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www.vainqueurthedragon.com

© 2020 Maxime Julien Durand / Void Herald

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. For permissions contact, send a mail at: maximej.durand@gmail.com

ANY PERCEIVED SLIGHTS TO SPECIFIC PEOPLE OR ORGANIZATIONS ARE UNINTENTIONAL.

This work is the third volume of the “Vainqueur the Dragon” saga. As such, reading the first two volumes is pretty much mandatory to understand what’s going on inside this book. Vainqueur is also a Literary Role Playing Game (LitRPG), a work taking inspiration from video games… albeit a gentle parody of the genre. If you’re looking for fantasy satire, humorous moments, unique characters and dragons, then you will love Vainqueur. Give it a try!

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Table of Contents

1: Beware the Orcs!

2: Criminal Games

3: Heart to Heart

4: Vizier Holidays

5: Interlude: Interim Chiefs

6: Of Witches and Flames

7: Victor Dalton and the School of Necromancy

8: Pocket Minions

9: Graduation Day

10: Starter vs Legendary

11: The Storm

12: Dragon on the Shore

13: Swimming with the Sharks

14: Goldbeard the Pirate

15: Raiders of the Lost Hoard

16: The Burning Fields

17: A Clash of Kings

18: Interlude: Jolie Dragon vs the World

19: Advanced Civilizations

20: The Trip

21: El Dorado

22: The Life we Lead

23: The Shiny-ing

24: The Superboss

25: Fallout

26: Golden Leaders

27: That time I reincarnated as a cup!

28: God Game Night II: Good Expansion

29: Need a Raise

30: The Dragon's Share

31: Scaled Woes

32: Dice Island

33: The Winning Card

34: Empathy Training

35: Dialogue Options

36: Kaiju Day

37: The Mermaid's Revenge

38: Orknoob Unchained

39: Last Minute Merchants

40: Kings of Monsters

41: Pride and Prejudice

42: Minion Recipe

43: The Heaven Talk

44: Interlude: The Princess Documentary

45: Baths and Munchkins

46: A Slice of Cat

47: Looking for a Farm

48: Item Farming

49: TPW

50: Sleep Disorders

51: Home Again

52: Prophecy Fulfilled

53: The End is Nigh

Closing Words and Thanks

V&V stats

1: Beware the Orcs!

Vainqueur Knightsbane, First of His Name, Great Calamity of the Age, Defender of the Hoard, Greatest Gladiator, Genius Wizard Presidente, and August Emperor of Murmurin, Ishfania, and the Albain Mountains, bravely fought against the invaders with claws and flames.

The great red dragon, his majestuous royal mantle swirling to the tune of the wind, shielded the pens with his very body, his crown shining under the brilliant sun. The broken bodies of the attackers laid at his feet, yet more refused to surrender their assault, spurred by greed.

His enemies glared at him with oversized black eyes, as dark as the darkest night; these mockeries of manlings, with willowy limbs and hairless grey skin, had crossed the portal in mass to try and raid his pens. Even looking at all the flesh in their bulbous, oversized head, Vainqueur could not bring himself to eat them. These critters were evil incarnate, worse than any fairy!

No matter how many he killed, more kept coming!

"[Psyshock]!" one of the Greys shouted, a dozen of his kindred uniting their forces to unleash a barrage of psychic energy at Vainqueur. The dragon shrugged it off, but some of the creatures tried to exploit his distraction to rush at the pens. Vainqueur let out a fearsome roar, opened his mouth, and blasted them apart before they could approach.

As he kept breathing fireballs, Vainqueur realized that he should have known. He should have known it would come to this.

Once upon a time, the Moon Man came down from the vile planet Moon, followed by its eldritch children. In their vileness, the vermin tried to take the dragons’ second-most precious possession, causing Vainqueur’s kind to remind them of the food chain.

He should have known that with the portal to the moon open, the vengeful descendants of those the dragons pushed back to space would try to renew hostilities. Vainqueur had decided to take the matter in his own claws.

He had to protect them.

"Fight for the CLF!" the Greys’ chief said, renewing the assault. "Fight for the Cattle Liberation Front! We shall save the blessed mother cows from dragon depredation!"

"You shall not steal the cattle!" Vainqueur snarled. "They want to be eaten by me!"

Protected inside their pens, cows made noises in response, defending their dragon-given right to feed their emperor.

As the Greys threatened to overwhelm him, Vainqueur decided to unleash his trump card: the forbidden spell, which guaranteed victory! "[Geomancy]!"

Geomancy activated! Field Type: Desert Grassland.

Effect: [Gale Slash]!

The very winds bent to the Emperor’s will, turning into sharp, swirling blades. Moving as fast as sound itself, they scarred the terrain and shredded the Greys to ribbons, down to the last one.

As Vainqueur surveyed the bloody battlefield, he let out a sigh of relief. The food was safe…

But for how long?

Vainqueur allowed himself a moment of rest, only for a newcomer to deliver more bad news.

"Your Majesty, we need your guidance." Jules the Necromancer came to him; since Manling Victor, chief among the minions had left for a diplomatic visit with Vampire Charlene, the crimson cowled corpseling assisted Vainqueur in enforcing the imperial peace. "Troublemakers keep disturbing the peace again."

"Who?" Vainqueur asked. With the constant influx of new minions coming in since the opening of the gate and his declaration of war against the fomors, he could no longer keep track.

"The orcs."

The dragon grunted in frustration. "What did they do this time?"

"They caused an accident at the marketplace, throwing themselves in front of a dwarf-made automated cart," Corpseling Jules explained. "The scene threw the merchants in disarray."

Disturbed merchants meant less gold in Vainqueur’s hoard, and the orcs had caused no less than two dozen incidents since their tribe settled in his lands. "Enough is enough."

"Do we Chocolatine them?" Corpseling Jules suggested.

"No," Vainqueur decided. "I need more living minions to build my arena, and while I enjoy Sweet Chocolatine’s cakes, orcs are not proper ingredients. They taste of flies and dung."

No, he would deal with the matter himself. Vainqueur had tamed worse minions.

"Clean this up," the great dragon ordered Corpseling Jules, before extending his wings and flying away. The necromancer immediately raised the remnants of the Greys into flesh golems.

As he flew towards the marketplace, Vainqueur oversaw his territory with a keen eye. The portal to the planet Moon had grown wider, to allow more madmen to travel to this… this dragon hell; and help others escape it. Out of pure sympathy for the poor creatures trapped there, the dragon had welcomed all refugees from the terrible, lead cursed place.

Most of them, while squidly, tentacled, or many-legged, had proved themselves to be excellent minions, making nests in the formerly inhospitable desert, turning the desert purple by seeding it with new plants, and even built a strangely angled district called Little R’Lyeh.

Thanks to Vainqueur’s own [Geomancer] prowesses and these newcomers, the desert was being pushed back farther and farther with each day. New mines opened every day, bringing silver and gems to his hoard to complement his gold. And as he had ordered, his minions were steadily building a great arena for the Summer Solstice, where the crowds would shower the dragon with gold.

Life was good, even without quests.

Yet Vainqueur’s heart yearned for more action. With four months away from Halloween, the dragon needed to accumulate enough gold to win his bet with his rival Icefang, and show him his place; and his minions steadily trained to fight the cursed fairies who had harassed the Emperor since his awakening. The more time passed, the more impatient he grew.

Vainqueur quickly reached the marketplace, quickly finding the place of the incident.

The iron, powerstone-powered cart laid on the side in the middle of an alley, Agarthan dwarves trying to repair it. A gathering of orcs surrounded it with impatience, as if eager to throw themselves at it again; the men did at least, while their females scolded them. Merchants and customers glared at them in annoyance and sighed in relief to see Vainqueur’s shadow.

Green-skinned like vegetables, the worst kind of food, orcs looked similar to manlings; except bigger, hairier, meaner, and with tusks. Unlike goblins, they garbed themselves in strange clothes, these ‘shirts,’ ‘sweaters,’ and ‘pants,’ most of them so old and dirty Vainqueur could smell them from a mile away. The female, more tribal, preferred to wear less clothes and more tattoos.

Ever since they arrived on a ship from the western continent, they had only caused trouble. Unlike the dutiful kobolds, they didn’t work, spending all their time drinking or playing at Tasty Malfy’s casino.

Time to teach them the virtue of hard work, Vainqueur thought, as he landed in front of the crowd, intimidating them.

"Yer Majesty!" one of the orcs said, his knee wounded. The dragon guessed this was the one responsible for the incident.

"Why?" Vainqueur demanded answers. "Why did you throw yourself at a fellow minion’s cart?"

"To complete the Isekai Reincarnation rite!" the orc replied. "And I would have gotten away with it were it not for this dwarf veering off at the last second!"

"Ise… kai?" Vainqueur asked, the word sounding vaguely familiar.

"We believe in the one true religion: the Esoteric Order of the New World," the orc explained. "Founded by our Claimed prophet Orknoob, who discovered the path to the mythical world of Earth. A world where every food is fast, and all women schoolgirls."

Vainqueur remembered where he had heard of that strange cult. Back in that peasant village of Haudemer. One of the believers had harassed Manling Victor, who called this faith a scam. "Is it not a false religion?" the dragon pondered.

"Of course not!" the wounded knee orc replied.

"We have figured out the criteria needed to be reincarnated to another world," another said. "First, be a student!"

One of their kindred immediately began to complete their demonstration, having learned the knowledge by heart. "Second, be unemployed!"

"Third, be amazing at games!"

"Fourth, be a virgin, or build a harem! There’s no middle ground!"

"And finally, die by being hit by a car-cart!"

"It’s not faith," the first orc said. "It’s science. We’re still unsure if guys and girls can both reincarnate to the mythical island of Japan, however. Not enough studies and the prophet’s scriptures are unclear."

"Japan?" a nearby duergar merchant asked his customer, an alien creature from the planet Moon.

"I heard the local manlings do offensive things to squids they capture, as part of their education," the moon beast shuddered. "Never send your squidspawn there, carbon creature."

Vainqueur, who had patiently listened, squinted at these creatures. "How did your species avoid extinction so far?"

"We orcs are born winners, with great health and vitality!" the wounded orc replied proudly.

"We shall reach the world of Earth!" the orc men boasted as one. This? This was why the other dragons couldn’t learn about the shameful secret of mortality. Vainqueur shuddered at the thought of weak-willed kindred listening to these idiots.

"Certainly not!" a busty orc matron scolded her kindred. "Get a job and put meat on the table!"

"See?" the accused replied. "That is why women don’t go to Japan! You do not believe in the true religion!"

"I knew I should have found a strong partner instead of following a deluded fool!" the matron complained.

Vainqueur strongly considered sending away these idiots to Sweet Chocolatine, bitter taste or not, before finding in his heart the patience to teach these creatures the proper way.

"Orcs, you are now my minions," the dragon reminded them. "Your men will stop throwing yourself at my lackeys’ carts and pay me back for letting you live by building my arena. You will breed with smarter minions, like Manling Victor, so my new generation of lackeys does not inherit your stupidity. Or else you will be food."

"Mmm…" The wounded-knee orc looked up at Vainqueur, suddenly realizing how small he was compared to his Emperor. "This is a very authoritative statement."

"But a true orc only accepts one authority," a male orc replied, searching in his pocket and bringing out a deck of cards. "That of the duel!"

"You challenge me to a card game?" Vainqueur asked. While he would never admit it out loud, the idea made him curious.

"A human children’s card game!" the orc corrected. "If you win, I shall do as you say, but if I do… then you shall throw the cart yourself!"

Vainqueur scoffed. "How laughable that you believe a dragon capable of losing! Very well, I will teach you a lesson and destroy you at your own game."

"DUEL!" The male orcs chanted, much to their women’s exasperation, one of them tossing a card deck at Vainqueur’s feet.

Vainqueur raised a claw, prepared to draw…

Only for him to struggle to grab the tiny deck with his great claws.

"Minion!" Vainqueur called, before remembering his trusty sidekick had left for the time being. He turned to the orc matron. "You, you are now my official card holder! Draw my cards with your small hands!"

The woman nodded and drew five cards, seemingly eager to assist the dragon in putting this overmighty minion in his place.

[King of Games] activated.

"Ore-sama no turn," his orc ‘adversary’ declared upon drawing a card in his deck, bringing his total hand to six. "I summon Beast King—"

"I WIN!" Vainqueur cut him off, upon seeing his hand.

"Not yet!" his arrogant foe replied. "My perfect strategy has not even begun!"

"That is what the cards say," Vainqueur pointed out, the matron revealing his hand to his enemy, "IWIN!" Each of the five cards had one part of the message printed on them.

As his foe watched the hand, so did the colors of his face leave. "The five automatic-win card combo..."

"On a first draw?" One of his kindred froze, his fellows gasping in shock. "The chances are one in millions!"

"That’s beginner’s luck," the one with the wounded knee said, taking over for his fallen friend, "Give him another deck! I shall be his next opponent!"

"And I win again!" Vainqueur boasted to the tenth orc he had just defeated. "I love this game! I always win!"

By now, many more citizens had gathered to watch their emperor destroy his opposition, whistling to encourage their master. The great dragon had filled his side of the field with powerful minions, which he had fused, revived, enhanced, ritual tributed, Z-powered, and cross-summoned into a formidable army.

So many ways to crush his puny rivals!

"This is cheating!" one of the orcs accused Vainqueur. "You cheat!"

Vainqueur saw red, hitting the ground with his hand and making houses shake. "You dare accuse a fair and noble dragon of cheating?" The crowd booed the orcs in support.

"He is using his Perks, but so do you!" one of the orc women pointed out, relishing in the humiliation of their arrogant mates. "Step up your game instead of whining like goblins!"

"If you did not want to lose, you should have been born dragons!" Vainqueur lambasted these cowards.

"We need to change the game!" the eleventh challenger said. "I challenge you to Blackjack!"

"Bring it, minions!"

"Royal Flush House!" Vainqueur gloated, as his assistant revealed another winning hand. The dragon grabbed the pile of money,

Not only did he show these minions their place, he had grown even richer by winning all of their money!

"He keeps topdecking instant win cards." One of the orc gambler’s stares wandered off in the distance, his spirit crushed by Vainqueur’s invincibility. "How? How does he keep topdecking the best cards? On his first draw!"

"That dragon is grossly overpowered!" another of his fellow creatures complained, having himself been thoroughly defeated at Blackjack before.

"As it should be!" Vainqueur stated the absolute truth. His winning streak had pumped him for more. "Bring me more money!"

"You have… you have defeated the entire tribe…" the wounded knee orc said. "We… we all lost…"

"Is this Victor meaty enough?" one of the orc matrons asked. "Does he have tusks?"

"No, but he has dragon wings, which makes him superior to all non-dragon lifeforms," Vainqueur said. "Who else would challenge me next? I thirst for the taste of victory!"

"You are the strongest player I have seen since…" the orc gasped, before uttering cursed words. "Since that lich Furibon…"

Vainqueur’s good mood instantly soured. The orc cowered, as the dragon’s burning eyes set on him. "Did you say Furibon?"

"D-Does Yer Majesty knows him?"

"Where?!" Vainqueur roared, the very ground shaking before his wrath. "Where is he? What is he plotting?"

The orc fell on his ass, scrambling to flee his rightful emperor, but prevented from doing so by the very cart he tried to die too. "To El Dorado!"

"Eldorawhat?"

"The lost city of gold, beyond the Thaoten Empire! I heard he led an expedition there!"

The very picture of dragon heaven appeared in Vainqueur’s mind.

A glorious city, where all was made of the purest, shining gold. Houses shining brighter than the sun; rivers of molten platinum, gardens of gems, growing from the earth; a mountain of coins, waiting for a dragon to claim them.

And then…

All of it turned to lead. A dream transformed into a nightmare, as Furibon’s laugh echoed in dark triumph.

The fairies would wait.

Vainqueur had to save paradise first.

2: Criminal Games

Noblecoeur hadn’t changed at all.

One of Gardemagne’s greatest cities, located near the eastern mountains and the fallen Harmonian Republic, Noblecoeur had been spared from the horrors of the Century War, making it a refugee center. Those fleeing the advance of the vicious fomors, from beastkin to northern elves, established themselves there, built new districts, and brought their culture. To an outsider, Noblecoeur looked like a motley of various architectures cobbled together, fortified beastkin camps bordering elegant manors; yet somehow, the final result looked harmonious.

Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of Murmurin, greatest of Vainqueur’s minions, hadn’t visited the Nightblades’ Headquarters in years, yet he felt some kind of kinship to this place. This old manor, whose basement led to tunnels sprawling through the city, had a classy charm which he couldn’t fully describe.

When the god Dice reincarnated him, in the wartorn countryside of Gardemagne, only thieves took him in; and at the cost of joining them. They taught him about classes, turned him into an [Outlaw], and then introduced them to their larger, more nefarious parent organization; the Nightblade crime syndicate. While mostly focused on assassination, the group had fingers in every illegal pie; and through corruption, blackmail, and threats, they made the very city of Noblecoeur their fortress.

Upon realizing that staying with the organization meant falling in further with a very bad crowd, the Claimed backed out and reconverted into an adventurer. Lucie Lavere hadn’t taken over the syndicate back then, or at least not that Victor knew. The vampire had transformed the politically neutral cartel into weapons of the fomors, first against Gardemagne, then against Murmurin itself. Lavere and most of her followers died in the struggle, leaving the winners to clean the mess she left behind.

To think he would end up, by a twist of fate, take over the organization he left.

Or rather, that was what he thought would happen.

"So let me get this straight," the Vizier began. "You decided to create a union?"

Sitting around a large table, he and his assistant, the vampire Charlene, faced a dozen cowled assassins armed to the teeth; most of them were ratkin, rat and human hybrids, humans, or vampires. Only one very young lizardkin, with brownish scales and claws sharper than razors, stood out from the rest. With the night outside and the candles providing little light, the meeting resembled a shadowy cult’s gathering. Which it was.

"Due to the fall of the previous administration, and the huge amount of turnover that followed," a cowled woman said, a crossbow within arm’s reach. "We decided to organize in order to preserve our livelihoods against a lay-off."

"By turnover, you mean the fact our army killed all the assassins you sent after us?" Victor asked for an explanation.

"We have renounced the previous administration," the assassin replied with a tone that reminded the chief of staff of PR speakers. "We turned our coat in the right direction. However, to defend ourselves, and to promote gender equality, we have created a Mixed Gender Commission to represent our professions. We will not disband until our demands are met."

Now that she said it, Victor noted that they had an equal amount of women and men holding knives at him. Not that they had the levels to threaten him, since he wore full armor, carried a deadly scythe and bazooka, and was around twenty levels higher than the second-strongest person in the room. "Which are?"

"We want higher wages, security of employment, a retirement plan instead of a ‘river retirement’ plan, and a severance package instead of the current ‘body severance’ package."

"Security of employment," Victor repeated. "You’re criminals. You’re by definition outside the law’s protection."

"Which doesn’t preclude a charter. Theft is a very dangerous activity and we want shortened working days, and a better pension for old assassins who cannot kill as well in their old age as they did in their youth. If our demands are not met, we are ready to go on a nationwide strike."

A strike? "Like what, you won’t kill people anymore?"

"Yes!" the representative replied, leaving Victor speechless. "We will no longer kill nor steal, nor run prostitution rings or distribute drugs to minors until we have improved the criminal class’ working conditions!"

…

"How did Lavere run things before me?" Victor asked with a dry tone.

"She singled out the ‘stupidest’ of us, and then murdered them to set an example," a ratkin replied.

“I am starting to understand why.”

"To be fair, you and Your Majesty killed, jailed, or sent to the Moon all the competent people during Lavere’s attack," Charlene said. "Leaving only… them."

"To the Moon?" one of the assassins whistled. "Is that a new slang term for execution? I didn’t know!"

"No, the correct one is ‘Chocolatined,’" Charlene corrected.

"Mmmm… the first sounds better."

Victor turned to Charlene, who approached her ear to listen. "Are they serious?" he muttered, his assistant nodding. "What do you suggest?"

"A good purge, to start with." Her newfound vampirism had turned the once plump, slightly overweight blonde secretary and Victor’s voice of reason into a thin, unnaturally pale model; but also clearly made her more ruthless. "Not the bloody kind, although that would have been my first option had Deathjester not asked for mercy, but we can easily replace them with obedient minions."

"I’m not sending minions to replace criminals abroad," Victor replied. The only reason he even agreed to take over that organization was to prevent the fomors from making use of them. Worst case scenario, he would disband them rather than waste resources.

"We are ready to last months," the main speaker threatened.

"Don’t listen to them, sir," the young lizardkin interrupted him. He had remained apart from the others, refusing to form a united front with his fellow. "They’re just lazy and never did anything worthwhile. I can still work!"

"Why, you really need blood money?" Victor asked.

"Oh, no, I just love killing," he replied with cheerfulness, the other assassins booing him for his eagerness to impress his superiors. "I was doing it for free before Aunt Savoureuse told me I could make it a career."

The Vizier sank in his chair, finding the teen’s cheeky smile far more disturbing than the army of thugs asking for higher wages. "You’re… Potiron, right?" Victor asked, remembering Savoureuse mentioning her nephew a few months ago.

The young lizardkin looked up at Victor with adorable eyes, in stark contrast with his next words. "Your boss is an absolute dictator, right? Do you have political rivals to silence? Or, or, maybe newspapers who need a ‘friendly visit’? Or do you want to reduce poverty by eradicating the homeless? As long as it’s not people I know, I’m looking forward to any opportunity to improve!"

Was this hellion for real? He sounded very serious. "We, uh, we kinda enjoy a huge level of popularity in our country," Victor said, blaming Vainqueur’s absurd charisma. "Our citizens love us."

