The sun had barely crested the mountain rim when the march began.
Forty skeletons led the charge—tiered, evolved, disciplined. Among them walked Deathreavers and Warden Sentinels, flanked by archers whose shadows moved faster than their arrows. Spell-charged Cryptweavers hovered like wraiths, bones wreathed in silent energy.
At their center strode Iden, his cloak flowing, his fingers twitching near the summoner's core gem embedded at his belt.
Kael walked just behind him, and Rael, armored in softsilver and reinforced cloth, followed with the civilians-turned-volunteers forming the supply line.
"Today," Iden called, his voice cold steel, "we bury Ironrest in ash."
The group moved swiftly—Nyra's scouting paths had revealed a clean route south, avoiding patrols and traps.
Too clean.
Even Nyra frowned as they passed under the hanging iron sigil marking the edge of the candidate-controlled zone.
"It's too quiet," she muttered beside Iden.
He gave her a glance but said nothing. The plan continued.
Unbeknownst to them, three shadows had already peeled off from Ironrest hours earlier.
The three Candidate overlords, cloaked by mage-forged illusions and predator-type summons, bypassed the forest routes entirely, using a long-forgotten mountain tunnel beneath the cliffs to slip around Iden's marching forces.
"Let him take our scraps," the warrior-type candidate had growled."Let him enjoy the ruins. We'll break his throne while he plays at hero."
By nightfall, the trio stood on the outskirts of Iden's village—hidden just beyond the treeline.
Three silhouettes.
Three forces.
Three twisted smiles.
And one massive mistake.
Back at Ironrest, the siege had lasted barely fifteen minutes.
Ashmark smashed the gate with a ground-quaking charge. Pickstrike's siege skeletons brought the forge crashing down with a single soul-laced drill blast. The few guards who resisted were dispatched swiftly—some by Iden himself, whose skeletal blade split the last summoner's mana core with chilling precision.
Rael and Kael moved through the panicked village, healing wounds, cutting chains, and leading the villagers out in waves.
The cages of mutated beasts were broken open—dozens of eyes blinking free for the first time in weeks.
"All of this," Iden murmured, stepping through the central longhouse, taking in stolen food, crates of rare ore, and spell-scrolls still warm, "now belongs to us."
He activated his system.
[Resources Acquired: +784 Iron, +220 Beast Hides, +61 Rare Components, +12 Blueprint Fragments][Population Gained: +37 Civilians, +5 Skilled Crafters, +1 Beast Whisperer]
The village's gates were still. Skeletons patrolled, unaware.
The Candidates emerged from the trees, eyes glinting with malicious hunger.
The one in front raised a hand, smirking.
"Let's knock."