The throne room woke to a sound that was half thunder and half song. It rolled through stone and tapestry, set the banners trembling, and pulled Sam from his light sleep with the force of it. He opened his eyes to a room full of new weight: the air hummed with power, and the HUD at the corner of his vision pulsed with fresh, hot numbers.
On the carved throne steps at the foot of the throne a red‑and‑gold flash folded itself into a two‑foot phoenix. Helios blinked at Sam with molten‑brass eyes; the Ten‑Thousand‑Flames fruit had settled into him and the last of the transformation had finished inside Vasuki's private space while the others watched the plain. Gold threaded through red until the plumage balanced into an even split, and the little phoenix sat like a living coin of dawn, feathers still warm with old suns.
Indra padded forward and curled into Sam's lap. The HUD chimed a crisp line of text: Indra — Tier‑8 juvenile Tempest Tiger (juvenile form active). The readout showed the juvenile profile even as the cub's body remained compact and familiar. White fur crackled faintly with residual lightning; pale green eyes shone with a steadier hunger than yesterday.
Dionysus announced herself with a soft trill from his shoulder, silk legs clicking on his robes. "We all reached it," she said, voice like silk and gravel. "Tier‑8. We can finally face true threats."
Sam smiled and let the warmth of it spread through him. He reached out and ran a hand over Indra's head. "And I'll protect you," he said. The promise sat heavy and simple between them.
The throne room seam uncoiled and a dark, enormous head filled the doorway. Vasuki slid in like a shadow uncoiling into daylight, scales catching the morning and turning it into a slow, patient light. Sam rose and bowed his head in a small, private gratitude.
"It is my duty," Vasuki said, voice like distant surf. He dipped his head and, with a motion that was almost casual, asked for Kong and Titus — the two Steel Fist Apes who had been training under Sam's command. Sam agreed without hesitation. Vasuki wanted to temper them in a way Sam could not spare the time for now.
Vasuki took the apes and left in a blur that made the air sing. The world folded beneath his coils; the castle windows showed only streaks of sky and then the mountain again. Kong and Titus were gone before Sam could finish the thought of where they might be taken.
Helios hopped up onto Sam's shoulder and began to tell the story in a rush of bright images and clipped phrases. He spoke of the frog and the iguana, of the Solar Halo and the Flame Gate, of the way the Ten‑Thousand‑Flames fruit folded the world when he bit into it. Indra listened with a small, fierce pride, ears twitching. Dionysus padded closer and added barbed comments about Helios' theatrics, which the phoenix answered with a smug tilt of his tiny head. The throne room felt full and warm and dangerous in the best way.
Sam picked Indra up into his arms and let Helios and Dionysus take their places. The tableau was domestic and absurd: an overlord with a phoenix the size of a cat on one shoulder, a sin beast perched on the other, and a tempest cub curled against his chest. He felt the new tier humming through them like a promise.
"Food," Sam said, because the world always made sense when there was food to be had. "And the morning report from One."
The kitchen was a hive of motion. Pots steamed, knives flashed, and One's voice came through the comms like a calm tide. Sam moved through it with practiced ease, chopping and stirring while One fed him the morning's intelligence.
"New monsters at the ranch," One said. "A four‑armed praying mantis, two burrowers with crystalline carapaces, and a pair of shock‑toads harassing the herds. More cores and troop tokens recovered overnight. Clone Sam merged with you while you slept and relayed patrol data."
Sam paused with a ladle in his hand. The clone had merged; he felt the echo of it in his mind — a brief, efficient sharing of patrol logs and skirmish outcomes. One's voice was steady. "Troll patrols reported on the western approaches. Tiers higher than expected."
"Trolls?" Sam asked, tasting the broth to steady himself. "What tiers?"
"One to three patrols reported Tier‑6 to Tier‑8 trolls," One replied. "Patterns suggest a goblin shaman is coordinating them. The timing is suspicious — the Overlord tests start in five days. If the trolls press now, they'll force our hand."
