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Two weeks.

That’s all it took for to turn a pack of wandering males into an army that made the sands tremble.

Under the red desert sun, the camp stretched as far as the eye could see, bristling with stakes, tents, and black banners. Eight hundred warriors stood in perfect ranks, torsos oiled, weapons raised. Their cries rose in waves, tid to the pounding of fists against bare chests, resonating like a war drum.

— SORA! SORA! SORA!

The na cracked through the air like a divine command.

I advanced through the center of the wide avenue that split the camp. The males stepped aside, standing tall, eyes shining with the fervor I had forged. They had co from all corners of the desert, drawn by my promise: a future where they would no longer be whipped dogs to female tribes... but wolves that devour.

Around , my five won marched, weapons in hand, dressed for war.

Not ornants. Not trophies. My alpha she-wolves.

Syra, the tattooed one, wore partial black leather armor, leaving her hips bare and her tattoos visible, animated by the torchlight. Her chest was bound in a rigid cuirass that molded to every curve, her short javelins strapped in an X across her back. Every step she took was a sensual challenge to the eyes that followed her.

Varkash, the colossus, was armored across her chest, shoulders bare, studded bracers running to her elbows. Her heavy breasts could be seen even beneath the plate, and her double axe rested on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing. She smiled at every male who t her gaze, a predator’s smile promising violence.

Kaelira, the marked chieftess, had donned a commander’s attire: a short dark leather tunic, cinched at the waist, a scarlet cape whipping in the wind, and a broad sword at her hip. Her muscular thighs showed through the slit in her skirt, her high boots striking against the hardened ground.

Sae moved in silence, supple leather molding every line of her legs, compact bows crossed at her back, daggers at her waist. Her cold gaze swept the crowd.

Nyss wore a cut tal armor shaped to leave her mbranous wings free and bare the base of her tail, which swayed behind her like a serpent ready to strike. Her breastplate molded to her generous chest, with a central opening where bare skin contrasted with steel. Her thighs, wrapped in straps, moved with the calculated slowness of a predator. Two curved daggers glead at her waist, and every beat of her wings cast a nacing shadow on the sand.

And ...

Black armor with steel-plated shoulders, a short blood-colored cape, reinforced gloves, and a long sword hanging at my right hip. A command dagger at the left. Every piece of tal had been chosen, fitted, polished. My silhouette invited no negotiation. It imposed.

Conversations in the ranks fell silent as we passed. In their place: excited murmurs, quickened breaths, lustful glances sliding over my won.

— By the hells... she’s a succubus.

— Fuck... look at the tattooed one’s thighs...

— The colossus could smother with her tits...

— It’s them... the Grand Sora’s she-wolves...

We reached the central square: a crude raised platform where I would address them. The sea of males closed behind us, forming a solid wall of panting bodies. The midday sun struck the blades, making the crowd glitter like a mass of deadly shards.

I climbed the platform, the five won taking position around like the points of a crown. All eyes converged. Not a breath was wasted. Even the sand seed to hold its wind.

I raised my hand.

Silence fell.

— Formation! I roared.

Eight hundred bodies aligned in a single motion, the stomp of boots hitting the ground like one heartbeat. Dust rose, wrapping the square in an ochre veil. The red sun beat down, burning skin, making the taut muscles of the males glisten.

The heat spared no one. Sweat stread down bare chests, tracing lines to leather belts. The scent of dust, tal, and heated flesh filled the air. It was the sll of an army that breathes, lives, and is ready to bite.

My five won dispersed among the ranks.

Syra moved behind a group of young recruits, eyes piercing, a leather whip in hand. Her black leather outfit molded to her bare ass, each motion making her tattoos ripple. She slapped the whip against her palm, the sharp crack cutting the air.

— Straighter than that, she growled, stepping in to adjust a male’s posture, her fingers sliding along his spine. You want to be a wolf or a bitch?

The male instantly squared his shoulders, jaw clenched.

Varkash drilled striking routines. Her axe hissed through the air with every demonstration. The recruits sweated in heavy drops trying to match her pace, arms trembling under the weight of their blades. When one faltered, she closed in, placed her huge hand on his neck, and murmured loud enough for to hear:

— If you can’t hold your axe, you’ll never have the strength to hold a female...