"If not an enemy of the state, maybe hookers?" Potiron asked. "I don’t have professional experience in that field, but I learn quickly! If you need a demonstration—"

"I will think about it!" Victor said hurriedly before the psycho went through with it. "As for the rest of you…"

"We will not budge before intimidating tactics," the speaker warned. "We are ready to die for better rights!"

"Then you will certainly enjoy our official Minion Healthcare," Victor replied. "You get the security of employment, higher wages, and even magical assistance."

"As official minions of Murmurin, you are entitled to a tenth of the profits you make, which is more than your old rate," Charlene said. "You are guaranteed a post-mortem pension either as an undead or another vertical plane of your choice, alongside universal free healthcare, education, mook promotions…"

Victor watched the assassins exchange glances, as his assistant detailed the impressive list of benefits they would receive by signing with the empire; a stark contrast with the harsher system of Gardemagne. All the work these past months had paid off.

While Potiron clapped, the other assassins exchanged glances between each other, until the main speaker came forward. "You are not like we expected."

"You bet," Victor said.

"Well then, perhaps we can discuss other—"

"The Emperor is a dragon known to eat entitled minions and enemies alike. He listens only to me." Victor joined his fingers in a calculating pose, deciding not to spare them the rod. "I am also very, very friendly with the highest authorities in Hell, now rebranded as Happyland, and I capture souls in my scythe to power myself up. Now, knowing this, do you have other, other requests?"

"... no sir," an assassin replied for the rest of the strikers.

"Excellent," Victor said, "Charlene will take over until your organization has been reorganized. You are now a branch of the Murmurin Empire, and everything you do will benefit it in some way. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Potiron spoke up, imitated by the others.

"Charlene will take care of managing the transition," Victor said. "She will be my main representative, and you will obey her as you would obey me. With all modesty, I am your god’s prophet, and she is my apostle. Don’t make her go full Old Testament on you guys."

"Old Testament?" the lead assassin repeated. "Is that new slang?"

Victor sighed in despair, before sending the assassins away. Only Potiron remained behind. "Sir—"

"You will get an internship in Murmurin," the Vizier replied, if only to keep that hellion under watch.

"Cool! Practical experience!"

The Vizier sighed, finally alone with Charlene. "So, how do you like your promotion?" Victor asked his assistant.

"I could get used to it," Charlene replied. "This is definitely a step up in my professional career."

To think that they started on the wrong foot… it felt like years since Victor had met Vainqueur.

"They possess a sizable stockpile of stolen Crests, which we can redistribute to our minions," Charlene continued her report. Alongside Victor’s own [Mook Promotion] Perk, this would help tremendously in building up an army to destroy the fomors. "You also inherited Lavere’s cat."

Victor nodded, then froze upon realizing what she just said. "A cat?"

Five minutes later, Charlene all but dumped a fluffy white cat in front of him. Victor glanced at the animal, who stared back with curious eyes.

"What is this, a manling with wings?" The cat spoke with a shrill voice. "Are you my new pet?"

Victor looked at Charlene, who clearly hadn’t understood. The truth quickly dawned upon him.

He could understand any monster.

"I am Felix IV von Meow, Emperor of the World, King of Cats, and Despoiler of Milk. But you may call me Your Catness." The cat put himself on his back, his belly exposed. "Now you will pet me, manling. You will scratch me behind the ears and on my soft tummy. But no more than five minutes each, or I will punish you with my claws."

"Yeah, I don’t have time for this—"

"I am a cat," the beast brazenly interrupted him. "You are now my minion."

Victor had a frightening impression of déjà vu. "No," he said, already having too much with one colorful megalomaniac on his plate. "Just no."

"Look at me. Look at me, manling!" The white cat glared at him with imperious eyes. "I am the best thing to ever happen to you! Your god exists, and he has whiskers!"

"Pfft, not impressed," Victor replied, only for the cursed animal to leap on his legs when he least expected it.

"You should clean yourself, you smell like a dog-loving peasant! But your legs are warm, so I will grace them with my sleep." And like that, the cat curled on his legs and fell asleep, as if he owned Victor’s lap.

Not amused, the Vizier grabbed him by the collar, rose up, and opened a window with his free hand. "I’m already taken."

"Wait, wait, minion, what are you—" Victor threw the cat outside, and then closed the windows.

"You threw a cat away," Charlene looked at him with disapproving eyes. "And you wonder why your karma is in the negatives?"

Victor shrugged as he sat back in his chair. The older he grew, the less he cared.

Last warning: Will you merge your [Grand Vizier] and [Assassin] classes into the [Moriarty] class?

If you refuse, you will keep leveling in the two classes separately.

Ah, true. He had almost forgotten about that part. Having disdained [Assassin] since he first got levels in it, Victor immediately sacrificed them.

Choice registered! Your [Assassin] and [Grand Vizier] levels have been transformed into [Moriarty] levels. [Assassin] and [Grand Vizier] are no longer accessible.

[Is-No-Good] replaced with [Scarlet Study]: You can assign a number of ‘Crime Tokens’ equal to your number of [Moriarty] levels to willing accomplices; by mentally focusing, you can telepathically contact one of them. Your ally must be on the same plane as you to be contacted, although this does not remove the token.

[Blade Stinger] replaced with [Final Problem]: Once every twenty-four hours, if your HP would be reduced to zero, you survive with one HP instead. You can convince your killers that you are truly dead on a successful Skill check; this is an [illusion] effect.

[Forktongued] replaced by [Diabolical Mastermind]: Whenever you face a check in a criminal, commonly illegal, or morally reprehensible situation, you gain a bonus equal to half your Intelligence stat.

Now officially an evil mastermind, Victor turned to the last item on his agenda.

Deathjester’s letter of admittance to Scholomance.

Besides what Kia had told him, Victor knew very little about this establishment. His predecessor, Lucie Lavere, had trained there and received a soul-stealing grimoire for her grim work. She may have become a vampire there, in fact.

Not that he thought he should attend, but curiosity overwhelmed him. He might as well learn about the place, in case he and Vainqueur ever needed to shut it down.

The second he opened the letter, the paper inside hopped out of its container and on the table, and a cheerful, impish voice came out of it.

"Have you ever wanted to take levels in ‘evil’ classes, without being oppressed by self-righteous adventurers?" the voice asked, but didn’t give Victor time to respond, "Have you ever dreamed of delving into forbidden knowledge without being judged? To rub shoulders with fellow social climbers who understand your ambitions? Or perhaps you have followed a seminar on dictatorship, and you want to learn more about peasant oppression? Then seek no more!"

The letter’s ink shifted into the shape of a foreboding castle, in the middle of a lake.

"The University of Scholomance is the answer! Created by the Dread Three, Scholomance is the premiere school for aspiring overlords, necromancers, and criminal masterminds over level forty! Our alumni include celebrities such as the Masked Mage, Genociboy, or the Bloody Duchess! Become the best of the best in a mere seven years’ time—"

"Seven years?" Victor interrupted the presentation. "I can’t be absent for seven years!"

"Yes, I’m afraid the empire will crumble in less than one without you," Charlene lamented.

"At Scholomance, time works differently, thanks to one of our generous sponsors, Ur-Pharaoh Akhenapep!" the letter continued, Victor noticing the cat furiously scratching at the window, "One day outside, is one year inside. A whole curriculum in one week! Further your expertise without threatening your existing operations!"

Realizing he had asked the question as if he already considered attending, the Vizier shut up and let the letter finish.

"Only ten students will be allowed to enter the school, where they will remain until graduation! The valedictorian will gain access to the elite [Weathermaker] spellcaster class, but the dunce will remain in the school, to serve as the next headmaster! Do you have what it takes to become the best of the darkest?"

"[Weathermaker]?" Victor frowned, curious. "Tell me more about—"

"MINION! MINION!"

Victor felt the pull of Vainqueur’s perk teleport him across the world, and onto Murmurin’s marketplace.

"Minion, we have to save El Dorado!" Vainqueur shouted at Victor with crazed eyes. The vizier fell on his tail and crawled back in surprise, only to be stopped by a cart, "We must!"

"W-what’s happening?" Victor panicked, his dragon friend overshadowing him with a terrified expression on his face, "The fomors? Lavere rose up? Akhenapep?"

"We must save El Dorado from Furibon!" the dragon kept spouting paranoid nonsense. "The Moon, it was him! He is behind everything! Everything!"

3: Heart to Heart

"El Dorado must be conquered!"

So Emperor Vainqueur declared atop his golden hoard, facing the greatest of his minions. From his chief of staff to Necromancer Jules, Tasty Allison, and Marbré the Dwarf. All speechless before the dragon’s bold declaration.

"For its own protection," Vainqueur added, as the gold would only be safe when added to his own hoard. "Else the wicked Furibon will turn it to lead, as he tried to murder my hoard and poisoned the Moon."

"Your Majesty," Minion Victor spoke up. "That Furibon may be looking for El Dorado—whose very existence itself is only based on rumors and orc-only testimonies—does not mean he intends to transform it to lead. Nor do we have any proof that he transformed the Moon to lead."

"But do you have proof that the evil Furibon did not turn the planet Moon to lead?" Vainqueur asked the key question.

Manling Victor exchanged glances with the other members of the council, who had no answer to this.

"See?" Vainqueur said, his theory unanimously confirmed. "It all adds up. In the absence of proof of the lich’s innocence, we must assume his culpability in all things."

"But what does Your Majesty suggest?" Friend Victor asked, showing a lack of vision which annoyed his master. Did he not understand that the fate of gold rested on Vainqueur’s shoulders? "El Dorado, if it exists, is an ocean and continent away! Even Your Majesty will struggle to fly there!"

"We have the Piggybank," Vainqueur replied.

"Indeed!" Marbré the Dwarf promoted his invention. "Our airship could travel all around the world, without exploding more than thrice."

"That’s reassuring," Friend Victor said with sarcasm. Now Vainqueur had learned that he used this strange ritual to deal with stress. Surely the prospect of facing the lich which he failed to keep sealed unsettled him. "Even if we survive the trip, find the city, and return, this will take us weeks, if not months!"

"We will not stop at El Dorado," Vainqueur declared, possessed by a visionary spirit. "This dragon-created world is vast and full of lands to explore. Of dungeons overflowing with wealth! Of gems and shinies which will help me triumph over Icefang! We will continue west, and west, until we have filled the Piggybank with treasures and sailed past the edge of Outremonde!"

"Your Majesty wants to do a world tour?" Manling Victor choked.

"Vic, I read a book about someone traveling across the world in ninety days," Allison said, "without a magical plane such as yours. It can be done."

"The perfect timing to be back on Halloween, and humiliate Icefang!" Vainqueur nodded happily.

"Ninety days is three months!" Manling Victor complained. "Three months where Murmurin would remain without your protection!"

"With my [Golden Road] Perk, I can open a gate to my hoard at any time," Vainqueur pointed out. "More of my minions can cross this portal and conquer lands in the name of the V&V Empire!"

"That’s…" Friend Victor paused, trapped in his thoughts. "Wait, if we combine this with my [Scarlet Study] Perk… we can establish a direct line of communication with Murmurin and return if there is an emergency…"

"We can create more Warp Projectors to link areas together," Marbré pointed out. "Outposts of the revolution, bound together by the great chain of industry!"

Vainqueur could almost hear the debate going on inside his prized lackey’s head. "I admit, it’s theoretically possible," Manling Victor said. "But is it wise?"

"Your Majesty declared war on the fomors," Jules the Necromancer pointed out. "We have no guarantee that they will not strike first. If anything, your absence, even if temporary, may encourage them."

"We must look forward to a brighter tomorrow!" Vainqueur said. "Have I not become the most powerful adventurer in the world by pushing my limits? To triumph over the fairies and their wicked pawns, my minions must grow stronger! They must earn levels by accumulating glory and riches in my name! Under my guidance, the Empire has known peace; but to prepare for war, my servants must test their mettle against monsters, dungeons, and the unknown!"

And who knew? These distant lands may prove a fertile ground for recruiting new, strong minions. Lackeys who would cheer him up when he invaded Prydain, to burn the fairies’ forests to ashes.

Manling Victor turned to the other minions, as if expecting support; instead, their master’s words had convinced them. "It is true opportunities to gain levels the traditional way are getting scarcer," Allison admitted.

"It took a raid in the sixty levels range to defeat King Balaur, and millions of soldiers to push back his army to the sea," said Jules. "While probably weaker, we have no hope of defeating Mell Odieuse on her own territory with our current forces, even if we are to raise the dead again and again. We could also use resources to develop Murmurin itself and sustain the population for the long-term."

"Our weapons need testing, testing, testing," Marbré added. "In live conditions."

Realizing he was hopelessly outvoted, his chief of staff finally returned to the fold. "Can we at least wait and prepare for the trip?" Manling Victor pleaded. "Just the logistics involved for this campaign to work…"

True, Vainqueur still had an arena to inaugurate, and a minion championship to hold. "We will launch the Piggybank after the Summer Solstice," the dragon declared. "Manling Victor, as my official campaign manager and military advisor, I trust you implicitly with planning, preparing, and perfecting the campaign until then."

"Perfect!" Marbré seemed especially enthusiastic about the plan. "We can finally bring the light of Averagism to populations untouched by Feudali—"

"Until then, you are dismissed," Vainqueur spoke before the dwarf could go on a tiresome tirade. "Grand Vizier Victor, stay by my side. We must discuss a private, important matter."

The minions left the vault, leaving the Emperor with his most trusted advisor. "Yes?" his friend asked.

"Have you bred yet?" Vainqueur asked. He had done everything in his power to help his minion tie the knot with Sweet Chocolatine, and never checked if it worked.

"Chocolatine and I are… taking a break."

What? After all the time Vainqueur spent setting them up! "Why is that minion? What could be more important than ensuring a new generation of lackeys can fill my hoard?"

"I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to settle or stay free. I don’t know what I want."

"Minion, you shall not start breeding wars with your inability to settle on a proper partner," Vainqueur said. "To avoid jealousy among other minions, you shall service everyone."

That way, Vainqueur would progress faster in the [Dungeon Breeder] class: he would get new minions, and get better at setting them up. Win-win!

His minion didn’t see it this way though. "If Your Majesty prostitutes me to the entire minion army, I will find a way to make you pay."

"Minion, I am concerned for your future," Vainqueur replied. "While I will make you my god of minions, so you may serve me forever, what legacy will you leave behind? None of my current minions are up to your standard. If my hoard is to grow, your line must go on."

In spite of his attempt to cheer him up, his chief minion seemed… depressed. "Your Majesty, I owe you my life."

"Yes, indeed, and I will never stop reminding you of it."

"So I will do whatever you ask of me, and I always put your own good first," Friend Victor reminded his master of his oath of minionship. "But I haven’t figured out what’s my own good. I’m burning out."

"Minion, your dragon blood makes you immune to puny flames; you cannot burn. This is all in your head."

"Yes… exactly. It’s all in my head."

Vainqueur observed his friend, his majestuous tail and wings attached to his ape-like body. The answer to his ‘illness’ appeared clearly.

"Minion, you have been blessed with a part of my glory, growing wings, and a tail," so spoke the Emperor. "Yet you remain half-man. You are in-between. Your mind is torn like your body, unable to settle on one side or the other. So long as you cannot decide whether you remain a manling or fully discard this part of you for the majesty of dragonhood, neither will you decide firmly on anything!"

His manling looked up at his beloved master with his tiny eyes.

"Why have you fallen silent, minion?"

"It never occurred to me that Your Majesty had grown much wiser with time."

"Minion, I have always been the wisest, smartest of all. You simply never listened before."

"I doubt that," Manling Victor replied, unaware of his own inability to recognize the absolute truth of the dragon way of life. "What is Your Majesty’s current level?"

"Fifty-four!" Vainqueur boasted. "Halfway to divinity!" He could already taste the sound of that devilish goddess giving him back his gold for her overpriced services.

"And I am fifty," Manling Victor said, who hadn’t slacked off either, "We have one [Heroic Crest] for Your Majesty, so that you may get past the sixty level barrier."

"Certainly this El Dorado must have a second one for you," Vainqueur pointed out. A city of gold could only have the best treasures within its walls.

"I may have an opportunity to progress quickly," Manling Victor said. "But I will remain unavailable for at least one week."

"Aw, but you may miss the Minion Tournament!" Vainqueur said.

"Wouldn’t my very presence disrupt it?" his chief of staff replied. "I am twenty levels above almost everyone. It’s not really fair… and I would have time to think."

"Minion, are you asking me for a vacation?" Vainqueur choked.

"If I may not be so bold…" Manling Victor trailed. "Yes. Yes, I need one."

A minion asking for a vacation? Impossible! That was the road to strikes, rebellion, entitlement! Even for a chief of staff, no dragon had been asked time-off; rewarding a minion’s work with free days, yes, but being asked for it?

And yet, after so many months of loyal, dutiful hard work, that Manling Victor would ask such a thing raised all kinds of alarms. Vainqueur looked back into his past, when he led tribes of goblins, only to find them gone when he woke up from hibernation. He had never given them respite.

Did… did minions…

Did minions have needs unrelated to serving him?

Beyond Vainqueur’s own happiness?

Could his goblins have defected because he never considered their own baser needs?

Intelligence check successful! You have learned self-reflection!

Vainqueur could not let his best minion feel like a goblin.

"Minion, plan our expedition first," the dragon ordered. "Afterward, while it pains me that you will not be able to participate in our first official gladiatorial tournament, I grant you a one week vacation. For the good of the hoard… and yours."

Manling Victor seemed not to believe his words, before bowing. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Now go, and rest."

Congratulations. By learning compassion for a lesser being, and helping your minion servant with his mental health problems, you have earned a level in [Dungeon Breeder].

+ 10 SP, + 1 SKI, +1 INT.

Somehow, watching Manling Victor be happier made Vainqueur feel fuzzier inside.

Was he starting to get sick too?

4: Vizier Holidays

"... and here is the contract between V&V and Heaven to authorize the ‘SP covenant.’" Victor handed the council a pile of documents, "It includes the construction of a new hospital, schools, and angelic public teletransporters."

Since his mansion hadn’t been rebuilt since the Nightblades burned it to the ground, the Vizier had been forced to run his meetings in Vainqueur’s castle. In the dimly lit hall, the council looked like some criminal conspiracy gathering; even with an angel in their midst.

As promised, the Vizier had finished preparing the El Dorado trip before taking his ‘vacation’. Sort of. Victor still wondered whether they should make a stop in Atlantis or the pirate islands near the New World’s coast, or maybe both if they had the time. But he had worked out most of the details, gathered the necessary supplies, and reassured Vainqueur.

To make sure the empire ran itself in his absence, Victor had granted power to an assembly of Murmurin’s most powerful and responsible denizens: Allison, Charlene, Jules, Malfy, and Miel. Marbré had been given an honorary observer seat, but would supervise improvements of their flying ship.

Victor still wondered if inviting Malfy and Miel was the right call. At this point, even if they weren’t truly Vainqueur’s minions, they had embedded themselves so deeply in Murmurin’s infrastructures that the nascent nation wouldn’t work without them. However, considering their ideological divide, the vizier hoped Jules and the others would smooth their tensions.

He would have also liked to add Red Ranger to this assembly, but the former kobold was occupied with bodyguarding Vainqueur’s niece Jolie, in the south.

"Finally, these years of toiling to redeem wicked souls will pay off," Miel said, hugging the documents against her chest. "I can sense my incoming promotion."

Murmurin had a public service. Victor never thought he would live to see the day.

The rest of the ‘imperial council’ seemed divided on the subject though. "In my case, I only sense the shoddy service," Malfy the fiend said. After his near-death experience at the hands of the Nightblades, he had recovered in time for the new ‘Heaven Deal.’ "You bureaucrats know nothing of customer experience!"

"You are jealous that we won this public procurement contract," Miel taunted him, Malfy chittering in response.

"Allison, remember to feed Junior and my slimes in my absence," Victor asked his friend. "My excalitrap is not a picky eater, but it barks threateningly at people if hungry."

"Sure," the dryad said with a smile. "I saw that it decided to participate in the minion tournament, as did many other citizens."

"Those who pass the qualifiers will each receive a Crest we pilfered from the Nightblades," said Charlene, who now spent half her time between the syndicate’s HQ and Murmurin itself. "With effort, the participants will be ready for a [Mook Promotion] after Victor’s return. Even you, Malfy."

"I will not forget the courtesy," the fiend replied, making it somehow sound like a shady favor exchange.

"I believe you should have enjoyed an overplanar vacation," Miel told Victor. "We have an excellent Nirvana resort for clie—paragons of virtue such as you."

"I would rather wander around on my horse, knight errant style." Considering its reputation, Victor had thought it wise not to mention where he went to study to the angel or the rest of the council for that matter. "If there is any problem, contact me and I will make my way back."

"Sir, you’re only leaving for one week," Jules reassured him, but then blew it. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Everything!

"You know, on second thought, maybe I don’t need to—"

"Vic, you clearly need some time off," Allison interrupted him with a kind smile. "You can trust us. Rolo and I helped manage this village long before you arrived, we will handle it."

"You and His Majesty have often left for a while, and even though our population has grown tenfold in size since, we need to learn how to manage things in your absence," Jules pointed out, "Especially if we are to survive the test of time."

"But—"

"Everything will be fine," Allison insisted.

Victor relented, silently praying Murmurin didn’t blow up in his absence.

Afterward, they finished reviewing the various issues, from the budget to mining reports; being mostly sure the country would survive until tomorrow at least, Victor allowed the various councilmen to take their leave. "Congratulations, Mr. Dalton," Malfy whispered to him on his way out. "You scammed the pigeon with such skillfulness, like a true master…"

"Scammed?" Victor asked.

