Silence.

Not silence because there was peace.

Silence because there was no strength left to scream.

Smoke still hung over Stonewatch. The smell of blood, burned wood, charred flesh, and mana that had not fully faded filled the air. Even the night wind seemed reluctant to touch the northern yard of the city.

The north gate could barely be called a gate anymore. Half of it had become a broken mouth filled with shattered stone, cracked planks, twisted iron, and bodies that no longer had names. Orcs and humans were mixed together as one.

Some soldiers were still standing, but more of them sat on stones, staring blankly at the ground. Some clutched the stump of an arm that was no longer there. Some pressed both hands against wounds in their stomachs, as if blood could be held back by willpower alone. Some called someone’s name over and over, each call growing quieter when no answer came.

They had won.

If this could even be called victory.

Rusk walked through the yard with heavy steps. His broken sword was still gripped in his hand. Blood from his temple had run down to his jaw, mixing with dust and sweat on his face.

“Those who can still walk, help carry the wounded.”

There was no shout. His voice was almost gone, but people still moved.

“Separate the ones still breathing.”

He stopped near the body of a guard whose lower half was buried beneath a gate beam. Two soldiers lifted the beam together. They managed to pull the body out.

Too late.

Rusk stared at him for one breath.

“...and cover those who are not.”

The two soldiers lowered their heads before dragging their comrade’s corpse to the side of the yard.

I said nothing. My gaze swept across the ruins.

Orc blood and human blood had mixed into black mud between the stones. Broken arrows lay scattered like dead grass. A human hand jutted out from beneath the crushed body of an Orc, its fingers still gripping the strap of a shield. Nearby, the head of a stone axe was embedded in the wall, too deep to be pulled free by the soldier still trembling in front of it.

The smell of iron. The smell of entrails. The smell of fear turning into exhaustion.

Great wars always left the same scent behind.

The difference was, this time, I was not seeing it from a human body.

I looked down.

Black claws pressed against the broken stone beneath me. Longer. Sharper. This body was larger, heavier, and far too savage to be called a Chihuahua.

I still had the basic shape of a dog.

But no sane human would call me a pet anymore.

At the side of the ruins, Karez sat with his back against a half-collapsed wall. His sword lay beside him, the dark-gray line along its blade gone dim. His face was covered in dust. His lips were split. He wiped his face with a trembling hand.

“I hate winning like this.”

Rusk did not turn. “If you can still complain, that means you’re not dead.”

“That is indeed my talent.”

“Keep it.”

Karez chuckled softly, then coughed blood.

“...Damn.”

Rusk finally glanced at him. “Healer.”

“I’m not dying yet.”

“Correct.” Rusk kept walking. “But I don’t want to look for your replacement tonight.”

Karez went silent for a moment, then gave a short laugh. The sound was more like a broken breath than laughter.

“That is the worst compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Rusk did not answer. He had seen too many people die to waste strength on a reply that was not needed.

On top of what remained of the wall, a young soldier suddenly stopped moving. His eyes were fixed on me. Not on the Warlord’s corpse. Not on the Orcs that had fled.

On me.

His hand slowly searched for his bow.

Another soldier followed his gaze. Then another. Then five more. The fear that had lost its shape finally found a new target.

Me.

Bowstrings tightened one after another. No one gave an order. That was worse. Fear that moved without command usually killed faster than hatred.

Not far from me, Bloodhorn was still moving among the smoke and rubble. His huge body leaned to one side, his axe planted in the ground as support after the final impact had crushed part of his fingers. Even so, his purple eyes still glowed faintly.

From outside Stonewatch, Dead Eye’s connection still felt faint among the smoke, rubble, and remains of the northern battlefield. His bow remained watching the Orcs’ retreat path. The Hobgoblin stood near the outer debris with one arm hanging unnaturally. The Goblin Leader crouched behind broken stone, his jagged cleaver still wet. Elongated Helm stood still near the injured soldier he had previously dragged out of the path of slaughter. The Assassin was barely visible in the shadow of the ruins, his body heavily damaged, but his connection had not been severed.

Their purple eyes glowed among dust and embers.

One arrow from a nervous soldier would be enough to turn this night into a new massacre.

I did not need that.

I sent a command through every Vassal connection.

