Chapter 8: A 3-Star Unit Acquired! The Undead Sentinels!

Hum!

The space in front of John trembled slightly.

His Territory Management interface automatically appeared, displaying a new notification.

[Notice: You have gained the allegiance of Wasteland Refugees — Nomadic Branch.]

[Current Territory Population: 58/2,000]

John glanced at the number.

Under the rules of Godfall Continent, the population cap only counted native residents.

Undead units recruited from altars did not take up population slots.

That was exactly why John had been willing to recruit troops on such a massive scale.

"Get up."

John looked away from the interface and watched the frightened villagers climb shakily out of the mud.

"My protection isn’t charity."

"This territory doesn’t feed freeloaders."

"If you want to survive here, then prove your worth."

"Understood?"

Gru immediately bowed, his hands hanging respectfully in front of his knees.

"We will obey every command, my Lord!"

John nodded in satisfaction.

Then he pointed toward the pile of supplies they had brought back from the Boarfolk camp.

Dozens of rusted iron axes, crude bone pickaxes, and large slabs of meat tied together with grass rope lay scattered across the ground.

"Use those tools."

"Gather every usable piece of timber and stone within two kilometers of the territory."

"The women and elderly will process the meat."

"Before nightfall, I want the territory warehouse filled with construction materials."

"Understood!"

Gru didn’t waste a single word.

He turned around and immediately began shouting orders in the native tongue.

These wasteland refugees had spent their entire lives surviving in harsh conditions.

They were far more efficient with their hands than ordinary civilians.

More than thirty relatively healthy men and women quickly grabbed the axes and pickaxes before splitting themselves into two groups.

One group headed straight toward the Blackiron Forest west of the territory.

The other jogged toward the rocky slopes behind the hill, where exposed veins of iron ore could be seen among the broken stone.

The remaining women and older children gathered around the pile of meat.

They pulled out bone knives they carried with them and skillfully began skinning and deboning it.

John stood off to the side and quietly watched them work.

The moment the first iron axe struck the trunk of a Blackiron Tree—

an invisible ripple spread through the air.

[Notice: Territory Talent — 10,000× Acceleration has been extended to your subjects.]

[Target labor state: Maximum Acceleration active...]

CRACK!

The middle-aged man holding the axe didn’t even have time to react.

The weapon in his hands suddenly became a silver-gray blur.

Normally, a single strike against Blackiron Wood would barely leave a shallow white mark.

But now—

the trunk parted as easily as tofu.

BOOM!

With a deafening crash, a Blackiron Tree thick enough for two men to wrap their arms around toppled to the ground.

The middle-aged man stood frozen.

The iron axe in his hands was still humming from the impact.

He stared at the cleanly cut stump on the ground as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

"H-How is this possible?"

He looked down at his own hands in disbelief.

"Did I get stronger?"

"No... it’s not my strength..."

"It’s the axe..."

Shouts of shock soon came from the rocky slope nearby.

"My body feels lighter!"

"One swing of my pick feels like I’ve struck hundreds of times!"

"A divine domain..."

"This must be the domain of a god!"

In the upper-right corner of John’s vision, the resource counters that had previously sat at zero began climbing rapidly.

John stopped paying attention.

He turned and walked away.

If he only cared about maximizing immediate combat power, he could have used Undead Conversion on all fifty-eight humans and turned them into undead.

But low-tier undead lacked independent thought.

If he wanted his territory to develop into the mid and late game, he would eventually need human scholars, craftsmen, and other specialists capable of learning and advancing.

Slaughtering every useful civilian for short-term gains would be nothing but stupidity.

John had no intention of doing something so shortsighted.

...

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Heavy bone footsteps approached from behind.

Two tall Undead Spearmen hurried over and dropped to one knee before John.

They raised their pale hands above their heads, presenting two faintly glowing spoils of war.

On the left was a diamond-shaped stone covered in intricate magical patterns.

Its surface gleamed with a bronze metallic sheen.

On the right was a parchment scroll wrapped in unfamiliar hide, sealed at the edge with a silver-gray helmet insignia.

[3-Star Unit Altar Stone ×1]

[3-Star Unit Training License: Ironclad Guard — Human]

The exact rewards he had obtained earlier.

"Time to train a new unit."

John took the scroll and altar stone.

Without hesitation, he walked to an open patch of ground ten meters to the right of his original bone altar.

The construction interface immediately appeared.

[Construct 3-Star Unit Building: Ironclad Guard Camp?]

[Required Materials:]

[Wood ×500]

[Stone ×500]

[Iron Ore ×500]

[3-Star Unit Altar Stone ×1]

[Unit Training License: Ironclad Guard]

John glanced at his resource reserves.

[Gold: 1,685]

[Food: 560]

[Wood: 1,240]

[Stone: 890]

[Iron Ore: 620]

The villagers had gathered that much in barely any time at all.

"Construct."

John’s command was simple.

The moment the word left his mouth, the required materials were deducted from the territory warehouse.

Stacks of timber and stone rose into the air.

They flew toward the open ground and rapidly assembled themselves into the foundations of barracks and a training yard.

The earth shook violently.

[Notice: Construction complete.]

[Construction Time: 0.3 seconds.]

[Hidden Class detected: Undead Sovereign.]

[Class Authority activating forced conversion...]

The newly constructed buildings had originally carried the bright silver-white aesthetic of the Human faction.

Then eerie green flames suddenly spread across their surfaces.

Pure white stone bricks darkened in an instant, transforming into black bone-like masonry.

The iron helmet emblem mounted above the structure warped and twisted.

In its place appeared an enormous pale bone shield.

[Building Conversion Complete!]

[Unit Altar: Undead Sentinel]

[Tier: 3-Star]

[Level: Lv.1 — Upgradeable]

[Recruitment Cost: 10 Gold per unit]

[Recruitment Time: 3 hours per unit]

[Upgrade Requirements: 1,000 Wood, 1,000 Stone, 500 Iron Ore]

[Upgrade Effect: Reduces recruitment time by 10% per level.]

[Maximum Level: Lv.10]

John glanced at the recruitment cost.

Ten Gold per unit.

An Undead Spearman only cost one.

If another Lord were in his position, especially this early in the game when resources were scarce, they would almost certainly continue mass-producing Spearmen and rely on sheer numbers.

But John knew better.

If all he did was pile up cannon-fodder units, then once he encountered high-tier monsters or powerful area-of-effect spells later on, entire formations could be wiped out in a single attack.

And unlike other Lords, John had another advantage.

Whenever one of his units died, he could revive it for half its original recruitment cost.

Reviving an Undead Spearman cost just 0.5 Gold.

Reviving an Undead Sentinel cost only 5 Gold.

That completely changed the equation.

With 10,000× Acceleration combined with soul revival, even high-tier units could maintain effectively endless combat endurance.

In that case—

higher-Star units were obviously the better investment.

John pressed his palm against the black altar pillar without hesitation.

"Recruit Undead Sentinels."

"Quantity: 100."

"1,000 Gold deducted."

"Remaining Gold: 685."

"10,000× Acceleration activated..."

BOOM!

The eerie green magic formation beneath the altar suddenly expanded.

Dense death mist poured out from the cracks in the stone, swallowing everything within dozens of meters.

Clack. Clack. Clack!