"Thanks to your subtle guidance, the angel no longer advertises for her heavenly insurances, focusing instead on her subpar ‘public service,’" Malfy rejoiced. "By giving the feathered bureaucrats the SP they wanted, you have chased them away from our core soul market."

Considering how difficult it had been for Miel to pitch her insurance to Murmurin’s monstrous population, Victor figured out that her superiors simply considered the place a lost cause. They would probably harvest the SP to expand elsewhere. And while Malfy only saw the short-term profits, an angelic public service would allow Heaven to gather followers over time.

"Although I insist that Happyland be allowed to create private schools," Malfy said, ever the entrepreneur. "So we can tutor the elite of this nation in the proper ways, separated from the plebians."

"About schools, have you heard of Scholomance?" Victor asked, figuring out the fiend might know of it.

"Scholomance is the most prestigious establishment that Happyland ever sponsored," Malfy said with almost religious awe, before grumbling as he left. "I am still bitter that Maure Incorporated got their logo on the door first."

Allison was the last one to leave. "Chocolatine told me she would visit you after this meeting," she said. "She baked a dish all for you."

"Something alive?" The dryad shrugged. "About Choc…"

"Yes?"

"A while ago, my [Monster Insight] told me that you had something of a crush on her," Victor said, the dryad not denying it. "I’m surprised why you tried to set us up."

"I am a priestess of the goddess of love," Allison said. "I can tell when feelings are not returned, and when it is not proper to insist. She is… extreme."

No kidding. "I dunno, how can you say that if you haven’t tried?"

She gave him an amused gaze. "Are you trying to set up a threesome, handsome?"

Damn it, his Charisma buffs started to play tricks on him. "I’m just not sure where the two of us are headed, so it might be now or never to try your luck."

The dryad shook her head. "Vic, you really need to learn to assert your own decisions instead of going along with the flow."

Victor crossed his arms, as his friend left him. As she promised, no sooner did everyone leave, that Chocolatine entered the room to take over. She must have waited all her time in front of the door.

"Ta-da!" the werewolf presented her on-and-off boyfriend with a basket. "I have made you a cake for your trip."

Victor glanced at it, noticing that the basket wriggled as if alive. It happened more and more since she had gained more levels in [Monster Patissier]. "Thanks," he said, kissing her on the cheek. And here she made him feel a bit sweet.

"So, a full week?" she asked him. "I hope it’s not an ‘I leave a week for shopping but won’t come back’ kind of vacation."

"Nah, I should be happy to return to Murmurin afterward." With the time dilation involved, he would probably love to see the sun again after seven years of training. Victor knew heroes always did it in the anime series he watched in his youth, but he wondered the impact on one’s sanity. "I should have figured myself out afterward."

"Remember to summon me if you ever feel lonely," she said with a flirty wink. "You did mark me as your mount again, right?"

Much to his secret shame…

He did.

"Are we there yet?" his horse complained, as they walked through the thick mist.

"I dunno," Victor replied, his scythe on his back. He would rather have taken his trusted bazooka with him, but considering the school, he thought he might have more use of older weapons.

"Are we there—"

"Stop asking me this every five minutes… wait…" The mist, while still thick, cleared a little as they approached a lake, a massive structure surging from the waves in its center. "Aha!"

After traveling through the Nightlands and crossing dozens of portals, they had finally arrived at the location indicated in the letter. From outside, the school appeared as a phantasmagorical, charred castle, with ghostly flames swelling through its walls and towers. Victor smelled ashes in the air, while the structure seemed to flicker in and out of existence at random. A bridge linked the castle to the lakeshore, with two massive stone gates serving as the entrance; the architect engraved various symbols, including those of the Dread Three, on them.

In short, it looked like a warm, welcoming place!

The vizier heard steps in the mist, turning his face to watch a girly goblin walk out. Unlike the few of these critters that he had encountered, that one looked armed to the teeth, most of her body and face covered by an armor too big for her, her back arched by the weight of a bag full of weapons. He noticed spears, swords, even an arquebuse among them; and briefly wondered how that tiny creature could carry so much stuff.

"Hi there, Tall Person!" the goblin said. "Is this Scholomance?"

"Looks like it," Victor replied, noticing that she carried an invitation letter too. "I’m still waiting for someone to come out and greet us."

The goblin looked at him with curious eyes. "I’ve never seen your kind before. Like a cross between a manling and a dragon."

"I’m not sure what I am anymore either," the Vizier admitted, "I would go with [Monster Knight (Red Dragon)]. The name is Victor, by the way."

"Goblina," the goblin said, having the most original name ever. "[Monster Knight]... never heard of that species, although I know a bit about dragons. My dad worked for one."

"Was his tenure a constant struggle for damage control too?"

"Those were his exact words!" the goblin replied, amazed by the coincidence. "Which is why he dropped his last boss while he hibernated, then went as far east as he could to avoid reprisal. Have you fled too?"

"No, that’s the one thing I will never do. My dragon is more than a boss now. It’s a friend. I even owe him my life."

"Oh? I thought dragons only cared about themselves."

"And why are you here? To become a better dark lord’s chief of staff?"

"Absolutely not!" she sounded downright insulted. "You think I’m some kind of minion because I’m a goblin? This is exactly the kind of stereotype that I want to change!

"I’m sorry," Victor apologized, not wanting to look like a racist.

"Everyone says goblins are just cannon fodders and mooks, but I will prove that we can be conquerors too! My, I have even gained levels in [Bandit Queen]! I swear that one day, I will even graduate to [Dark Lord]!"

While Victor listened to the critter going on a rant about goblin social mobility, the school’s doors finally opened. Both students looked at the entrance, as a delicate creature walked out and crossed the bridge in their direction. A moth-like humanoid with golden wings and antennae, pristine greyish skin, and the most insolent dress he had seen since Chocolatine’s; the magnificent lady looked at him with makeup shades under eyes, her silvery hair flowing to the wind.

"Isabelle Maure?!"

Victor did the sensible thing and immediately readied his scythe. After all, Vainqueur killed her son.

"Dalton," she greeted him. "I see that you still remember me; I would avoid pointing a weapon at a teacher if I were you though."

A teacher? The Happyland? "Of course I remember you, you tried to eat me for dinner!"

"Ah!" the goblin mocked him. "Class hasn’t started, and the teacher already bullied you!"

"I have no grudge against you for escaping my grasp," the archdevil said as if he was the guilty party, "Nor what your so-called master and his guests did to my company. Even if I felt vengeful, as a student under Deathjester’s protection, I could not do anything to you in my capacity as a teacher at this academy. Unless you provoke me first."

Victor didn’t trust her at all but avoided tempting the literal devil. "So, what, you will teach me dark magic without reservation?"

"Without reservations? No." The archdevil snapped her fingers, manifesting two floating scrolls for Victor and Goblina to grab. "You must read, fill, and sign this document first. I teach the [Summoning] class, although I also give guest lectures on specific schools of sorcery, such as [Diabolism] and [Infernal Alchemy]."

"[See Invisibility]," Victor cast the spell, to see if she had slipped words there or there. He patented that trick.

Much to his surprise, though, the document was very straightforward. After pledging to respect its core values—Ambition, Cunning, and Selfishness—he had to agree to spend seven years in the school; more if he finished the curriculum as the class’ dunce.

"We used to have houses you could join," Isabelle said, as the chief of staff kept reading, "The Demons, the Devils, and the Daemons. But our divine sponsors found that a competitive system, while expected, decreases the ability of our future overlords to cooperate. You can’t conquer the world if you bicker with your fellows over grades and petty clans."

"Then why is the dunce forced to remain here?" Victor asked.

"The Dread Three want to remind our students that their success will be built on the suffering of the less fortunate."

"I see…"

Victor reached the list of dozens of subjects that he could study, most of them with charming names like [Necromantic Biology], [Infernal Alchemy], [Demon Summoning], [Conqueror Economy], [Eldritch Philosophy] or [Ritualistic Magic]. As advertised, most of the curriculum focused on statecraft and various forms of dark magic, with a few unique possibilities standing out, such as the required course [Cursed Artifact Crafting].

Much to his surprise, some of the teachers’ names belonged to the Dread Three. Did they personally provide education to new students?

"You seem to struggle with the courses," Isabelle said, her tone more curious than amused. "What are your personal and professional objectives?"

"I, uh, I’m not sure," he admitted. "I came here to figure it out. I guess I want to reach level sixty?"

"It is fine not to know what kind of career you want to follow yet," the demon said, "From bloodthirsty cartel leader to dictator or nihilistic anarchist, we make sure our students find the right path for them. Simply take what interests you."

Statecraft and magic then, although some courses bugged him. "[Peasant Mathematics]?"

"The goddess of tyranny, Veran, teaches how much students can tax their populations to hunger and poverty, without causing them to rebel. Which is, as it turned out, a very, very high rate."

Damn, that was evil. "I will skip that one," Victor said. "Vainqueur is against taxes."

She bristled at the mention of the dragon, but not as much as he thought. His intuition told him that while she loathed the dragon, she didn’t seem all that vengeful against Victor personally. "You really do not have a grudge?"

"A very wise spellcaster convinced me to stay wary of you," Isabelle Maure said. "And if you have been invited there, then you’ve almost caught up to my late Braniño."

Victor immediately figured out that spellcaster’s likely identity, but kept it to himself. This might be the occasion to figure out what the lich was up to.

"In fact." She smiled at him with a predatory smirk. "I have other plans for you."

Why did Victor have the feeling that she wanted to eat him, but not in the way he first thought?

5: Interlude: Interim Chiefs

Four hours.

Victor had only left for four hours, and she already hated, hated, hated her job!

"Minion! Minion!" The dragon repeated the word with a stronger, higher pitched voice each time, as if he thought his victim was too deaf to hear him. "MINION!"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Charlene Ennuie, vampire chief of staff, asked as it took all her willpower to keep a straight face. She could hear her pointed fangs grind together, and her fingers clench her notebook obsessively.

"I have decided that I want my arena to have an opening roof," Vainqueur pompously declared, his head high as he inspected the nearly finished Colosseum. With his crown too big for his head and his arrogant demeanor, he reminded Charlene of a mighty king looking down on peasants like dog shit. His every step made the bricks tremble under the stars.

"An opening roof?" Charlene repeated, having been forced to follow the dragon’s increasingly nonsensical demands for hours. It had started with chairs made of chiseled jewels, escalated to kobold-made stairs for him to climb upon, and it went further downhill afterward.

"For the opening ceremony," Vainqueur said as if one word was enough to join both of these concepts. "My minions will stay in the shade until the roof opens; the sun’s rays will shine upon my gold, which will glitter for all to see! Build me an opening roof!"

"Why?" Charlene couldn’t help but ask since the opening ceremony was already an exercise in extravagance. "What is the point?"

"A true emperor, no, an Augustus, must make a dazzling entrance!"

"Your Majesty, how are we supposed to create an opening roof mechanism, on a nearly finished building, six days before its opening to the public? For something which will be used only once?! With an empty national budget?!"

"Minion Charlene, if you were half the minion my chief of staff is, you would have already figured this out."

Calm yourself, Charlene, the vampire thought. Calm yourself, this is just temporary, like skin rash. Stay professional, you have seen idiotic and arrogant adventurers before, you can handle—

"And I do not say this because you failed to find me any quests to grow my hoard, proving yourself inadequate."

Intelligence check successful! [Berserk] negated!

"I-inadequate?" Charlene chortled at his sense of entitlement.

"Thankfully, I believe in minion professional reinsertion," Vainqueur continued with a patronizing tone. "While you have made for a poor quest manager, I am certain that you can shine as my Minion Secretary of Arena Architecture."

Charlene scribbled down this new promotion, next to Underchief of Hoard R&D, Grand Seneschal of the Castle Dusting, and Holder of the Golden Mirror.

To think she thought her situation had finally improved. She had spent years managing a dead-end adventurer guild in the middle of nowhere, trying desperately to climb the professional ladder, when by some twist of fate, she had become the leader in a newborn nation. A nation of madmen, rogues, and monsters, but a leader nonetheless. She had privileges, status, new classes… and even immortality.

When Victor had departed for his holiday, she knew that the dragon would prove difficult; that without her sort-of friend with benefits, that chaotic, aimless ‘empire’ would collapse within a year. Yet in her heart, Charlene clung to the arrogant idea that she could help turn this nation into a model of bureaucratic efficiency, even without Vic’s help.

But the dragon was even worse than she thought! He wanted everything without paying for anything!

"Now, this is a very important role, and I do not deliver it lightly. If you are to prove yourself worthy of this honor, you will build me an opening roof. It does not have to close, I will have no use for it afterward."

Charlene may be an undead now, but she could have sworn her heart beat again out of sheer frustration. "Can at least Your Majesty tell me where I can find the gold to pay for the needed material cost?" she asked with heavy sarcasm. If Victor could pull that off and make Vainqueur listen anyway, maybe it would work with her.

Charisma check…

Failed! It failed miserably!

"Pay for material?" the dragon exploded into mirthless laughter. "Paying? That is funny sarcasm, minion. But if you are stressed enough to make a joke, then clearly, you need to work more to forget your pain."

Congratulations! Due to your vampiric nature and personal circumstances, you have earned the [Boiling Blood] personal Perk!

[Boiling Blood]: 40 SP per ten minutes. You can cause your own blood to boil, causing exposure to it to inflict weak [Fire] damage on physical contact; you are immune to the negative side effects of having boiling blood, but you become vulnerable to the [Berserk] ailment under the Perk’s effect.

"Now, instead of telling jokes, Minion Charlene, go make me money. My hoard will not grow by itself."

●                       Twelve hours after the good Vizier’s departure.

"Go home, twolegs."

"Dear lamb," Miel said to the giant spider, as she refused to fully crawl out of her pit home. "By the power invested by our covenant with the empire, we can provide your children with the light of knowledge."

"No way I’ll give my spiderspawn away to birds," the telepathic spider protested, its children cowering beneath its legs. "I will teach them the way we all do, at home over the remains of our prey!"

A warrior angel, clad in golden armor, summoned a sword of flames. "Free education is non-negotiable," he spoke with an imperious tone. "Your children shall go to public school, or you will go burn in Hell for the sin of homeschooling!"

Miel winced, immediately recognizing her colleague as one of the ‘old-testamenters.’ This would turn very ugly unless she interfered. "Forgive these poor sinners, for it will take them time to see the light," the insurance saleswoman pleaded. "Turn the other cheek, for they know not what they do!"

"Miel, I find your protests a bit too…" The angel pointed his fiery blade at his trip, "Protestant."

"Pointing a sword at your fellow angel is not very graceful either!"

"Get off your sacrament," the warrior argued. "The higher-ups may consider promoting you to [Dominion] because they have gone soft, but you are no revelation deliverer! By negotiating coexistence with Hell, you have committed simony!"

The insult shook Miel to the core as if she had been slapped on the face. "I have always served the cause of Heaven in all things! My, we increased our department’s SP harvests tenfold with the new covenant!"

"By surrendering our soul!"

"I am already giving some of my precious Special Points to you, no way I give you my eggborns too," the spider complained. "I left the Moon thinking this would be the land of freedom and opportunity, not an avian dictatorship!"

"And you would be right to defend your emperor-given rights."

The very sound of Malfy’s voice was enough to infuriate Miel, doubly so when he showed up backed by his lawyers.

"Beware, heathen," the angel warrior threatened. "You shall not corrupt the youth!"

"The children are safer with us, than with you pigeons," one of the lawyers said. "If you received custody, you might give them to a priest."

"Instead, we can take care of your eggborns, for a meager afterlife favor." Malfy moved to proselytize the spider, safe in the knowledge that his role in the empire protected him from the angel’s wrath. "We can provide your spawns with the best individual education they could ever want."

"Do not listen to them!" Miel interrupted the fiend before he could poison the mind of this many-legged lamb. "We alone provide truly free education for everyone!"

"I do not want either of you!" the spider shouted in response.

"Then you should take the third path."

Much to Miel’s confusion, a third party, which had apparently observed the discussion from afar, decided to intervene: a dwarven woman whom the angel did not recognize, with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses. In fact, she looked almost identical to any other duergar, except for the lack of a beard.

"The middle path, unfulfilling, yet sustainable. The Averagist path." The dwarf lady cleared her throat. "We champions of equality have decided to provide free education for all, in the true Averagist ways. A place where there are no grades, only equality. We share everything, as parts of a single organism."

"Like a communal web?" the spider asked, suddenly more interested in the offer than either Heaven or Happyland’s proposals. "That takes me back to my youth when I learned to hunt bigger prey in groups."

"My, bringing down the tallest is the truest Averagist endeavor!"

"Mmm… it is true my spiderspawn need to learn how to socialize with the neighbors… can you come inside my dark cavern, so we may discuss your school program?"

"Of course. I must tell you that as earth core dwellers, our schools are adapted for nocturnal creatures."

"Amazing," the spider chittered. "What about the diet? My spiderspawn are goblin-intolerant."

Both angels and fiends watched the scene in stunned silence, as the spider invited the dwarf into its home… and didn’t even eat her!

"The Agarthans are stealing our market share!" Malfy protested, as furious as Miel herself. "This is theft! We are the government, we must stop them!"

"You have my vote," Miel said, and then continued before her unreasonable colleague could protest at allying with the rival planar company. "Under the condition that Happyland not be allowed to open private schools, recognizing the heavenly way as the only way."

Warning: for this act of gratuitous spite, even towards a demon, you have lost karma.

The message mortified Miel, until the sight of Malfy’s entire body turning red from fury made it worth it.

●                       Fifteen hours after the deeply regretted Vizier’s departure.

"Junior, please calm yourself," Allison tried to soothe the monstrous mimic, as the scene caused citizens to gather in the street.

"Babies!" the creature barked back, gathering newborn jellies on its back while stomping the remains of a destroyed stand. "Protect babies!"

"Sword babies?" Buzz Jelly repeated, the famous explorer having hopped at Junior’s side since it began its rampage. "Coming!"

How did Victor tame this thing? It had been completely uncontrollable since the last slime rain brought new jellies to Murmurin, smashing anything between itself and its new charges; and without Victor to keep it pacified, the creature’s violent instincts had resurfaced. A poor orc shopkeeper had the misfortune of catching a fire jelly to make light, which enraged the giant mimic and made it overreact.

"This is a disaster," the orc complained. "My shop is in ruins!"

"It’s the advisers," a kobold merchant in the crowd loudly complained, "Everything has been worse since the beloved Grand Vizier left! I’m sure they mislead the good Emperor Vainqueur with bad advice and mistreated the mimiczord!"

"I heard they want to raise taxes!" A gnoll added, causing the citizens to argue among themselves.

"That is wrong," Allison replied, sensing the tension in the air. "We have no intention to—"

"I feel you, gamete person, this gods-blessed country is declining before my three hundred and eight eyes!" An eldritch horror added, ignoring the dryad. The priestess suddenly realized that while she had once commanded respect when Murmurin had been a small village where everyone knew one another, she didn’t recognize half of these monsters. And they didn’t respect her. "They must have conspired to send the good Victor away, as they did the Kobold Rangers… the true prophet would never have let this happen!"

The worse thing was, Allison realized that they may be on to something...

"Gentlemonsters," a gnoll spoke up. "I think there is only one way for our voice to be heard loudly enough to reach the Emperor. The monster way."

He raised a spear.

"RIOT!"

"Riot!" Buzz Jelly hopped happily. "Team activity!"

"The chosen slime is with us!" a Moon Beast roared in poor commonspeak. "RIOT!"

"RIOT!" the other monsters shouted in agreement, some immediately smashing the nearest windows and tossing carts around in a frenzy.

"Stop!" Allison pleaded, only for someone to start a fire with a spell. She immediately moved to try to extinguish the flames before they spread. "Damn it! Damn you! Damn you all!"

●                       Twenty hours into the Murmurin apocalypse.

Exhausted, Allison took solace in the one place where she always felt safe. Her temple, before the statue of her goddess.

The dryad prayed harder than she had ever been to Cybele, but the love goddess, who had so many times answered her prayers directly, remained silent. The new cathedral, built months ago, remained eerily silent. Until at long last, her best friends stepped into the room, more for her sake than the goddess’.

"What has Rolo missed?" the golem asked, always straight and to the point. "Rolo has seen smoke outside."

"You missed sixteen murders, hundreds of wounded, riots, fires, fires everywhere, hundreds of thousands of gold coins lost in property damage, Heaven and Happyland threatening to go to war over proper youth education..." Allison trailed, her voice breaking. Since she always favored conciliation, the rampant chaos drained her utterly. She would have rather talked to people over a drink than help quell the riots.

How did Victor manage to stay sane after months of this? The experience had only renewed the respect she felt for her fellow human-turned-monster.

"It is a very sensible subject, education," Rolo said with a farmer’s wisdom.

"I never went to school, but I turned out sound in mind and body," Chocolatine added, before giving Allison a cake. "Here, you need sugar. I mixed it with chocolate, with no meat. You will feel happier afterward."

"Choc, you are crazy, but you are also cute, and I want to take you home with me," the dryad declared. Now that she felt the shadow of death and destruction chase her with every step, she had finally found the courage to say it.

"Silly, your home is probably burning as we speak!" Chocolatine replied innocently. "I should be the one to take you to my place!"

"It’s a deal," Allison said, "Rolo, can you..."

"Rolo does not need repairs. Rolo will go work, and make sure the fields do not burn in our absence. You must rest."

"Thank you, my friend," the dryad replied. "I will offer the last of my silent prayers tonight, and then I will leave."

Chocolatine hugged her dearly, while Rolo patted her on the back. When they both left, the dryad thanked the goddess for sending her to this world, where she had made friends as strong as them.

Another figure ended up paying her respects to Cybele that night: Charlene. "I did not know you prayed," Allison told the vampire.

"Neither did I," Charlene replied, looking absolutely destroyed. "At this point, only the gods will save us."

