Morganna’s strike halted an instant before it could sever Soren’s head from his shoulders! What had just happened?
The answer came a heartbeat later.
[Soren has declared a retreat with 27% damage taken.]
[You have earned 15 rank points.]
[You are entitled to claim 33% of the opponent’s resources.]
[Congratulations on your first victory!]
"Oh, damn it. Soren had chosen to surrender!"
So this was the first true victory for Gacha Haven, wasn’t it?
[You have unlocked access to issue a direct challenge to your opponent using your Attack Token. They will be unable to escape or decline.]
In a blink, Soren’s forces began to fade, disappearing into the air. The clash had ended just as swiftly as it had begun, leaving only Atlas’s forces standing.
Everyone who had still been mid-battle fell silent, stunned. Then, like a spark catching fire, shouts began to erupt across the field, one after another, swelling into a triumphant roar from the entire Gacha Haven army.
"Victory is ours!"
"They ran from us! Ran from her!"
"Long live Gacha Haven!"
Atlas stood amidst the cheers, quietly taking it all in. The rush of his first real triumph, the relief of knowing not a single one of his soldiers had fallen. But his eyes soon drifted to Morganna.
She was still there. Scythe in hand. Frozen in the same spot, locked in the moment she had nearly ended Soren.
"Is her wrath not yet satisfied?"
[You have obtained 200 Units of Wood.]
[You have obtained 200 Units of Iron.]
[...]
[You have obtained 10 Surrendered Troops.]
[You have obtained 895 Gold Coins.]
[You have received 500 Arcane Shards.]
[You received 9,568 Exp]
One notification after another flickered across Atlas’s interface, but he dismissed them all with a few quick swipes.
From the far edge of the island, a swirling portal burst open. A moment later, a handful of surrendered troops stumbled through, their wrists bound in restraints. They collapsed before the feet of Atlas’s soldiers, who eyed them with wary silence.
Atlas descended from his floating throne. His attention drifted toward the scene, but his gaze inevitably found Morganna.
She still stood apart. Scythe in hand. Motionless. The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.
"My Lord..." Edrik’s voice broke through softly.
Atlas turned toward him. The choice now rested in his hands. He could allow Soren and his battered island to retreat, granting them mercy and sparing further bloodshed. Or he could use his Attack Token, launching a counter attack.
"We’ll face many more threats ahead," Edrik said with a slight bow. "Plenty of insults and goading too."
"Soren didn’t provoke me... not completely," Atlas said. "This victory came too easily."
But his mind was elsewhere entirely. The sweet surge of triumph lingered in his chest, but it wasn’t satisfaction that consumed him.
It was a curiosity.
Atlas began moving toward Morganna.
Edrik followed quietly behind him, while the rest of the troops remained still.
Would their leader choose to press forward?
Or was this moment, with victory already claimed, enough?
Perhaps Atlas was still riding the high of victory, swept up in the euphoria of a flawless win. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Perhaps he hadn’t yet unleashed the kind of attack he believed would truly satisfy him.
And yet, it was undeniable: Soren’s forces had surrendered too quickly. Of course, with their lord seconds away from death, what choice did they have? Had they not yielded, the entire island and all its forces would’ve fallen under Atlas’s control.
So yes, from a tactical standpoint, Soren’s decision to retreat had been the wisest.
But was that all there was to it?
There was always the possibility that this retreat had been part of a deeper ploy, a trap designed to feed Atlas’s confidence, to provoke a reckless follow-up strike. One that would spring a more devastating counterattack they had been secretly preparing all along.
Because in this kind of Lord Battle, no move could be made purely on emotion or fleeting impulse. Especially not when every opponent likely had backup plans layered beneath their decisions.
"Edrik," Atlas said. "Now tell me. Give me every reason we should stop and let them go. That’s your only task right now."
Edrik bowed slightly, keeping close behind as Atlas continued walking.
"We’ve already won the first round," Edrik began. "And with that comes a valuable window. We can use this time to refine our strategy, polish our systems before we risk everything on a second engagement."
"This is still the beginning. There’s no harm in being patient," he added. "We’ve earned rank points, secured a portion of their resources, and boosted morale among our troops."
He paused for a beat before continuing. "Every phase of battle, whether defensive or offensive, carries its own risks. I truly believe we could win again if we pushed forward... but there’s always a cost. Some of us might not walk away from the next clash."
"Some Lords are cunning," he went on. "They’ll fake weakness just to lure us in. This surrender might not be submission, it might be a snare. A baited hook hiding well-fortified defenses behind the curtain."
Then, with a glance toward Morganna, Edrik added, "And regarding her... she may not be calmed without direct system override. But we need to find a way to remind her, this isn’t the time to act on raw emotion."
Atlas nodded slowly. "Alright."
Atlas stepped up beside Morganna. She hadn’t moved, still locked in place, her posture tense. The dark energy continued to flicker and crackle across the left side of her body.
"Having fun?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
Even with rage simmering in her veins, even with Soren’s taunt still hanging in the air, she kept her composure. That, to Atlas, said everything.
He understood the weight an insult like that carried, especially for someone like Morganna. She was no common soldier. She was powerful, and proud. No one had the right to belittle her.
And under his banner, no one would.
Soren’s words had been more than provocation. They had been a deliberate humiliation. And Morganna would not forget that.
Neither would Atlas.
He couldn’t just allow Soren to walk away after leaving such a stain. Not after disrespecting Lyrassa, Mira, Milo... Morganna. His people. His command.
Of course, he knew what this was. A calculated move meant to bait him into an irrational response. But no. This time, he was calm. This time, he saw it clearly.
He was thinking with clarity.
"What do you want?" he asked quietly. "Tell me."
"Kill that insect," she answered.
Atlas nodded slowly, weighing everything. Was he making this decision out of anger? Or was this the kind of confidence born from strength, his own, and that of the people who stood behind him?
Edrik stepped forward, bowing slightly. A faint smile curved at his lips.
"My Lord, if we move forward and win, we can claim their island and all it holds. It would be a powerful leap toward fortifying our own."
He paused for a breath. "Whatever choice you make, my Lord, we stand with you."
Atlas gave a slow nod, then grinned, and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the Attack Token high into the air, the decision sealed in that single moment of defiance and resolve.
[You have declared a counterattack on Soren of Ashroot Grove.]