The woods were no longer safe.

  By the third day since their flight from Aurelia, the trees felt tighter. The sky above seemed narrower. The sound of hooves—once distant—was now a constant threat.

  The Empire had doubled its efforts.

  Another squad of hussar had been spotted at dawn, cresting a ridge before vanishing back into the fog. They never engaged directly—but they didn’t let up either.

  “They’re testing us,” the old soldier said grimly. “Looking for a weakness.”

  Karl nodded, face pale with exhaustion. His coat was tattered, and his hands shook from cold and hunger.

  “We need more people,” he muttered. “Or we won’t last another ambush.”

  ---

  The Star Key pulsed.

  A message hovered before Karl’s eyes.

  > [Your influence has grown.]

  > [Your leadership under fire has been acknowledged.]

  > [You may now summon 15 additional Starborn.]

  > [WARNING: Summon now? Proximity to hostiles detected.]

  Karl hesitated.

  Then confirmed.

  ---

  They arrived like whispers of firelight.

  Fifteen more figures, each one blinking into the glade behind their makeshift camp. Clothes adapted to the setting, rough and patchy—but faces alive with confusion, curiosity, and adrenaline.

  “What the hell is this?” one asked, patting himself down.

  “Whoa,” said another. “This isn’t a loading zone—it’s a warzone.”

  The old players swarmed them instantly.

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  “No time to explain! We’re surrounded!”

  “This is Aurelia! Or near it. Don’t ask why—ask how to help!”

  “Get a stick. Get a blade. Get in formation.”

  ---

  There was no room for orientation.

  Within minutes, the new players were handed spears, rusty short swords, and even broken pitchforks. Some of the veterans gave up their own looted sabres, offering quick instructions on grip and stance.

  The old soldier walked up to Karl.

  “Double the numbers. Still half the training.”

  “Better than zero,” Karl replied. “We can use them.”

  He pointed at a nearby slope—a gentle rise of rock and moss that overlooked a narrow pass.

  “There,” he said. “We hit them first.”

  ---

  The ambush was crude.

  They positioned themselves just below the ridge line, hidden behind brush and low boulders. Karl ordered traps placed on both flanks—stakes, tripwires, a few of those jagged pitfall pits they’d already used.

  The players dug into their positions with the desperation of hunted men.

  Then came the sound.

  Twelve hussar, armored in steel and lacquered leather, rode into the pass. They weren’t scouts. These were hitmen. Precision blades of the Empire.

  They didn’t expect thirty opponents.

  ---

  The first wave struck from above.

  A player rolled a boulder downhill, crushing a horse’s front legs. Another let loose a crude crossbow bolt—ricocheting off a helmet, but distracting just long enough for two players to leap from the treeline.

  Blades clanged. Men shouted.

  A hussar raised his curved sabre and was immediately tackled from behind by three players. They didn’t fight clean—but they fought hard.

  A pit trap swallowed two horses whole. Screams echoed through the gorge.

  Karl stood just outside the melee, yelling orders and directing reserves.

  “For the flank! Push them left!”

  ---

  It lasted twelve minutes.

  When it was over, five hussar were dead. Two fled, one on foot. The rest were bound with ropes, stripped of weapons and armor.

  Twelve magnificent horses stood trembling in the clearing.

  The players were panting, muddy, victorious.

  “Holy crap,” one whispered. “Did we just... win?”

  Another punched the air. “We got cavalry loot!”

  “Mounts! Finally! I’m not walking anymore!”

  ---

  The distribution was swift.

  Karl oversaw the gear allocation personally—breastplates, sabres, powder horns, saddle bags. They couldn’t outfit everyone, but they could arm the best.

  Two to three players per horse. The injured rode with scouts. The heavier fighters took the rear.

  It wasn’t elegant.

  But it was fast.

  ---

  That night, they made camp under the crescent moon.

  Karl sat by the fire, reading the updated stats in his Star Key system.

  > [Player Count: 30]

  > [Morale: Stable]

  > [Mobility: Increased]

  > [Pursuit Threat: High]

  He looked at the firelight dancing on steel and faces.

  They were no longer a band of strays.

  They were becoming a force.

  Not yet an army.

  But something close.

  ---

  And far to the south, a Raven watched them through a spyglass from a distant cliff.

  “They doubled in size,” he whispered.

  Another Raven beside him spoke.

  “Orders?”

  The first closed his scope.

  “We tell the Emperor.”

  ---

  And in the dark halls of Aurelia, the Emperor listened.

  He closed his eyes.

  And smiled.

  “Now it begins.”