"We…" Allison bit her lower lip since she had promised herself not to bother her friend while on his soul-searching trip. "We can always contact Vic…"

"I tried," Charlene dropped the bomb. "I tried to contact him through his [Scarlet Study] Perk, but wherever he is, it blocks the connection."

The dryad’s heart froze, the world around her drained of color, of the very substance of hope. "So you’re saying—"

"That we are on our own." Charlene shook her head as if lost in her thoughts. "Only Jules is happy. He called it a good day."

Allison choked, aghast. "How can he call this mess good?"

"There have been sixteen deaths so far, which he translated as sixteen new undead births. He hopes that we can keep going with the new momentum."

How did Victor manage to keep all these maniacs in line?

"I will have to apologize to Victor when he comes back," Charlene said, "Keeping Vainqueur grounded is an impossible task, let alone his entire army!"

"Managing an empire of monsters is way, way more difficult than a small village," Allison had to admit. "They are all within an inch of starting a fight, unless kept in line by a strong chief of staff. I never thought that Vic would be so… irreplaceable."

"We have to make sure that he never takes a vacation ever again."

"Agreed," Allison replied. "No matter what."

6: Of Witches and Flames

"... you are asking me, your lord and master, which school my minions must attend?" Vainqueur asked the ‘interim council’ from atop his hoard, more irked with each passing second.

"No, Your Majesty," Tasty Miel replied. "We ask you if you would kindly ban vile satanic schools, and to enforce the divine covenant drafted by your saintly Vizier."

"Do not listen to her, Your Majesty." Tasty Malfy glared at his rival. "She is trying to stamp out free enterprise, which has been the empire’s cornerstone since its inception! We are also very, very unsure that an Averagist education is compatible with our shared company values."

"We are uplifting the masses and downgrading the mighty," Marbré contested. "Certainly ours is the truest way!"

As they started arguing again, Vainqueur was starting to get a headache, and a strong urge to eat all three of them.

The council was making him work! Their work! He already had to make a grand speech to the population to quell the riots, promising sweeping political reforms, and even have his lackeys look for slimes to pacify his friend’s pet.

Although he loved ruling over peons and enlightening them, Vainqueur would have rather trained at his [Geomancer] class, so he could bury the vile Furibon under a mountain. Or the ocean. "Smart minions are productive minions," the dragon spoke, interrupting their squabble. "But I care not which of you teaches them. For you are all equally incompetent on this matter."

"I can only applaud this show of Averagism," Marbré said, seeing the light in the dragon’s words.

But while Malfy the Fiend seemed to submit too, the angel was aghast. "But Your Majesty—"

"I am a dragon. If you angels were wiser than my kind, then you would have scales on your wings." The bird fell silent in the face of Vainqueur’s implacable logic. "I have spoken. Each family must send their children to be educated in the ways of minionship, but they can choose which one. For the future of my hoard, each school program will also have courses in Hoard R&D and Fairy Extermination; and the smartest minions will be sent to my new Vainqueur Watch for Thorough Fairy Destruction. You three will now leave, before the sight of you makes me hungrier."

Understanding the subtle message, half the council rushed through the vault’s door, leaving only the other two. Vainqueur immediately noticed someone missing. "Where is Untasty Allison?" he asked.

"She overtaxed her magic replanting the fields damaged during the riots," Charlene explained, her eyes creased by exhaustion.

"Batling Charlene, that is true minion devotion," Vainqueur said, hoping the vampire would take after her example. She smiled in response, her lips unable to reach her ears due to the emotion. The dragon then turned to Jules the Necromancer. "Corpseling."

"Yes, Your Majesty? How may I serve?"

"I want you to make a list of every minion in my empire, living or dead," Vainqueur said. "A list which will include their species, age, and gender."

"That’s an interesting idea," Batling Charlene said, surprised. "What is it for?"

"Since taking levels in [Geomancer] takes time, I will now practice my [Dungeon Breeder] class," Vainqueur declared. "The chaos in my empire has shown me that I must foster a sense of brotherhood among my lackeys; not only towards me, their beloved ruler but to each other."

"It is true that the nation is a melting pot," Jules said. "Do you intend to marry off every minion?"

"A true army of minions is united in blood, as well as spirit," Vainqueur said. "But I shall not force any of my lackeys to breed against their will... because, in my wisdom, I will organize the perfect dates with the best partners, as I did for my chief of staff."

It was time to introduce Murmurin to the ancient dragon institution of ‘Minion Speed Dating’.

"Why not form adventurer parties out of the population as well?" Jules proposed. "Many have formed groups of their own, but perhaps Your Majesty would have a keen eye in creating new ones."

"You flatter me, minion," Vainqueur said. "Do it more often, for this is an excellent idea."

After Batling Charlene and Corpseling Jules discussed ways to gain this information, Vainqueur sent them away, so he could rest on his gold, as a true dragon should.

Yet an hour later, he was woken up by the most wonderful of voices. "Uncle!" his niece Jolie called him from outside the vault, waking him up. "We are back! Can we come in?"

Vainqueur’s mood immediately improved. "Of course!"

His niece walked inside, followed by cursed Knight Kia and the Kobold Rangers. They were Kobolds in name only by now, having grown bigger and traded their silly weapons for better gear. Red had transformed into a grizzled warrior carrying both swords and firearms; Pink now wore colorful clothes Vainqueur had often seen musicians wear in manling courts; Blue covered his bones with priestly robes and a staff; Black seemed to have taken the path of the spellcaster, if the dragon could trust his new wizard hat and belt of potions; and he almost didn’t recognize Yellow beneath his glittering, golden armor.

Even his niece had changed. She covered her scales with shiny armor of fortified plates, from her head to the very end of her tail. The elder dragon recognized the metal as mithril, and while he considered it inferior to gold in shininess, it more than made up in hardness. Clearly, Jolie had learned the lesson from the fight with Lavere and trained.

"So good to see you, my niece," Vainqueur said, nuzzling his family member. "Have you come for the games?"

"We are going north, uncle," Jolie said. "Kia said she would present me to the King, and a princess!"

"I have received news from Gardemagne," her chief of staff said. "I am recalled there for an emergency."

"Good riddan—" Vainqueur stopped himself when he realized Jolie intended to follow the knight and may miss his minion tournament. "This is terrible news!"

"I will come back soon, uncle!" Jolie promised.

"The niece shall be defended," Red Ranger said.

"But we may not return in time for the games," Pink Ranger complained.

"What could possibly be important enough to cause my niece to miss my minion championship?" Vainqueur asked angrily.

"A band of fomors is raiding the northern shores of the continent, attacking isolated villages in the old Midgard Republic and the Winter Kingdom," Knight Kia said, "King Roland believes this to be a Wild Hunt from Prydain, and he wants me nearby in case they approach Gardemagne. Reports say that even Mag Mell was sighted among them."

A Wild Hunt. The fairies’ poor attempt at copying the dragons’ Bragging Day. "The fairies will eat a few manlings, brag about whoever has skinned the best fur, and then they will bicker and scatter," said the wyrm, who had seen it play time and time again. "They do that every decade or so. Nothing unusual."

"Kevin said something is wrong this time though," Knight Kia replied, "Usually the fomors only attack mortals, but these ones thoroughly assault any living creature that they encounter, from animals to wild monsters. They even cleared out a dungeon."

"Obviously, the fairies wish to steal all of the treasures which rightfully belong to dragonkind," Vainqueur replied. His declaration of war must have forced them to adopt desperate measures.

"What use is there in slaying defenseless animals though?" Knight Kia shook her head. "If I didn’t know that they can’t, I would think that they are grinding like madmen."

Grinding. The word reminded Vainqueur of the old times, when he burnt enough demons to gain [Witch Hunter] levels…

Warning: Will you promote your [Witch Hunter] class to [Hellsing] or [Witchfinder General]? If you do not, you will continue to level up in the base class.

Vainqueur had almost forgotten. "Menu," the dragon said, "Detail these classes."

[Hellsing]: ‘You have moved beyond hunting only spellcasters, and now intend to make most classical horrors… extinct.’ If you are promoted to this class, your abilities will target more enemy types than spellcasters, and your resistance to damage will increase.

[Witchfinder General]: ‘Your hatred of spellcasters has grown beyond simply hunting them yourself. Now you command entire crusades against witches.’ If you are promoted to this class, your ability to make spellcasters miserable will increase further, and your allies will join in the fun.

The dragon considered the choice before him, before quickly deciding that with that dirty scum Lavere gone, he should no longer have any problem crushing vampires, and he already had an institute dedicated to researching ways to destroy fairies.

Yet the rematch with the wicked Furibon, cursed forever may he be, would soon be upon them. "I am now, and forever," Vainqueur declared, "a Witchfinder General!"

You have promoted [Witch Hunter] to [Witchfinder General]. Your [Spell Purge] perk now inflicts additional [Fire] damage when dispelling a foe’s spells.

Once more, the system proved itself as dragon-oriented, in recognizing the superior ability of fire to solve every problem.

"While you take care of the fairies, my minions will train to conquer the sea, save El Dorado, and destroy the evil Furibon," Vainqueur told Jolie and Kia. "Again!"

Knight Kia frowned, glanced down at Jolie, before shrugging. How could that manling treat the destruction of Furibon so carelessly? "In any case, once the Goldslayer is defeated, I will lay waste to Prydain myself," the wyrm boasted.

"There is a detail that Your Majesty should know," Knight Kia said. "Witnesses apparently sighted a dragon among the Wild Hunt. A huge one."

Vainqueur exploded into laughter. "A dragon working with fairies? Your witnesses must have sighted a wyvern or some drake!"

"No true dragon would help a fomor!" Jolie nodded.

"I’m just saying, you can count on me whenever you intend to attack Prydain," the knight said, her tone almost begging. "But don’t expect an easy fight either."

"No, I expect, and will only settle for, complete decimation," Vainqueur said with fury. The fomors had threatened his niece, his minions, and his hoard. The dragon would do what his kind should have done eons ago, and teach them a lesson they would never forget.

"We shouldn’t be long, anyway," Kia said. "The warband does not have the power to threaten Gardemagne, so King Roland will release me when it inevitably returns to Prydain."

"Make sure to return in time for my minion tournament," Vainqueur insisted.

"Oh, oh, Uncle, I have an idea!" Jolie said. "A minion battle!"

"A minion battle?" Kia raised an eyebrow.

"An ancient dragon ritual where two dragons select a team of minions each and have them fight for supremacy," Vainqueur said. "The dragon with the most minions standing at the end wins."

"Uncle, can I—"

"Jolie, I forbid you from making yourself a minion of that manling!" Vainqueur insisted. "You will act like a true dragon should be: barking orders to non-dragons!"

As his niece narrowed her head in disappointment, Vainqueur’s thoughts turned to his favorite minion. Barely a day had passed, but he wondered what he was up to. He hoped that he could find a way to breed.

Because considering what Vainqueur planned for him, Manling Victor would need the practice.

7: Victor Dalton and the School of Necromancy

Veran, goddess of war and fire, knew how to set the stage.

"To graduate from this academy, each of you must craft a personal artifact, according to our guidelines," she declared, the ceiling flickering with phantom flames. Hiding her whole body behind a thick shell, she looked more like an infernal, fire-powered golem than a dwarf. "The [Solomonari’s Grimoire] is the classic, but I would prefer more imaginative proposals for this session. Like a gun! Or a sword, with a gun!"

As one of the students sitting in the amphitheater, Victor scribbled down every damn word of this [Cursed Artifact Crafting] class. His classmate, Goblina, raised a hand to ask questions. "Can a ballista work?" she asked.

"If it is magical, nigh-indestructible, and destructive!" the goddess replied. "The essence of artifact creation is to pour your soul into the task. Literally! Creating an artifact means surrendering part of your lifeforce, of your max HP, and imbuing it with a personal touch!"

"What kind of artifacts did you make in your heyday?" a regal, crowned imp asked. Victor knew him as some kind of fallen demon prince eager to make a comeback but had little interaction with him.

"Jesty created his [Deathscythe]," Veran replied. "Although he killed so many people with it, surrendering his lifeforce was just the last push. Camilla crafted the [Crystal Skulls] which first spread vampirism and so many forms of undeath. As for me… oho, it would take a whole year to list all of mine! I was, and still am, a very busy crafter! The sword [Revengeance], the [Anvil of Catastrophe], the [Slime Machine]..."

As announced, the Dread Three did give classes, although most of the teacher body included ghosts of past overlords, mad prophets, and ancient horrors whose every lecture forced a Check against [Madness].

The curriculum focused on various courses each year, with the first focusing only on statecraft and ‘mindset.’ The teachers had taught Victor classes based on Akhenapep’s one hundred stratagems, although they went deeper into the practical applications. He had lost count to the number of times he had to hide a fake artifact from classmates acting as heroes, or minion HR sessions. While it only refined things he had already learned, the knowledge would serve him well in Murmurin; it had even opened his mind to new ways of managing Vainqueur’s new nation.

For the second year, the teachers would finally teach the students sorcery, item crafting, and more practical skills. After spending a good hour listing and detailing some of her proudest artifacts, Veran began to explain the process of crafting one. Victor scribbled down some ideas; since the process would take years, he had to quickly settle on a concept.

When the class ended with Veran turning into a pillar of flames, the students left the amphitheater into the dark, dimly lit corridors of the school. "See you at the [Infernal Alchemy] course, Vic," Goblina told him.

"Nah, I’m attending the [Necromancy] course," Victor replied. Partly because he liked the subject, and mostly because Isabelle Maure gave the lecture on [Infernal Alchemy].

"You must be the only one," she said, before leaving him to find the class on his own.

As Victor walked around the windowless school, he mused that the worst part wasn’t the lack of sun, the constant company of unethical psychos, the unnerving presence of Isabelle Maure, or the intense work schedule. No. What Victor struggled with was a more primal, intimate problem.

Not getting laid.

This place was worse than a monastery! His classmates ran the gamut from goblin to animated armor, and even a psychotic mad alchemist, but no female humanoids! As for the teachers… Isabelle Maure seemed to take sadistic glee in teasing him, and he didn’t feel attracted to dwarves, especially world-conquering ones.

Victor had strongly considered summoning Chocolatine, before realizing that she would remain trapped with him for at least six more years if he did. He hadn’t breached the subject with the teachers, so he had no idea how they would react; nor how would the werewolf. Trapping her in that castle for a quick relief from his pain sounded very selfish.

Finally finding the [Necromancy] amphitheater, Victor found himself the only one sitting on the stands. He didn’t have to wait long before the teacher teleported inside amidst swirling miasma.

The creature before him… was the greatest beauty the Vizier had ever laid his eyes upon. A dark elf whose skin was as black as a moonless night, pristine, and pure; her crimson eyes were shining rubies, her hair a white waterfall. Her wizard robes fit her perfect, voluptuous curves in an entirely supernatural way. She smiled at him, vampire fangs whom he would have happily sink into his neck and—

‘MINION!’

When he realized who he was looking at, Victor forced himself to focus on another mental picture; namely, Vainqueur. Somehow, imagining the dragon barking at him immediately broke the elf’s spell over him.

Forced abstinence was slowly driving him mad.

"You are the only student?" Camilla, goddess of death, plagues, and the undead, asked with a disappointed face.

"Apparently. I dunno why though."

"Since undead have become accepted, necromancy no longer has a…" Camilla considered the word, "Bad Boy appeal? Being a nice, mass murder-raiser is no longer a popular career choice."

"Everybody wants to be some kind of crafter shieldsman nowadays," Victor deadpanned. "But I’m all about the classics."

"And for that, Victor Dalton, you have my sincere gratitude," the goddess said with kindness. "Thanks to your efforts, the cause of the undeathstrial revolution is making headway in the Mistral continent... and your devotion shall not go unrewarded."

… don’t imagine her naked, she didn’t mean it that way, don’t do it, Vic, don’t do it...

"Since you are the only student, we can make this a private tutoring class," she said, either unaware of Victor’s less than saintly thoughts or ignoring them. "Why did you choose to study [Necromancy]?"

Yes, let’s talk about magic! "I have started learning the fundamentals of magic, but I never fully explored Necromancy in depth. I know spells are divided into tiers of power, and specializations, but not what these subschools do."

"As a [Reaper] of your level, you should have access to [Necromancy], [Ritual], and [Diabolism], correct?" Victor nodded, as the goddess took a professional tone, absorbed in her lecture. "[Necromancy] is sorcery focusing on the powers of undeath and death in general; it is obviously my favorite."

Figures. "What about the others?"

"[Diabolism] is sorcery focused on the lower planes, opposing [Sacrament], which calls upon the so-called heavenly planes. It gives you access to fiend summoning or sacrificing souls for wicked powers. As for [Rituals], they are very long, complex, but extremely powerful spells with a long spellcasting time, specific ingredients or needing conditions such as planetary events."

So the “virgin sacrifice to summon demon lord” kind of magic.

"You also have access to [Universal] magic, which any spellcaster can use, but if anyone wanted to be a good one, they would have become necromancers," Camilla said. "Luckily for you, [Reaper] has one of its best Perks for spellcasting."

"[Soulmaster IV]," Victor guessed, "[Reaper] levels now count as caster levels for the purpose of class restrictions. What does that mean?"

"That your Reaper levels can serve as a stepping stone to access more powerful, elite spellcasting classes, like [Lich], and that your current tiers will also stack with new ones for the three schools of magic you have access to."

"I would rather explore my existing classes before looking for new ones," Victor replied. "I have perks like [Darwinist] which could synergize well with necromancy, like allowing me to use undead-only spells on myself."

The goddess put a finger on her smiling lips with her eyebrows furrowing, deep in thoughts. "Most necromancy spells focus on killing or raising the fallen as undead," she said. "But it also opens the path to many stranger abilities, which can both enhance your abilities and mesh with your natural management skills."

"Do you have experience with that?" She obviously had to be good at raising undead armies.

"I’m the one who kept my guild organized and grounded," Camilla said. "Jesty is all about striking against the establishment, while Veran is the establishment. Making sure everyone gets along has been a tiring experience, but a rewarding one."

"About that, why did you create a school like Scholomance? I never imagined that kind of establishment could exist in Outremonde."

"We Dread Three believe that we can achieve greater things if we cooperate, than if we war with each other," the goddess replied. "If Mithras and the gods of the politically correct can band together to push their retrograde agenda, why can’t we do the same? We defeat our enemies by making them our friends, or our zombie slaves; which is something the fomors could never understand."

Victor thought she had a point, except for the undead slave part. "You know, I came here to think back on my life first and foremost."

"Have you?"

The Vizier nodded. "V&V is the most unstable nation in existence, but it is also the only place where monsters from all corners of the world can live in harmony and somewhat peacefully. We succeeded at amazing things too; we even reached the Moon!"

Camilla chuckled as if laughing at a private joke. "You came a long way."

"So even if Vainqueur created it by accident, I wouldn’t mind helping a monster civilization grow prosperous," Victor said. "Monsters are seen by adventurers as the enemy, and vice-versa… but it doesn’t have to be. While our values differ, peaceful coexistence is possible. I would like to show that to all of Outremonde, with V&V as the case study."

"So you will expand the empire’s borders until the world is united under your benevolent iron rule?!" Camilla said with a dramatic voice, making Victor raise an eyebrow. "Sorry, I was channeling Veran for a moment."

For a goddess, she sounded like a closet dork. "I’m always going to follow Vainqueur. I’ve sworn it and I stand by my words, even if I must toil forever to grow his hoard. But besides my duties, I want to see the house I built prosper."

Camilla listened patiently, before nodding. "Would you like to become my apprentice?"

Victor blinked. "Apprentice?"

"Since you are the only student interested in necromancy among the studies, so I might as well go further with you. I can help you progress into your [Reaper] class until you cap it at thirty, teach the tricks of the trade." She giggled. "If you reach level sixty by the end of your stay, I may even reward you with a little something."

That kind of reward? He couldn’t help but think.

"Shesha did say you were easy," she laughed, having read his mind much to his shame. "But let’s keep things professional within this school's walls. We will first start by reviewing every spell under Tier IV..."

Congratulations! For receiving the private tutelage of the goddess of Undeath, you earned two levels in [Reaper]! You earned the [Nightmare Lord] class perk!

1 VIT, + 2 SKI, +2 AGI, +2 INT, +2 CHA, +1 LCK.

[Nightmare Lord]: By sacrificing half your max SP, you can change an area up to a mile wide into a [Nightmare Realm] Field for thirty minutes. Each minute, non-mindless creatures must pass a Charisma check, with each failure inflicting a status ailment. One check failed: [Drain]. Two checks failed: [Terror]. Three checks failed: [Madness]. Four checks failed: [Nightmarish Sleep]. Five checks failed: [Insta-Death], with the soul trapped as if targeted by [Helheim]. Any successful check resets the cycle. [Nightmare Realm] ignores ailment Resistances, but not Immunities.

Very nasty, if costly, effect, but by Dice, his stat increases didn’t turn out good.

Victor knocked at the door, but no answer came.

[Skeleton Key] activated!

His perk caused the door to open on its own, the Vizier stepping in as he heard a voice beyond the threshold.

"No, Braniño, I will not pay the goddess Shesha to revive you! I no longer have the funds! I have asked the goddess Camilla and… yes, I know you do not want to become an undead matador, yes, but this is the cheapest… yes, I love you..."

The Vizier walked inside Isabelle Maure’s room, although condo might have been a better term. The Dread Three had granted Isabelle Maure a royal suite fitting her ego, including a boudoir, a large bedroom, and golem servants to attend to her needs. The archdevil herself sat around a dinner table, speaking in front of a silver mirror, whose surface shifted like smoke.

