For the next seven days, the Sovereign Legion turned inward—into the Library of Arts, the newly established skill hall carved beneath their base.
Scrolls glowed with ancient runes. Books lined the stone shelves. Instructors stood ready, guiding disciples in the fundamentals. Techniques ranged from flame-enhanced sword strikes to silent steps that masked even the heart's beat.
Each division trained intensely:
Archers learned "Hawk Piercer" and "Multi-Shot Rain."
Assassins practiced "Shadow Veil" and "Crimson Step."
Healers refined "Vital Surge" and "Group Recovery Field."
Combat units trained with "Iron Body," "Whirlwind Slash," and elemental fusions.
Zairon remained distant, watching from above occasionally, silently judging growth.
On the seventh day, Zairon summoned his top commanders.
"The first target city," he said, "is here." He pointed to a red-marked dot on a large map. "Fort Relkan. A fortress city ruled by merchant guilds and old bloodlines. Corruption runs deep. Crime rate—nearly 70% in the outer zones."
He narrowed his eyes, voice calm but sharp.
"This city will be ours."
He looked at Zareth, Lena, Gareth, and the three new female commanders.
"You will take the Legion's forces. Conquer this city from within. Strategically. No mass panic. No brute chaos. Infiltrate, dismantle, replace."
"What about you?" asked Lena.
Zairon turned, cape flowing behind him.
"I will only step in… if something too strong for you appears."
Then, with a crooked grin, "So I suggest you don't disappoint me."