane.
Not a blade of grass would ever grow again where the magic cannon struck; no fish could survive in the streams flowing through this land. It would become a forbidden zone for all life upon the surface. Such terrifying destruction could perhaps only be compared to the "devouring" ritual offered by the dungeon to the Abyss.
Strangely, this tiny fragment of natural will, on the verge of dissipation, was drawing closer to Tashan.
How peculiar. Dungeons and the Abyss were natural enemies, yet at this moment, the will of nature chose her. The fragment of natural will stripped away by the magic cannon was also fading. As it gradually enveloped Tashan, it began to merge with her crumbling soul. She smelled the scent of grass enveloping her body, like rolling in the meadow as a child, with broken blades clinging to her clothes. It was the breath of nature... Ah, Tasha thought, she felt like she was getting somewhere.
That passive skill obtained from the Oak Elder, [Heart of Nature (Fake)]: The essence of nature envelops you.
As it was destroyed by its own kind, the natural will drew near its sworn enemy, who bore its scent.
"The natural will gazes upon you. Natural essence level increased."
"The natural will touches you. Natural essence level increased."
...
The text flashed by too quickly to read. As the shattered remnants of the natural will neared complete dissipation, like a desperate gamble, the last fragments violently surged into Tasha's soul. She felt as if she might burst. The overwhelming influx triggered a shockwave—like another explosion—blasting her out of the void.
Suddenly, Tasha reappeared on the battlefield. The sky here was white, the earth bleeding. Upon scorched earth, Amazonian and human armies clashed in close combat, the clamor of slaughter erupting in the chaos. The two previously separated parts of her soul reconnected, both sides gasping sharply. Something had changed.
"The Fractured Will of Nature—Angarsos Forest has chosen you."
As if the partition in the middle of an aquarium had been removed, the natural essence crowding one part of Tashan's soul surged toward the dungeon section, a tidal wave baptizing every corner. The artisan dwarves waved their hands in astonishment as the potted plants they'd brought underground suddenly flourished, vines twining across entire walls. Marion opened her mouth wide, her teeth itching. Her bones creaked, and an urge surged within her to sprint and sing at the top of her lungs. The souls of Tashan left on the surface fell and then dispersed. She plunged into Angars Forest like a drop of ink into a bowl of water.
Tasha sensed the entire Angaroth Forest—from combatants close at hand to fugitives fleeing far away. It felt as though... this forest above ground had suddenly become her own underground lair.
Trees grew at her command.
Thorns burst from the soil, binding human soldiers' legs. Towering trees shot skyward, their branches sweeping away volleys of crossbowmen. Shields shattered under the trunks' crushing blows; cavalry scattered amid swirling vines. The forest came alive, its every limb under Tashan's command, distinguishing friend from foe with deadly precision.
The forest's surviving birds dove in flocks, sparrows and falcons flying side by side, their sharp talons and beaks tearing apart countless faces and eyes. Those with keen ears heard the earth tremble. Sharp-eyed soldiers pointed toward the distance, shouting. From all directions, other inhabitants of the forest rushed forth, their roars deafening.
A staircase appeared before Marion. At that moment, her owner granted her permission. She let out a joyful roar and charged forward, not even bothering to take her dagger.
She didn't need to carry the dagger.
"Among your contract holders, there is one with bloodlines attuned to nature. She has been baptized by the essence of the natural world."
"Marion, the half-breed werewolf. Her faint werewolf bloodline has been purified by the baptism of nature's essence. Once she accumulates sufficient energy, under sunlight or moonlight, she will regain the ability her parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents have long lost—to transform into a wolf."
Marion dashed outside, sunlight glinting off her silver hair. She let out a howl that began human, then transformed into a wolf's. Silver fur erupted, tearing through her dress until all clothing hung in rags. She lunged forward, her hands transforming into claws before they touched the ground.
Marion shook her body, flinging the rags away. The majestic white wolf bore no trace of the girl she once was. The scar from her human days remained over her left eye, but those green eyes burned with the same fierce spirit—now even more bloodthirsty. The young wolf, still not fully grown, let out a long howl and charged into the fray.
The tide of battle began to turn.