"No, Braniño, I… I am in a temporal anomaly, of course, I cannot call anytime!" She frowned upon seeing Victor enter. "Braniño, I have a guest… yes, I will call you back…"

With a sigh of frustration, the archdevil put down the mirror. "He’s just as entitled in death as he was in life, isn’t he?" Victor guessed.

"I am getting tired of it. He wants me to use all my remaining assets to revive him, so he can take revenge as if I could afford it." The archdevil made a hand sign and the room’s door closed behind Victor. "How did you get into the room? I magically warded it."

"A special Perk of mine."

"Wonderful for assassination attempts," she replied, although clearly not intimidated in the slightest. "To what pleasure do I owe your presence?"

"I decided to attend the [Diabolism] class and bolster my spell list," Victor said, much to her amusement. "Since I missed the first few lectures, I thought you might have documents to recommend."

"So you have come for private lessons?"

Of course, she chose that wording on purpose. "I will cut straight to the chase," Victor said. "What do you want from me or Vainqueur? A settlement?"

"Sort of," Isabelle Maure said, inviting him to sit; which he did. "Furibon told me that I had more to gain by allying with you."

"He’s right." Becoming Vainqueur’s enemy hadn’t worked out well for her, like everyone else who tried to take the old wyrm down.

"The slim possibility of bringing my company back from the brink is the only reason I entertain the idea, instead of fighting," she replied, serving them wine. "I still harbor a grudge against Infercorp for stealing my market, so you better have excellent terms."

Victor smirked at her arrogance since he held most of the cards. "What do you bring on the table?"

"I will drop my revenge against you."

"We beat Brandon, we can beat you too," Victor replied, unimpressed. "If you are even considering the deal, then you no longer have the strength necessary to enforce threats."

"I can live forever, gathering resources over centuries..."

"So can Vainqueur. Who do you think will be in a better position in the long term?"

"Then let me rephrase," the archdevil said. "Tell me what you want, and I will tell you what I want, and we will see if our goals can align."

"We indeed need you to drop your vendetta, but also soldiers, magical weapons, anything which can help our country prosper in the long-term," Victor said. "Have you considered a merger?"

"A merger?" Isabelle snickered. "With those upstarts of Infercorp? Never!"

"Then I have a proposal," Victor said. "Why not become one of the empire’s officials? Like a governor?"

"You want me to bow to the dragon?" Her expression twisted into one of absolute disgust.

"With favorable terms," Victor said. "You will be granted a permanent foothold in Ishfania or the new territories we intend to annex in the future. While not as large as what Maure controlled, you could administer a region of our empire as you see fit so long as you remain loyal, provide soldiers and support for our wars. You will be allowed to offer services in the empire like Malfy, and granted protection from adventurers trying to unseat you."

Isabelle listened, her face softening. "I shall be allowed to rebuild Maure Incorporated with no reprisal?"

"We won’t allow Brandon to return, which will be enforced through contract." Not after the trouble the so-called Demon King caused them. "But otherwise, if you sign guidelines ensuring you won’t be aggressive towards us or cause too much trouble, you can go and sell souls in your territory. We already allow that in Murmurin."

"This is not optimal," she said. "But these are generous starting terms. I am surprised why you even offer them if you are truly in a strong position."

"As a wise goddess said, I defeat my enemies when I make them friends."

Charisma check successful!

The answer seemed to satisfy her. "Let’s discuss the fine print then..." she said, serving them both wine.

They ended up talking for hours about the details of a peace settlement, eventually reaching out an agreement. She has a prodigious appetite, Victor thought, as the archdevil wanted no less than an area the size of Indiana and complete autonomy; the Vizier, a hard bargainer himself, eventually talked her down into accepting an area the size of Maryland and with oversight, albeit a lax one. In exchange, the archdevil agreed to swear fealty to Vainqueur and V&V in general, providing access to her resources, her web of contacts… and as he expected, she had an ace up her sleeve.

"You know Furibon’s current location in the New World?"

"I knew this would interest you," she said, sensing an opportunity. "Now, I am not giving up an old ally to his demise for free, even if he abandoned my son."

"He saved my life and decided no longer to antagonize us," Victor pointed out. Hell, he had grown slightly fond of the cranky lich. "So I am tempted to simply let him be. I just want his location to talk to him if needed."

"Of course," she said while clearly not believing him.

After they finally settled on an agreement, which was to be signed under the supervision of demon lawyers, the discussion turned to more personal subjects. "... and you did not sleep with the angel?" Isabelle Maure asked, mocking him. "Not that I can blame you. Like their services, they are overrated."

"I dunno," Victor said. "I wanted to. Still want. But I didn’t want to cause a mess by breaking Chocolatine’s feelings either, so I forced myself not to indulge."

"The werewolf seemed open to the idea, from what you told me," Isabelle replied. "And neither did she seem willing to settle down yet. The problem comes from you… although I do not see what it is."

"I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am simply wary about committing."

"You said that you forced yourself," Maure pointed out, before making an elaborate guess. "I understand. You want to return to your homeworld, and deep down you are afraid that if you attach yourself to one or more women, then it will end in tears."

Victor nodded. "I even considered asking one of the Dread Three if they could send me back after Vainqueur and I are done with the fomors."

"My advice is, do whatever you want. I spent my whole existence building a career, never taking vacations, sacrificing my youth to build my company! Before I knew it, centuries had passed, and I had an ungrateful brat for a son and no time left. Besides, you should have no problem enjoying yourself."

"Come again?"

"You are nothing like the scrawny twerp that you were when we first met," she said, "Now you are strong, confident, and even dashing. The way you negotiate advantageous terms without disrespecting me... you would make for the perfect diplomat. I thought I would have to put on my charm to gain more concessions. I may still."

Victor guessed managing V&V did improve his confidence, and he had had a major increase in Charisma lately.

"You said considered," the archdevil said, "Not consider."

"I’ve thought about it here in Scholomance, and in the end, I am where I should be," Victor replied. "Sure, I would like to send a message to my family on Earth, if they still live… but I am building Outremonde’s future. I am making a difference, and I want to continue."

As for his romantic aspirations… After a long period of soul searching, Victor decided he would rather remain a bachelor. As the archdevil said, he had all his life ahead of him, and while he had grown fond of a certain werewolf girl, Victor didn’t want to settle. At least not yet.

It didn’t help that any romantic relationship would come after his own duties to Vainqueur.

"I wish I had an assistant like you working under me," the archdevil said, clearly teasing him with the phrasing. "I still cannot believe you started renovating that sandy dumpster you call a country."

"Brandon never tried?"

"Braniño loved titles and glory, but never development," she said, before mimicking his voice. "Mom, I am the demon king! Mom, buy me a brighter red capote! I swear, I did not raise him like this. When I think of all that I sacrificed, and yet nothing satisfies him."

"I trust that the settlement will make up for the mess he causes."

"I might have actually won more than what I started with," the archdevil said, "A flourishing, populated region under my direct control is worth more than a country-wide desert left to the whims of an unruly son."

The mirror let out a sound similar to a phone, causing the archdevil to sigh as her son called her. "I can solve this," Victor said.

"You can?" She raised an eyebrow.

Victor brazenly took the mirror, and simply threw it away. The fall shattered it while Isabelle’s eyes bulged at the sight, ending the buzzing sound; the silence caused the archdevil’s features to soften, while golem servants worked to pick it back up.

"The mirror’s price will be coming out of your grade," she said.

"Guess I will need more private lessons then," he joked, before realizing his mistake. Don’t imagine her naked, don’t imagine her naked...

Her amused eyes met his own, and it was all over.

Congratulations! For sleeping with twenty women since you arrived in Outremonde, almost all of them monsters, your [Romantic] Perk has evolved into [Seducer]!

[Seducer]: You gain +10 CHA when interacting with the opposite sex, and +5 CHA with your own. This replaces [Romantic].

8: Pocket Minions

●                       One very long week after Manling Victor’s departure...

"Vainqueur! Vainqueur! Vainqueur!"

Carried by the voices and adoration of his fans, Vainqueur descended upon his Golden Colosseum while the roof opened on its own. The sun shone on the glittering golden walls of the majestuous building, the citizens on the stands blinded by the light.

"Yes! I am your emperor! Love me!" Vainqueur unleashed a stream of flames on the sandy ground of the arena, turning it to glass. The dragon circled the whole Colosseum before sitting on his royal promontory, which supervised the entire Colosseum. Batling Charlene waited at his side, protected from the sun by a heavy umbrella.

Only the presence of his Friend Victor would have made Vainqueur happier. Almost all of the city’s population had gathered into the overcrowded stands to praise him; and Jolie, who had returned early from her errand in Gardemagne alongside her minions, had been granted a spot on a smaller promontory opposite to his. Vainqueur had one built for his dragon guests, for he was a wyrm with a sense of hospitality.

While Batling Charlene had shamelessly copied the design of the late Maure’s arena— may that wretched fiend be forever grounded in the afterlife—Vainqueur loved his Colosseum, for every wall, every stone, had been coated with gold. He already imagined the day where he would reveal his hoard and pile it in the Colosseum’s midst, before the eyes of the envious Icefang.

"Minions!" Vainqueur roared to the crowd. "Welcome… to my Golden Colosseum! A place where the best of minions can fight for dominance! A place, where you will see your emperor crush those who threaten the peace! A place of glory, glamour, and gold! And a place where you can find the perfect breeding partner!"

He quickly surveyed the audience, finding that many minions held a letter in hand. Batling Charlene had managed to distribute them in time.

"Each of you has also received a printed Letter of Breeding!" Vainqueur explained. "Each letter assigns you a number, and provides you with a list of other numbers; those of the perfect breeding partners, selected by me, your beloved master!"

He had spent many nights reviewing Corpseling Jules’ records, crafting entire trees of potential minion combinations.

"The letter also contains the coordinates of a location where compatible numbers must gather at the end of the day!" Vainqueur declared. "There, if you take the time to search, you will find the perfect soulmate, hidden among the choices presented to you!"

By turning this important matchmaking into a game, Vainqueur’s tactic would force his minions to exchange between themselves, to foster bonds while trying to find the perfect mate.

As expected, his announcement was warmly welcomed, for so long as the dragon lived, none of his minions would die unloved.

Congratulations! By creatively encouraging your minions to get busy, you have earned one [Dungeon Breeder] level! You earned the [Monster Husbandry] Class Perk!

+30 HP, +1 STR, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK

[Monster Husbandry]: Your minions gain +5 to checks against negative status ailments, with their future children gaining permanent Resistance to [Disease], [Paralysis], and [Poison]. The conditions for your minions to spontaneously evolve into higher forms are lowered; promoted minions keep their previous class levels.

No longer would he suffer from poor goblin stock; the dragon would ensure the new generation would be up to his standards, dedicating their entire bloodlines to the betterment of his hoard.

"Now, welcome the minions who passed the preliminaries!" Vainqueur ordered. "Each of them was granted a Crest for their prowess! Each of them has the power to shake the walls of this arena, and paint the sand with sweat!"

A golden door opened in the area below, the contestants walking into the arena under the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd.

Junior, as expected, was the favorite; the overgrown mimic had scared away all his opponents with fangs and blades. His spawn, Buzz Jelly, had also secured a place, leaping after its adoptive parent.

Barnabas the troll followed after them, covered head to toe in heavy armor and carrying a heavy mace as his weapon. Jules the Necromancer, ever discreet, slithered with his hands together next to Rolo the golem. The sixth contestant, Miel the angel, stuck her tongue out at Malfy in the stands, having defeated the fiend in the preliminaries to secure her spot.

Batling Charlene suspected that the angel only entered the tournament to beat her rival, and get ‘free exposure.’

While the audience kept acclaiming the contestants, who bowed before the emperor amidst a ring of molten glass, Vainqueur immediately noticed problems with the line-up.

"What are you doing here, farmer, instead of taking care of my food supply?" the dragon asked Rolo. The golem did not even need a Crest.

"Rolo wanted to try gladiator battles," the golem said with enthusiasm. "Rolo has interests other than farming!"

Vainqueur couldn’t scold such dedication to the sport. However, he counted only six of them, out of eight. "Minion Charlene," the dragon whispered to his Arena Architect. "Where are Sweet Chocolatine and Untasty Allison? You told me they passed."

"Allison is sick, and Chocolatine volunteered to help her recover her health. Since you intend for a minion… ‘gathering’ after the tournament, and Allison is the priestess in charge of these events, I thought it better to let her rest. Why? Is this a problem?"

Yes! Vainqueur could not hold a one-on-one tournament with only six fighters! There would be an odd number on the second turn! His eyes surveyed the stands, the solution instantly coming up upon catching sight of Jolie.

"Minions," Vainqueur addressed the crowd. "You came here for a show, and I will give you the best of the best! A battle the likes of which you have never seen!"

His fans whistled and clapped at his announcement, their bloodthirstiness pumping him with energy.

"To honor the presence of my beautiful niece, Jolie," Vainqueur’s niece’s head perked up, the minions clapping at her. "I will inaugurate this Colosseum by dueling her in a minion battle, using the six contestants as my fighters!"

His ‘champions’ exchanged glances, while his niece squealed in happiness at the surprise. "Uncle, I accept the challenge with great joy!" said Jolie. "My Kobold Rangers and my Kia will fight for my favor!"

Vainqueur winced at her wording, but his disgust was drowned by his excitation, as the crowd kept chanting, "Battle, battle, battle!"

"Each dragon trainer can select up to six minions," Vainqueur laid down the rules. "Any trainer can switch between their minions at any time, but cannot support their pets with either Perks or items. Neither can minions summon other minions, and a minion who can no longer fight is considered out. The match will end when all of a trainer’s minions have fainted."

[King of Games] activated.

Vainqueur’s mind explored every possible team combination, every minion management tactic that could help him prevail. The dragon had experience and power on his side, but Jolie had a legendary minion on her team… and the emperor’s one remained unavailable. This may prove a close match.

But if his minions managed to defeat Knight Kia before Jolie’s eyes, then he could finally destroy the blinding respect his niece had for her!

Vainqueur observed his champions with delight, the perfect strategy assembling in his mind.

After a few minutes, Jolie’s team, made of the Kobold Rangers and Knight Kia, entered the arena and faced the other contestants. Knight Kia, in particular, seemed eager to fight all but Angel Miel, a detail the dragon memorized for later. He knew that Jolie would keep her precious ace for last.

"Buzz Jelly, I choose you!" Vainqueur roared, his slimy champion hopping at the center of the battleground.

"For Empire!" the slime shouted with patriotic pride.

Jolie sent Black Ranger into the fray first, who immediately opened the hostilities with volleys of purple magical projectiles. The jelly hopped around them, while the grown-up kobold escalated to throwing lightning bolts, arrows of flame, and basic spells.

Vainqueur briefly marveled at how quickly the reptile had mastered magic—and found himself vexed that he himself still struggled with [Geomancy].

"Slime, use tackle!" Vainqueur ordered, giving his old kobold minion no mercy in this battle. "Find a chink in his defense, and smash him!"

"[SpaceZ]!" Moving almost faster than the eyes could follow, the tiny slime hit poor Black Ranger and ferociously slammed him against a golden wall. When Buzz unstuck itself, the reptile lay defeated, his bones broken by the brutal attack.

"Black Ranger is…" Batling Charlene began, as Vainqueur glared at her for her complete lack of enthusiasm in her announcements. "Black Ranger is unable to continue! The victory belongs to the slime!"

"I recall my Jelly, and send Angel Miel to take its place!" Vainqueur announced while the crowd cheered for their chosen slime, to shake things up.

"Blue, go crush that puny angel!" Jolie said in return.

"No, Jolie!" Knight Kia protested. "This is a terrible idea!"

Indeed. Blue was a priest type, and so from what Vainqueur understood, weak against an angel type. What a costly tactical mistake!

"I will prove myself to the great niece!" Blue insisted, raising his holy staff.

"Strike me, and I shall turn the other cheek," Angel Miel said, confusing both her master and opponent by joining her hands together.

"Attack!" Vainqueur ordered, but the angel refused to obey him. That kind of thing always happened with traded minions! "Now is not the time to disobey your master!"

"Here I go!" Blue Ranger exploited the opportunity, incanting a spell and summoning a sphere of flames. "[Fireball]!"

The undead launched the projectile at the angel, only for the sphere to extinguish itself before it could even burn her wings. "What?" the priest protested, trying to summon a new one. "[Fireball]! [Fireball]!"

Yet his magic failed him.

"To strike an angel, except in self-defense, is against Mithras’ scriptures!" Kia warned. "He won’t grant you his power if you attack first!"

"This is ridiculous!" Blue complained. "I can lose my phenomenal cosmic power by breaking a stupid rule? I knew I should have turned to the Moon Man!"

"By striking against Heaven, thou undead shall be punished!" Angel Miel said, tightening her hands. "[Judgment]!"

A beam of light, weaker than the one Knight Kia once used on Vainqueur long ago, fell from the skies and hit Blue in the head. When the shining flash weakened, the poor ranger laid unconscious in the middle of a small crater.

"Blue Ranger cannot continue," Charlene decided. "Miel is the victor!"

"Excellent, my bird of victory!" Vainqueur congratulated his minion, most of the audience clapping while the fiends remained silent. "You have followed my perfect strategy to the letter!"

"You planned this, Uncle?" Jolie asked with amazement.

"Of course," Vainqueur said. No need to trouble her young mind with the thought that he may be fallible.

"I owe this victory to my superior heavenly education, and afterlife insurance," Tasty Miel spoke to the audience. "You too can take care of your soul, by subscri—"

"Next!" Vainqueur roared before the angel could bore him to sleep. "Junior!"

"Treasure treasure!" The excalitrap replied in mimicspeak, while Pink Ranger took the field against it with a harp in hands.

"Pet of my minion, go easy on my bard!" Vainqueur asked, who while ruthless in a game, still wanted Sweet Pink to sing his praise later. "I will not tolerate you harming her too grievously!"

Not that he needed it, for Junior seemed to hesitate at striking the bard on its own; perhaps moved by a strange kind of familiarity. In response, Pink began to sing a powerful lullaby about swords coming to punish the naughty mimics. The excalitrap stumbled, threatening to fall asleep, and forcing Vainqueur to recall it for later.

This time, the dragon sent Barnabas. The troll wasted no time in trying to smash poor Pink with his mace, but the smaller reptile proved herself slippery and quick, dodging attacks while stringing her harp. The musical instrument released powerful shockwaves

Yet every time the sonic attacks seemed to damage Barnabas, his bones put themselves back in place, or his wounds closed. As expected, the troll would recover from whatever damage his enemy could inflict, wearing down Pink even if he couldn’t hit her. However, Jolie seemed to have a few surprises in store. "Use the scary story!" she shouted to her minion. "Use the scary song!"

Pink Ranger began to play a dark, sinister song, a dark aura wearing down Barnabas. "Bad to the Bone, chapter one…"

Vainqueur trembled as Pink sang a heretical, scary song. Terrible rhymes sung a nameless lich’s warped, obsessive love for a dragon, and his desire to turn his hoard to dust to get his rival’s attention all for himself. Many in the audience seemed to throw up as Pink shamelessly went into adult-only details, grossing out even her troll opponent.

Pink Ranger’s [Requiem for a Lich] prevented [Troll Regeneration] from activating!

When Pink next used a sonic attack, the troll staggered but didn’t heal again. Yet, eager to make his master proud - and the cursed song end - the blacksmith kept pursuing the bard, shrugging off her attacks with single-minded determination.

In the end, the cat and mouse ended when Barnabas tackled Pink while bleeding from the sonic damage. Proving herself as frail as she was quick, one blow was enough to defeat Pink, but the troll collapsed from the strain of the song, unable to go on.

"Double knock-out!" Batling Charlene decided when neither contestant could rise up.

Vainqueur’s first loss of minion, but he still held the lead. The struggle wasn’t to win, but to keep most of his team in reserve for when Knight Kia would take the field. Kobold minions dragged the wounded contestants off the area to recover.

"Prepare to face your dooooom!" Yellow readied himself for battle, clad in golden armor and carrying a sword of light.

"An undead [Paladin]?" Batling Charlene seemed astonished. "It’s possible to be both?"

Vainqueur hesitated to send Angel Miel, before deciding to keep her in reserve for the true threat. He hesitated between which minions to use when one of them volunteered on its own.

"Sword!" Junior grabbed its sword lure with a hand to wield it. Yellow took a step back in fear at the sight of the bigger ‘swordsman,’ but held steadfast in his resolve.

"[Elemental Saber: Fire]!" Junior wreathed his sword lure in flames and raised it high under the sunlight.

Both fighters exchanged a series of parries and swings, Yellow showing surprising finesse, while Junior embodied relentless power. For a moment, it seemed that both would remain locked in a long duel.

That lasted until Junior lost patience. "[Phantom Blade]!"

The excalitrap raised a free hand, a spectral, fantasmal curved saber materializing in its palm. Before poor Yellow could retaliate, the overgrown mimic unleashed a savage flurry of blows with both weapons, forcing the paladin on the defensive.

While to Vainqueur’s eyes, the mimic lacked any sense of technique, it more than compensated with speed and frenetic fury. Yellow managed to hold his ground for a few seconds, but the moment he failed to parry one strike, Junior shattered his arm with a well-placed swing, before savagely battering him into unconsciousness. The excalitrap let out a victorious roar, before viciously smashing his opponent’s blade underfoot.

With that ranger down, Jolie had only two minions left; her strongest. As expected, Red Ranger took over to avenge his kin, a blade in his left hand and a musket in the right.

"Sword defeat," the mimic told Red menacingly, swinging both his blades.

"This is not like before!" the raptor replied, casting spells. "[Skill Up], [Agi Up]!"

Junior used his deadly fury of attacks again, but moving at a speed exceeding even that of Pink, Red easily dodged each and every strike. The more he avoided it, the more the mimic grew angrier and sloppier.