Stifled laughs around them. A flush on the male’s face. Imdiate motivation.

Kaelira led a group at a run around the camp, her scarlet cape snapping behind her. Her muscular thighs devoured the distance, and the males struggled to keep pace. Each ti one slowed, she gave him a killing glare and spat:

— If you fall now, you’ve no place in the blood of battles.

Sae instructed the archers. Posture, breathing, string tension. Her slender fingers guided the calloused hands of the males, her body pressing against theirs to correct the angle. Her words were cold, but every touch sent a visible shiver.

Nyss took the fast veterans. She had them charge her three at a ti, dodged their blades, and in one fluid motion, disard them using her tail to hook their ankles. Each ti a male fell, she planted her foot on his chest, leaning just enough so her smile was the last thing he saw before she turned away.

— Faster, or I’ll humiliate you again tomorrow in front of the whole camp.

I moved among them, observing, correcting, sotis delivering a sharp tap on the shoulder to fix a weapon grip or movent. So averted their eyes in fear. Others t my gaze... and in them, I already saw the birth of alphas.

Among them, a handful stood out:

Broad shoulders, clear eyes, quick movents. I had chosen them to be my commanders. Not the strongest. The smartest. The only ones capable of understanding that war isn’t just about muscle.

Training after training, I drilled one truth into them: in my tribe, you don’t live by accident. You survive because you earn your place.

— Again! I shouted. You don’t hold the weapon... you beco it!

The blades ca down again in a synchronized strike. The ground shook. Dust rose in a cloud, clinging to sweat-slick skin.

I signaled. The five won returned to my side, their eyes as hard as mine. The ranks stood at attention. Not a single movent.

— Good, I breathed.

Tomorrow, you’ll be better. The day after, better still. And in one moon... you’ll be the wolves the whole desert fears.

A growl rippled through the army. Males pounded their chests, cries rising again.

— SORA! SORA! SORA!

— Dismiss! And at my word, life in the camp, growing into sothing greater, resud its course.

I headed for the great command tent at the camp’s center, a tall structure with thick sides reinforced with leather and tal plates.

Inside, the heat was stifling. Torches fixed on spikes cast a red light over faces, deepening every shadow, every crease of skin. The sll of leather, sweat, and sand filled everything.

A wide circular table occupied the center. On it, a stretched hide map, branded with iron, showed the territories of the Burning Gorge tribes. Charcoal lines marked zones of influence, hunting trails, water points, and caravan routes. Colored stones symbolized the major tribes and their known forces.

I entered last. Conversations ceased instantly. My five won closed around like a personal guard.

— Sit, I ordered.

The five male commanders I had chosen stood tall behind the table. Solid n, skin tanned by the sun, old scars on arms and faces. Behind them, two still wore the dust from morning drills.

I took my seat, both hands on the table. Kaelira and Syra stood at my sides. Syra leaned on the table, her chest brushing my arm, a smirk tugging her lips when she saw two commanders glance away. Kaelira kept her gaze fixed on the map, straight and tense, as if every line drawn was a direct threat.

— Good, let’s begin.

I pointed to a black stone marked with a red stripe.

— The Split Spine tribe. Four hundred males, about twenty females. Led by Rakmar, an old chieftess who holds power through fear and control of water sources. They dominate this part of the desert... but their strength is their isolation. No solid alliances, no fast reinforcents.

Varkash leaned forward, massive arms on the table.

— Their camp is fortified, but their patrols are weak. If we cut their supplies, they’ll fall in two weeks.

— Two weeks is too long, Kaelira cut in sharply. Neighboring tribes could intervene. We strike fast.

Sae, still silent, moved a white stone to a specific point north of their camp.

— Here. The only passage for water caravans. They can’t bypass it. We strike there, at night.

I nodded.

— Exactly. We starve them in three days, not two weeks.

Nyss leaned in, claws brushing the map.

— They have guards worn down by heat and boredom. Give one night, and I’ll make them abandon their posts to run to their tents... or to .

Silence. She smiled, eyes glinting.

Syra traced a finger along the edge of the map, leaning toward my ear until her lips almost touched it.

— And if we catch them by surprise... I can persuade so of their chieftesses to surrender before we even raise our weapons.