Humans were not foolish; they had prepared thoroughly to annihilate the Amazons in the forest. Yet who could have foreseen they would have to face the entire forest itself? Trees of vengeance collided with the army. Soldiers, unaccustomed to such a spectacle, did not hold out long before scattering in disarray. The white wolf leapt through the crowd, reaping lives like a ghost. The Amazons returned to the forest, and the forest fought alongside them. The Amazon Queen laughed, spitting blood from her mouth. She retrieved arrows from enemy corpses and fired them backward, piercing the skulls of soldiers behind her.
The commander abandoned attempts to rally his troops, his bodyguards shielding him as they retreated from the front lines. Their withdrawal was so chaotic, indistinguishable from the fleeing soldiers around them, that no one noticed they were drawing closer to the rear-mounted magic cannon.
Except for Tashan, who could see the entire battlefield.
She sensed the natural energy she drew was merely expendable—each second it powered the forest consumed it. Yet this time, she drove the surrounding trees without hesitation, even though the massive drain here would drastically shorten the forest's revival period. The magic cannon sat on its original trajectory, surrounded by barren ground. Tasha commanded the nearest trees to uproot themselves, propelled by their roots, charging toward the cannon.
They screamed wildly as the guards scattered beneath the flailing branches. The catalyzed trees moved too slowly, and the army before the magic cannon was too numerous. They began retreating the cannon, hoping to escape before the treants could smash it. But Tasha succeeded in killing the commander—a branch as thick as a man hurled him high into the air, watching him crash back down into a pulp seconds later. Without their commander, the army descended into chaos. Even officers began turning tail in panic. The tide seemed irreversible now that the commander had lost his final chance to activate the magic cannon...
Tasha suddenly felt a pang of dread.
Her heart pounded wildly, just as it had before the last cannon blast. Now that she was close, the sensation doubled in intensity. Tasha felt every hair on her body stand on end. She stared fixedly at the magic cannon. A faint clicking sound emanated from within the barrel, barely audible amidst the battlefield clamor.
As if light were glowing from deep within the long barrel.
It was no illusion.
Tasha discovered a terrifying truth: the commander's retreat wasn't to return and activate the cannon, nor were the officers fleeing out of fear of the treant. The magic cannon had already been activated. Those in the know were merely trying to escape its range before it finished charging.
She grew utterly calm, like a bomb squad facing a ticking time bomb with seconds left. She cleared all distracting thoughts, assessed every available resource, considered every possibility and rejected it one by one. The final option offered only a fifty-fifty chance of success. Fifty-fifty. High enough.
Tasha leapt.
She commanded the entire activated forest to contract. Birds and beasts fled, trees froze still. All those souls surged into the tree monster. Tasha slipped into this new body and fell forward.
Dozens of meters remained to the magic cannon. The tree's forward fall could halve that distance, but it wouldn't shatter the cannon. Instead, top-heavy and unable to rise again, the walking tree had no hands to flip itself over.
Remember? Tasha possessed a skill that could "attach claws to anything."
[Full Moon]—this skill had been enhanced into [Full Moon: Wild Call]: you could briefly possess wolf-like fangs and claws, as if undergoing a werewolf transformation. Due to the enhanced bloodline of the contract holder wielding this skill, the claws you gained could not only sever flesh but also render steel as soft as pudding—yet it still lasted only three seconds and would overload your body into collapse.
Three seconds is enough. If this magical cannon isn't destroyed within that time, the battle will be beyond salvaging.
Tick-tock. The treant propelled itself upward with its claws, roots and paws digging into the ground as it lunged toward the nearby magical cannon.
Tick-tock. Sharp claws slashed viciously at the cannon, its entire torso now enveloping the weapon.
The steel barrel shattered into fragments under the violent tearing. Before the third second passed, the already-activated magic cannon exploded mid-detonation. The blast never fired; the partially-activated immense energy detonated internally. The cannon's entire body erupted violently, shattering the massive tree covering it into splinters.
Most animals fled the battlefield, trees lay scattered haphazardly in strange places, only the white wolf still leapt among the crowd. Everything seemed to return to normal, yet humanity had been utterly routed. Even with its power diminished several times over, the blast obliterated everything within dozens of meters. The magic cannon exploded like fireworks behind the human army, marking the complete defeat of the punitive force.