"Junior, return to me!" Vainqueur ordered, but the mimic ignored him. "MINION! GET BACK HERE!"

But the beast refused to listen, too obsessed by the thought of crushing its opponent’s blade.

Eventually, after driving the bigger monster mad with frenzy, Red circled around it and shot Junior in the ankles. Junior stumbled, then collapsed as the raptor hit all its legs. Red then jumped on the creature’s back while avoiding the twin swords, riding the beast like a bull while needling its back.

Eventually, exhausted, the mimic stopped struggling and admitted defeat.

"Sorry, mimiczord," Red Ranger apologized while he leapt off the creature, as other kobolds dragged the monster out of the arena.

"Sword…"

"Tinfoil!" Vainqueur ordered. "Prove yourself!"

The golem farmer happily faced Red, boasting of his power before the smaller minion. "Rolo will make a sheep out of you!"

"If you can catch me, that is!"

"Rolo will, for Rolo has an ace," the golem said. "[Hasten]."

Vainqueur recognized the word as one of the vile Furibon’s spells; the match had ended before it began.

As he did against Junior, Red attempted to circle around the golem, shooting at his ankles… but the automaton bull rushed him with incredible swiftness, time itself seemed to accelerate around the machine. Surprised, Red attempted to fall back, only for Rolo to punch him right in the chest.

THOMP!

Vainqueur winced as he heard Red’s ribs cave in with a sickening crack, the poor minion knocked out in one blow. The raptor, stronger than his fellows, struggled to put himself back on his feet but eventually collapsed under the strain.

"You did well," Jolie comforted her minions, before glancing at her final champion. "Kia, avenge them!"

"Angel Miel, go!" Vainqueur ordered, switching minions again. The trap was set.

"I don’t want to fight you, Miel," the knight said, as both fighters faced one another.

"Me neither, my friend," the angel replied, once again praying. "So I shall stand there, leaving my fate in the hands of the heavens and waiting for you to fall in guilt after striking me."

Perfect. Knight Kia couldn’t hit Angel Miel without losing the favor of her so-called godly patron, which would soften her for the later fights. Vainqueur wouldn’t lose sleep over sacrificing an unruly minion if it meant taking down that cursed manling.

"Yeah… not gonna happen." Knight Kia pointed a finger at the bird. "[Banishment]."

Angel Miel popped out of sight without a sound. Vainqueur blinked in surprise, as did the audience.

"I sent her back to Heaven," Knight Kia explained. "She can’t fight anymore, so it should count as a victory?"

Charlene looked up at Vainqueur, who grumbled in frustration. Technicalities... "Miel is unable to continue," the Batling said. "The victory belongs to Kia Bekele."

That was bad. Vainqueur had counted on the angel at least weakening the legendary minion, but her poor performance disappointed him. The dragon sent Buzz Jelly to soften Manling Kia up, counting on the slime’s immense resistance to damage to wear down the knight.

The cosmic jelly immediately hopped and prepared to launch itself at Manling Kia. "[SpaceZ]," it muttered with its adorable voice.

Meanwhile, Kia adopted a strange position, holding her blade in the direction opposite to her foe, with one hand around the pommel and the other at its end. "[Iaijutsu Counter]!"

Warning: Kia Bekele will counter any single-target Physical attack and inflict four times the damage!

Four times? Vainqueur panicked. "Jelly, stop—"

Too late!

The patriotic slime launched himself at blinding speed at the knight, who hit it with her sword in the middle of the jump. The flat part of her blade hit the jelly’s face like a staff, the ground below them trembling from the aftershock.

Yet Kia’s strike prevailed, sending the jelly flying through the clouds like a cannonball. Vainqueur didn’t even see it land.

"Buzz Jelly cannot continue! The winner is Kia Bekele!" While Knight Kia expected applause, the audience instead booed her for striking at a national hero. The manling sulked without a word, her face grim.

Vainqueur sent Rolo next, growing tense. The knight had disrupted his perfect strategy without even trying! He hoped that the world’s most powerful farmer could match the power of this eyesore.

"[Hasten]," the golem accelerated time around himself and charged at the knight, seemingly to smash her with his fists.

Knight Kia immediately adopted the same defensive stance as last time, preparing to retaliate with a fearsome counterattack.

"[Earthquake]!"

Instead, Rolo hit the ground with both fists at the last second, causing the entire arena to shake and throwing debris in all directions. Kia was hit head on, disrupting her defense, and allowing the golem to land a punch on her shoulder.

However, while a single blow had demolished Red, it only managed to dislocate the manling’s shoulder.

"Finally, a challenge!" Knight Kia rejoiced as she leaped back to put distance between both fighters, raising her blade to the skies. "[Solar Judgment]!"

A massive, blinding ray of light fell upon the golem, pinning him to the ground.

"[Full Heal]." A green aura surrounded Knight Kia, healing all her wounds and putting her shoulder back in place. She then quickly threw a miniature sun at the golem with her free hand, Rolo powering through. "How many HP do you have?!"

"Enough!" Rolo replied, engaging his opponent in close combat.

What followed was a repetitive cycle of Knight Kia and Rolo exchanging blows, the manling backing down to heal herself back to full health, before jumping back into the fray. For a while, both seemed evenly matched.

But the longer the duel lasted, the more Vainqueur grew worried. The farmer didn’t recover from his wounds, while the knight did. The battle had turned into one of attrition… and the golem didn’t have the advantage.

In the end, it took twenty-five minutes for Knight Kia to finally bring Rolo down, beating him into scraps with her sword after she wasted too many SPs to keep casting strong spells. Kobold servants dragged the body out of the arena, alongside those of the other contestants, leaving Kia victorious, but exhausted.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Vainqueur had lost almost his entire team, while Knight Kia remained mostly unharmed, even if SP deprived. The dragon only had Jules the Necromancer left, the corpseling clearly aware, deep in his bones, that he couldn’t win.

Impossible! Who could save Vainqueur’s honor from defeat at the hands of this accursed knight?!

A portal suddenly opened in the middle of the arena, answering the dragon’s prayers.

9: Graduation Day

●                       Year Two: "Victor Dalton and the Archdevil’s Chambers."

"This is an excellent idea for an artifact," Isabelle Maure said. "But without Hell’s Prime Contract to which all souls are bound, it will never work. You will need to summon and convince all demons of the Ars Goetia."

"Can you teach me?" Victor asked, waiting for the foul price she would certainly ask.

"Yes," she sensually crossed her legs. "But not for free."

"I have nothing to offer," Victor began his well-oiled speech. "But my body and soul!"

"Then strip."

"... and that is how you animate a flesh golem," Camilla told Victor, as the necromancer sewed dozens of corpses into a single giant. "As you can see, while the process is similar to animating zombies, the crossing of necrotic streams makes it much more difficult…"

"You call that a deathtrap?" Deathjester complained, after examining the poisoned bloody spikes. "You aren’t supposed to give the captive an escape route! Again!"

What? That was thirty of them so far! How many trapped hallways would Victor have to design before he gained a level in [Architect]?

Congratulations! For judiciously training your soul-fu, you earned a level in [Reaper]!

+30 HP, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK

●                       Year Three: "Victor Dalton and the Half-dead Matador."

"Maure shall not be sent overplane!" the specter of Brandon Maure shouted, having stolen enough life energy from Isabelle to regain some amount of corporeal substance.

"How could you do that to your own mother?" Victor said, disgusted. Cock-blocking him was one thing, but that part was beyond irredeemable!

"She is my mother, my property! I do what I want with it!"

"This will be a true test of your necromancy skills," Camilla told him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Remember what I taught you… use your soul… channel your spirit..."

"Dalton! For sheathing your sword where you shouldn’t have, you shall perish by Maure’s own!"

"Like Happyland I will!" Victor replied, spellcasting with his scythe. "I will send you back where you belong, Braniño… to your mother’s basement!"

"You saved my life back then," Goblina told him, after catching him in a hallway. "You could have let Jack Frost freeze me to death, but you didn’t. Why? I don’t understand!"

"It’s just…" Victor shook his head. "After years of intense academic rivalry, I guess… I guess I consider you a friend."

"Even after I tried to poison you? After I burned your homework?"

"Forget it, Goblina," Victor replied. "It’s Scholomance. It’s weird."

The goblin struggled to grasp the concept for a while. "I guess… I guess we could form an overlord alliance?" she said, using terms she understood. "We take out all the competition for valedictorian, and then we fight for the post in the last year! What do you say?"

She offered her tiny hand.

Victor shook it. "Deal."

Congratulations! For exorcising Brandon Maure’s spirit from his mother’s bedroom and forever grounding him, you earned a level in [Reaper]! You earned the [Vicious Ankou] Class Perk!

+10 SP, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA

[Vicious Ankou]: You steal the future of those you kill. Whenever [Helheim] traps a soul in your Scythe, you gain immunity to [Aging] for one year (multiple victims stack). The corpses of your victims age to dust after extraction of the soul; this is a [Time] effect.

"Guys, I’m immortal!"

"Shush!" Goblina told him, as she finished reading the Book of the Wicked, while the tentacled librarian glared at them both. "I have an [Eldritch Philosophy] exam tomorrow."

"Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of my ill-gotten eternal youth!"

The library’s books wailed in response to his bragging, much to Goblina’s annoyance.

●                       Year Four: "Victor Dalton, and the Goblin Princess."

Chocolatine de Gevaudan cannot answer your summon right now.

Please try again later.

Again? Did the time anomaly interfere with his Perk, or had something gone wrong in Murmurin? He had tried to contact people for months, to no avail. If only he could leave the school grounds...

Well, in that case, he had no choice but to use this newly crafted [Diabolist] Tier IV spell he designed. He couldn’t believe nobody else thought of it before him. Or maybe they simply never lived long enough to distribute that spell...

"[Succubus Booty Call]!" Victor cast in his bedroom, a pentagram of crimson light manifesting on the ground as a winged, curvaceous shape appeared within it...

Congratulations! For inventing new soul-based spells to fulfill your darkest desires, you earned a level in [Reaper]!

+30 HP, +10 SP, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA

“Goblina, I don’t want to fight you!" Victor panted as his blood dripped on his scythe.

"Neither do I," the goblin he had once called a friend replied, her sword too, red with Victor’s blood. "But I won’t let you get in my way!"

"We were supposed to unite against the Headmaster and expose his treachery!" Victor protested. "You weren’t supposed to join him!"

"I must avenge my clan… and kill that paladin! Only Sablar can give me the power needed. The power of time itself."

"I thought we were friends!"

"We’re not friends!" Goblina snarled. "There can only be one Valedictorian!"

"So that’s it," Victor glared back at her. "From now on… we’re enemies!"

Congratulations! For fighting an up and rising goblin overlord to a bitter tie, you earned a level in Reaper! You earned the [Soulmaster V] Class Perk!

+1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK

[Soulmaster V]: You can now learn and use [Necromancy], [Rituals], and [Diabolism] spells up to Tier V. Reaper levels now count as Caster levels for the purpose of class restrictions, and if a class grants you a spellcasting tier in your specialized schools of magic, they will stack with Soulmaster V. This replaces [Soulmaster IV].

●                       Year Five: "Victor Dalton, and the Order of the Ghouls."

"From the Outer Gate, we call upon the guidance of Yog-Sothoth," Victor chanted alongside five other students, all of them surrounding a sacrificial goat. "Line our brains with eyes, so that we may glimpse the cosmic truth! [Ritual of Eldritch Insight]!"

But something was wrong… the energies… the streams of energies didn’t align! The stars weren’t right!

They weren’t summoning Yog-Sothoth! They were summoning… something ancient… something inhuman...

Something racist.

Congratulations! For accidentally summoning and befriending Cthulhu through an ancient, foul ritual, you earned a level in [Reaper]!

+30 HP, +10 SP, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK

"Brains?" the ancient, mummified ghoul asked, as the eldritch spirit settled in its rotten flesh. "Babies?"

Victor glanced at Camilla, who was raising a thumbs-up in pride.

"Babies’ brains?" the ghoul asked again, with a hopeful look on its face.

Congratulations! For reviving the ancient Order of the Ghouls to oppose the Headmaster’s machinations, you earned a level in [Reaper]! You earned the [Reanimator] Class Perk!

+10 SP, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK

[Reanimator]: By sacrificing money or items, you can revive a living being as an intelligent undead; alternatively, you can place back one of the souls trapped in your scythe inside a corpse, the resulting undead retaining the original soul’s class levels. The funds needed to revive someone depends on the soul’s value, whom you intuitively understand. This replaces [Animate Dead].

●                       Year Six: "Victor Dalton, and the Timeworm of Sablar."

"You…" The dark, demonic figure of the Headmaster glared at the two students. The teachers of the school laid frozen in time, while the wormlike abomination powering the time distortion strained against its bindings. "Goblina, how dare you betray me?!"

"I was never on your side," the goblin replied.

"We have planned this since the beginning," Victor added. "Your plan to free the Timeworm of Sablar failed before it even started!"

"The beginning? No…" the wicked fiend showed his fangs. "It can’t be…"

"That’s right," Goblina said. "We staged a fake rivalry for three years straight!"

The Headmaster let out a roar of pure rage and frustration, as both students prepared themselves for the final battle.

Congratulations! For saving the Nightlands from the Timeworm of Sablar, and finally defeating the Headmaster, you earned two levels in Reaper! You earned the [Soulmaster VI] Class Perk!

+60 HP, +10 SP, +1 VIT, +2 SKI, +2 AGI, +2 INT, +2 CHA, +1 LCK

[Soulmaster VI]: You can now learn and use [Necromancy], [Rituals], and [Diabolism] spells up to Tier VI. Reaper levels now count as Caster levels for the purpose of class restrictions, and if a class grants you a spellcasting tier in your specialized schools of magic, they will stack with Soulmaster VI. This replaces [Soulmaster V].

●                       Year Seven: "Victor Dalton, and the Relics of Evil."

As he stood on the amphitheater stage, watched by students, teachers, and three deities, Victor held his breath. Goblina remained at his side, just as tense.

Seven years had passed, although he hadn’t physically aged much since acquiring the [Vicious Ankou] Perk; life was just that dangerous at Scholomance. Seven years practicing dark magic until he could cast spells all the way to Tier VI. Seven years working on a dark artifact, foiling the Headmaster’s dark intrigues, and offering his body to all kinds of extraplanar outsiders.

"Seven years," Victor muttered.

"So many adventurers, you could fill a whole book," Goblina whispered back, before chuckling. "If we censor the Shoggoth in the basement."

"Don’t remind me." He still showered three times a day, even after the stink left. "Seven years, dammit."

Seven years leading up to this moment.

"You two have been the best students of this session," Veran acclaimed them. "Goblina has proven herself the most promising bandit overlord of her generation, while you Victor, have become a skilled necromancer; both of you reached level sixty under this roof, which is almost as much as the champion of Mithras. You bring glory to this ancient institution."

"Yet it is now time to decide a valedictorian, who will be granted access to the prestigious [Weathermaker] Spellcaster class," Isabelle said. "The Dread Three will make that decision."

"We’ll vote on your chosen artifact," Deathjester said. "The best-made one will win."

"I promise not to favor my apprentice in this case," Camilla added.

"You should have claimed them both like me," Deathjester pointed out. "Since you go both ways."

"Shut up Jesty," the dark elf replied, although more amused than annoyed. "Now, show us the fruits of your labor."

"Good luck," Victor wished to his friend, shaking her hand. "May the better one win."

"You too, Vic." Since she went first, she wasted no time in showing off her treasure: a long, one-handed black mishmash of a sharp sword and a primitive rifle, made of the purest alloys.

"I present you the ultimate fusion of the two best weapons in the world, the [Deathgun Blade]!" Goblina boasted. "This powerful artifact combines the brutality of a sword, with the modern savagery of a gun! It can fire an unlimited number of [Unholy] energy bullets which bypass any resistance to that element, and thanks to its corrupted Starmetal alloy, the sword itself cut through anything!"

"Anything?" Veran asked, immediately seduced by the weapon.

"This is the most powerful weapon ever created! Perfect to conquer the world! And, and, it can think for itself! It can subtly corrupt the wielder, making him as malicious as the previous holder! This way, one may kill a warlord, only to become the next one!"

"That way, only the strongest wielder keeps the sword," Veran whistled. "Ensuring every new warlord is more powerful than the last!"

"This is a very good concept," Deathjester said. "Albeit a classical one. I wish you had shaken up the formula a little, but it’s a proven strategy."

"But does it have any utility outside of combat?" Camilla asked.

"It is not made for combat, but victory!" Goblina boasted, but the goddess still noticed the chink in the presentation and kept asking questions.

As expected, Victor’s rival had perfected the combat part, exalting all the way it could help kill heroes in direct confrontation. This weapon was certainly the best, most dangerous sword in the realms, and would clearly become in very high demand among conquerors. Swords had that timeless appeal, especially among artifacts.

The Vizier, meanwhile, had chosen another path to explore, one that he hoped would win him the vote.

"Thank you for your presentation, Goblina," Camilla said, glancing at her apprentice next. "Victor, if you would. I cannot wait to see what you have in store."

"You do not know?" Deathjester asked, his fellow deity shaking her head. She had made a conscious effort not to read her student's mind on that matter. "Interesting."

The necromancer had gone at great lengths to keep it under wraps, pouring his very soul into this item. Literally. "Gentledeities, gentledevils," Victor said, unveiling his artifact from under his cloak. "I present you the [Black Grail]."

A chalice made of bones coated in black, soulsteel metal, the artifact could be held with one hand; its maker had crafted a dragon-like face on its surface, with two rubies for eyes.

"A cup?" Veran asked, immediately disappointed.

"This cup is the most powerful, insidious, and versatile weapon of mass destruction ever seen in Outremonde. This is a revolution!" Victor put the chalice on the ground. "But a demonstration would be quicker."

Putting the chalice on the ground, he slightly cut his wrist with his scythe, drawing a few ounces of blood and pouring them into the cup. The audience watched, mesmerized, as the blood turned into a black mud through the power of the grail.

"Once blood is shed, the Chalice turns it into a black substance," Victor said. "If this black blood is poured from the cup onto a corpse, it immediately revives it as they were right before their demise."

"This is not undeath?" Camilla asked.

"The person looks alive, but its body is actually animated by the chalice’s power, preventing them from aging; we will call these pseudo-undead [Arisen]. They no longer age, but appear living to themselves and others. The [Black Grail] can only revive two kinds of people though; those whose souls have been captured by my [Helheim] Perk, or condemned to the infernal plane called Hell."

He literally had to sleep with an archdevil to get the necessary contract, and she had insisted he use the old brand Hell instead of Happyland for the presentation.

"This is an interesting concept," Deathjester commented. "But I feel it lacks a certain… I don’t know… a catch."

"Ah, but you should read the fine print," Victor joked, the demons who assisted him chuckling. "For when an [Arisen] is revived, they are secretly bound to a [Soul Pact], which allows me to [Enthrall] them at will, with no check allowed!"

"No check?" The other students gasped, while Camilla beamed more and more as the presentation continued.

"And, the cherry on the cake," Victor trailed. "If I am ever killed, the chalice will automatically capture my soul, which will take over the artifact."

"So if any minion pours back black blood on your corpse…" Deathjester guessed.

"I will revive," Victor said. "And I can still telepathically command the [Arisen] from within the [Black Grail] as my minions."

"This is brilliant!" Veran understood the implications. "You can loan it to a warlord to raise back armies, again and again, unaware that you can snatch away his soldiers at any moment!"

"The artifact will attract the attention of all sorts of suckers eager to raise their loved ones, and since the revived are not aware of the catch," Deathjester muttered. "You can turn people into timebombs. Even if the catch becomes known, desperate people will still flock to it."

"And [Arisen] is one of the most advanced forms of undead that I have heard of," Camilla said. "Well done."

The students and teachers applauded Victor, who bowed politely. He recovered the cup and stood next to Goblina. "It is now time for the vote," said Isabelle Maure. "What will our patrons choose?"

"The choice couldn’t be more obvious to me," Camilla spoke up first. "While the [Deathgun Blade] is certainly a very fine artifact, it lacks the sheer potential of its competition. My vote goes to Victor."

"I am very tempted to vote for the [Black Grail] too," Veran said, Goblina fidgeting, "I am very, very tempted, but…"

Victor tensed, while his goblin competitor rejoiced.

"I cannot vote against an unholy gun," the goddess said. "I choose the [Deathgun Blade]."

All eyes settled on Deathjester, who would cast the final vote. The silence became unbearable, as the deity seemed intent on dragging out the tension. "Veran," he finally spoke up.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember what I told you back in our last session?" Deathjester asked, the goddess sinking in her chair. "Because there are too many guns."

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

"The valedictorian of this year," the god of crime pointed his index finger at the Vizier, "Is Victor Dalton of Murmurin!"

The amphitheater exploded into cheers and applause, leaving Victor speechless; especially since the gods were the most vocal about it. While clearly disappointed, Goblina ended up congratulating him as well.

Congratulations! For being chosen as the valedictorian of Scholomance, you can now take levels in the ultra-prestigious [Weathermaker] spellcaster class!

All these years of raising the dead to master the essence of souls, and opening his mind through eldritch rituals, had finally paid off!

"Congrats, Vic," Goblina said. "You have been the best frenemy a goblin could hope for."

"You too. We’ll stay in contact, I hope?" The two had become thick as thieves over all their adventures. "I mean, we still have that Jack Frost loose end to deal with. I’m sure he will come back to haunt us again."

"Sure!" Goblina replied. "If you ever come across my new empire, I will have a few jobs for you! But no squids."

"No squids," Victor fist-bumped her.

"As promised," Camilla said upon approaching her protegee before touching his shoulder. The physical contact made him shiver in both pleasure and subconscious fear. "Here is a little reward."

