Night fell over the camp of the Sovereign Legion, and for once, things were calm.
Zairon stood on a small hill just beyond their temporary base, arms folded, eyes glowing faintly with spiritual energy. Below him, his people laughed, rested, and sharpened weapons under the soft lantern lights.
"Rest while you can," he muttered to himself, smirking. "Because tomorrow, the game levels up."
But before that—some upgrades were in order.
The Next Morning
The camp stirred to life, but Zairon had been up for hours. He'd spent the early morning meditating, refining his half-formed technique and syncing with the strange energy that pulsed in this world's atmosphere. He felt his cultivation strengthening even in stillness… but that wasn't enough.
If his Legion was going to thrive, they needed more than just muscle.
He gathered everyone in the central square and raised a hand.
"Everyone, listen up. You've trained hard, fought harder, and earned your rest—but we're not stopping. You're going to receive something precious today: cultivation techniques tailored to your strengths."
The crowd stirred with excitement.
"These techniques will let you slowly gain spiritual energy and EXP over time, even while resting or training. It won't replace dungeon raids, but it'll give you a foundation."
With that, Zairon distributed scrolls and manuals—some basic, some advanced, all handpicked or modified through his system's interface. Fighters, healers, supports—each received a technique that resonated with their role.
He turned to Garreth, Marina, and Lena. "Make sure your squads train with this. It'll make the difference between surviving and conquering."
Later That Day – Guild Base
Zairon returned to the base that had slowly started forming near a cliffside and a natural spring. The location was strategic: high ground, access to water, and space to expand.
But as he walked through the half-constructed halls of their command center, he clicked his tongue. "This isn't worthy of a Sovereign."
Cracked walls. Shabby floors. One tower instead of five.
He summoned a few of the support guild members—craftsmen, architects, and planners who'd joined the Legion post-rescue.
"Fix it," he said simply.
One of the architects looked confused. "Uh, sir, do you have a vision or specific design you want—?"
Zairon grinned. "Yes. It should intimidate the gods."
He pulled out a scroll and sketched something insane: obsidian towers, floating platforms, dragon statues, war halls lined with crystals that pulsed with spiritual energy.
They looked horrified. They also immediately got to work.
Evening
The camp was peaceful, spirits high. Training had ended, bellies were full, and the Sovereign Legion's new cultivation techniques were already showing results—many could feel energy gathering in their cores even in sleep.
Zairon stood on a balcony overlooking them, cape fluttering behind him, the moon casting a silver glow on his wicked smile.
He raised his voice.
"Tomorrow," he said, and all eyes snapped toward him, "we enter a D-Rank dungeon. There will be E-Rank monsters. There will be D-Rank monsters. Maybe more."
Murmurs passed through the crowd, but no one broke rank.
"Know your limits. Fulfill your roles. Follow your squad leaders."
He pointed to Garreth, Marina, and Lena who stepped forward, proud and ready.
"And tomorrow—" Zairon's grin widened—"I will be personally joining you."
The crowd gasped slightly.
"Yes," he continued, voice rising. "You will fight under the Sovereign's eye. Under my shadow. Witness what it means to be born for chaos, to be the chosen of the Gates!"
He laughed—loud, manic, and wild.
"Let the world remember the day it tried to test us. Let the Sovereign Legion burn this dungeon to ash!"
Tomorrow, blood would spill. Levels would rise. And Zairon?
He'd be right in the center, laughing like a lunatic.