Meanwhile, another part of Tashan was experiencing yet another collapse.
The fragment of consciousness lingering within the tree spirit had already endured one bombardment, surviving only by the grace of Nature's will. The second time, she did not survive.
"Abyss, what have you done?!" Victor screamed in fury.
To the naked eye, no difference was apparent, but as the dungeon itself, Tashar could feel what had happened to the dungeon's core. A tiny fragment of the crimson garnet vanished—precisely when the second bombardment obliterated part of Tashan's soul. A minuscule piece of the gem disappeared without a sound. Her soul was, quite literally, bound to the dungeon core in life and death.
Was this a loss? Tashan thought wryly. Who would've thought a magic cannon could damage a soul? Still, damage was better than instant death. Who else could survive two direct hits from a magic cannon?
The shattered natural will of Angaso Forest fell into eternal silence. The benefit of animating the forest to fight for her was a one-time concession—a mutual aid in response to its plea for her aid. Thankfully, the information carried by that fragment of soul remained intact.
"You have personally experienced the firing of a magic cannon, slightly increasing your understanding of magical knowledge."
"Parts of your soul were torn during recovery, imbued with the essence of magical power. Your basic magical knowledge experience has reached a critical threshold. You may choose: 1. Enhance the magical knowledge skill of your vassal race—the Artisan Dwarves; 2. Deepen your own understanding of magic cannons."
Tasha chose the second option without hesitation. While the first might enable the Artisan Dwarves to craft magical tech items, the threat posed by the magic cannon was far more urgent. She needed to know its weaknesses and construction methods—at the very least, the energy source it utilized. How exorbitant were the costs of producing such a cannon? What were humanity's capabilities for deploying and manufacturing them? She had to know.
Reality wasn't an online game with instant learning. When she chose the second path, the so-called "essence of magical power" surged toward her. Memories of being struck directly by the magic cannon began replaying in a loop. Within the recollections of her death, Tasha raced to analyze this power. It dissipated rapidly, impossible to replicate—no wonder learning it through the dwarves or understanding it herself required choosing one path over the other.
She hadn't mastered the cannon's construction method; the understanding gleaned from its essence was merely the most superficial layer. Tasha sensed the core energy source powering the magic cannon, and the revelation nearly made her think she'd made a mistake.
Within this artifact that should have been utterly foreign to her, she felt the Abyss.
"Quick! Have your little dog dig up the cannon's remains!" Victor exclaimed excitedly after she mentioned this oddity. "If it's true, you haven't lost out—you've hit the jackpot!"
The battlefield on the ground had grown quiet. Human soldiers lay dead or fled, while the Amazons, too exhausted to pursue, busied themselves tending to the wounded. Marion had exhausted the energy sustaining her wolf form, reverting to her human form. Panting, she looked still seething with anger, enemy blood dripping from her fingertips and chin. She wiped her mouth, smearing the lower half of her face crimson.
Guided by Tasha, the werewolf girl crossed half the battlefield to where the magic cannon had once stood. She tossed aside splinters of wood and melted steel, digging into the core of the cannon's wreckage to extract numerous red fragments.
Tasha had never ventured into the Abyss; the only Abyssal artifact she'd encountered was a Dungeon Core.
The newly conjured specter took the fragments. Like magic stones, the Dungeon Core couldn't penetrate her. These shards came from another shattered Dungeon Core—the very energy source that had powered this magic cannon.
"It's true that mages once used dungeon cores as spellcasting materials," Victor said. "No wonder you couldn't approach it before."
What could block a phantom and make a dungeon feel threatened?
A celestial relic blessed by the gods, or another dungeon from the Abyss.
Tasha processed this revelation and asked, "Do dungeons attack each other?"
"Dungeon cores can devour one another. If the gains outweigh the losses, survival of the fittest is the most efficient choice," Victor stated matter-of-factly.
