My Fusion System: Fusing Weak Soldiers with Direwolves at the Start-Chapter 42: Sunroot Wall

Kaelor stood before the massive trunk. Without ceremony, he gripped the hilt of his sword, Ignis, with both hands. The steel hummed faintly, an energy barely perceptible to those untrained in sensing power.

Then, with one heavy swing, the blade arced through the air and the tree was severed cleanly at its base, its upper half toppling with a deafening crash, leaving behind a smooth stump.

Gasps erupted.

Without pausing, Kaelor moved to another. Another strike. Another perfect, seamless cut. And then again. This time, as he steadied his stance, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, something changed.

Three trees fell in unison.

Silence fell over the workers, mouths parted in awe. Not a splinter in sight.

Kaelor lowered Ignis slowly, the blade glinting in the midday light as if it had never tasted bark. He said nothing, only walked past the fallen giants and disappeared beyond the clearing.

"His sword didn’t even touch those trees," Philip whispered, his voice laced with disbelief.

Damien, older and more observant, muttered under his breath. "That means he’s a Swordsman... at the Expert rank. You should be more worried about why he hasn’t used your skills. He’s watching us, judging our usefulness." His tone dropped. "Get to work."

And just like that, the murmurs faded as urgency returned. The men bent to their tasks again, hauling one of the fallen trunks toward the town with strained breaths.

Six more days passed in intensive labor. The forest echoed with the sounds of movement, of trees dragged and chopped, of voices raised in command or frustration. By the end of the week, over two thousand felled trees were stacked in neat piles, each a monument to sweat.

And around the valley’s edge, the skeletal structure of the wall had begun to rise, a jagged halo of massive trunks standing like wooden sentinels.

Working together on the arduous task had subtly changed the atmosphere. The slaves, once wary of the beastkin, now looked at them differently, perhaps even with quiet respect as they watched them lift massive logs and trunks with ease, feats that strained multiple human backs.

Kaelor sat at a table set beneath the shadow of a pile of freshly cut trunks, Titan haunched beside him, its heads occasionally growling lowly at the passing slaves. None dared meet its gaze.

Fortunately, Vi had returned to her usual self. Kaelor’s eyes lingered on her down by the timber stacks, dressed in tight pants and a coarse tunic, a simple belt cinched around her willowy waist. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and with a flick of her fingers, she moved trunks as though she were a human crane. The sight dazzled Kaelor.

Then he turned his gaze to the man standing before him.

Damien.

"So you’re Damien?" Kaelor asked softly.

"Yes, I am, My Lord," Damien replied with a respectful bow.

"Grant told me you might serve well as a steward. Can you?" Kaelor said, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the man.

"My worth lies in your judgment, My Lord. Should you deem me useful, I believe you will find ways to use me," Damien responded with calm composure.

Kaelor chuckled. He had observed the man for some time now. While Damien wasn’t among the strongest, he had the rare ability to organize, to make the slaves work efficiently, always in Kaelor’s best interest.

Kaelor couldn’t yet verify the loyalty of every man... unfortunately.

"You shall be my steward, Damien. From this moment, you will oversee and report everything the slaves and freemen of Redwood Town do. Fail me, act in your own interest, and I’ll have you tortured and beheaded. Or worse..." Kaelor nodded toward the beast beside him. "Titan might have you for supper."

He didn’t bother to look at Damien as he spoke, as if the man’s life held little value. Inwardly, however, Kaelor was grateful to the body’s former owner, for the memories, the instincts, the intuition.

Damien’s hands trembled slightly. One of Titan’s heads was staring directly at him, and he could feel the hunger behind those gleaming eyes.

This was a moment of great ascent but with it came the edge of a cliff. One wrong step, and he’d fall into jaws as dark as death.

"I shall serve you well, My Lord," Damien said, bowing deeply.

"Good," Kaelor replied, then turned to Jon, who stood just behind the table. "Remove his shackles."

Jon silently stepped forward, taking the key from his belt and unlocking the chains binding Damien’s hands and ankles.

From a distance, Philip watched.

He wasn’t alone. Dozens of other slaves had seen it too, the chains falling, the shift in Damien’s status. Their expressions varied, emotions flickering across tired faces. But among them all, one feeling was shared.

Hope.

Construction continued for two more days. On the final evening, Kaelor stood outside the newly defined valley grounds. Two rows of palisade now rose from the earth, with a three-metre gap between them. Heaps of dirt, fresh-cut wood, and stones brought in wagons from Oasis Basin surrounded the fortifications.

"System," Kaelor said quietly, "fuse everything. I want a sturdy outer wall."

[Cost: 3,500 FP!]

Kaelor nearly staggered.

That was almost all he had left and he had planned to fuse more rice into Starlight Rice!

"Do it."

Blue flames engulfed the materials, and sent them hurtling toward the wall. As the sand, stones and wood collided, the flames intensified, all around the top of the valley. Both those in the valley and at the top were astonished at the bright blue wall made of flames.

After a short while, the last embers died off, revealing a twenty eight feet tall wall, with two meters wide ramparts, all around the Redwood valley. Grass covered the wall, both front and back like a cloak of nature.

Rising silently from the wooden wall at the touch of sunlight were archers. These archers resembled humanoid trees sculpted by the will of an ancient forest. Their bodies are formed from twisted trunks and sinewy vines, limbs shaped like carved oak or ash, flexible yet sturdy.

Their skin was bark-like, veined with green lifeblood, and sprouting here and there with moss or curling ivy. Leaves cling to their limbs like natural camouflage, rustling faintly as they stood with eerie grace.

Their eyes glow faintly with emerald fire, shimmering as if sunlight itself fueled their vision.

The bows they wield were extensions of themselves, gnarled, living wood that curves with primal elegance, strung with sinews of nature. Arrows stuck out of the bark-quivers on their backs, each fletched with feathers made of leaf-vein or bramble.

[Congratulations, you have successfully created the Sunroot Wall. A wall that can summon 20 wardens during the hours of the day and retrieve them during the night. Will protect the wall from obvious threats.]