A smile spread on my face.

— Persuade... or subdue?

— Both, she whispered.

One of the male commanders, Darrek, stepped forward.

— Lord Sora... if we attack the Split Spine, we’ll send a ssage to the entire Gorge. The tribes will see you can break an old leader. But... it will also an hostile alliances will form faster.

I straightened.

— Let them co. Any enemy who moves toward us is one who leaves their territory. We’ll take it.

A murmur of approval swept the tent.

I pressed my finger to the center of Rakmar’s territory.

— Good. Three days to prepare the assault. Kaelira, you’ll lead the scouts. Varkash, take the axe-bearers and cut off any escape to the east. Syra and Sae, infiltrate their camp before dawn.

Her lips curved.

— I’ll take the lead. I want to see their faces when they realize it’s not a dream... but their last night.

I turned to my male commanders.

— You hold the central line. Not a single enemy passes between us. If even one escapes the slaughter, he’ll tell them we ca... and failed.

All five struck their chests in obedience.

Kaelira spoke one last ti.

— And if Rakmar herself falls into our hands?

I smiled.

— Then she kneels... or dies standing.

The map quivered under my clenched fist. The decision was made. The scent of war was already spreading beneath the canvas.

I left the tent, behind the suffocating heat and the sll of leather.

The desert wind hit my face at once, dry, scorching, heavy with dust. I made for the highest platform in the camp — a simple blackened wooden promontory, but from which I could see everything I had built.

Below, the camp lived. Groups of males drilled in the formations I had imposed. Weapons clashed, orders rang out, bursts of laughter and challenge rose here and there. Farther on, my five won, scattered among them, continued to exert their influence: a word, a look, a correction... and the warriors straightened, galvanized.

At my side, Sae stepped onto the platform without a sound. She watched the camp for a mont, then turned her gaze to the horizon. Out there, several leagues away, hidden behind the wavering heat, lay the Split Spine.

I drew a slow breath.

Since our arrival in this world... we had co farther than most could imagine. I had arrived naked, with no army, no resources. Today, eight hundred warriors bore my na like a banner. And this was only the beginning.

A translucent interface appeared in the corner of my vision.

[Status]

Na: Sora VeldrossRace: HumanClass: Novice StrategistLevel: 16

STRENGTH: 42ENDURANCE: 44SPEED: 63 ( 27)INTELLIGENCE: 100 ( 40)PERCEPTION: 40 ( 12)CHARISMA: 31SEXUAL EXPERTISE: 35 ( 8)

Stat points to allocate: 0

Skill:[Battlefield Tactician] — Based on your Intelligence stat, grants a general boost to all units counted as yours.

Kaelira, Nyss, and even Sae at my side... grew stronger every ti I increased my power. Their growth was tied to mine, and my skill made this rise even more dangerous to our enemies.

Our plan was solid. The execution would be brutal. And with our current strength... there should be no problem getting exactly what we wanted.

And yet... a bitter taste lingered in my throat.These last two weeks had forced to be more ruthless, more rciless than I had ever been. And sotis, that ruthlessness tired .

— You’ve given a lot, Sae said softly behind .

I turned slightly.

— What do you an?

She stepped forward without a sound, closing the distance. Her arms slid around my waist, with a slowness that sought not to seduce but to envelop. Her forehead rested against my back, her breathing falling into rhythm with mine.

— I can feel it, she went on. That you carry more weight than you admit. That every choice costs you... but that you’ll go on, because you must.

I stayed silent.

Her hands rose slightly over my chest, in a gesture ant to be solid, almost anchoring.

— And I’m here for that. To stop you from forgetting that, no matter what this world forces you to beco... you’re not alone.

She lifted her head, her eyes searching mine.

— If we’re going to kill Aedan, you need to keep moving forward. I’ll walk with you, even in the worst direction.

Her words resonated, heavy and precise. I didn’t look at her. My eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, where our next prey lay.

Then, a new notification materialized in the corner of my vision.

[System – LUST v2.01]

Mission: Make the Split Spine an example for the entire valley to see.Reward: ????Failure: ????

I clenched my fists.

And in Sae’s arms, I knew this mission would be accomplished.

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