The echo of the Sovereign Slash still lingered in the dungeon, like thunder refusing to die.
Zairon stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching the remnants of the monster horde claw through the blood-soaked rubble, desperate but feeble.
He turned his gaze toward the Legion, their eyes wide—some in awe, some in fear, most in reverence.
With a flick of his wrist, he pointed his blade toward the battlefield.
"Zareth."
The tall, sharp-eyed man stepped forward from the shadows of Maruna's squad. His composure was unshaken, his aura quiet but decisive.
"Yes, my Lord."
Zairon's voice rang through the chamber like a sovereign's decree:
"Take command of the rest of the clean-up. This is your trial."
"Kill. Earn your EXP. If danger reaches a level beyond your control, I'll act. Until then..."
He smiled faintly.
"I expect you to butcher them all."
Zareth bowed once, eyes flashing with purpose.
"As you command, Sovereign."
He turned to the squads. "Form squads! Protect the healers! Rotate out the injured!"
Lena immediately moved, directing her squad with swift efficiency. Maruna disappeared into the darkness once more, blades drawn. Gareth roared a battle cry and charged in, his squad following like unleashed wolves.
The air filled with the sounds of battle—steel against bone, spells lighting up the dim, blood-slick cavern. The surviving monsters fought with rage, but now they faced a Legion with structure, with fire, with a cause.
And watching it all was Zairon.
Arms crossed. Eyes unblinking. Mind already elsewhere.
"This is how it begins."
"A true army. One that fights even without me."
He looked at the walls around him, at the blood painting the stone.
"Soon, we won't just raid dungeons…"
"We'll take cities. Nations. Gates."
His EXP counter ticked up slowly in the corner of his vision as his subordinates scored kill after kill.
He didn't lift a finger.
But the world… was already trembling.