"So, serious question," Lorelia asked, tilting her head. "You're a gnoll. They're gnolls. What's the actual difference? Is it a sub-species thing?"

Lorelia agreed with Clymene's assessment—she wanted this campaign over yesterday—but her boredom was leading her down a rabbit hole of random thoughts.

Both Gustalon and Clymene stayed silent. It wasn't their lane. All eyes naturally shifted to Dirtclaw.

"Don't insult me," Dirtclaw growled, his voice rough as stone. "Maybe we look alike at a glance. But the locals? They fight like animals. No discipline. No pride. They swarm forward without thinking, and the moment the fight turns against them, they scatter—tails tucked, fleeing for their lives."

Dirtclaw wasn't just the muscle; he was the Stoneheart Horde's spymaster in Delilah's absence. Even with Delilah operating out of the Abyss, she still held significant sway, but the day-to-day intel gathering fell to the hellhound.

He had seen the reports. He despised the local gnolls.

"If they had stats anywhere near ours, they'd be running this continent," Dirtclaw spat. "Instead, they abandon their territory at the first sign of trouble. It's embarrassing to watch. It gives the rest of us a bad name."

To Dirtclaw, a retreat was a personal failure. Seeing his distant cousins acting like cowards felt like a stain on his own reputation.

"The gnolls aren't the problem. They're just cannon fodder," Clymene interjected calmly. "The real threat is the Nightwing race. The gnolls are just their attack dogs."

She glanced at Dirtclaw apologetically. "No offense."

Dirtclaw snorted. "None taken. I'm not a dog, and I'm definitely not a gnoll. I'm a Hell-Drake Hound. There's a difference in the tier list."

"The Nightwings are aerial combatants," Clymene continued. "Dislodging them is going to be a headache."

It was a tactical nightmare. Flying units loved to kite ground troops, utilizing hit-and-run tactics and abusing the Z-axis to stay out of range. For a predominantly ground-based army, they were the worst possible matchup.

Among the Wardens present, only Gustalon could truly hard-counter them.

"Let them fly," Lorelia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "If they dare drop below the cloud deck, my children will turn the sky into a No-Fly Zone. I'll web them up like flies."

She pouted slightly, trying to look tough.

"Plus, we have air support from the coalition's dragon beast armies and the undead air force," Dirtclaw added, puffing out his chest with the confidence of someone who knew the Stoneheart Horde was unbeatable. "If the Nightwings try to engage us in a straight fight... we'll knock the living shit out of them."

"I'm going to scout the perimeter," Gustalon announced.

The banter between Dirtclaw, Lorelia, and Clymene had fired him up. With a sudden gust, his physical form dissolved into a swirling breeze, vanishing from sight in an instant.

"Man..." Dirtclaw sighed, staring at the empty space where the wind spirit had stood. "We may be strong, but next to an Elemental like Gustalon… we're nothing."

It was a rare admission of humility.

Dirtclaw was at the peak of Legendary status, a tanky powerhouse, but he knew his limits. He couldn't touch Gustalon. The wind spirit could fly indefinitely without burning mana. Physical attacks passed right through him.

For a biological Lord, flight required burning Transcendent Power. It was a cooldown, not a passive ability. For Gustalon, being the wind wasn't a spell; it was his existence.

"Speak for yourself, mud-puppy," Lorelia teased. "You might feel like a scrub, but I don't."

Lorelia didn't share Dirtclaw's inferiority complex. She had been power-leveled by Orion since day one, fed the best resources, and had awakened a Lord's Stone on her own.

Plus, she was cautious. Lorelia preferred the term "tactically prudent," though others might call it "camping." She knew she could hold her own.

She looked at the sky where Gustalon had vanished, her expression shifting from arrogance to curiosity.

I wonder if Elementals have a flavor, she thought idly. How do you even take a bite out of the wind?

"You're not doing so bad yourself, Dirtclaw," Clymene said, breaking the silence. "Back in our world, you're practically a folk hero. The gnoll who became a legend."

"Heh..." Dirtclaw grinned, his eyes narrowing in pleasure. He wasn't immune to flattery, especially from the boss's sister.

Valkorath Realm. Garland.

In the palace's botanical garden, a small crowd had gathered. Orion, the Deputy Commander, and little Elara stood in a semi-circle, their faces illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow.

Edward was scribbling furiously in a leather-bound notebook, documenting every shift in the mana density.

"Daddy! Did it really get this big in one night?"

Elara was perched on Orion's shoulders, his small hands gripping his father's hair for balance. He had seen the Miracle Divine Tree just yesterday when it was a sapling in a pot. Now, it was a towering ancient, its canopy stretching toward the palace roof.

"It sure did, buddy," Orion said, reaching up to squeeze Elara's foot. His eyes were shining with relief and awe.

Technically, it wasn't just growth. It was a rebirth. The tree hadn't just expanded; it had died and respawned, powered by the most potent artifacts in the realm.

"I know the specs say 'Miracle Divine Tree,' but I'm getting serious World Tree vibes from this thing," the Deputy Commander noted. He held up a magnifying glass etched with analysis runes, inspecting the veins of a low-hanging leaf. "The vitality readings are off the charts. It's more potent than I calculated."

"Deputy Commander..." Orion hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at him. "Do you have an ETA on Violet and Caelus? How long until the resurrection is complete?"

"We're at the finish line, Orion. Why are you trying to sprint?"

The Deputy Commander glanced up, giving Orion a look that suggested he was being impatient.

"The tree is currently metabolizing three top-tier cosmic artifacts. This implies a massive data transfer. Honestly? You should pray it takes longer."

He turned back to the leaf, finding the biology of the tree far more interesting than Orion's anxiety.

"Think about it like a character build. The longer they stay inside, absorbing those nutrients, the higher their base stats will be when they spawn. If they rush out now, they might be weak. If they marinate in there? Their potential is limitless."

"Wait until the progress bar hits 100% naturally."

Even though the Deputy was being blunt, he was right.

"Since the risk of failure is zero, I don't care if it takes ten years or a century," Orion said, his voice firm.

He meant it. The danger was passed. Now, it was just a waiting game.

The Miracle Divine Tree was changing by the hour. For all he knew, Orion could wake up tomorrow morning to find Violet and Caelus standing there, waiting for him.

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