NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1027: I’ve already seen the potential
Orion turned, his attention fixed on the newly updated map of the Forest of Nature.
The Stillness was situated in the north, a considerable distance from the Wood Elves' former heartland. He pointed to the dense, central region of the forest.
"According to your intelligence, this was your people's core territory," he stated, his finger tracing the borders. "The ancestral home of the Wood Elf race, and the place where the Tree of Life lies in its self-imposed slumber."
He looked up at them. "Tangere's scouts have already reached the perimeter. It won't be long before this entire area is absorbed into my territory and falls under the administration of The Stillness." His expression became analytical. "Aerin, Xylia, I've spent the last few days studying the histories you provided. Theoretically, your race should not be this weak."
Managing an empire was more than just winning battles. A true leader had to understand every facet of his territory: the people, the geography, the resources, the culture. It was a part of the job Orion took seriously.
"You are correct, my lord," Xylia responded, her voice tight with a mixture of pride and sorrow. As a guardian of her people, she knew their martial history intimately. "Long ago, the Wood Elf race was anything but weak."
"In our golden age, we had legions of Goliath Treants and rode Eagle Knights into battle. Our borders were protected by ancient Treant Guardians." As she spoke, she seemed to drift away, her eyes losing focus, lost in the epic sweep of her people's history. "Legends even speak of Sylvan Spirits and Forest Drakes—some were the ultimate warriors, others were beings of immense and mysterious power."
Her voice trembled slightly. "But all of them are gone. Now, only we Wardancers remain." The title was the formal name for her class of warrior. The fact that even an elder like Aerin had never trained as a Wardancer was infuriatingly telling.
Xylia's focus snapped back to the present, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. The disappearance of those legendary units was undeniable proof of the Wood Elves' decline. Generations of our leaders must have been idealists, preaching a doctrine of peace that led us right to the brink of annihilation.
"The disappearance of those units doesn't surprise me," Orion said, his tone flat. "In fact, it was inevitable."
The blunt statement startled both Aerin and Xylia. They looked up at him, searching for an explanation.
"A society that shuns conflict has no place for warriors," he explained, his voice cold as steel. "When you reject the very concept of war, you leave no home for the warrior spirit. Their bodies and their minds have nowhere to belong, so they fade from reality into legend."
Orion understood war, and he understood warriors. Only a race forged in the crucible of constant conflict could produce the most elite fighters, the kind of heroes that shape history.
But there was a condition: the faction itself had to be strong enough to sustain the endless grind of war without collapsing. It needed the resources and the momentum to survive long enough for its true prodigies to emerge.
He was living proof of that. The Stoneheart Horde of his youth could never have supported his own meteoric rise. It was the Survivor's Platform, his alliance with Arthas and his bros in the Champions Alliance, that gave him the foundation he needed to become who he was.
Rolan was the same. If Orion hadn't shattered the Horde's old limits, Rolan would have been stuck in the Black Forest, his potential capped at the hero level for his entire life. But with the Giant Tribe's newfound power, they now had the resources and, more importantly, the time to nurture a talent like his. That was how he became the youngest Alpha-level elder in their history.
"My plan is to restructure the Wood Elf race into two branches," Orion continued, laying out his vision. "One dedicated to martial pursuits, the other to the prosperity and growth of your people. Those with a talent for combat will be trained from youth. They will be the seed from which the strength of the Wood Elves will grow again." He wasn't going to let his new vassals become a race of passive homebodies like Aerin. He needed fangs. He believed that once the Wood Elves regained their strength, those legendary units would reappear.
Orion turned his piercing gaze on Xylia. "You spoke of Goliath Treants and Eagle Knights. Don't you want to see them walk out of the pages of history and back into the world?"
Every word was like a log being added to a pyre inside her.
"I've already seen the potential," Orion added. "In the past few days, I've seen your people practicing the Treesong, performing rituals of supplication. If that dedication is focused, I have no doubt that the high-tier, sentient Treant warriors will walk the Forest of Nature once more."
His final words were the match that lit the pyre. The existing Wood Elves were just a spark. But Orion could see it in the depths of Aerin's and Xylia's eyes—that spark was already threatening to become an inferno.
"My lord… can we truly do it?" Xylia asked, her voice thick with excitement and disbelief. She desperately wanted to see that golden age reborn.
"You can. And it all begins with taking back what is yours."
Orion turned back to the map, his finger landing decisively on the forest's core. "Reclaim your homeland. Awaken the Tree of Life. Restore your people's full legacy. That is the first step to the revitalization of the Wood Elf race."
They had to change, and they had to be integrated seamlessly into the Stoneheart Horde's system. Orion was playing the long game. Most of the races in the Horde were built for conquest—they were consumers.
But the Wood Elves were a creative race, a people who could build the foundation upon which a lasting civilization could stand. He would keep them close, and controlling their military meant controlling their destiny.
Standing silently to the side, Caesar had listened to the entire exchange. Awe washed over him. Holy shit. That's why he's the Big Boss. The vision, the sheer scale of his thinking… it's on another level. Compared to this, my own efforts at managing a city feel like child's play.