The demonic monsters mass-produced by the Black Tower were, to the Cult of Four, nothing more than cannon fodder. Their true, professional armies had yet to even appear on the battlefield. The Deputy Commander's mage legions were here for them.

"Bro, what are you trying to say…?"

"That silver-clad guardian army won't be joining the main battles," Alexander explained. "Their sole purpose is to protect the mages."

"What about your shadow army, then?"

"That's different."

Alexander didn't elaborate, leaving Orion to stew in his own questions. It seemed the Deputy Commander's forces didn't fully trust Orion or Alexander to protect them.

"You don't understand. It's their own protection mechanism," Alexander clarified, sensing Orion's thoughts. "It has nothing to do with trust. They simply value their own lives more than most."

With those final words, the phantom vanished, leaving Orion alone to ponder their meaning.

The next day, the teleportation array in the Black Tower flared to life again and again. Onyx, Dace, Earthshaker, Gronthar, Thundar, Ursa, and the six regular armies of the Stoneheart Horde had arrived.

Orion stood waiting in the plaza, personally welcoming his subordinates.

"My lord, Onyx reports for duty!"

"My lord, Dace reports for duty!"

"My lord, Earthshaker reports for duty!"

...

One by one, every commander of Alpha-level or higher came before him, their faces alight with a fanatical devotion. They couldn't tell the difference between his main body and this mirror avatar; all they knew was that the man standing before them was the Giant King of the Stoneheart Horde, the pillar of their strength and the vessel of their collective glory.

Orion greeted each of them with a warm smile, moving down the line.

"Prophet, it's been too long."

"Dace, well done. You've reached the peak of the Alpha-tier."

"And Thundar, that youngling of yours, Degar. I have high hopes for him."

"Earthshaker, I've received intel that the minotaurs have a presence in the Silverwood Realm. I expect you to defeat their chieftains and unite the realm's tribes under our banner."

It was rare to see their king so approachable. It reminded the oldest among them of the early days, back when they were a small tribe fighting for survival in the Black Forest.

Caught up in the emotion of the reunion, Orion felt a surge of passion. "This is a new battlefield!" he declared, his voice ringing across the plaza. "For the future of the horde, for a greater world for our younglings to inherit, we will fight and we will conquer! From this moment on, we are the masters of this land!"

His impromptu speech ignited a fire in his commanders.

"My lord, wherever your blade points, we will follow!"

"This is our territory now!"

"We are the masters here!"

Their blood was hot, their fighting spirit soaring. Orion said no more, simply ordering them to assemble their armies and prepare for battle.

After his commanders departed, Orion remained by the portal. Once the last of the horde's armies had come through, Lorelia and Dirtclaw from the Emerald Dream Realm arrived.

"Master! Lorelia missed you so much!"

The moment she saw him, she launched herself through the air. Orion simply extended a finger and pressed it gently against her forehead, stopping her mid-flight.

"Be serious," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "This is a warzone."

Her eyes immediately welled with tears. Pouting, she trotted over and stood beside him, her lower lip trembling.

Dirtclaw then stepped forward, bowing so low his snout nearly touched the ground. "My lord! Your most faithful servant, Dirtclaw of the Hell-Drake Hounds, offers you his greetings and his eternal devotion!" As always, the sycophancy was laid on thick.

"Upper-tier legendary," Orion noted, genuinely surprised. "Very good." It seemed Dirtclaw had profited handsomely from his time with Arthas in the Godforsaken Land.

"The battle is not far off. Stay sharp," Orion said, shifting his attention. He handed a storage pouch to Lorelia, filled with the resources allocated to her for the campaign. In this war, the two biggest resource sinks would be the Black Tower and Lorelia herself.

He had summoned her because the tower's conversion process had a fatal flaw: it required living sacrifices.

While there were still some slaves in reserve, that supply wouldn't last forever. In a war of unknown duration, bringing in a broodmother was a strategic necessity. He was responsible for the entire campaign, and for every warrior fighting in it.

After settling in Lorelia and Dirtclaw, Orion went to the sixth floor of the tower. Alexander was there, his phantom staring out a window into the distance.

"Bro, what are your orders?" Orion asked, getting straight to the point. He knew Alexander well enough by now; he wouldn't be waiting here unless he had something to say.

Alexander turned, his expression serious. "A master of attack is one whose enemy does not know what to defend. A master of defense is one whose enemy does not know what to attack."

Orion understood immediately. Alexander was telling him not to play by the book.

"Alright, cut the philosophy, bro," Orion said, a grin touching his lips. "Just tell me what to do. You've got command." He had no ego about it; Alexander was a demigod with vastly more experience.

"An army's strength is in its morale; a general's strength is in his will," Alexander continued.

The meaning was clear. The plan clicked into place for Orion.

"Bro, you could have just said you don't want to play defense and would rather take the fight to them," Orion deadpanned. A year ago, he would never have dared to be so familiar. But after everything they'd been through—the Crucible, the Slaughter Space, Dragonflame Island—he'd grown close to this quietly intense demigod.

"It's not that simple," Alexander replied, his voice dropping. An aura of glacial fury radiated from the phantom, so intense that Orion felt the temperature in the room drop.

"I will use our actions, our morale, to send a message to those two traitors. To let them know that we are here."

His eyes seemed to burn with a cold fire. "I will show the clown and the Witch that against us, there is no strategy, no retreat. There is only war."

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