"They're preparing for war," Arthur said, his voice calm, but beneath that calm was the quiet thunder of fury held in check. "Good. Let them come."
The assassins stood silent, still cloaked in shadow, but every one of them could feel the shift in the air—the sharpness in their lord's tone, the weight of his next move already being shaped like a blade in his mind.
He turned his golden gaze back to Diana, eyes now sharpened with intent. "Double our scouts and reinforce every perimeter. I want the kobolds watched day and night. No movements go unseen. Not a single step, not a whisper."
Diana didn't hesitate. "Yes, my lord," she replied with crisp authority, her eyes burning with purpose.
Arthur turned away once more, the long black cloak around his shoulders billowing slightly as a breeze slipped through the forest. The moonlight caught the edges of his silhouette, casting him like a specter of war standing at the edge of the woods. The rustling leaves above almost seemed to hush in reverence.
"So the goblins want to play this game…" he muttered, voice low as if speaking to the wind itself. "Then we'll turn the board upside down."
A storm was brewing—not of rain or thunder, but of steel, blood, and calculation.
But this time, it would not be Arthur who bled first.
He already knew when the enemy would strike.
And if one knew when the enemy would attack… then the battle was already halfway won.
Arthur remained silent for a while, deep in thought, the gears of war turning behind his golden eyes. The information Diana had brought was more than just valuable—it was a gift. A rare moment of foresight. The goblins had tipped their hand, showing not only their plans, but the layers of deception they were weaving.
Now it was his move.
He looked back at Diana, who remained kneeling.
"We'll return to the territory first," he said firmly. "We need to prepare. Reinforce everything."
He stepped closer, his voice lowering into command once more. "Diana, you will take all 5,000 of the Gold Rank Assassins and spread them along the kobold city's surrounding regions. Use every available stealth tactic—high ground, underground, illusions if you must. I don't want simple scouting reports—I want *insight*. I want to know how they breathe, how they march, where they store their provisions, what path they'll take when they move. I want to know what kind of tea their generals drink before a meeting."
Diana gave a rare, razor-sharp smile. "Understood, my lord. We'll peel back their entire underbelly before they even set foot on the battlefield."
"Good," Arthur said, nodding. "No mistakes. No mercy. Any movement that appears even remotely suspicious—report it. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. But if they find you…"
She straightened, crimson eyes glowing. "Then they die without ever realizing it."
Arthur's smirk returned. "That's why I chose you."
He turned then, his gaze finding Seraphina and Kaelira waiting patiently a few steps away. Seraphina stood with her arms crossed, wind gently curling around her cloak, while Kaelira was already flipping through one of the glowing relics recovered from the raid.
Without another word, Arthur began walking. The leaves rustled underfoot as he moved deeper into the forest's shadows, the path ahead winding back toward his domain—toward the heart of his growing power.
Seraphina and Kaelira followed him, their footsteps light, yet deliberate.
Behind them, Diana raised her hand in a sharp signal. The assassins dispersed in complete silence, their forms melting into the trees like ghosts returning to the dark.
Certainly. Here's your scene rewritten with a longer, more descriptive, immersive, and professional tone, while keeping all major story elements unchanged:
---
After nearly three relentless hours of sprinting through the dense, shadow-strewn forest, the distant outline of the territory's walls finally emerged over the treetops. Morning light had just begun to pierce through the canopy, casting golden rays upon the battered leaves and dew-soaked undergrowth.
Arthur didn't slow down. If anything, the sight of his domain renewed his momentum. His figure surged ahead, a blur of black cloak and unwavering will, pushing through fatigue as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze.
Behind him, Seraphina floated effortlessly above the ground, her wind-wreathed form gliding between the trees like a phantom of the storm. Kaelira followed closely, leaping over roots and ducking under low-hanging branches with the grace of a seasoned scout.
Soon, the trio arrived at the gates of the territory—tall, iron-reinforced walls rising like sentinels before them. Guards on duty snapped to attention the moment they saw Arthur approach. The gates parted without a word.
The city inside was already beginning to stir. Farmers, smiths, mages, and common folk moved about in the pale dawn light, unaware that the next storm of war was fast approaching. Arthur moved through the streets with purpose, and those who glimpsed their lord stepped aside with reverence, bowing their heads in respect.
Without so much as a pause, Arthur headed straight toward the Lord's Estate at the heart of the city.
On the way, his eyes flicked toward Kaelira. "Inform all Gold Rank heroes and commanders. I want them in the hall immediately."
"Yes, my lord," Kaelira said, already vanishing into a gust of wind.
By the time Arthur reached the grand doors of his manor, the sun had fully risen, casting a soft light across the marble steps. He entered without ceremony, the door closing behind him with a deep *thud*. Inside, the grand hall was quiet—empty, save for the echo of his footsteps as he crossed the polished floors and ascended the dais.
