“So what did your parents think about our engagement?” I asked while savoring Anna’s personal take on Chicken Tikka Masala. She had to adapt the flavors to fit Valerian spices, but the final result was extraordinarily close to the original. The buttery, naan bread was an added bonus. If this is what she wanted to do by viewing my memories, then I wasn’t going to complain anymore. I envied our kids, who would undoubtedly enjoy her culinary delights every day until I kicked them out of the house.

“They were both supportive,” Anna said, then poured another bowl of curry for me. She held the warmest smile - balm for my wounded and confused soul. Unlike Idyia or Lydia, she was closer to a normal person’s mentality, and she kept my humanity rooted. In some ways I needed her more than my other two lovers. “They weren’t fond of how I would be your second or third wife, but they acknowledged marrying you would honor Goddess Hestia and bring unprecedented prestige to our bloodline.”

“Sorry.” I couldn’t help but think her family’s insecurities were my fault. I wasn’t entirely innocent: I was the one who chose to move forward with the marriage. I was the one who chose to propose to Anna. I was the one who sided with Lydia in keeping our engagement a secret.

“Dear,” my heart skipped a beat. “I have worked within political circles my entire life. I know how these games must be played even if I am not a player myself.” She stroked my cheek and I leaned into her palm. “This time, you don’t have to protect me.”

My eyes burned and I shut them tightly. I heard Anna set down the bowl and she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried my face into her chest.

“It’s okay. I know. This time, I want to protect you.”

Despite my best efforts at shielding my mind and looking as calm and collected as possible, Anna sensed my emotional anguish, turmoil, and even my fear. She pried away the shell I gathered around my heart and exposed the pain and misery within. Learning how terrifying Valeria was - of the secret monsters hiding within the world - made me realize my insignificance. King of Renalis? Ranger? Compared to the likes of King Arthur and the Demon Gods I needed to slay, I wasn’t even an ant. I wasn’t even sure I registered in their minds.

I wrapped my arms around Anna’s back and began to weep for the first time since I died. Tears that contained all my depression, my anxiety, my loneliness, my hopelessness fell against her uniform. She stroked my head while I cried like a fucking baby. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Never once since I died did I allow myself to break down so completely. I wasn’t permitted to. I was a soldier on a battlefield. I survived entirely on adreneline highs, emotional, physical, mental, alcoholic and sexual distractions to maintain my state of mind. The moment I caved in was the moment my will to fight collapsed.

I thought I could keep pushing forward in that vein. I thought I could press on until I finally saw Rebecca again.

But Anna knew better. She knew I needed a moment of reprieve. A moment of true, human weakness, lest the iron shield I built around my soul become a cage that trapped my humanity. I must have cried a lifetime’s worth of tears. Two lifetimes, since I had died once already.

By the time my hysteria died down into broken sobs, the sun was gone and Anna’s uniform was soaked. Even so, she never stopped holding me and even humed a hymn into my ears. It spoke of family and fertility. Of farms and food. It was simple and beautiful, just like Anna. It was a song of her faith and I decided that if I were to follow any God in this world, it would be Anna’s.

One day after my cry session, I joined my men in their training regimen so I could personally evaluate their performance. Most were still 1st Level, although some reached 2nd during the conquest of the Altanovan coastline. None could hold a candle to Idyia or myself, but I couldn’t expect them to match a Hero and a 6th Level Assassin. Overall, their combat readiness was excellent, especially since they were fresh off of the Altanovan battlefield. At some point, Finlay was promoted to a platoon leader. I didn’t allow our previous misgivings to cloud my judgment. Finlay was 2nd Level, achieved purely through battle against demons invading his territory. Despite being Classless, he proved himself a capable warrior and a decent leader due to his noble status.

Reading over the roster, there were about 300 men and women of combat-related Classes and 50 with auxiliary and ancillary support Classes. I shook my head at the dissonance. While having more warfighters was always good, the more we had, the harder it would be to service them all properly. If anything, I wanted at least 100 more support Classes. In a perfect world, I would have three supporters for every frontline combatant. Any decent commander knew a strong and robust logistics division meant smoother wartime operations. In order to make up for this deficit of support staff, I would have to focus on multilateral training.

“I want the non-combatant and combatant Classes to train alongside each other,” I announced to the various platoon and squad leaders I summoned into the throne room.

“General,” came Captain Finlay. “The non-combatant Classes are busy crafting and making armaments for the army. Scheduling time for training will bite into their free-time.”

“You misunderstand. The combat Classes will also assist the non-combat Classes with their duties.”

Like I thought, the other leaders, especially those in charge of combat arms platoons and squads stood up in protest, but I raised one hand to preemptively silence them all.

