CHAPTER 226: THE SLUMBERING GARRISON

Following the grand proving ground battle, Caius summoned Archmage Orven and the multi-armed Arachne Master Weaversmith to his private study. Spread across the dark mahogany table were detailed architectural blueprints drawn in luminous violet ink.

Caius leaned over the plans, his sharp eyes reflecting the faint glow of the diagrams. "A standing army of thirteen thousand heavy orcs is a tactical triumph, but a logistical nightmare. Left awake, those brutes will consume the fortress's food reserves and surrounding grain stockpiles in less than a year. I will not have my kingdom starved by its own guard."

He tapped a central diagram depicting a vast network of subterranean conduit pipes connected to the castle’s primary mana pool.

"We solve this with stasis," Caius explained, pointing toward the cylindrical structures on the parchment. "You will construct Mana Glass Vats throughout the lower vaults. The fluid feeding them will be drawn directly from the core mana pool, but heavily diluted through filtration channels so it sustains their bodies without overloading their meridians. Inside these vats, their life functions will freeze."

Caius outlined the rotation protocol with cold precision. Every year, a designated cohort of one thousand orcs would be automatically awakened to handle surface guard rotations, patrollers, and regional security. The remaining twelve thousand-plus would remain suspended in stasis, drawing zero supplies, aging at a crawl, and incurring no logistical cost. Should Castle Precipice ever come under siege, the central array would shatter every vat simultaneously, releasing an immediate, fully rested army of thirteen thousand juggernauts onto the field.

Archmage Orven and the Master Weaversmith set to work immediately. Over the next two months, the lowest basalt caverns beneath Castle Precipice were hollowed out and transformed into colossal stasis galleries.

Thousands of towering, reinforced Mana Glass Vats lined the walls in endless, glowing rows, connected by a labyrinth of silver conduits. Diluted, glowing blue mana fluid bubbled gently inside each vessel. To oversee the massive facility, hundreds of specialized Arachne drones were stationed along the catwalks, engineered to monitor fluid density, regulate life-sign runes, and manage the automated yearly waking cycles. Two months after the initial plans were drawn, the vast chambers stood completely operational, ready to receive the garrison.

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The entire thirteen-thousand-strong orc garrison assembled in the stasis galleries, their massive frames casting long shadows against the glowing glass cylinders. Caius stood upon the central platform overlooking the green sea of warriors, his voice echoing clearly through the humid chamber.

"You are the immovable shield of Castle Precipice," Caius proclaimed. "You will enter these vats. You will not age, you will not hunger, and you will not wither in idle peace. While you sleep within the mana fluid, the array will feed your minds a continuous, synthetic dream illusion. You will dream of endless battle, endless blood, and endless slaughter against infinite foes."

He raised his gauntleted hand, pointing across the rows. "Every year, one thousand of you will be awakened to watch over my realm. But the rest shall sleep, until the day an enemy dares to march upon these gates. On that day, every tank will shatter, and all of you will wake to turn their army into bone."

The orcs listened to the speech, but their minds utterly bypassed the parts about logistics, resource preservation, and yearly guard rotations. The moment their ears caught the words endless dream of battle and slaughter, their yellowed eyes flared with wild, unbridled euphoria. They didn't care about being put into glass tanks; the prospect of fighting infinite wars in their sleep made them roar in fanatical excitement, shoving each other out of the way as they eagerly climbed into their assigned Mana Glass Vats.

As the thick glass doors sealed shut and the diluted mana fluid rose over the snarls of the thrashing orcs, their eyelids fluttered closed, settling them into peaceful, battle-filled sleep.

Caius leaned against the metal railing, watching thousands of green hulks float silently inside the glowing blue tubes, a quiet, amused chuckle escaping his lips.

"Simple, but remarkably effective," Caius laughed softly, shaking his head. "Hahaha."

Standing half a step behind him, Old Bones stared at the vast sea of slumbering monsters, an instinctual shudder running down his spine. The old dark elf looked at his master's relaxed expression with a mixture of profound awe and quiet terror.

He didn't just solve a famine before it even began, Old Bones thought, marveling internally at Caius's clinical genius. He understands the raw, primitive psychology of every species so deeply that he can turn a horrifying biological lockup into something they actively fight to enter. The Sovereign truly plays with the minds of mortals like pieces on a board...

Satisfied with the home front's complete security, Caius turned his back on the glowing stasis vaults, his mantle swishing in the damp air as he prepared to step toward the unknown depths of the abyss.