Chapter 218: Chapter 218 - Blood-Iron Peaks
Atlas had returned to Shattered Ember, and though the hour had long slipped into night, the island itself made it difficult to tell.
The rivers of lava snaking through the terrain, the towering volcano looming in the distance, and the ever-present dark mist that hung low over the ground gave the land an eerie, eternal twilight. Whether it was day or night, the glow of molten stone and the haze of volcanic ash blurred the difference.
As Atlas moved through the island, he found that the temporary settlement had already been set up.
Tents and small huts clustered near the base of a ridgeline, just far enough from the more unstable volcanic zones. Rest areas had been prepared, with some troops choosing to stay on the island while others opted to return to the main island, given the limited shelter for now.
But Atlas didn’t mind. The island was vast, and those who lived under his banner knew how to manage their own space. Whether they camped by a lava stream, beneath one of the towering jagged cliffs, or among the scattered obsidian fields, it was their choice. He welcomed that freedom.
By now, most of the troops had settled into a rhythm. Teams alternated between hunting the remaining monsters and harvesting rare ores embedded deep within the volcanic rock.
But tonight?
Tonight was different.
Nearly all the soldiers and subordinates had gathered once more in a wide open clearing. An area safely distant from any lava flow, surrounded by tall, jagged rock walls that gave it a natural amphitheater-like shape.
A temporary stage had been erected at the center. Lanterns hung from poles made of volcanic stone, flickering with magical light. Tables had been set, food was being passed around, and barrels of drinks were already being opened.
Moments later, the swirling portal at the edge of the encampment rippled open once more. From its glowing center emerged another group. Dozens of figures led by none other than Edrik.
These were the newest arrivals, those who had answered Atlas’s call through the Summoning Altar.
Edrik approached Atlas with measured steps, stopping just short of him before offering a respectful nod.
"My Lord, today’s summons have brought in a strong selection. After the losses from the Dominion Skirmish, this will greatly reinforce our ranks."
He glanced toward the group that was still emerging through the portal. Combatants forming into orderly lines, workers stepping aside to be directed elsewhere.
"With these," Edrik continued, "we now have 220 active combatants and 50 workers. A strong foundation."
Atlas’s gaze swept across the newly summoned warriors. The diversity was striking, more beastkin than before, including one towering figure who stood nearly twice as tall as anyone else, even larger than Baldric. Their features ranged from feline to lupine, horned to scaled. Each one bearing scars and armor that told stories of countless battles.
"My Lord," Edrik added, "your reputation at the Summoning Altar is spreading. We’re attracting higher-caliber individuals. Most are above level 80... and one has already reached level 100."
"Oh?" Atlas arched a brow, lips curving into a slight smirk. "Level 100 already? And yet, not even I, or my elites, have broken that ceiling."
With a deep breath, Atlas stepped forward and faced the 153 new recruits standing before him.
His voice rang clear across the gathering.
"Welcome. I don’t expect loyalty for the sake of titles, nor obedience out of fear. You’re not here to serve a tyrant. You’re here to grow stronger. To become something greater, together."
"I know many of you come with experience. Some of you have fought under other Lords. Some of you might have seen war seasons far worse than anything we’ve faced so far."
"But here, I don’t want war machines. I want people who know how to fight for each other."
"I expect strength, yes. But also discipline. Accountability. Unity."
"Here, no one climbs alone. If we rise, we rise together. You will train, bleed, and rise alongside every soldier on this island. No matter your race, your past, or your level. We protect each other. That is our rule."
"And in return, know this. If you give me your trust, I will give you a battlefield worth fighting for. And when the time comes, you will stand with us at the front of something far greater than power alone."
He paused for a moment, letting the words settle over the crowd.
Then, as if rehearsed, though none of it had been, the new recruits responded in perfect unison, their voices echoing through the volcanic night:
"We stand with you, Lord Atlas!"
As the fires of the night celebration began to quiet, Atlas pulled Edrik aside for a more strategic conversation. Now that their numbers had grown significantly, the structure of their forces needed refinement.
They currently had 220 combatants, but only five active teams. The current breakdown had worked well in the past. But that was when they had far fewer people. Now, it was beginning to show signs of inefficiency. Deployment coordination, mission routing, and battlefield management would all start to strain under unbalanced numbers.
Each of the five teams already had strong leadership:
[Aether, led by Zara, supervised by Milo]
[Blaze, led by Kaida, supervised by Lyrassa]
[Cinder, led by Garen, supervised by Baldric]
[Dusk, led by Ronan, supervised by Karian]
[Eclipse, led by Veylor, supervised by Mira]
But now, with a sixth capable commander available, Serenith, the solution was obvious.
"We’ll form a new unit," Atlas said. "It’s time."
Edrik nodded. "Makes sense. The current structure won’t hold once we start full campaign rotations. A sixth team will ease the load and give us flexibility."
Atlas glanced over the list of assignments again, considering the theme he’d followed so far, names that followed alphabetical order.
Then he smiled slightly.
"Let’s call it Flame," he said. "It fits the pattern. And more than that... it fits her."
Serenith, with her explosive flight patterns, her affinity for fire and aerial combat, was a perfect embodiment of the word.
Edrik gestured toward one of the new recruits, someone who had already caught Atlas’s attention the moment they arrived.
A towering figure.
Even from a distance, he stood out starkly. Nearly twice the height of Baldric, with crimson skin, twin tusks jutting from a powerful jaw, pair of horns, and armor so thick it looked more like a mobile fortress than a combat suit.
"He’s an Oni Warlord. Level 101. A berserker type, perfect for frontline carnage. Pairing him with Serenith’s aerial fire support could make for a devastating combination."
"Oni Warlord..." Atlas nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the warrior. "The farther we go, the more diverse the races I encounter."
Without a word, Edrik raised his hand and gave a subtle signal.
The Oni stepped forward.
Each step felt like a drumbeat in the earth, a slow, thunderous rhythm that drew every eye in the camp.
And when he stopped in front of Atlas, his deep voice rolled out like distant thunder.
"My Lord, I am called Kaer’Zan. Born of the Blood-Iron Peaks. I am specialized in shock assault and ground shatter tactics. I fight at the front, and I do not fall back. Pain is honor. Fury is clarity. And I have come to serve the one whose name travels faster than the storm."
A beast of war had just pledged his blade to Atlas.
And the Flame Team just found its anchor.