Victor sensed a mark appear on his back, another joining the collection.

[Claimed by Camilla]: When you level up, you have an additional 10 percent chance to gain a Vitality or Agility point. You automatically gain the secondary [Undead] type, including all of its strengths and vulnerabilities.

Perk conflict detected! Priority affected the oldest Perk! Change to [Undead] type negated by [Darwinist]!

"I believe it was long overdue," the goddess said. "I did make a proposal to get your soul when you first died. That will be difficult now, but I encourage my followers to haunt the realm of the living however they can."

"So… what happens now?" Victor asked, eying Isabelle Maure, who would follow him to Murmurin.

"What happens next?" Camilla repeated with a coy smile. "It’s all up to you."

"I would like to continue our [Necromancy] lessons," Victor said. "I intend to cap [Reaper] after gaining a [Heroic Crest] and to master necromancy as a whole. I feel like I only scratched the potential of sorcery here."

"With pleasure," Camilla said. "I believe that you have great potential, and I would enjoy furthering your education. But those are extra hours, and I have a revolution to manage… I will not be as available as I was in this academy. Neither will I put in the effort for free."

"Do you want my money or liquid assets?"

She laughed at his brazen, dirty joke. "Oh, I have a few errands a champion of undeath could make on my behalf, especially in the New World," the death goddess said. "Your artifact might find an audience there, but we shall see when the time comes."

Well, Victor's vacation had come to an end. He wondered what happened to Murmurin in his absence.

He hoped it was still standing.

10: Starter vs Legendary

Like a savior, Vainqueur’s friend rode through the portal on his dark horse’s back.

He looked exactly the same as the day he left, covered by his armor and swinging his scythe. Yet his posture had changed. He seemed more confident, with his back straight and his shoulders high. Vainqueur knew his friend had become the apex of a chief of staff, second only to his dragon master. Two skeletal servants followed after him, carrying bags and a black cup.

The crowd exploded into cheers at the Vizier’s triumphant return, much to his silent surprise. "Wow, they look really happy to see me," Friend Victor muttered to his mount.

"Don’t count me among them," the horse complained. "You’ve somehow gotten even heavier to carry around."

Manling Victor narrowed his head at the sight of Knight Kia standing on the opposite end of the arena, before glancing up at Jolie, and finally his master. "Have I come back just in time for the tournament, Your Majesty?"

"You could not have said it better, minion!" Vainqueur cleared his throat. "Citizens of Murmurin! To celebrate the return of my chief of staff, Grand Vizier Victor shall do the thing! He will fight Knight Kia instead of Corpseling Jules!"

"Oh, thank Camilla," Jules rejoiced, knowing his master’s honor was saved.

"Fight Kia? What?" Manling Victor looked at his future opponent. "What the Happyland?"

"Come on, it will be fun!" Knight Kia said, eager to be defeated by a dragon; even half of one.

Vainqueur’s Vizier didn’t sound keen on the idea, perhaps out of a misplaced fear of embarrassing his master. "You actually want us to fight?"

"Actually, I’ve daydreamed about it for a while," Knight Kia admitted, before quickly adding. "In a friendly spar way!"

"Kia will crush you like the rest!" Jolie boasted on behalf of her minion. "She is the strongest minion in the world!"

"Your Kia may be a legendary chief of staff, but mine is better trained!" Vainqueur defended his chief of staff, who had been his starting minion since he started adventuring. "And he has the overwhelming [Dragon] type advantage!"

Victor let out a sigh, before climbing off his horse. The animal immediately teleporting away with a moan of relief, the skeletal servants after them. "Can somebody tell me the rules?"

As Vainqueur reminded everyone of them, the Vizier listened in silence, before muttering, "Six fighters, you give us orders as our trainers and… Wait, is this a dog fight? Are we the dogs?"

"Kia Kia," Manling Kia replied with heavy sarcasm, clearly stressed at the thought of fighting a half-dragon.

"Oh you, shut up," Friend Victor replied while swinging his scythe. "I can’t summon minions, but are animated items allowed?"

Vainqueur considered the matter, the problem having never presented itself in a previous minion battle. "Yes," the dragon said. "So long as they stop working in the unlikely case you are defeated, for the sake of fairness."

"Good, although it sucks hard that I can’t summon," Victor complained. "It removes a third of my spell list."

"I will let you take the first swing then," Kia said, jumping in place to stretch her legs. "Impress me."

"Alright, your loss of sleep then," Victor replied, raising his scythe. "[Nightmare Lord]!"

The very world shifted around Manling Victor, unnatural energies spreading through the arena. A noxious, purple miasma filled the air and covered the ground while screaming, ghostly figures made of mist swirled around Knight Kia; fanged skeletal maws surged from below, while yellow eyes grew on the walls alongside a thick, crimson moss.

Kia backed down, as the Colosseum became alive, the walls growing decorations such as mosaics of whispering humanoid skulls. The strange effect stopped right at the border of the arena before it could spread to the stands, although the phantom eyes glanced at the citizens in the stands with hunger.

Your arena turned into a [Nightmare Realm] Field! [Kia Bekele] is being [Drained] of her HP/SP!

Of course, the minions cheered at the spectacle. "Best special effects!" "Crush her, Lord Victor!" "Show her!"

"What the…" Knight Kia bristled, as the mist ghosts passed through her chest, turning her skin whiter.

"Kia, use the beam!" Jolie barked orders to her minion. "The sunbeam!"

Her chief of staff raised her sword, calling upon her last reserves of SP to use her most powerful ability. "[Solar Judgment]!"

"Minion, dodge!" Vainqueur ordered, but his minion disobeyed.

"[Spirit Shield]." A purple, spherical barrier of ghostly energies surrounded manling Victor, deflecting the pillar of light. "[Victor’s Summoned Skulls]."

Two dozen floating golden skulls—Vainqueur approved of his minion’s taste—appeared around the shield, before flinging themselves at Knight Kia. The paladin adopted the defensive pose she used against Buzz and Rollo, expecting a physical attack.

Instead, the skulls opened their mouths and fired ghostly rays at her.

The knight deflected the beams with her sword, but the skulls soon circled her and attacked from all directions. Meanwhile, the arena’s specters kept draining the legendary minion.

"[True Breath of Life], [Protection from Holy], [Necromantic Ward], [Eldritch Benediction], [Fallen Auspices], [Elemental Veil], [Vorpal Blade]..." Manling Victor replied, casting spells to reinforce himself from the safety of his shield. "[Fear Aura], [Breath of Plagues]..."

All your minion’s stats have been raised by one stage!

Your minion will now resist [Fire], [Earth], [Wind] and [Water]!

Your minion’s [Killer Scythe +] has been greatly bolster—

As a long, long list of messages appeared before Vainqueur’s eyes, one of the skulls managed to hit Kia in the shoulder, making the knight angrier. "[Sunburst]," she declared, her body radiating a burst of holy flames, vaporizing the skulls and even repelling some of the specters. "[Full He—]"

"[Black Curse]!" Manling Victor cast, a dark aura surrounding Kia and negating her healing. Vainqueur guessed the minion’s strategy: exploit the field to weaken the legendary minion, prevent her from healing, then catch her after wearing her down enough!

"I hate disruption tactics," Kia said, summoning a circular barrier of light around herself. "[Mithras’ Grace], [Hasten]..."

She copied his chief of staff! What a hack! "Minion, do not let her make a fool of you!" Vainqueur ordered. "Attack!"

"It will cost me HP, but here I come…" Manling Victor replied, "[Pact with the Archfiends]!"

Sinister energies converged around the Vizier, whose body underwent a radical transformation as his spirit shield collapsed.

What? [Victor Dalton] is evolving!

The Doer of the Thing grew in size into a twelve feet tall behemoth of muscle, with cloven hooves for feet; a stinger grew at the end of his dragon tail, and his face changed into that of a skeletal ram. His armor and scythe grew to fit his new size, turning him into a fearsome figure.

Congratulations! Your [Victor Dalton] evolved into [Demonling Victor]!

While the few angels in the audience recoiled and booed at the sight, the fiends in the audience became all but possessed.

Vainqueur, meanwhile, was furious. "Minion!"

"What, Your Majesty?" Demonling Victor replied, his voice transformed into a guttural growl.

"You were supposed to become closer to the majesty of dragons, not to livestock!"

"Oh, you know that spell?" Knight Kia replied, more curious than surprised. "It’s been years since I saw a wizard cast it. Don’t you go to Hell if you die afterward, though?"

"Not if you have soul stock-options," Demonling Victor spoke, as a dark aura surrounded Knight Kia. "[Death Hex]."

[Demonling Victor]’s successful armed attacks against [Kia Bekele] will become critical hits.

With a dragonlike roar, Demonling Victor charged at his rival, carried on by Vainqueur’s cheers.

And charge he did. Even if tainted by livestock blood, his chief of staff moved faster than ever before, almost as much as the Maure insect in his prime. He crossed the light barrier as if it wasn’t there, and raised his scythe for the kill.

Knight Kia, worn down by the misty specters swarming the arena, shrouded her sword in light and parried the blow. Even with the difference in size, the warrior matched the Vizier in strength; even if Vainqueur hated to admit it, she had been one of the few beings capable of harming him, and it showed.

Demonling Victor parried the strike, as both fighters engaged in a deadly dance of blades. Knight Kia, moving inmanlingly fast, dodged the scythe time and time again; while the Vizier parried a few swings, the paladin proved herself too difficult to counter, her blade piercing his armor on half a dozen occasions. Yet at no point did she manage to shed blood, much to her frustration.

[Demonslayer] effect negated by [Darwinist]

While he slowly pushed his foe against the arena’s walls with a flurry of attacks, Demonling Victor failed to get past the knight’s guard. She hopped around the demonic chief of staff like a slime, her speed slightly exceeding his own.

"[Freezing Edge]." The warrior’s sword released a chilly glow, before piercing Demonling Victor’s hide again. This time, the sword cut deep and made the chief of staff snarl in pain. "I knew it! Your Perk doesn't cover elemental weaknesses, only type-determined ones!"

"[Envious]," Victor replied, the chilling edge of the sword vanishing to reappear around the Vizier’s scythe instead. Before Knight Kia could recover from the surprise, Demonling Victor hit her in the chest with a cheap shot, the sheer strength of the blow propelling her against a wall. Jolie let out a squeal of horror, worried for her minion, while Victor's wounds healed on their own.

Knight Kia almost immediately stood back to her feet, avoiding a new swing by lowering herself. Victor’s scythe slashed through the wall like butter, much to Vainqueur’s horror.

The knight reapplied the chilling effect to her blade and attempted to backstab her foe, but Demonling Victor acted quicker. He summoned a wall of bones below his feet, rising above the blade before it could pierce his hide. Then, using the high ground, he leaped on the knight and attempted to crush her under his heavier body. The knight barely managed to dodge, with the demodragon instantly forcing her on the defensive with a series of vicious attacks.

"Minion!" Vainqueur shouted, as his minion failed to get past the knight’s impervious guard. "Use your V-Move!"

"The what?" his minion replied, as he barely blade-locked the paladin’s sword before it could hit him in the eye. Knight Kia began a counterattack, inverting their positions.

"THE V-MOVE! The Vainqueur-Move!"

"Oh, right!" Demonling Victor inhaled, locked Knight Kia’s blade with his own, and then unleashed a mighty stream of flames at the paladin from his maw.

"I’m immune to fir—" Knight Kia let out a groan of pain and surprise, as it turned out nothing could resist dragonfire. Her flesh and armor began to melt from dark flames. Why was Demonling Victor’s firebreath black though? Vainqueur wondered. Did his chief of staff indulge in drugs?

"Kia!" Jolie shouted in fear, seeing her legendary minion pushed to the brink. "I believe in you! Use your V-move too!"

Knight Kia, now cornered, used the last of her strength for a final counterattack. "[Holy Sun of Mithras]."

She opened her free hand and materialized a miniature sun within it, and then shoved it against Demonling Victor’s face. Determined to win, the chief of staff kept overwhelming her with his dragonbreath.

What followed… was completely unexpected.

Both attacks resonated with one another, the energies of the holy sun mixing with Demonling Victor’s unholy dragonbreath. Both swirled and contracted, before violently exploding.

The mighty detonation that followed shook the entire Colosseum, and even Vainqueur struggled to stay on his promontory as a blast of flames and holy energies cracked the walls and terminated the Field effect. A massive cloud of dust covered the battleground, leaving the fate of the battle ambiguous. The crowd turned silent, at the edge of their seats.

When the cloud of dust settled, the outcome became obvious.

Both fighters laid unconscious on the ground, with Demonling Victor having regressed back to Manling Victor—a relief to Vainqueur, who wouldn’t stand a half-goat chief of staff. Knight Kia still breathed, but couldn't get back up.

"Double knockout!" Batling Charlene decided. "It’s a tie!"

"Kia!" Jolie immediately flew to her minion’s side.

Vainqueur sighed in relief. While he would have preferred for his champion to win, the empire’s honor had been defended. "Citizens, it is time to congratulate the two winners of the day," the dragon said. "My niece and I, for raising the strongest minions in the world!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, which made the emperor happy.

"Now minions, go heal my chief of staff!" the dragon ordered. "The rest of you, breed, and sin no more!"

Murmurin. The one place where you can leave for seven years/days, and then be expected to fight a paladin five minutes after your return. He would have been proud of tying with Kia, if he didn't owe that result to dumb luck.

Last time he used an [Unholy] attack against a [Holy] one.

At least the citizens looked very, very happy to see him again, the Vizier mused from below the thick blankets of his king-sized bed. Not only did they pile up tons of healing spells on him, even though he still had a long way before recovering, his fans spent minutes touching his skin as if he was Jesus reborn.

What happened to make them miss him so much?

They had even rebuilt his mansion, down to the last detail. Vainqueur’s minions had painstakingly recreated every room into identical copies of the original, from the hall to the chimney room. Even his bed felt the same.

Instead of undead servants though, Charlene had replaced the staff with female living monsters, most of them strong, fit, greenish orcs. Each of them carried strange letters and had leered at him with less than pure intentions; although the Vizier wondered if they just found him appetizing as a potential meal.

Speaking of Charlene... "Vic, thank the twelve gods you are back." The vampire said for the tenth time. "We missed you so much!"

This sent up a whole lot of alarms. The vampire was never too affectionate with him, even while in a good mood, and yet she had remained at his bedside for the entire evening. He also noticed the ‘glow’ marking her for the [Mook Promotion] perk surrounding her body. "Thanks?" he replied, unsure how to deal with her strange behavior.

"You don’t have to worry about taking a break anymore," she said. "Savoureuse will always prepare your favorite dishes now, the best trainers in all of Ishfania will take care of you after work, you will be protected from every poison, disease, toxin, assassinations, everything that could possibly threaten you. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again."

"Uh, okay?"

"But you have to stay," she insisted as if her unlife depended on it. "You don’t need to leave anymore."

While it had started comforting, her behavior now raised a huge number of alarm bells. "Charlene, what is wrong? Are assassins listening in a corner?"

"No, of course not. If you need anything, everyone will have it. Because we love you, in Murmurin. You are finally home, forever."

What happened in his absence? She sounded like she wanted to chain him up in his basement forever. "Why did you replace the undead servants with orcs?" the Vizier asked, smelling a trap.

"Vainqueur organized a speed breeding event at your manor," Charlene said. "They’re here for you. All for you. So long as you stay."

If this was meant to be a speed dating event, why was he the only guy in the manor, as far as he could tell? Did Vainqueur expect him to—

Oh.

Oh no, not this mess again.

"Charlene, I just took a sun to the face," Victor grumbled, "And my entire body feels sore, even the dragon tail. I am not in the mood for breeding."

"So what do I tell them then?" the vampire asked with astonishment.

"Tell them to come back when I’m healed, and maybe have an orgy in the basement if they can’t wait," the Vizier deadpanned, tired and annoyed. "Lavere probably did worse down there."

"But you won’t leave?" Charlene suddenly asked again. The Vizier looked at her, then at his wounds, then back at her. The vampire understood the silent message and left him alone, closing the door behind her.

Victor could still hear her discuss with the orcs outside. "So? Who goes first?"

"He doesn’t want to breed."

"Damn, he’s very, very sick…"

Did they take him for a pervert? True, he liked female company, but he didn’t think about them all the time either. Victor wasn’t a rabbit.

Anyway, the Vizier allowed himself to close his eyes and rest… but his respite didn’t last long.

"Mr. Victor, how good to see you back!" Victor opened his eyes, seeing a very familiar angel at his bedside with a pile of documents in her hands. "So we can talk about your karma!"

How the Happyland did she always manage to enter his room without raising an alarm? Probably an angel Perk. Still, Miel’s presence felt way more comfortable than Charlene’s right now.

"Good to see you too," Victor said, especially since he noticed the glow around her; she was ready for a monster promotion. "What do you want to talk about? My karma files should be stainless."

"That is what I do not understand," she replied, too sharp for her own good. "Your karma still appears as chaotic good, after you used a spell to transform into an archfiend to fight a paladin."

"I had to learn the spell to fight one of the most skilled villains of the age." Which was technically true. "A teacher mastermind so dangerous, so relentless, that a friend and I had to fake a rivalry for three years just to stand a chance of catching him off-guard. We even had a real, dangerous battle with spells and tricks and everything."

"Three years?"

"It was a time anomaly, it’s complicated." Victor shrugged off. "In any case, I won’t let the power corrupt me."

"I will put it as a ‘heroic sacrifice,’ but do not abuse this spell," Miel said, clinching his files with a worried look. "Please?"

"It’s a last resort," Victor said. "I will do my best not to cause you harm with your higher-ups, especially now that they finally accepted to promote you. Congrats by the way!"

Much to his confusion, her face crumbled. "No. An Old Testamenter wrote a scathing review and the archangels vetoed my promotion for the next decade."

"What? But you have done an excellent job! And I can [Mook Promote] you just fine, so you definitively met the conditions!"

"Can you promote me?" Her head perked up before she caught herself. "No, I cannot… I cannot have a mortal promote me, it’s against the rules."

"Look at me," Victor said. "I can literally transform into a demon, and still keep my good karma! Because I chose what’s right, over what is ordered! Because I buried my hands deep in trash, so others could keep their own clean!"

The angel listened, before frowning at him. "Mr. Victor."

"Yes?"

"The armor you wield," she said, "I asked my superiors about it. They said that it applies the [Cursed] ailment to pure souls who follow the path of goodness."

"... yes?"

"Then, if your karma remains truly pure... why are you not [Cursed]? You do not seem to have immunity to it."

Victor was tempted to tell the truth. He truly was.

[Diabolical Mastermind] activated!

You gain a +30 check bonus to get away with your insurance fraud!

But then, reflexes honed over seven years of [Eldritch Philosophy] classes kicked in. "Well, that's exactly my point," the Vizier replied, "Heaven's methods are outdated."

The angel's frown deepened. "Excuse me?"

"If Heaven considers me good karma, but my armor doesn't, then it means karma is fundamentally subjective," Victor argued, "And thus useless as an objective measurement of one's worth."

"But that's impossible!" the angel protested, "Our karma analysis has been refined over centuries! My, it is even confirmed by the System ruling Outremonde!"

"Then how do you explain the contradiction? Or the fact that someone's karma can suddenly change from good to neutral or evil through only one action? That one action can condemn you forever to Happyland, even if you change your mind afterward? Does that system seem fair to you?"

Miel remained silent, pondering the weight of his words.

"I'm just saying that instead of following the judgment of someone else, you should do what you, yourself, believe is right. Because in a purely subjective world, this is the only true answer!"

Charisma check successful!

"You are right, Mr. Victor," the angel believed his helpful lie, "I should follow what I feel is right, instead of bowing to outdated regulations! My methods are unconventional, but they brought the most SP to Heaven since the Karma+ Insurance! I deserve a promotion."

The angel seemed to pump herself up until she finally said. "You know what? I quit!"

"You quit Heaven?"

"Yes, but not for Happyland! I will promote myself to my own boss, and create the best afterlife service across the planes! The Miel’s Little Angels Company! I will show them all!"

"Then I will gladly be your first employer," Victor encouraged her. "You have the talent and my support. The empire’s support. Would you like to become a governor?"

"A governor?" The angel’s eyes shone brightly. "Like a regional manager?"

"With unlimited resources and very little oversight," Victor said. "I’ve been toying with the system, and with the Empire expanding overseas soon, I believe you more than earned a chance to manage things as you wish."

After all, how many angels would have had the patience to deal with him and Murmurin? Precious few, from what he had gathered. Victor would rather keep good recruits on the Empire’s side, especially with a war on the horizon.

"Thank you, Mr. Victor," the angel said with gratitude. "You are the best client an angel could want. I will pack my belongings, and then… I will take you up on your offer."

The angel vanished in a flash of feathers, leaving Victor alone.

The Vizier wondered how she would react to Isabelle Maure, though. He would keep their territories as far from the other as possible.

Someone knocked on the door. "Yes?" Victor called.

"Viiiiic, it’s me!" Chocolatine called out. "I’m with Allison!"

"Come in!" Victor replied, relieved to hear the werewolf safe and sound. Ever since he failed to contact her through his Perk, the Vizier had worried if something had happened to her.

Chocolatine entered the room dressed like the little riding hood and with a huge basket in hands, while Allison waved a hand at the Vizier from beyond the threshold. Then the dryad politely closed the door, giving the two some privacy.

And they would need privacy.

"I baked you a medicine cake to help you recover," Chocolatine said, after kissing the Vizier on the cheek and sitting on the bed. "I hope you like it."

That woman was sugar. Bad for health, but sweet.

That was what Victor thought until he opened the basket. A scaled hand stood on top of the bloody cake like a twisted candle.