'Stop.'

All the Vassals froze.

Bloodhorn lowered his axe slightly. Dead Eye lowered his bow. The Hobgoblin stopped shifting his foot. The Goblin Leader retreated half a step behind the rubble. Elongated Helm released the cloth of the wounded soldier’s shirt that had still been clutched in his hand, then stood still like an ugly statue in the middle of blood.

Stonewatch saw it.

And precisely because of that, their fear deepened.

Those corpses were not wild.

They obeyed something.

Me.

A young archer whispered, “Captain...”

Rusk turned.

He saw the raised bows. He saw the purple-eyed Vassals. He saw me. Then he saw the Warlord’s corpse, its chest already opened in the middle of the ruins.

A decision had to be born before panic became law.

“Lower your bows.”

Not everyone obeyed.

A soldier whose face was covered in blood shouted, “That’s a monster!”

Rusk stared at him. “I know.”

“He’s controlling Orcs!”

“I know.”

“That horned Orc killed our people!”

Rusk stepped closer. His voice did not rise, but the air around him became harder.

“And if you shoot without my order, you might make him kill the rest of our people too. Lower your bow.”

The soldier trembled. His bowstring was still taut.

Karez lifted his head from where he sat. His lips were red with blood.

“If you want to shoot,” he said quietly, “make sure the first arrow kills everything with purple eyes at once.”

No one moved.

Karez leaned his head back against the wall.

“If you can’t, better not embarrass yourselves.”

One by one, the bows lowered.

Not because they trusted.

Because they were not ready to die again.

Neira stood among the wounded and the ruined gate. Her face was pale. There was dried blood on her cheek, not hers. Her hands were empty now. There was no small body to hold. No Chihuahua she could hide from the world.

She stared at me as if part of her mind still refused to accept the size of my body.

Alden stood beside her while holding his ribs. His face looked terrible. His temple was bleeding from the earlier blow, and one of his eyes had begun to swell.

Neira took half a step.

Alden immediately held her arm.

“Don’t get too close,” he said hoarsely.

Neira did not look at him. Her eyes remained on me.

“That’s him,” she whispered.

Alden followed her gaze. For a moment, the old man only stared. Then he let out a breath, heavy and bitter.

“Yes.”

“He changed.”

“I saw.”

Neira swallowed.

She was afraid.

I preferred honest fear over stupid loyalty. This form was not something that should be touched without thinking. I was no longer the small animal that could be saved with an embrace.

If she still wanted to stand near me after this, then at the very least, she had to know what she was approaching.

I sent a voice through Alden’s relay.

'Tell them. If they do not attack, the Vassals will not attack.'

Alden stiffened. He took a slow breath, then raised his voice.

“He will not attack as long as you do not attack first.”

The entire yard stopped again.

Rusk looked at Alden.

“He communicates with you?”

Alden was silent half a second too long.

“Not like humans speak,” he finally answered. “But enough.”

Several soldiers stepped one pace away from Alden.

A reasonable reaction. Humans feared chains they could not see.

Rusk stared at Alden longer, then looked at me.

“He can understand everything we say?”

Alden did not answer immediately.

I gave a small pressure through the relay.

'Enough.'

Alden said, “Enough.”

Karez wiped blood from his lips. “How reassuring. I’ve always wanted to be insulted by a war dog that understands language.”

Rusk said, “Karez.”

“I’m quiet.”

“Truly quiet.”

Karez raised one weak hand. “I’m injured, Captain. Don’t take away the only organ still working properly.”

Rusk ignored him and went back to giving orders.

“No one touches the purple-eyed creatures without my order. No one chases Orcs out of the gate. Pull the wounded to the southern yard. Archers remain on what is left of the wall. If any wild Orcs return, kill the wild Orcs. Not them.”

He pointed briefly toward the Vassals.

Not allies.

Not friends.

“Them.”

Enough for now.

Stonewatch began to move again, slowly, like a beast whose bones were cracked but not yet dead.

Soldiers dragged the wounded. Citizens came out from behind carts and half-destroyed doorways. Some looked at the Vassals with hatred in their eyes. Some with fear. Some with something worse: hope placed in the wrong place.

I did not care.

Human hope often turned into demands if left alone for too long.