He took his seat at the head of the long council table—carved from ancient elderwood, polished to a gleam, and lined with ornate silver inlays. From here, he could see the entire hall, and more importantly, he could think.
His golden eyes stared ahead, unfocused, as plans and scenarios formed and dissolved within his mind like pieces on a war table.
"This time... it's not just a gathering," he thought. "It's an assault. A direct declaration of war by a monster city."
He clenched his jaw slightly. "We don't yet know their full number, but the kobolds will come in the millions. It will be a siege. A test of everything we've built so far."
His thoughts darkened further. "Even if we survive their assault, the goblins of Dark City will be waiting. Watching. Ready to strike when we are weakest. That's their plan—to let someone else soften us first. Vultures."
He leaned back in his seat, one hand curling under his chin, the other tapping softly on the armrest. His mind raced through troop numbers, formations, domain strengths, and terrain advantages.
A storm of silence filled the hall.
Then—
*CLACK*
The great doors opened.
Boots echoed across the floor in synchronized steps as one by one, the commanders of his realm—his heroes—entered the hall. Some were dressed in armor still gleaming with the polish of morning preparations, others wore battle robes, weapons holstered, eyes sharp and alert. Each one carried the aura of seasoned warriors—Gold Rank elites who had seen bloodshed and victory under Arthur's banner.
George entered first, sword slung across his back. His serious gaze immediately locked onto Arthur before he took his seat. Voloric followed, his heavy armor clinking faintly as he moved with rigid discipline.
Lily and Zara came next, the scent of arcane energy trailing behind them like perfume. Kaelira returned last, having ensured everyone had been summoned as commanded.
Ronan entered with a military poise befitting his cavalry rank, followed by Olivia, Ava, Alisha, Isabella, Dock, Knuckle, Blaze and the rest of the commander and Heroes.
They each took their places without a word.
Silence reigned once more.
None of them dared disturb the stillness. Not when their lord wore that look—the expression of a man holding back the weight of an entire realm's future in his thoughts. Arthur's brows were drawn slightly, the corners of his lips unmoving, his eyes sharper than blades but distant—somewhere between fearlessness and fury.
Even Blaze, the Platinum Guardian, respected that silence.
The great hall seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Arthur exhaled slowly and lifted his gaze, letting it pass over every one of his heroes seated before him.
What came next would determine everything.
And every soul in that room knew\...
War was no longer a distant threat.
It had already begun.
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Author's Notice:
Hey everyone…
First of all, I want to say—I'm really sorry for the late chapters. I know many of you have been waiting patiently (or perhaps pacing around like a final boss waiting for the protagonist to arrive), but life has decided to hit me with a side quest I didn't sign up for.
To put it bluntly: I'm tired.
Not the good kind of tired where you pass out on a comfy bed after writing ten thousand words and feel accomplished—no, I'm talking about the kind of tired where your brain feels like it's been microwaved on medium heat for 8 hours straight. Not physically exhausted... but mentally drained. Like a mana bar stuck at zero, and no potions in sight.
Recently, I had to travel to a different city to take an exam. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. It was an exam so difficult it felt like the question paper was written in a forgotten dragon tongue only the gods and academic sadists understand. I walked in with hopes and walked out with existential dread.
And just as I stumbled out of the exam hall like a half-dead adventurer... boom—a result from a previous exam was released. I checked it.
It was, to be honest, the kind of result that makes you want to curl into a blanket and seriously consider starting a goblin farm in a forest somewhere far away. Definitely not what I had hoped for.
I wanted to write more chapters. I really did. But between exams, travel, and a storm of thoughts, I forgot parts of the plot. My own characters looked at me like, "Who are you, and why are you in our story?" So I had to stop and take detailed notes of everything important—heroes, battles, units, talents—like an overworked librarian in a magical war archive.
Now here's the real struggle...
I'm stuck between two massive raid bosses: "Career Pressure" and "Passion for Writing."
One demands I focus on building a stable future, earn money, and become financially independent (so I don't feel like a burden on my family). The other tugs at my soul and whispers, "Keep writing... you were born for this."
But reality is brutal. You can't buy groceries with passion points or pay rent using plot twists. So here I am—torn between the practical and the purposeful, between responsibilities and dreams. And it's hard. Really hard.
Life, as usual, feels like a final exam I never studied for. Unfair? Definitely. But that's the game we're all in.
So if updates are slower right now, I hope you'll understand. I haven't given up on this story—not even close. I'm just gathering strength, collecting EXP, and surviving a rough dungeon level called "Adulthood."
Thank you to every single one of you who's been reading, waiting, and supporting me. Your patience means more than you can imagine.
And don't worry—the storm is brewing in the story too.
Sincerely,
—A very tired author caught between reality and realms
(Still not giving up) 💔📚⚔️