“I have a rule: never order your soldiers something you are not willing to do yourself. We will all shit, eat, sleep, and die together. I am not asking for role-specific tasks to be delegated to those incapable. I don’t expect a Fighter to suddenly smith a longsword, however all basic functions will be mastered by everyone in the army. This is called cross-training, and our overall effectiveness and cohesiveness as a small, but elite group of warriors will benefit in the long run. We do not have the luxury or the manpower to have everyone focus only on their specialized roles. We have no idea what the battlefield will look like in the Rift. In all likelihood, we will have to be entirely self-sufficient for weeks or months.”

“But-”

I shot a glare at the speaker, Captain Dauf. He would spearhead the frontlines alongside Finlay.

“Do you have any experience in the Rift? What can you tell me about the enemy’s capabilities, loadouts, and rate of movement? Fortifications? Time between resupply?”

“N-no, General. This will be my first campaign.”

“It will be mine as well,” I admitted freely to everyone in the room. They seemed to relax at my candor. “Information is sparse. Most of the veterans who fought in the Rift 25 years ago are either dead or left the kingdom for better lives elsewhere. General Belmond informed me of the basics, but his intel is over two and a half-decades old. In war, that is an eternity. In order to maximize our chances of survival, all of our soldiers need to be as flexible as possible and adapt as the needs of the army shift.”

One of the reasons I was going to Avalon was so I could solicit more recent information to better plan out the campaign. The Kingdom of Avalon spearheaded the yearly crusades into the Rift, so their battle data was the most reliable. At first, I thought I could leverage my Heroic Class, but after learning about King Arthur’s true strength, I wasn’t even sure he’d bother giving me the time of day. Honestly, I was surprised he agreed to evaluate my worth at all.

“How’s the general fitness training?”

“General,” Captain Finlay spoke again. “At our rate of training, we may be able to secure another set of Attribute Points. Possibly even two.”

I nodded in satisfaction. Most humanoids naturally achieved six to eight across their entire Attribute score without any effort. They would typically gain seven additional Attribute Points throughout their lives - more if they trained and even more if they reached an even level. Conversely, these extra Attribute Points could fade away, like how a muscle atrophied if unused. It was how I gained more Attribute Points in Renala’s Tomb. A week straight of intense combat in a horrifically austere environment condensed a lifetime of physical training into 160 hours.

“Maintain our training pace. Any incremental gains will mean the difference between life and death. I do not anticipate our numbers to increase beyond our current roster. This is all the Kingdom of Renalis can offer the Alliance.”

“That is asking for much, if you wish to… cross-train as well.”

I frowned.. As a Sergeant, I hated consuming my soldier’s off-time for the sake of training. Doing so, especially when war was upon us, would destroy our morale before we even set foot on the battlefield. I needed to motivate my troops to train more, but without giving them the order. Normally, my options would be limited, but as king, I had a plethora of tools at my disposal. Absolute power never felt so great.

“Prioritize the cross-training then. Reduce the time spent on general fitness training, but we need at least one more round of Attributes across the entire army. Announce that anyone who gains two or more Attribute Points before we march on the Rift will receive a bonus of three fist-sized Magic Crystals.”

The leaders blinked in surprise. One fist-sized Magic Crystal was typically enough to support an entire household for a single winter. I was effectively giving away three years worth of free salary.

“Can we spare that much?” Finlay asked.

“The kingdom had a windfall of wealth. We have more than enough to spare.”

“In that case, it can be done.” Finlay nodded with a soft sigh of relief. I smirked. Money solved everything.

“How about stockpiling ranged siege equipment?” This was another integral part of my strategy. If I could combine all of my Skills and apply them to ranged siege weapons, the damage would be catastrophic. The overall potency should make up for the size of our army.

“All according to schedule, General,” came Captain Rhodes, a dwarf in charge of the support staff. “I’ve been told the Peak will send the finest weapons and armor they can provide. The army should be fully equipped by the time you and the Queen return from Avalon.”

“What of horses and mounts?”

“We are falling short on war-ready steeds. At most, we have 100, but I doubt it will even reach 50. There is just not enough time before the next crusade to rear and train more.” Captain Rhodes shook his head.

“We’ll take whatever we can get. I want at least a single mounted platoon for flanking maneuvers and scouting. I need a volunteer from this room or outside of it to lead it. Preferably someone with a riding-oriented Class, Aspect, or set of Skills.”

“That is within the realm of possibility, General. I will comb through our roster to find a suitable candidate.”

“Make it happen, Captain Rhodes. A single platoon is the bare minimum otherwise our battlefield flexibility will be non-existent. Are there any other questions?”

