The aftermath of the Blood Moon was quieter than expected.
Not peaceful — just waiting. Like the world was holding its breath before the next scream.
Ash from the monsters clung to everything. Even the vines sweated crimson mist for a day after. Emberfronts moved with silent precision, eyes sharpened from battle and grief. Three of their own had fallen — honored with sky-root burials at dawn.
Riku didn't speak during the rites.
He stood beneath the canopy, beside the still-rising duplicate west tower, and stared at the Fold Ticket in his interface.
[FOLD TICKET: USE CONFIRMED]
Eligible Targets (Owned Assets):
– Obsidian Dagger [Folded Quality – Tier 2]
– Bonefire Arrows (x64)
– Emberfront Unit Stack (x44)
– Forge-Hut: Southern Slope
– Defensive Trap Kits (x12)
– Warbeast Pen: 1 juvenile corehound (injured)
Note: Fold can affect either Quantity or Quality. Result is permanent.
[Select Target.]
Riku narrowed his eyes.
The dagger was tempting — it had already saved his life. But it was already folded once, and more wasn't always better in a blade. The Emberfront stack? Too early. He had plans for them long-term.
His eyes landed on the corehound pen.
A young warbeast they'd captured during a failed Blood Moon flank. It had lost one eye, snarled at everything, and refused food for days. But it was alive. And under the tribe's banner now.
He made his choice.
[Target Selected: Corehound (Juvenile)]
Fold Type: QUALITY
…FOLD INITIATING…
The system pulsed once, then went silent.
In the pen below, the corehound thrashed — then collapsed. For one long second, Riku thought he'd killed it.
Then it stood up.
Slower. Straighter. Larger.
Its remaining eye burned blue instead of red. Its damaged leg straightened with a hard snap, and faint lava-veins glowed under its fur.
A tribal handler screamed. "Sovereign! The beast— It's changed—!"
Riku descended slowly, arms at his side.
The corehound didn't lunge.
It bowed.
The handler gawked. "It's… submitting. That shouldn't be possible without a bond brand—"
"It's possible now," Riku said. "What's its status?"
They brought the readings:
Beast Class: Corehound (Feral-Tamed)
Status: Alpha-Conditioned (Loyal – Bond-Level 1)
New Traits:
– Lava Gland: Spits molten shot up to 10 meters
– Burrow Step: Short-range ground dive to reposition
– Heat Shielding: Immune to fire, resistant to impact
Classification: Tier-2 Beast Unit – Named: "Ashmaw"
Riku stood in silence as the corehound—Ashmaw—circled him once, then curled near his feet like a trained warhound.
"Prepare a unit rotation," he said. "Ashmaw joins patrol squad three at dusk."
"But… he hasn't been trained—"
"He has now."
Later That Night
Riku sat alone in the planning hollow, surrounded by freshly cleaned weapons and next-wave prep scrolls.
The Fold Ticket was gone. Used. But it hadn't just created a better beast.
It had created a symbol.
Whispers spread through the Lorian: that the Sovereign could tame fire with a word, that monsters bowed to him, that the towers grew because his shadow told them to.
None of it true.
All of it useful.
Even Juran, for all his suspicion, said nothing when Riku ordered Ashmaw to replace two spearmen in the next rotation. No one argued when Ashmaw took position at the eastern ridge and growled low at the darkness beyond.
The Blood Moon was over.
But the next one would be worse.
And now, they had a Folded Beast standing guard.