The system rang.

[Achievement Acquired: City Wavebreaker]
[Condition Fulfilled: Survived a monster siege and brought down the leader of the wave]
[Reward: Passive Skill Acquired - Death Resonance]

I narrowed my eyes.

Not a combat skill.

A good battle was won before the first bite. Information was often sharper than claws.

The system continued.

[Passive Skill: Death Resonance]
[Effect: Allows the user to capture the final fragments of a non-human corpse]
[Restriction: Target must have died less than 72 hours ago]
[Restriction: Central nervous tissue must remain]
[Warning: Fragments are incomplete, emotional, and may be distorted]

Fragments of death.

Useful enough.

I turned toward the corpse of an ordinary Orc near the ruins. Its head was still intact. Its chest had been pierced through by a spear. Its eyes were open, facing the sky that had begun to pale in the east.

I walked toward it.

The soldier near me immediately retreated.

I ignored them. My claw touched the dead Orc’s head.

[Death Resonance Activated]
[Target: Orc (Warrior)]
[Memory Fragment Detected]

My consciousness was dragged into something cracked.

Not like Parasitic Synapse. Not a clear vision from a Vassal’s eyes. This was dirtier, narrower, and more rotten.

I did not see the Orc’s entire life. Only the final residue clinging to cold flesh.

Smoke. Mud. Fear that had no language. There was a great pressure at the back of its neck, a soundless command that drove its body forward, forcing its hands to strike, its nails to tear, and its feet to open a path.

The shadow of a hammer appeared ahead. A red chest pulsed beneath black skin. Dark eyes made the Orc’s body want to bow until its face touched the ground.

Beyond all of that, there was something farther away.

Not a shape or a name.

Only a coldness that did not come from the night, along with a single impulse left behind like a nail in the bone.

Not a sentence. Not a voice. Only a crude pressure to advance, tear apart anything ahead, and open the way for something that had not yet appeared.

The fragment shattered before I could grasp more.

I pulled my claw back. My breath left my mouth as a low growl.

It felt disgusting, like licking stale blood from a grave stone.

Rusk stood a few steps away from me. Not too close. Close enough to show he did not retreat. Far enough to show he was not stupid.

“Stonewatch owes you its life,” he said.

Several merchants who had just come out from behind the barricade looked uncomfortable hearing that.

Rusk continued, “But I will not pretend my people are not afraid of you.”

Finally.

A human who could place two truths in the same sentence.

I sent a voice through Alden’s relay.

'I do not need thanks. I need monster corpses, space, and no interference.'

Alden closed his eyes for a moment, as if his head hurt. Then he repeated, “He does not ask for thanks. He asks for monster corpses, space, and no interference.”

A soldier stared at Alden with disgust. “Monster corpses for what?”

Karez opened one eye. “Do you really want to ask that after seeing dead Orcs stand up again?”

The soldier immediately fell silent.

Rusk said, “Human corpses are not to be touched.”

I stared at him.

Coldly.

Alden immediately said, “He does not use humans.”

Rusk did not blink. “Does not use, or cannot?”

I gave a short pressure.

'Cannot. Say only that.'

Alden swallowed.

“Cannot.”

Rusk watched Alden’s face, searching for a lie. Alden was too exhausted to look composed, but this time, he was telling the truth.

Rusk finally nodded.

“All human corpses are to be moved south. All Orc carcasses are to be gathered outside the northern ruins. No one tries to burn any monster carcass before I give the order.”

One merchant immediately stepped half a pace forward. Varro. His face was pale, his clothes more expensive than his courage.

“Captain, you cannot let that monster take all the Orc carcasses. Monster parts have value.”

Rusk turned.

Varro stopped.

Not because Rusk shouted.

Because Rusk had no patience left to shout.

“If you want to bargain with the creature that just helped kill the Warlord, do it after you have lifted ten victims from beneath the stones.”

Varro shut his mouth.

Karez smiled weakly. “I would pay to see that.”

Rusk said, “You will be silent, or I will make you help lift them.”

Karez closed his eyes again. “I recover slower than that.”

The first agreement formed atop the ruins. Unwritten, untrusted, and only enough to prevent a fool from releasing an arrow.

That was already better than most human agreements.