The Talons were waiting in the courtyard where Eirik had left them. Olaf stepped forward immediately.

  "What in the frozen hells happened in there? The guards are acting strange—bringing us weapons and armor."

  "We've been given a test."

  "What kind of test?"

  "One hundred of the General's elite guard will assault this position in—" Eirik glanced at the sun, "—approximately fifty minutes. We hold for one hour, or we die."

  Silence.

  "One... hundred?" Jory's voice had gone thin.

  "Against nine of us?" Silas added.

  "Yes."

  More silence.

  "Frost's frozen teats, Commander."

  Eirik reached into his storage ring.

  The Realm Advancement Crystal materialized in his palm.

  This was that moment.

  Eirik closed his eyes.

  [ITEM: REALM ADVANCEMENT CRYSTAL]

  [UPGRADE FROM FROST TO HAIL REALM]

  [INITIATE ADVANCEMENT? Y/N]

  Yes.

  The crystal dissolved against his skin.

  [MANA CHANNELS EXPANDING...]

  Eirik dropped to one knee.

  The expansion wasn't painful, exactly. But it was deeply uncomfortable. He could feel his capacity growing.

  [MANA CAP INCREASED: 50 → 200]

  Two hundred units.

  When he'd first awakened to cultivation, scraping together enough mana for a simple ice construct had been an achievement. Now he commanded reserves that would have seemed godlike to his former self.

  [SIXTH MANA SLOT UNLOCKED! SEVENTH MANA SLOT UNLOCKED!]

  [REWARD: +30 FREE STAT POINTS]

  [ICE GENESIS DURATION: 1 second → 1 minute]

  Eirik's eyes snapped open.

  "Frost's frozen teats," Olaf breathed. "Commander, yer glowing."

  Eirik looked down at his hands. A faint blue luminescence traced the lines of his veins.

  [ADVANCEMENT SUCCESSFUL! REALM: HAIL RANK 1]

  [NAME: EIRIK STORMCROW]

  [REALM: HAIL (RANK 1 of 5)]

  [STATS]

  [STRENGTH: 23+]

  [ENDURANCE: 10+]

  [AGILITY: 20+]

  [INTELLECT: 27+]

  [CHARM: 6+]

  [MANA: 200/200]

  [FREE STAT POINTS: 30]

  Thirty points. Enough to transform himself into something beyond human in any direction he chose.

  A tempting choice would be channeling all into strengthen and agility and take on the one hundred men all by himself.

  But individual heroism meant nothing against armies.

  Caelum Frostgrip was living proof. The Duke's son had trained his entire life for personal combat. He could teleport, conjure ice, fight with the precision of a master swordsman. And yet, all that individual excellence had nearly gotten him killed.

  Eirik wasn't going to make the same mistake.

  [ALLOCATING STAT POINTS...]

  [INTELLECT: 27 → 57 (30 Points Used)]

  [MANA REGENERATION RATE: 1 point per 5 minutes]

  [ICE CONSTRUCT DURATION: SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED]

  [RUNE EFFECT: SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED]

  "Commander?" Kael stammered. "Are you... alright?"

  Eirik rose to his feet.

  He felt powerful in a way he hadn't experienced since... since the moment the system had entered his life.

  "I'm better than alright." He turned to face his men. "Far better. Now—gather close."

  The courtyard felt smaller now that Eirik was measuring it again.

  Forty paces north to south. Thirty paces east to west. Four entry points: the main gate, two side doors, and a narrow servants' passage. The cherry tree dominated the center, spreading in a canopy that would obstruct arrows but provide no real cover.

  Ten-foot walls. Ornamental tiles on top. Stone benches along the perimeter.

  "Commander?" Olaf's voice cut through his calculations. "Ye've gone quiet again."

  "I'm thinking about Thermopylae."

  "Thermo-what?"

  Spartans. They'd faced the Persian Empire at a narrow coastal pass. King Leonidas had chosen that ground deliberately. For three days, wave after wave of the Persian army had broken against that Spartan shield wall, bodies piling up in a corridor of death.

  But he doesn't have the luxury of time to explain all this to them now.

  "A battle from... a story I heard once. Three hundred warriors held a narrow pass against an army of tens of thousands."

  Silence.

  "That sounds ridiculous, Commander," Silas muttered.

  "Ridiculous, yet it happened regardless. They relied on a narrow pass—a choke point—which changes everything."

  He stopped and pointed at the main gate.

  "One hundred soldiers trying to flood through a single opening." His voice hardened. "They can't bring their numbers to bear."

  Kael's eyes had sharpened. "You want to seal the other entrances."

  "I want to make this courtyard a killing ground."

