The Golden Lord has a perverted SSS-rank summoning system!

Ethan was a little disappointed in himself for not having taken part in the battle, especially considering how much he loved crushing greenskins under his blade.

Still, he had to restrain himself.

His real battle was yet to come, especially since he wanted to test his strength against an established fourth-stage warrior.

With calm strides, he stepped down from the high platform, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

Around him, the last of the greenskins were being cut down amid muffled screams and the wet, dry sound of blades tearing through flesh. Healers rushed back and forth across the bloodied ground, tending to Goldenveil’s wounded.

In total, about one hundred and fifty soldiers had been wounded, ten in serious condition, but no deaths to mourn.

Ten thousand soldiers against thirty thousand enemies—an almost complete massacre, without a single casualty on their side.

Ethan felt his chest swell with pride. It had all been worth it.

Armor forged at the cost of a fortune, weapons of the highest quality, and relentless training. Each of those ten thousand men was, in his own right, an incomparable elite.

"You did a good job, son..."

Amelia’s voice, still hidden somewhere up in the sky, reached Ethan’s ears, filled with a pride that echoed his own.

She had always believed that her son was destined for great deeds, even in the face of the seemingly mediocre talent he had shown at first.

This battle was living proof that she had always been right.

Her little Ethan proved himself more incredible with each passing day, forging a nation whose scope she could never have imagined.

Ethan nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

His gains hadn’t been limited to the victory alone. Something he’d realized during the fight was that, even without participating directly, he continued to earn XP.

This applied to him as well as to everyone else, including the logistics team members accompanying the army. Essentially, everyone present shared in the experience, each to a different degree.

He himself, after the deaths of nearly thirty thousand greenskins, had seen his level jump to 113. Just seven levels away from the fourth stage.

As for Evelyn, who had plunged into the thick of the battle and was now drenched in blood from head to toe, she had reached Level 118.

Ethan sighed, making a discreet gesture with his hand for the soldiers to clear a path.

Upon reaching the front lines, he extended his arm, his open palm facing the bodies piled on the ground.

Over the past few months, he had devoted himself entirely to the administration of Goldenveil and had hardly used the Blood Emperor’s Ring at all.

Fortunately, this was the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time.

[You have absorbed the blood of numerous greenskins!

5,431 orcs

103 trolls

13,639 goblins

12,293 kobolds

Refining and converting...

Strength: +320

Agility: +340

Vitality: +400

Intelligence: +50

Your talent increases by a certain margin.

Blood Emperor’s Ring Reserves: 1,600/1,600]

Feeling the power rush like a hot torrent through his veins, Ethan gasped, his fingers twitching faintly at his side.

How many levels would those attribute points be equivalent to, if converted? A quick mental calculation put it at around three hundred seventy third-stage levels.

He already possessed base attributes far superior to those of an ordinary third-stage player, which was, in and of itself, a true anomaly. Now, with this new leap, he had become even more terrifying.

Even an SSS-Rank talent would have a hard time facing him head-on at the same level.

At first, Ethan felt a small twinge of disappointment upon realizing that his talent hadn’t reached Rank SS, but in the end, he could only sigh in resignation. The average talent of those orcs was probably not the most impressive.

Still, he couldn’t complain, especially when he looked at the average level of the first and second legions of the Goldenveil army.

From Level 30, the soldiers had risen to Level 43—an average of thirteen levels gained per man. Currently, more than five hundred of them were already prepared to begin their advancement to the third stage.

Ethan’s eyes fell on Doran, whose body was covered in dried blood. The Supreme Commander wore a grave expression as he wiped the edge of his sword with a bloodstained cloth.

"My lord, the allied troops have arrived. They know that many of our soldiers are exhausted and that the mud is already drying up. They won’t wait long before attacking our weary vanguard," Doran declared firmly, drawing a nod from Ethan.

"Prepare the lines. Every soldier must drink a stamina potion," Ethan ordered in a dry tone.

Unbeknownst to him, a few kilometers away, Fallenwinter was giving exactly the same order.

His eyes were cold as steel, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his middle-aged face bearing a silent tension as the soldiers around him swallowed their stamina potions.

The brews weren’t of the highest quality, but the men hadn’t yet fought or expended much of their aura.

They were more than enough to allow them to recover almost completely from the exhaustion of the march, their bodies glowing with renewed vitality.

"Let’s get going! I want to skin that brat alive to teach him his place!" one of the dwarf warriors grunted with a sadistic expression, drawing a heavy sigh from Zael Fallenwinter.

His eyes rose to the top of the corpse-strewn hill in the distance, where a powerful and disciplined army awaited them.

He raised his hand and then brought it down firmly, signaling the soldiers to advance.

A strange feeling gnawed at his chest, but he ignored it.

His army cut through the forest, quickly reaching the base of the hill where Goldenveil’s troops stood.

Zael Fallenwinter’s feet sank into the sea of greenskin corpses as he dismounted.

His eyes met Ethan’s, who stood at the head of the army, then slowly scanned the young man’s immaculate armor before returning to his face.

"Nice armor you’ve got there..." Zael Fallenwinter spat with contempt. "Not a single drop of blood on it..."

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