Chapter 4: The King's Gamble
Roman sat in his chambers, staring at the glowing blue interface hovering in front of him. Sleep had eluded him as he eagerly waited for the system to refresh. His fingers tapped restlessly on the desk, his mind racing with the potential of his newfound power.
At dawn, the screen finally updated.
Day 2
Troops: 100 Soldiers
The confirmation brought a wave of relief and determination. It's real. I can summon 100 soldiers every day. This was the cornerstone of his strategy—a way to turn the tide of chaos plaguing his kingdom.
He wasted no time returning to the secluded royal garden. The guards, now accustomed to his strange requests for privacy, kept their distance, though whispers of the king's odd behavior spread among the palace staff.
Standing in the center of the garden, Roman summoned another 100 soldiers. A brilliant light filled the space, and when it faded, 100 men stood before him. Their leather armor was crude, their weapons basic, and their expressions blank yet resolute. Together with the first group, he now commanded 200 soldiers.
---
Roman summoned Luke, the captain of the royal guard and his most trusted ally in the kingdom. If anyone could help him execute his unorthodox plans, it was Luke.
Luke arrived promptly, his heavy boots echoing on the stone paths of the garden. The seasoned knight bowed deeply upon seeing Roman. "Your Majesty," he said, his sharp eyes scanning the rows of soldiers.
"These are my men," Roman began without preamble. "All 200 of them. I want you to take them to the most dangerous part of the capital and throw them into battle. I don't care about losses. They need to fight, bleed, and grow stronger."
Luke's brows furrowed. "Your Majesty, these men are… inexperienced. Sending them into such a situation is—"
Roman cut him off. "They are more capable than you think. Their loyalty is absolute, and their strength grows with each enemy they defeat. Trust me, Luke. Take them to a place where they can be tested to their limits."
Luke hesitated, then nodded. "As you command. Where should I take them?"
"To the Crimson Blades," Roman said coldly.
Luke stiffened. The Crimson Blades were the most notorious gang in the capital, their influence spreading like a plague through the city. Their leader, Red Jax, was a ruthless man who thrived on fear and violence.
"It will be dangerous," Luke said, his tone grim.
Roman's gaze hardened. "All the better."
---
The capital of Death was a city of contrasts. While the nobles lived in opulent estates, the slums were a chaotic labyrinth of narrow alleys, dilapidated buildings, and shadowy figures. The Crimson Blades had made their home in a large warehouse in the heart of the slums, turning it into a fortress bristling with armed thugs.
Luke led the 200 soldiers through the maze-like streets, his experienced guards flanking him for added protection. The summoned men marched in disciplined silence, their eyes devoid of fear.
As they approached the gang's stronghold, Luke raised a hand, signaling a halt. The warehouse loomed before them, its entrance guarded by a dozen armed men. Makeshift barricades surrounded the building, and the air was thick with tension.
Luke stepped forward, addressing the guards. "By order of the king, surrender immediately, or face the consequences."
The thugs laughed, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. One of them, a scarred brute, spat on the ground. "The king? That boy? He doesn't scare us. You've made a big mistake coming here."
Luke's jaw tightened. "Very well. Soldiers, attack!"
---
The battle erupted in a cacophony of screams, clashing steel, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground.
The summoned soldiers charged forward, their movements unrefined but relentless. The Crimson Blades retaliated with brutal efficiency, their familiarity with the terrain giving them an edge. The warehouse turned into a battleground, with fighters clashing in tight quarters and blood staining the wooden floors.
Luke stayed at the forefront, his sword flashing as he cut through the gang members. His movements were a blur of precision and power, each strike lethal. Behind him, the summoned soldiers pressed on, their numbers overwhelming the gang's defenses.
Red Jax, a towering man with a blood-red cloak, emerged from the chaos. His axe was as menacing as his reputation, and his presence alone seemed to rally the remaining gang members.
Luke locked eyes with Jax, his grip tightening on his sword. The two clashed in a violent exchange, their weapons sparking with each collision. Jax fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast, but Luke's skill and discipline eventually won out. With a final, decisive strike, he drove his blade through Jax's chest.
The gang leader fell to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. His death marked the turning point of the battle.
Despite their leader's fall, the gang members fought on with desperation. But the summoned soldiers, though initially clumsy, began to adapt. With each kill, their movements grew sharper, their strikes more precise. It was as if they were absorbing experience from their fallen enemies, evolving into more formidable fighters.
By the time the dust settled, the Crimson Blades had been annihilated. The warehouse was a ruin, its walls splattered with blood. Of the 200 summoned soldiers, only 70 remained, their battered forms standing amidst the carnage.
Luke surveyed the battlefield with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The mission was a success, but the cost had been high.
---
Back at the castle, Roman paced anxiously, waiting for news. When Luke finally returned, his armor stained with blood and his face grim, Roman's heart sank.
"How did it go?" he asked, his voice tense.
Luke bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, the mission was successful. The Crimson Blades have been eradicated. Their leader is dead."
Roman's shoulders relaxed slightly. "And the soldiers?"
Luke hesitated before answering. "Out of 200, only 70 survived. But those who did… they're not the same. They've grown stronger, faster, more skilled. It's as if they've gained years of experience in a single battle."
Roman nodded, his expression unreadable. "That's what I expected. They served their purpose. The survivors will form the core of my army."
Luke regarded him carefully. "Your Majesty, these men… they're unlike anything I've seen. If you can continue to produce soldiers like this, we may stand a chance."
Roman allowed himself a small smile. "That's the plan, Luke. One step at a time."
As Luke left, Roman opened the blue interface once more, his mind racing with possibilities.
Day 3
Troops: 0 Soldiers
Tomorrow, he would summon another 100. With each passing day, his army would grow stronger. For the first time since waking in this world, Roman felt a flicker of hope. The game had only just begun, and he was determined to win.