So typical of the Abyss—another common excuse for "why demons are so powerful yet never win." Tasha was grateful she was the sole dungeon. With her damaged core, encountering fellow dungeons prone to infighting would be disastrous. She stared at the fragment in her hand, feeling a pang of shared misfortune. This era held no other dungeons, yet humans exploited dungeon cores as energy sources.
Someone approached from behind Marion. The Amazon Queen casually snatched an officer's cloak from the ground and draped it over Marion. Marion thanked her, wrapping the cloak around her bare body. The sun was already setting; without fur, she would feel the chill.
"Thank you and your master," the Amazon Queen said. "Your aid saved the lives of many sisters. Please forgive us... as you've seen, we are in a state of disarray now. Once we settle elsewhere, we shall deliver the Amazonian gratitude."
Marion lifted her head abruptly, but before her words of persuasion could escape, the Queen raised her hand to silence her. A hint of weariness flickered in the Amazon Queen's steel-hard gaze. She shook her head. "Our souls belong to freedom."
"I do not seek your souls," Tashar said.
The phantom materialized in the air, yet the Queen's brow did not flicker. The tribal pact with the Artisan Dwarves materialized beside Tasha, written in the simplest, clearest Common. The Amazon Queen glanced upward, her gaze lingering.
"Centuries ago, Amazons were highly sought-after mercenaries," Tasha said. "Your archery was renowned, your footsteps echoed across all of Eryan. You fought on different sides with equal valor and loyalty."
"Amazons honor their pledges," the queen said.
"That is why this is mercenary service," Tashar said. "I provide lodging, food, weapons, and healing. You work for me, swearing not to betray me to others. This is not a trade or indentured servitude. It is a contract between employer and mercenary. Trust our sincerity."
The Amazon Queen turned away as her kin cleared the battlefield. Blood stained every body; the lightly wounded searched among the corpses for familiar faces, seeking those still breathing. Tasha saw the muscles in her jaw tense. After a few seconds, the Queen turned back and snatched the pen.
A new card appeared in Tasha's hand, its face depicting a pair of hands holding a bow.
"The Amazons are among humanity's finest archers, evolving from an all-female tribe into a matriarchal society with both genders. They possess a clear sense of love and hate—prepare for them to stir up trouble. Their noble character translates to many inexplicable, ill-timed stubbornnesses, which explains why so few remain. Overall, they make excellent warriors."
Surprisingly, when the Amazons joined, a new building type unlocked. Called the "Training Room," it contained various weapons unsuitable for combat outside. As long as someone among the users possessed knowledge of a specific weapon, they could simulate it within the room. It also generated training dummies and a well-protected arena, making it an excellent training ground for warriors.
In contrast, the skills the Amazons brought were hard to judge—useful or useless.
[Excellent Warrior Reserve]:Congratulations! You're an excellent warrior... reserve candidate! You've gained basic knowledge of various weapons. You can slash, block, and draw a bow—just like those Amazons who started training from childhood. Well, at least you're at their level when they were ten.
Tasha was as weak as a kitten; her actual weapon skills might not even match those of a three- or four-year-old Amazon. Reaching ten-year-old proficiency was a significant leap. However, these weren't natural claws—ghosts couldn't wield any weapons.
Let's set that aside for now.
The Amazon queen who signed the contract looked even more exhausted. She said little, merely nodding to the ghost and Marion before turning to walk toward her tribe.
Skeleton soldiers crawled from the ground. Their undead nature allowed them to instantly distinguish between the living and the dead. Under Tasha's command, they separated the human soldiers from the Amazon warriors (fortunately, their differing genders made this task manageable for the intellectually challenged skeletons). The survivors were carried into the underground infirmary, while the dead were handed over to the Amazons for their own disposal. The Amazons held deep respect for warriors fallen in battle. Tasha had no intention of letting them know what became of the human soldiers' bodies within the dungeon.
Marion volunteered to pursue the Amazons who had retreated first. Having witnessed the forest's transformation, they wouldn't have gone far. Inside the dungeon, the artisan dwarves bustled about arranging new rooms, cheerfully discussing what their new neighbors might be like.
"Let's throw them a welcome party!" someone suggested.
"Don't be silly!" another countered. "They've been working so hard, they must be exhausted. Can't we do it tomorrow?"
In any case, at least for now, they had won.