Sam set the pot down and let the heat steady him. Trolls organized by a shaman were a different problem than random raiders. He finished the meal with brisk, efficient motions and called the bonds to the table. They ate with the easy hunger of those who had fought and won and were still hungry for more.
"Draft new defensive plans," he said when the plates were cleared. "One, Eleven — layered wards on the western approaches, patrol rotations increased, contingency fallback points inside the walls. If the trolls are 3 days out, compress the timeline."
"One and Eleven will coordinate," One confirmed. "I'll push the new patrol routes to the field units now."
Sam moved through the morning like a conductor, the kitchen's normalcy steadying him even as the city shifted into wartime motion.
Sam used his free daily summon and called ten Moon Mages into being, robes flickering with lunar light. He then spent resources to summon ten Tier‑8 Shade Assassins, confirming the Shadow King's Ring scaled with his tier. Orders were quick and precise: Moon Mages to Tide for layered wards; Shade Assassins to One for covert operations.
The Nature Mages' reports lit up his HUD. Sprouts pushed through the soil in neat rows, irrigation channels hummed with controlled rain, and ranches produced at full capacity. Food production — 120% baseline; population support — 5,000 capacity. Sam allowed himself a small, private smile. The food problem that had kept him awake was easing. With harvests coming and ranches at capacity, Twilight could feed more troops and refugees.
He found Vlad in the armory and briefed him. Vlad's face, usually a mask of iron, softened into a grin that was almost feral. "I'm ready," Vlad said. "No troll will breach the wall while I stand."
Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Hold the southern gate and coordinate the golem lines."
Vlad's nod was a promise. The domain's pieces slotted into place: food, wards, troops, and the slow, steady rise of his bonds' tiers. Sam moved to the training yard to see how the new Tier‑8s performed in controlled sparring.
The training yard was churned earth and practice dummies. Sam staged sparring to test control, stamina, and the new edges of power.
Helios and Indra went first. The phoenix, small but fierce, summoned the Solar Halo and let it hum behind him — a ring of molten light that fed his bones. Indra moved like a living storm: Wind Walker made him a blur, Lightning Fang flashed in his jaws. They traded blows in a dance of heat and wind: Helios' aerial maneuvers and precise fire manipulation against Indra's raw, kinetic strikes. Helios' experience showed in timing; Indra's instincts kept him in the fight. When Sam called the halt both were breathing hard and grinning.
Next, Helios faced Dionysus. The sin beast's movements were a tangle of silk and hunger; she used illusions and multi‑leg strikes to create angles Helios had to account for. The fight was closer. Helios' Solar Halo and Celestial Aria gave him reach and holy heat, but Dionysus' Web World and venomous fangs made the Phoenix respect her. Helios eked out a win, but both learned from the exchange.
Finally, Indra and Dionysus squared off. Sam expected a quick match; instead he watched a brutal, intimate melee. Dionysus attacked from four vectors, forcing Indra to readjust constantly. She taught him to anticipate multi‑angle assaults and to use his wind to slip between strikes. Indra answered with savage bites and tail sweeps, learning to close distance and punish openings. When Sam called them off both were exhausted, fur and silk matted with sweat and blood, eyes bright with the thrill of growth.
Sam praised them, feeling a swell of pride that was almost parental. Kong and Titus would return tempered by Vasuki; he was eager to see how the apes had changed. For now, the bonds had shown they were not just stronger — they were smarter about how to use that strength.
A Shade Assass arrived like a thunderclap: bearing a crude banner. He came forward and bowed, voice steady with the news.
"Trolls and goblins," he said. "A host. Led by Girlock Blood Fang."
