Evan sat on a smooth, sun-warmed stone near the edge of the Harmonious Enclave, watching the shimmering protective dome ripple faintly in the breeze. His fingers traced the glowing interface of his status page, his mind preoccupied with the decisions he had made so far. The steady hum of the territory around him—the faint rustling of enchanted trees, the whisper of mana-laced streams—offered no answers, only the weight of his own thoughts.

  He sighed, leaning back against the stone. "I really screwed up a few things, didn’t I?" he muttered to himself.

  The notification still lingered in his mind, bold and unyielding: Insufficient Resources. He had been so excited to expand his forces that he hadn’t even considered there might be a cost attached to summoning additional units. The realization that free recruitment was limited to one unit per day per tier had hit him like a brick.

  “Mana Crystals,” he muttered. “Why didn’t I think about how important they’d be?”

  He glanced toward the Crystal Nexus in the distance, where the Mystic Harvester was busy channeling energy into shimmering crystals. It was working steadily now, but the amount trickling in was barely enough to keep his operations afloat, let alone fuel his ambitions.

  Evan tapped his fingers against the stone, thinking back to the team he had assembled. He was proud of the choices he’d made—every recruit brought something unique to the table—but he couldn’t ignore the gaps. His forces leaned heavily into magic, leaving his frontline defenses thin and vulnerable.

  "I went big," he admitted, shaking his head. "A Tier 3 Crystal Shardcaster? Sure, it’s powerful, but I didn’t think about how much it would cost to use it effectively."

  He winced at the thought of draining resources even further to maintain the units he had summoned. His plans to expand the territory’s economy had been solid, but he’d underestimated the time it would take for some units, like the Runeseed Planter, to yield tangible results.

  “I need to stop thinking like a player who can reset when things go wrong,” Evan murmured, a flicker of determination sparking in his eyes. “This is different. Every move has consequences.”

  He opened his status page, scanning the numbers with renewed clarity. A balanced approach would be the key to survival. His team needed to be more diverse, with a focus on sustainability. And more importantly, he needed to think beyond the immediate challenges, setting his sights on long-term growth.

  His gaze drifted to the mana well in the distance, its faint glow barely visible from his vantage point. The wolf pack prowling there since his first exploration remained a looming threat. Though he had bolstered his forces, he hadn’t acted quickly enough. Their proximity to the territory posed a danger that could escalate if left unchecked.

  Evan stood, brushing his hands on his cloak. Enough musing. He couldn’t afford to linger on his mistakes when action was needed. His leadership wasn’t about avoiding failure but learning from it.

  Turning to Alarion, who stood nearby with a vigilant posture, Evan’s voice steadied. “Get the team ready.”

  Alarion inclined his head in acknowledgment, his gaze sharpening. “The wolves?”

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  Evan nodded. “They’re blocking access to a critical resource. It’s time to deal with them.”

  The group assembled quickly at the edge of the territory. Alarion stood at the forefront, his blade gleaming with faint arcane energy. Behind him, Cyrion Starshot adjusted his bow, his sharp eyes scanning the distant trees for movement. The newly recruited Crystal Shardcaster stood at the back, his crystal cannon humming softly with a faint blue glow. The Runeslinger Adept flanked the group, runes circling his hands in preparation for combat.

  Evan stood amidst them, nerves tightening his chest. Despite his apprehension, he forced himself to give the order.

  “Elandra,” he called, “can you scout ahead?”

  The Greenmist nodded, slipping silently into the forest. Moments later, she returned, her expression calm but urgent. “Five wolves,” she reported. “Larger than normal. Their eyes glow with corrupted mana—they’re not natural.”

  Evan nodded, his throat dry. “Alright. Cyrion, Alarion, you’re up front. Shardcaster, Adept, stay back and provide support. Let’s take this slow and steady.”

  The group moved as one, each member falling into position with practiced ease. Evan stayed just behind the combat line, his heart pounding as he prepared to use his Celestial Shield ability if things went south.

  The wolves spotted them almost immediately, their glowing eyes narrowing as they let out guttural growls. The largest of the pack charged first, its claws tearing through the underbrush with terrifying speed.

  Evan’s breath hitched. This was different from any strategy session, any decision made from the safety of an interface. The wolf was fast—too fast. His mind screamed at him to call a retreat, to hesitate just a moment longer. But hesitation here meant death.

  Alarion met it head-on, his blade flashing in a precise arc that sent sparks of mana scattering into the air. Cyrion loosed an arrow, its crystal tip striking another wolf in the flank. The beast yelped and stumbled but quickly recovered.

  The Shardcaster fired next, a burst of explosive shards scattering across the pack, wounding two more wolves and forcing them to retreat momentarily.

  Evan felt the weight of command pressing against his chest. His palms were damp. His breathing came too fast. Was he really cut out for this?

  A feral growl snapped him back. Another wolf lunged straight for Cyrion. Evan’s pulse slammed against his ribs as he raised his hand on instinct. Celestial Shield—now!

  The golden light flared just in time. The wolf’s claws scraped harmlessly against the barrier before Alarion struck it down with a decisive blow.

  Evan exhaled sharply. He had done it. He had reacted. He had saved someone.

  The Runeslinger Adept unleashed a flurry of rune-infused projectiles, each bursting on impact and staggering the remaining wolves. One by one, the beasts fell until only the largest remained. It snarled, defiant, before a perfectly aimed arrow from Cyrion pierced its heart.

  The silence that followed was deafening. Evan’s hands were still trembling, his body still coiled with the fight-or-flight instinct.

  Then he realized—he wasn’t dead. None of them were.

  A shuddering breath left him as he lowered his hands. The battlefield was silent except for the faint crackle of dissipating mana. The wolves lay motionless, their corrupted forms already fading into nothingness.

  Nearby, Alarion turned to him, his blade still gleaming. “You gave the right call, Lord Evan,” he said, his voice steady. “We handled that cleanly because of it.”

  Cyrion twirled an arrow between his fingers, a rare grin tugging at his lips. “Not bad for a first major fight, my lord. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure at first, but…” He shrugged. “I’m glad I’m on this team.”

  Evan blinked. They were looking at him differently now. Not just as their lord, but as their leader. The weight in his chest loosened, replaced by something warmer, steadier.

  He had doubted himself. He had hesitated. But when the moment came, he had acted. And now, his team was still standing.

  With a quiet nod, he swallowed the lingering fear and found his voice. “It’s not just my call,” he said. “It’s how we worked together that made it work.”

  Alarion smirked slightly but didn’t argue. Cyrion gave a casual salute.

  As the team moved toward the mana well, Evan let out a slow breath. He wasn’t fearless—not yet. But he had learned something today.

  Leadership wasn’t about never feeling afraid. It was about stepping forward despite it.

  And for the first time, he felt ready to face whatever came next.