Chapter Five: Foundations of Blood

  Lucien named his growing force the "Thorn Legion."

  It was more than an army. It was an idea—a religion of dominance, built on fear, forged in blood.

  Training began immediately.

  Every able-bodied villager, freed slave, and child was conscripted. There were no exceptions. Those too weak to train were given one chance to work in the forges, kitchens, or fields. Those who failed even that—disappeared.

  Lucien drilled them ruthlessly. Morning and night they trained: formation marching, ambush tactics, knife fighting, archery. Failure was punished. Brutally. Publicly.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  He taught them the arts of survival from his memories of the VRMMORPG—sabotage, espionage, psychological warfare—techniques unknown to this primitive world.

  Ash Village, once a cursed pit, became a fortress.

  Walls were rebuilt with spiked barricades. Hidden pitfalls lined the perimeter. Watchtowers—each manned by crossbowmen—rose above the muddy huts. Lucien had recreated the crossbow from memory, gifting his people a weapon of terror.

  He sent raiding parties to nearby villages, abducting craftsmen, healers, and alchemists. No mercy was shown. Entire settlements vanished overnight, absorbed into his growing force or burned to ash.

  Captured leaders were butchered and displayed as trophies along the roads leading to Ash Village.

  Each act fed the legend of the "Thorn Sovereign"—a dark king rising from ruin.

  Lucien's influence spread like a disease.

  Within three months, a dozen villages fell under his rule. Merchants and travelers spoke in hushed tones of a tyrant who bent magic and might to his will.

  But Lucien's ambitions were not satisfied.

  He hungered for more.

  He needed a city—a true bastion—to anchor his empire.

  And in the distance, beyond the cursed woods and broken hills, lay Carrion—a decaying city-state ruled by corrupt merchants and weak sorcerers.

  Perfect.

  It was time for the Thorn Legion to march.