The assassin then explained that Girlock was a Champion whose reputation seemed to built on bone and chain. The assassin unrolled a map. Girlock's column moved in a long line: trolls in the vanguard, goblins and skirmishers on the flanks, crude siege gear and foragers behind. Riding at Girlock's shoulder was a nightmare: a Nightmare Bear, black and red, the size of a cart, claws like iron and a spiked chain around its neck. The assassin's voice dropped when he described Borto, a goblin shaman forced to walk beside Girlock — resentful, eyes burning with a hunger that was not only for plunder.
"They're two days out," the assassin said. "Girlock wants to set camp by nightfall two days from now."
Sam felt the timeline compress. The Overlord tests were five days away; a war in two days would force his hand and strip him of the chance to present himself on his own terms. He looked at the bonds — Helios small and sleeping, Indra curled against his chest, Dionysus pacing with a predator's patience — and felt the weight of command settle like armor.
"Prepare the walls," he said. "Double patrols on the western approaches. Move Moon Mages to the outer wards and set Shade Assassins on intercept routes. Vlad, reinforce the southern gate and set the golems in two layers."
Vlad's reply was a single, fierce nod. The assassin was dismissed with thanks and continued with its duties. Twilight snapped into the focused, efficient motion of a city preparing for war.
Sam summoned another clone and gave it a single, brutal directive: take a squad of King's Guard Golems and hunt high‑tier monsters. Capture Tier‑8+ if possible; kill if they resist. The clone nodded with blank efficiency and left with a company of iron guardians.
Before the clone left Sam had the Vasuki clone join it. The two together would be a force of uncanny coordination — Sam's tactical mind in duplicate and a serpent's cosmic sense folded into the unit. It was a gamble, but Sam wanted a strike team that could disrupt the trolls' foragers and supply lines.
Sam decided to walk the city walls with Indra in his arms and Helios and Dionysus perched on his shoulders. Watchtowers were full: Moon Mages in robes that shimmered with lunar light, some already at Tier‑7, manning ballistae and ward arrays. Patrols moved like a living lattice below — mounted wolves, shock lizards, Iron Hide Bulls, and shadow lynxes paired with Moon Mages. Citizens moved through the streets with a calm that was almost defiant: children with slimes on their shoulders, merchants leading beasts of burden, farmers checking wagons. The sight steadied Sam. Twilight was not just a fortress; it was a community that had learned to live with monsters and make them allies.
He checked supply lines, food stores, and fallback points. Everything was not perfect, but it was better than a week ago. The Shade Assassins were in position for night raids; the Moon Mages' wards would slow any massed assault; Vlad's golems would hold the gates. Sam felt the domain's defenses like a net under his feet.
Sam had his divine gift waiting in his inventory — a roulette of fate that could grant anything from resources to a game‑changing artifact. He chose not to spin it that night. The gift would be more valuable on the day of the troll assault, when its effect could be decisive. Patience, he told himself.
He did not sleep. Instead he monitored the clone's hunt progress and the patrol, siphoning small amounts of experience and watching the numbers climb. He meditated in short bursts to keep his new Tier‑8 power steady, feeling the difference between being a freshly minted Tier‑8 and being a Tier‑8 with control and infrastructure. The latter was what he needed when the trolls arrived.
One and Eleven finalized contingency plans. Wards were layered, fallback points stocked, and golem lines rehearsed. Sam reviewed troop rotations and the placement of Shade Assassins for targeted strikes. He checked the food stores one last time and sent a final message to the farms: harvest readiness in seven days; ration plans in place.
Outside, the city slept with a watchful eye. Inside, Sam sat on the throne and let the new power settle into him like a second skin. He thought of Vasuki's calm, of Helios' small, steady heat, of Indra's fierce, growing hunger. He thought of Girlock's Nightmare Bear and of Borto's resentful eyes. He thought of the Overlord tests and the way the world seemed to be compressing around him.
Dawn would bring the first scouts' reports. Two days would bring Girlock's host. Sam did not close his eyes. He would be awake when the first horns sounded. He would be ready.