Despite this, neither Yriel nor Konak raised any objections. The construct before them held the same rank of Pontiff, and it was clear they were on good terms.

The four-winged Fallen Angel beside the puppet stepped forward. "Pontiff Yriel, I have failed you," she said, her voice laced with guilt as she bowed. This was the Witch, clad in her new avatar.

"This wasn't your fault," Yriel said, shaking his head. He held no grudge. "The enemy brought two demigods. The loss of the tower was not your fault." The Witch's previous avatar had been of the Nali race, a six-armed serpent-demon, the same as Yriel's own. They were kin, after all, which was one of the reasons she served under his command.

"Gentlemen! And lady," Konak boomed with a laugh, stepping in to play the host. This Black Tower was his domain now. "This is no place for such serious talk. Please, follow me. Your arrival will surely accelerate my conquest of the Silverwood Realm!"

Further north, at Augurath Sanctuary.

Orion stood at the highest point of the Black Tower and tore the magic scroll the Deputy Commander had given him. Space rippled, and a figure materialized before him—a mage clad in dusty grey robes, the air growing cold around him. An aura of necromantic power, subtle but unmistakable, clung to the avatar.

Orion's eyes widened in realization. A necromancer?

"It's me," the figure confirmed. The tone was familiar, but the voice itself was a hoarse, dark rasp, a product of the new form.

"Welcome to the Black Tower," Orion said, allowing a hint of his surprise to show. After all this time, he was finally seeing another side of his ally.

The title of necromancer was almost always synonymous with evil. This grim figure seemed a world away from the wise, grandfatherly scholar in the Valkorath Realm. I wonder if Elara would even recognize her mentor like this.

"Let me take a look," the Deputy Commander said, nodding. He closed his eyes, his senses expanding to permeate the entire structure, assessing the damage Orion had already described.

"It's not bad," he concluded after a moment. "The damage isn't critical. We can repair it." He looked at Orion. "You were lucky. The core materials for the teleportation formation are intact. I just need to re-inscribe the magical formation." He began to walk, gesturing for Orion to follow him toward the lower levels. "The guardian formation, however… that's more difficult."

They descended into the tower's depths, passing vast storage chambers still filled with the corpses of demonic monsters and the tower's former guardians—the foundation of the Cult of Four's invasion force.

"We have enough raw materials here," the Deputy Commander noted, his gaze fixed on the intricate runes etched into the floor. "But the medium for the guardians themselves has been destroyed."

The technical jargon went over Orion's head. "The medium for the guardians?"

The Deputy Commander didn't look up. "Yes. According to the schematics inscribed in this tower, it was designed to be protected by four arch lord-level guardians. You didn't kill them, did you?"

Understanding crashed down on Orion. It all clicked into place. The four arch lords Alexander had trapped, the ones he himself had finished off. By killing them, he had destroyed the very vessels the guardian formation relied on.

"Deputy Commander," Orion asked, feeling a pit form in his stomach. "What do we do now?"

"Do you have any complete arch lord corpses? With their souls intact?"

"No," Orion admitted, shaking his head. His fighting style was too destructive; most of his enemies were either sacrificed to his Ghost Dragon or utterly annihilated.

The Deputy Commander finally looked up from the runes. His statement was simple and direct: "You have much to build."

"You're right," Orion conceded immediately. The critique hit home. He had immense combat power, but he'd ascended to arch lord so quickly that he lacked the deep reserves of a true veteran. Gear, skills, unique troop sources, territory infrastructure, faith reserves… he was deficient in all the fundamentals. Not to mention the intangibles like technological development, esoteric knowledge, and political connections.

His allies—the Deputy Commander, Arthas, Leonidas, Alexander—they had been arch lords for years. In the long centuries when their personal power had plateaued, they had studied other disciplines, alien cultures, and arcane arts.

When Orion had first taken this tower, the magical runes covering its walls had been meaningless scribbles to him. Arthas, while no expert, had at least been able to identify and neutralize the most immediate threats. Every one of those actions was backed by an invisible mountain of accumulated knowledge. That was what the Deputy Commander meant. He was all power, no foundation.

"Are you certain you want to convert the demonic monster formation into a formation for Skeletal Knights?" the Deputy Commander asked, changing the subject.

As he spoke, he touched a ring on his left hand. Four motes of light shot out, landing perfectly on four key stellar points of the magical formation on the floor. They solidified into the pristine, undamaged corpses of four arch lord-level monsters. Orion stared, dumbfounded.

"My thanks, Deputy Commander," Orion said, swallowing his pride. For now, he had no choice but to accept the handout.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" Orion asked, sensing there was more to it. "Are the demonic monsters better than Skeletal Knights?"

"The tower's conversion matrix is already configured for three types of demonic monsters: Cyclopes, Red-Eyed Ghouls, and Mist Wraiths," the Deputy Commander explained, his attention already returning to the runes on the surrounding walls. "Compared to your single-minded request for Skeletal Knights, the Cult of Four's lineup is more balanced and far more efficient to produce. My recommendation is to alter just one of the production lines to create your knights. It's easier for me, and it gives you more strategic options."

He ran a hand over the glowing glyphs, a look of pure fascination on his face. Say what you will about the Cult of Four's morality, but their Black Towers were masterpieces of magical engineering. The arcane knowledge woven into their walls was so complex that even he would need a great deal of time to fully comprehend it.

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