All were silent. I stood. They all stood in unison and saluted me. I returned the salute.

“Dismissed.”

The next week I spent training in as many fields as possible alongside my soldiers. I was one to lead from the front, so I participated in every single duty. From cleaning latrines to assembling a trebuchet, I refused to miss even a single moment. At first, the combatants were resistant to learning anything beyond what was required to kill the enemy, but after I personally explained the importance of role flexibility in such a small army and demonstrated my own willingness to assemble an entire trebuchet by myself with Captain Rhodes instructing me, any hesitation vanished.

I also spent a noticeable amount of time with the archer platoon. Martha was being trained as the Captain for it. Both she and her brother seemed to idolize me, and I couldn’t help but train with them more. Martha and the rest of the ranged Classes benefitted the most from my participation.

I trained them like I did my soldiers back on Earth. Rather than focus purely on marksmanship, I subliminally trained them to obey my orders without hesitation using drill practice and commanding tones. I also incorporated a bit of fantasy into our training.

“Good, set the training dummies right over there.” The support staff were all here to assist and to practice themselves. Ranged combat was one thing I wanted the support staff to be proficient in. Firing from a distance was safer and gave them an added function aside from just equipment and personnel maintenance. I ordered them to arrange a series of dummies in a tight line-formation with shields raised. Their targets were set at 200, 100, 50, and 25 meters beyond.

“You will fire four volleys,” I ordered the ranged platoon. “Each volley will decrease in range.”

This was completely opposite to what most ranged combatants were trained to do. It drew some questionable glances.

“Each volley will decrease in range,” I repeated for clarity. “This is to mimic enemy advancement into the lines. The training dummies represent your allied element, holding the front. You are to shoot just above their shoulders and shields without hitting them.

“Isn’t this an Elvish shooting tactic?” Asked Martha. I nodded with a grin. Personally, I took it from the prologue of the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, but it seemed the Elves of Valeria fought in a similar fashion. Martha, Victor, and their father monitored the territory bordering Thaysil, so it didn’t surprise me that they knew some Elven combat drills.

“You are correct, Lieutenant.”

“This is insanity! Elves have much higher Dexterity than most humans! General, we will shoot each other in the backs!” Erupted one of my soldiers.

I shook my head. “Then it’s time to prove ourselves the exception to the rule.” Simply put, we did not have the luxury of safer tactics. I had no choice but to turn this army of 350 men and women into an elite, self-sufficient, demon-killing fighting force.

I took my own bow, fired once at the 200 meter target. Fired again at the 100. Then at the 50. And finally at the 25. Just like in the movie, my last arrow was barely an inch away from skimming the helmet of the training dummy on the final shot.

“All ranged Classes will master this drill, no exceptions or excuses.”

My swordsmanship was still far superior to Victor’s despite his Class and Aspect advantage, so I was an effective sparring partner to the young man and the rest of his peers. But Idyia was actually their main drill instructor. Objectively speaking, she was one of the best swordswomen in the entire kingdom. Her Duelist Aspect translated well into one-on-one instruction beyond her favored shortswords. Just because she specialized in their use did not mean she was incompetent with other forms of weaponry. Watching her fight was always a visual treat. Her natural Elven grace and figure was a sight for sore eyes; even as she beat the living shit out of any of her sparring partners.

After spending a week in the training camp, I returned to the citadel and spent the last night before we left for Avalon with Lydia.

“Are you pleased with your army?” Lydia asked while tucked tightly against my side. She rested her head on my chest and drew circles over my torso.

“Yeah. General Belmond and Idyia trained them well since I’ve been gone.” I stroked Lydia’s scalp and listened to her purr beneath my fingertips.

“I want to go with you, into the Rift.”

“Your place is here, leading your kingdom. You and I both know that.”

“Perhaps. I have fought long and hard to attain what my family has lost.”

“Then stay. It’s all right. Leaving family to go to war is something soldiers do.”

“You are also mine, Levin. Your mind, soul, and body down to every last scrap of flesh belongs to me.” She mounted me and I gasped. “And I’ve started to love you just as much as I love this kingdom.”

Her fingers laced around mine as she gently rode me.

“A crusade into the Rift - that is one thing. But your Quest is far worse. Will you not reconsider?”

My breath hitched. I had a moment of clarity even through the milky haze of my arousal.

“I can’t give up on Rebecca.” I panted each word. My answer brought tears to Lydia’s eyes, but she shook her head. She feared for my life. They all did. But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I don’t know what she saw on my face, but she sighed in resignation, leaned forward, and kissed me.

“I know.”

The rest of our night was spent in bliss.