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  Eirik walked to the eastern door and pressed his palm against the frame. Cold flowed from his fingertips.

  Ice spread across the doorway in seconds.

  The ice thickened, layer upon layer, until the door had become a wall three feet deep. He shaped the surface into a series of angled ridges to deflect any attempt at forced entry.

  [MANA: 185/200]

  Fifteen mana for a barrier that would require siege equipment to breach. The efficiency of Hail realm was extraordinary.

  "Olaf. Kael. You two seal the western door and the servants' passage."

  The big man scratched his beard. "Commander, we don't have yer fancy ice powers."

  "You don't need them. Just tell me where you want the ice to go." Eirik moved to the western door as he spoke. "I'll handle the conjuration. You handle the labor."

  It took twenty minutes to seal all three secondary entrances.

  [MANA: 142/200]

  When they finished, the courtyard had been transformed. What had been a space with four vulnerable points now had only one: the main gate, roughly eight feet wide, flanked by stone walls that connected to the building's facade.

  "The first problem is solved," Eirik said. "They can only come at us from one direction."

  "And the second problem?" Kael asked.

  "Making sure they regret it."

  Eirik stood at the main gate, studying its dimensions.

  Eight feet wide. Perhaps ten feet tall. The doors themselves were heavy wood reinforced with iron bands—designed to keep casual intruders out, not to withstand a determined assault.

  The General's elite guards would have breaching tools. Battering rams, perhaps. Or simply enough bodies to force their way through by weight alone.

  Which meant the gate itself was a liability.

  "We're going to leave it open," Eirik announced.

  Jory's jaw dropped. "Commander?"

  "If we seal it, they'll break through eventually. We'll waste time and mana reinforcing a position that's already compromised." Eirik's eyes traced the space beyond the gate. "But if we leave it open—if we invite them in—we control the terms of engagement."

  He turned to face the courtyard's interior.

  "The pass at Thermopylae was narrow, but also long. The defenders could fall back, establish new positions, extend the fighting. They make every step cost their enemies dearly."

  Understanding flickered across Kael's face. "You want to build a maze."

  Eirik raised both hands.

  Ice began to form in the courtyard's center. Chest-high barriers that curved and angled, creating a winding path from the main gate toward the cherry tree.

  The walls weren't straight. Each one forced a turn, then another turn, then another. A man entering through the gate would have to navigate left, then right, then left again—constantly changing direction, constantly exposed to attack from above.

  [MANA: 98/200]

  He paused, breathing hard. The constructs were draining him faster than expected—not because of their size, but because of their complexity. Each wall had to be thick enough to resist sword strikes and smooth enough to prevent climbing.

  "Silas. Gedrick. Start moving those stone benches. I want them positioned at the corridor's chokepoints—anywhere the path narrows."

  The two men moved immediately.

  "Jory, Torvin, Sigurd—gather anything that can be thrown. Roof tiles, broken stones, whatever you can find. Pile them near the cherry tree."

  "The tree, Commander?"

  Eirik pointed upward.

  The cherry tree's branches spread in a natural platform roughly fifteen feet above the ground. Wide enough for three men. High enough to rain death on anyone below.

  "That's our command position. Olaf, Kael, and I will be up there with ranged weapons and—" He paused. "Actually, Kael. How good are you with a bow?"

  "Adequate."

  "Good enough. Olaf?"

  The big man shrugged. "I can throw an axe farther than most men can shoot."

  "Then you throw."

  The outer defenses took shape over the next fifteen minutes.

  Eirik walked the perimeter of the courtyard. The ten-foot height was adequate against casual assault, but the ornamental tiles on top presented a problem.

  "Anyone with climbing training could scale this in seconds," he muttered. "And a hundred elite guards will have at least a few climbers."

  "So we fortify the top?" Kael suggested.

  "We do more than that."

  Eirik began conjuring ice spheres—each one roughly the size of a man's fist. He set them along the wall's edge at regular intervals.

  "Commander?" Marsh was watching with confusion. "What are those supposed to do?"

  "Watch."

  Eirik focused on the nearest sphere.

  Ice Rune.

  The skill came easier now. He carved a starburst into the sphere's surface—the explosion effect he'd discovered during his experiments.

  Then, beside the starburst, a rectangle.

  Impact trigger.

  The sphere began to hum with contained energy.

  "If anyone touches the wall—if anyone lands on the wall—these detonate." Eirik moved to the next sphere and repeated the process.

  "Frost's teats," Olaf breathed.

  Eirik descended to the courtyard floor and began placing more spheres along the base of his ice maze. These were harder to position—they needed to be partially buried in the ground, invisible until someone stepped directly on them.

