"Ding-dong! Congratulations, Host, for winning an epic battle! Your name has spread across the North, known by all! Reward: Tier 4 Commander Marcus *1!
Daily number of refugees arriving in Riverguard doubled, plus 500 regular citizens of Zaltarion." The system's voice chimed in belatedly.
"Marcus? System, is it the Marcus I know?" Rynar immediately perked up at the name Marcus, wondering if it was the city defense officer of Zaltarion.
"Please explore and find out yourself!" The system promptly shut him down.
"... Third-rate system," Rynar grumbled.
Though he wasn't sure if this Marcus was the same city defense officer from the game, a Tier 4 commander was still a good deal.
If they had a commander of that rank during the battle, they wouldn't have suffered so much.
After all, the elves, skilled in guerrilla warfare, were forced into leading a defensive battle due to the lack of options.
The other two rewards were also quite practical: doubling the number of refugees daily and an influx of 500 new residents.
These would all contribute to boosting Riverguard's population. Rynar was already planning to expand his army of Rapid Infantry on his return.
His frustration was evident—after the battle, only 200 light infantry remained, with 300 lost to both death and injury. His already scarce military forces were stretched thin!
"Wait, did I forget to sign in today?" Rynar glanced at the busy soldiers nearby, suddenly remembering something.
"System, sign in!" Rynar rubbed his hands together, excited.
"Sign-in successful! Congratulations, Host, for obtaining the Magic Card—Magic Rune Fortress (Intermediate)!"
"Huh? What's this?" Rynar stared at the purple-gold card floating in his hand with confusion.
The card's back displayed a glowing, intricate six-pointed magic star, while the front depicted a city radiating a white halo.
After studying the card closely, Rynar's expression shifted dramatically.
This card could designate any territory or town and immediately generate an intermediate rune fortress (10 meters high, 5 meters wide).
"Damn! Then what has Radir been working so hard for?" Rynar mentally calculated.
Only about one-fifth of Riverguard's walls had been constructed so far, and now a single card could solve it all...
"Let's go! Back to Riverguard!" Rynar shook his head, choosing not to complain further about the system. At least the city's defense problem was now solved.
"Halt!" Suddenly, a vigilant Zaltarion City Guard shouted.
Rynar turned and saw an armored figure holding a tower shield as tall as himself and a massive lance, running towards them step by step.
"Tier 4 commander?" Reynard, with his keen Paladin senses, immediately identified the rank of the approaching warrior.
"Let him come through, he's one of us!" Rynar only needed one glance to recognize the city defense officer from the game! That distinct armor was unmistakable.
The heavy, gleaming shoulders bore sharp spikes, and the dragon-shaped rune glowed on the armor's surface. Atop his barrel-shaped helmet lay a roaring dragon.
"I must see the King!" Marcus's voice boomed as soon as he arrived.
"I am now the King of Zaltarion, Rynar!" Rynar stood and dusted off his armor.
Boom!
Marcus dropped to one knee, and the heavy sound of his armor hitting the ground echoed.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" Marcus saluted.
"Rise. From now on, you will command the rapid infantry of Riverguard. I trust you won't disappoint my expectations." Rynar stared at him, his tone serious.
"Rest assured! I will train an infantry corps as immovable as a mountain and invincible in battle!" Marcus pounded his chest in promise.
"Our population can't support large-scale conscription yet. For now, you'll have to start by training these light infantry," Rynar pointed to the dusty, disheveled recruits.
"Got it!" Marcus grinned broadly.
Rynar had no doubts about Marcus's abilities. After all, becoming the city defense officer of the capital required real skill.
In Rynar's memory, Marcus had perished in the final defense of Zaltarion City, having reached Tier 6 by then.
He had fallen heroically during a siege by the dark faction's high-ranking fighters...
But this time, the tragedy of the Zaltarion Empire would not be repeated! Rynar resolved firmly in his heart.
As if mocking him, the system chimed in again: "Host, stop daydreaming. The Zaltarion Empire isn't easily rebuilt. The weather's cooling down—better stock up on more earth for warmth."
"Hey! Damn you!" Rynar immediately cursed at the system, frustrated.
Other systems in stories made their hosts overpowered, but his seemed intent on tormenting him—giving him men without supplies, soldiers without food, constantly trying to make his life harder.
"Please refrain from insulting this system. The system and host are one. Insulting me is the same as insulting yourself."
"... " Rynar was momentarily speechless. Fine, he wouldn't bother arguing with this half-baked system anymore.
"Let's go home!" Rynar's eyes fell on the urn cradled by one of the light infantrymen, and his nose stung with emotion.
...
"Sigh! King Rynar has been gone for days now. I wonder how they're doing..." Aranthor stood atop the walls of Loshanier City.
"No idea, but things aren't looking good on our side either!" Elenthor pointed towards the dark forest. Orc wolf riders had already begun appearing at the forest's edge in recent days.
"I just hope King Rynar is safe, or we'll be caught between two fronts," Aranthor fretted, watching the soldiers patrolling the walls. His forces were still too few.
Most of the city's defenses were now handled by the Star Elves, and he had even begun training ordinary adult men.
If push came to shove, these civilians would be their last line of defense.
"Report! My lord! King Rynar and his forces have returned!" A soldier stationed on the riverbank across from Riverguard came galloping in, shouting as he spurred his horse.
"Open the gates! Let him in!" Aranthor waved his hand.
The city gates creaked open, just enough for one person to slip through. The messenger quickly darted in, and the gates slammed shut behind him.
"Hurry! Tell me, how are they?" Aranthor asked anxiously.
"This is a letter from King Rynar!" The soldier pulled a still-warm letter from his chest and handed it to Aranthor with both hands.
Elenthor, curious, craned her neck to catch a glimpse of its contents.
"To the honorable King Aquavia and King Singrey, I thank you for your concern and for looking after Riverguard during my absence. This battle..."
The letter recounted the events of the battle in detail, describing the heavy losses they had suffered.
A third of their forces had been wiped out, a blow that would make anyone wince. For elves, such a loss would be enough to disband an army.
"King Rynar's forces won, but the cost was high... our strength has been diminished once more," Aranthor sighed.
"Don't forget, the real enemy hasn't even shown up yet..." Elenthor added wearily.
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