  "Anyone who tries to vault over the walls instead of following the corridor gets a surprise." He wiped sweat from his brow. "And anyone who breaks formation to cut through the maze..."

  "Loses a foot," Kael finished.

  [MANA: 52/200]

  Eirik paused, checking his reserves. The explosive spheres weren’t cheap—each one cost roughly one mana to conjure and two mana to inscribe. But the investment was worth it.

  A man who feared the ground would move slowly. A man who moved slowly was a man who could be killed.

  The sun had moved noticeably across the sky by the time Eirik addressed the formation problem.

  "Eight men," he said, gathering the Talons around him. "We need to hold three positions simultaneously."

  He pointed to the entrance of his ice corridor.

  "Position one: the gate. This is where the fighting happens. Three men with shields and spears, arranged in a tight wedge. Your job is to hold."

  "Who's on gate duty?" Jory asked.

  "You, Marsh, and Gedrick. Jory, you're at the point. Marsh and Gedrick flank you."

  The three men exchanged glances but nodded.

  "Position two: the tree platform. Olaf, Kael, and myself. We rain death from above. When the enemy bunches up in the corridor, we thin them out."

  "And position three?" Silas asked.

  "Reserves." Eirik pointed to a narrow space behind the cherry tree, shielded from the main gate's line of sight. "Silas, Torvin, and Sigurd. You wait there until I give the signal."

  "What signal?"

  "When enough enemies are inside the corridor—when they're committed, packed tight, unable to retreat quickly—two of you move through here." Eirik traced a path along the edge of the courtyard, behind the ice walls. "You come at them from behind. They'll be trapped between our shield wall at the front and your attack at the rear."

  Torvin's eyes widened. "A hammer and anvil."

  "Exactly."

  Twenty minutes remained.

  Eirik climbed into the cherry tree to inspect their elevated position. The branches formed a natural cradle roughly six feet across—cramped for three men, but stable. More importantly, the height provided unobstructed sightlines across the entire courtyard.

  "Can you hit targets from here?" he asked Kael.

  The assassin drew an arrow from his newly acquired quiver, nocked it, and released in one fluid motion. The shaft buried itself in the ice wall thirty feet away, precisely where a man's neck would be.

  "Yes."

  "Good. Olaf?"

  The big man hefted one of his throwing axes, judged the distance, and hurled. The weapon spun through the air and embedded itself in the same wall, three inches from Kael's arrow.

  "Aye. I can hit anything that bleeds."

  Eirik allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

  The courtyard had been transformed. What had been an open killing ground was now a layered defensive position.

  [MANA: 31/200]

  His reserves were low—too low for comfort. But mana regenerated at one point per five minutes now. By the time the fighting started, he'd have recovered another handful of units.

  The preparation was finally over.

  Now, seeing everything from a vantage point, it actually felt like overkill. Yes, they don’t have the numbers advantage, but they have one Hail Realm cultivator (himself), two Frost cultivators (Kael and Olaf), and six Snow cultivators (the rest).

  All this arrangements meant that Eirik would likely have to kill the General’s men. Men who are good and loyal and might become his future soldiers.

  But the overkill was necessary, because he had an important point to prove.

  The General had spent thirty years holding the Sunless City. He had relied on the strength of men and the thickness of his stone. And in the end, it hadn't been enough. The Khorath had simply waited, and the city had starved.

  Eirik was showing him an alternative.

  He needed to win so spectacularly, so undeniably, that whatever casualties became a footnote to the brilliance of the victory. He needed to break their will without breaking their spirits, or if he had to break them, he needed to do it with such speed that the General wouldn't have time to mourn before he was marveling at the result.

  This courtyard was a microcosm.

  If Eirik could break one hundred elite troops here, he could convince the General that he could break ten thousand nomads outside.

  And he needed that conviction, more than ever, because Velthan was coming.

  The Archmage, in all likelihood, would be offering promises of power through blood and ritual. A tempting path that cost the General nothing but the lives of others. A path that the general had taken according to history.

  Eirik had to offer a path that cost nothing but the enemy.

  He had to make himself indispensable. He had to raise his value so high that when Velthan eventually slithered into this court, the General wouldn’t even bother to listen. He would look at the weasel, then look at Eirik—the man who'd actually win the fight for him—and the choice would be obvious.

  A shadow stretched across the distant plaza.

  From his perch in the cherry tree, Eirik tracked the movement. The black column had turned the corner three blocks away, still well out of bowshot, but undeniably headed their way.

  "Talons!"

  Eirik drew Grave Drinker from its sheath.

  "Make them bleed for every inch."