"Oh, I mixed them up!" She immediately took back his cake and put it out of his sight, as if ashamed of it. "I’m sorry, this one was for Croissant..."

Victor took back what he said. Chocolatine wasn't sugar, but LSD. Pure, undiluted LSD. Still, he had grown surprisingly fond of her. "Choc, I have to admit something," the Vizier said with a sheepish face. "Which you may take badly."

"Uh, me too…" she replied with the exact same tone. "Do we go at the same time?"

Both inhaled, and then quickly said, "I cuddled Allison!" "I cuddled Satan!"

"Satan?" Chocolatine blinked. "Who’s that?"

"Not actually Satan, but an archfiend… and her cousin… and her trainee…"

"Then you cooked them with beans and ate them?" the werewolf asked with morbid curiosity. "Is that how you transformed into a demon? Can I do it too?"

"No!" Victor protested. "No, you can’t!"

"Oh," she said, very disappointed but not mad at him either.

"So, you and Allison?"

"She was really lonely and burning out with all the city management work. I invited her home to console her, and I was lonely because you were gone and we had broken up and one thing led to another, and… and… and you're not mad?"

"That's why I asked for a break, no? So we could both figure ourselves out. Thing is… I did, one [Eldritch Philosophy] class at a time."

The werewolf listened in silence, suddenly tense and dreading his answer.

"I really like you, more than I should," Victor admitted. Like a drug, take it once and you can no longer do without. "But I value my freedom more than anything, and while a committed relationship probably has its own Perks, I don’t want the compromises that come with it. I don’t want to settle with someone, and I don’t want to string you along either."

The werewolf listened with growing sadness but showed surprising maturity afterward. "I can’t tie you up," Chocolatine admitted, before adding, hopeful. "But can I still tie you up? With ropes?"

"Sure, why not?" He had done much worse in Scholomance, and if that made her happy, he was willing to stay open-minded. "We can stay friends with Perks."

"I can live with that," she said, before resting her head against him. Victor let her and scratched the werewolf behind the ears. "You're still totally going to fall in love with me. Give it time."

Someone knocked on the door, and Allison walked inside, smiling at the sight of the ‘couple,’ but also carrying a huge pile of files. "You listened to everything, didn't you?" Victor asked her.

"I have, although I didn’t intend to," the priestess replied. "You seem a lot more confident, as if you cleared up an internal conflict. And if I am not mistaken, you seem to have aged a little more than seven days."

"I have," Victor replied. "I’m no longer on the fence about what I want with my life."

"Good, because no way I’m filling in for you as a chief of staff, ever again," she said, all but dumping the paper pile on the bed. "Here are the incident reports for the last week. I must also inform you that I covered the entire mansion with protection spells and that you may wish to avoid the basement for a few days. It will smell terrible."

"And you’re fine with…" Victor trailed, glancing at Chocolatine and then back at the dryad.

"Vic, I am a priestess of the goddess of pleasure," Allison replied. "If anything, free love is my religious service."

Goddamn hippies. Victor grabbed the papers with one hand, while still cuddling Chocolatine with the other. I guess it’s too early for a democratic council, he thought upon reading the long list of catastrophes. Definitively local governors.

"Seven days, Allison!" Victor complained as he went through the reports, "I left for seven days."

"Ah, I also forgot the damage bill," the dryad handed him another paper with far too many zeroes. "Charlene said you would find the budget to cover it."

...

That was his student debt all over again.

11: The Storm

After so long, the fateful day had come.

The Piggybank ship, after a long time being repaired, was now ready to cross the ocean and reach the New World. The golden aircraft shone brightly under the sun, Vainqueur marveling at his own perfect reflection on its surface. His elite lackeys, from Charlene to Malfy and his Pocket Minions, observed him with awe, fear, and hope.

For the road to El Dorado would soon open!

Congratulations! For successfully causing your minions to breed on an incredibly large scale, you earned a level in [Dungeon Breeder]!

+10 SP, +1 STR, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 CHA, +1 LCK.

Vainqueur should have felt happy about this, but something bothered him since morning. He couldn’t put his claw on what. A tension was in the air. An invisible weight on his wings.

It must have been the presence of Knight Kia, who had kept pestering Manling Victor for a rematch since she recovered. Jolie had stayed at her other minions’ bedside, to cheer them up until they recovered.

"You were going very easy on me," Victor whispered to her. "I could tell."

"True, and Rolo exhausted me beforehand," the knight replied, unable to accept her defeat. "But that doesn’t diminish your accomplishment either. Do you know how long it has been since anyone could even slightly push me? Imagine if we fought at full strength—"

Sensing the spotlight getting away from him, Vainqueur cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion.

"Today is a great day!" the dragon began his speech. "I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, will do what no dragon has done in the past! I will cross the ocean alongside my chief of staff and a crew of loyal dwarves! The Empire of Murmurin, at last, shall expand beyond the horizon!"

"For the international revolution!" Marbré raised a fist in support.

While Vainqueur expected his minions to rejoice, only Marbré, Buzz, and Junior did so. The rest glanced fearfully at Manling Victor as if fearing he would not return. In response, the chief of staff handed them floating skulls, similar to those he summoned against Knight Kia.

"These are [Whispering Skulls], which allow long-distance communication," Manling Victor explained. "Even if [Scarlet Study] is blocked, you should be able to contact us through them."

"I will have one planted in the central square, to remind everyone you’re only leaving temporarily," Batling Charlene said.

"As soon as we land, I shall open a [Golden Path] to my hoard, and allow settlers to claim lands in my name," the dragon laid out his plan. "Dwarves will build a portal linking both continents, so the empire may expand without the need of ships. I expect you minions to be ready to build a new colony the second the gate opens. Anyone caught touching my hoard in my absence shall be eaten."

"We’ll cross the ocean too, if a bit later," Kia said. "Jolie wants to join one of the exploration fleets led by Gardemagne’s princess Merveille, so we will meet again on the other side."

Vainqueur ignored her, turning to his elite minions. "You have proven yourself the most powerful of my lackeys, and your strength shall be called upon once we have crossed the ocean; for the wicked Furibon awaits on the other side, stronger than ever."

Manling Victor shifted, worried about fighting the vicious lich again. As if to comfort him, his mimic pet approached him with a rainbow crest, offering it to its master. "Gift," Junior insisted.

"Not swordy enough," Buzz added.

"Not swordy," Junior grunted. "Shieldy."

"Your Majesty should use it first," Manling Victor said, ever dutiful, "Even if you have not reached level sixty yet, the fomors will target you first."

"And I shall teach them to fear again," Vainqueur replied. "Minion, must I remind that when you begged to become my eternal servant, you had more levels than I did? If you reached the threshold before me, then you should make use of this Crest. If there are any side-effects, it is better for you to serve as my level tester than trying it myself."

Also, the item came from the cursed Moon, and the dragon wanted nothing to do with it.

"Your concern is always touching," Manling Victor said, accepting the [Heroic Crest] and immediately using it; the shield dissolved into a blinding cloud of multiple colors, surrounding and empowering the Vizier.

Congratulations! Your minion broke past the sixty level class ceiling! His [Crested] Perk has been upgraded to [Epic]!

[Epic]: Marks one as a mythical adventurer and demigod. Allows access to the most powerful of classes and entrance to [Valhalla] upon reaching level 99. This replaces [Crested].

Vainqueur could not wait to gain that Perk too; he could almost smell the riches that would follow his coronation to divinity.

"Now, time for promotion," Manling Victor declared. "Some of you can gain access to higher forms as per my [Mook Promotion] Perk. Now, a promotion grants greater power, but as Junior here can attest…"

The mimic let out a growl, scratching his back.

"This comes with physical changes."

"Can I grow wings like you?" Chocolatine asked. "That would make it so much easier to hunt food!"

"I have no idea what you will turn into," Victor replied. "So the choice is yours."

"With a war on the horizon, I believe higher power should be embraced," Jules said. "Even though I am not ready to ascend into a greater form yet."

"Only Buzz, Charlene, Miel, Allison, and Chocolatine meet the criteria currently," Victor confirmed.

"Mr. Victor, not I?" Tasty Malfy asked, disappointed. "After so many bribes?"

"Sorry," the chief of staff replied, "You should come with us to the New World once we have established the permanent gateway there. Maybe you only need more practical experience?"

"So will the others who are not yet fit to lead my armies," Vainqueur added. The dragon had organized the tournament to test the strength of his servants, and while some like Rolo the golem had proven themselves powerful, most needed more training to match the fairy lords. "I will have all of you become worthy of becoming my minion generals."

Allison sighed. "Just go through with it, Vic."

The chief of staff activated his Perk, five minions immediately undergoing a transformation before Vainqueur’s eyes.

Miel the angel grew taller, thicker, and gained two new sets of wings in addition to her existing ones; the lowest set of wings, however, belonged to bats instead of birds. Her once pristine white skin darkened a bit, and her eyelids developed an unnatural dark shade.

Untasty Allison grew sweet-smelling flowers all over her body, from her hair to shoulders. Antler-like horns of wood grew from her head, taking the shape of a small crown.

Buzz Jelly, who had bravely crossed space and fought off the lead wasteland on the Moon, transformed into a slime of liquid steel, strong, yet flexible.

Sweet Chocolatine’s transformation… was most disappointing. Her human ears turned into those of a silver wolf, and nothing else.

Meanwhile, Batling Charlene changed spectacularly. She gained two enormous bat wings from her shoulders, and two smaller ones from her waists, which instantly closed around her legs like a robe. Curved horns grew among her hair, and her nails became claws. Her skin grew paler still, like that of a corpse, while a third crimson eye opened right below her throat. She smiled, her lips revealing sharp fangs everywhere.

Alchemical Vampire Charlene was promoted to [Blood Trismegistus].

Buzz Jelly was promoted into an [Iron Slime].

Angel Miel was promoted into a [Heartless Angel].

Dryad Allison was promoted into a [Hamadryad].

Werewolf Chocolatine was promoted into an [Alpha Werewolf].

"I don’t feel all that different," Chocolatine complained, her new ears wagging.

"Speak for yourself!" Batling Charlene replied, caressing her body with her claws. "I can feel the bloody power coursing through my veins!"

"Yes, that's what is inside that counts!" the werewolf rejoiced on a second thought.

"Finally promoted, and to Seraphim!" Miel rejoiced, flaunting her new wings, before noticing the batlike pair among them. Malfy chuckled at the sight. "What? Why do I have a set of these?"

"Nothing," the demon cackled. "Nothing at all."

"Sword of empire!" Buzz rejoiced, Junior petting it on the head. "I sword!"

"I definitely gained new Perks out of it," Allison observed. "More charisma, more luck too… oh, and my range has expanded!"

"How much?" Chocolatine asked, curious.

"I can only move within one mile of a tree," Allison said. "Any tree, with which I can meld and teleport through at will with the [Greenbond] perk. I am no longer bound to my orchard!"

"You should check your new abilities before we open the portal," Manling Victor said. "And welcome the new western governor, when she deigns showing up."

"Mr. Victor, you should have that woman killed," Malfy said with a grumble. "She is treacherous, old money, and most importantly, competition. She's outdated."

"For once, I agree with the fiend," Flying Miel said. "Giving governor power to an archfiend of her caliber, this is bound to backfire!"

Vainqueur, who hadn’t paid attention to that part, frowned. "If a new minion wishes to become another meat shield against the fairies, then I welcome them with open arms," the dragon said, proud of his all-inclusive policy.

"At least limit her powers!" Miel protested. "Like red tape! Nothing better than red tape!"

"Well, if you hadn’t shown me that a democratic council didn’t work in Murmurin, maybe I would have considered it," Manling Victor replied. "But since iron fists can maintain order here, she will have the freedom to do as she wishes within her borders, within reason. Same as you for your territory."

"If it comes to it, Miel, I will kill that fiend myself," Knight Kia reassured the angel, but not much.

"Do you agree with this?"

"No, absolutely not," the paladin replied. "But I am only an ambassador and thus my powers are limited. However, Vic gave me permission to carry out the sentence, if she steps out of line. And believe me, when she inevitably does, I will cut her down."

"As Manling Victor suggested, most of you will be granted an area to manage, with the power of a sous-chief of staff," Vainqueur declared. "As the most sensible among you, Corpseling Jules will manage Murmurin while we cross the ocean."

"I have found that an army of the undead do wonders to enforce peace and quiet," Jules added.

"Now that the matter is dealt with," Vainqueur said, impatient to leave. "It is time to track down Furibon, who is evil and will be destroyed."

Under the gaze of his minions, the dragon moved to enter the Piggybank, his eyes set on only one thing.

"El Dorado, here I come!"

For most of the trip, Vainqueur elected to stay on the ship’s back, even as a thunderstorm arose.

The trip had been incredibly boring. For hours, the Piggybank had crossed what seemed like an endless ocean, albeit one full of giant fish, sea serpents, and other creatures. Vainqueur thought they would stop at this large island called Atlantis on their way, but the ship only passed by its coast.

The dragon understood the need for quickness to reach Furibon before he could poison El Dorado, but he wouldn’t have minded a little activity. Beyond the dark thunderclouds and the raging waters below, the dragon had nothing to entertain himself with.

Yet…

Why did he feel such disquiet in the atmosphere? His dragon instinct kept telling him something terrible would happen soon.

Eventually, his loyal friend emerged from the ship, struggling against the wind to join his master. "The weather is not very good, but the duergar captain said that we should reach the Dagger Coast soon," Manling Victor said. "I heard it is full of pirates, but nothing we cannot handle."

"If thieves are eager to donate their money to me, I will gladly accept," the dragon replied.

"Afterward, we will make a stop at the Thaoten Empire in the south," the Vizier said. "From what I gathered, they could help us find El Dorado since they are familiar with the jungle."

Vainqueur only vaguely listened, for he couldn’t help but glance around, at the thunderous skies. He could sense a distant, yet increasing, pressure around him.

"Your Majesty?" Manling Victor asked. "Is something the matter?"

"Do you not feel it, minion?"

His chief of staff glanced around, sensing it too. "That tension in the air…"

And that smell… the smell of a fomor, but not just any of them...

Vainqueur froze upon recognizing its owner.

King Wotan.

Dragonbane.

"Minion," Vainqueur extended his wings, suddenly on edge. "Get back into the ship."

"What?"

"Get back into the ship!"

A thunderbolt struck the ship’s wing, making it tremble. Manling Victor barely held on by using his scythe to cling to the metal. Vainqueur immediately activated [Fire Crown] and [Spell Purge], bracing himself for a fight to the death.

"[Supreme Thunder: Dragonslayer]!" a thunderous voice echoed through the clouds. "[Maximize Lightning]!"

King Wotan’s [Lightning] attacks will ignore Resistance, and inflict additional [Dragonslayer] damage!

[Lightning] element greatly strengthened!

"We’re under attack!" Manling Victor shouted, casting buffing spells on himself.

"By King Wotan!" Vainqueur added with a fiery roar, glaring at the thunderclouds to look for the challenger, "The worst of the fairies!"

"Huh? A fomor? Then why… why did the name appear on..."

Friend Victor didn’t finish his answer, as the enemy flew into sight, emerging from the thunderclouds seething with bloodlust.

A titan among the fomors, King Wotan was a giant who matched Vainqueur himself in size. Riding a giant, six-legged silver horse racing on the air currents, he looked even more fearsome. His skin was silver, but without the metal’s shininess, and he wore very little in the way of clothing beside a winged helmet and a regal mantle—which couldn’t match the beauty of Vainqueur’s own cloak.

Mostly because the fomor wove it with dragonscales.

Wotan’s visage superficially looked like that of a manling, with a long golden wizard beard. But while his right eye had turned white, the skin still bearing the scar of Grandrake’s claws, the left one radiated with a golden glow. A twenty-foot long crimson spear, shaped from a wyrm's spine, cackled with lightning in his hand, hungry for blood.

Following in his wake were his thralls, the Valkyries. Armored, vicious copies of princesses meant to bait dragons, the creatures flew through the skies thanks to white wings. Each carried a spear and a shield, their face hidden behind a closed helmet.

"Vainqueur Knightsbane." The storm lord spoke as he reached the Piggybank, his voice booming and imperious. His Valkyries immediately formed a defensive line between their master and the ship. "I have come for your head."

Vainqueur responded by blasting him with a fireball, a projectile which Wotan swiftly deflected with his spear. The dragon’s eyes bulged in surprise.

No one can deflect dragonfire! Not even that cursed golem could fully resist it!

"You declared war on my kind and broke the peace agreement, which bound my Gungnir to my trophy wall," the fairy lord spoke without condemnation, only vicious eagerness to fight. "This is retaliation for your transgression… and me settling a debt."

"Here to lose another eye then?" Vainqueur taunted him. "I will complete Grandrake's set!"

"You are welcome to try. [Charged Attack]."

His spear coursed with almighty lightning. Once, Vainqueur wouldn’t have cared, confident that he could take even this infamous dragonslayer and come out on top. Grandrake once demolished him, and the emperor had grown bigger than the princess hunting pioneer.

And yet… yet something felt dramatically different about this fairy. Vainqueur could sense the raw, absolute power within the spear; an overwhelming strength which he knew, deep in his bones, could harm him.

The dragon, spurned by an ancient survival instinct, immediately flew toward the mighty fomor to cast him down from his horse. He unleashed a stronger breath, but three Valkyries instantly formed a triangular barrier of light to protect their creator. To Vainqueur’s surprise, the shield held against his flames, although barely.

The dragon let out a roar and decided to charge through that protection, trusting his [Spell Purge] to shatter it. Four Valkyries moved to intercept him, cladding their spears in light.

Friend Victor immediately flew after his master, repelling the flyers before they could stab him in the back with his scythe. "[Shining Majesty]!" Vainqueur roared, his scales unleashing a brilliant flash. A perfect picture of his marvelous hoard burnt the Valkyries, blinding them with glory. The dragon’s mere touch caused the shield to collapse into nothingness, incinerating the fomor’s minions.

Yet they had brought their master enough time.

"There it comes!" the storm king shouted over the sound of roaring thunder, as he raised his spear to the skies, "The supreme lightning, which guarantees victory!"

Vainqueur didn’t have time to react, as the skies turned white.

"[Spirit Shield]!" Friend Victor summoned a purple shield above them, just as a massive, mountain-sized thunderbolt fell from the skies upon both fighters and the Piggybank.

"[Ragnarok]!"

A flash of light swallowed Vainqueur upon impact, and then…

Silence.

12: Dragon on the Shore

When Victor regained consciousness, it was with a mouth full of sand, and his armor drenched in saltwater.

His entire body was in pain, his nerves scrambled by the dragonslaying lightning. His head hurt, and his ears struggled to distinguish sound from his newfound tinnitus.

[Final Problem] activated! You survived with 1 HP, and your body will look dead thanks to a powerful [Illusion] effect!

[Troll Regeneration] activated!

You gained the [Regen] status! [Master’s Shield] activated!

That fomor did not mess around.

What about Vainqueur? His own [Darwinist] perk had protected him from the [Dragonslayer] additional damage, but the dragon must have suffered it head-on. If the sheer power had brought Victor so low - and would have one-shot him without [Final Problem] - he dared not imagine what the dragon endured.

From whatever signals he received from his body, he was face-down on the sand, battered by waves and rain; his scythe within reach of his hand, but his legs buried. He had to rise up, find his friend...

"Is he dead?" a female voice asked.

They were here. Right next to him.

Victor laid still, not giving any hint of survival away.

"I think so," another woman replied, her voice cold and vaguely Swedish-sounding.

Yes!

"Is the corpse still warm?"

… No.

No, no, no!

"Why? His Majesty Wotan said no desecration of the dead."

"But with our hours, we never had fun!"

Charisma check successful! [Terror] negated!

"Enough prattle, my Valkyries." The thunderous voice of King Wotan boomed from above, the very air crackling with lightning. The fomor clearly brimmed with impatience. "Have you found Knightsbane’s corpse?"

"No, Your Majesty!" Victor managed to move his head just enough to get a glimpse of the attackers. As he expected, two armored Valkyries stood right next to him, spears ready to impale him at any time. His vision was too blurry, even for [Monster Insight] to activate.

"The current must have carried him north, into the high sea," the fomor, Wotan, mused from above. "Valkyries, gather! Until I have the dragon’s skull tied to my horse, the hunt goes on!"

The two women muttered something about overworking under their breath, before blowing sand into Victor’s helmet with their wings. He heard them fly away, the sound of thunderbolts, the winds, and lightning flashes growing weaker.

Victor waited a long while until the thunder had become a distant sound, and his regeneration patched him up enough to move his legs out of the sand.

You have recovered half of your HP!

The Vizier rose up and observed his surroundings.

From the look of it, he had ended up on a sand and rock island, barely capable of sustaining a few palm trees before the storm turned them into firesticks. A faint rain kept drenching him, washing away the sand from his armor.

Hundreds of electrified fish laid on the sand, the victims of Wotan’s [Ragnarok]; and unfortunately, Victor noticed a few members of the dwarf crew among them. Unlike him, they weren’t faking death.

Thankfully, he also noticed his [Black Grail] left on the shore, so he could maybe raise them, but damn... the remnants of a wing of the Piggybank laid as a testament of the attack’s overwhelming savagery.

Very far into the horizon, Victor could see violent thunderclouds move towards the high sea. The storm followed this [King Wotan] everywhere he went, as he relentlessly searched for Vainqueur. They had moved far away, but Victor had no guarantee they wouldn’t return.

He had to find Vainqueur, and quickly.

Where was he anyway? The fomor believed the current had dragged him away, but [Master’s Shield] needed close proximity to activate. Victor immediately guessed what happened, and cast a spell on the shore. "[Naglfar]!"

Hundreds of pallid, corpselike hands appeared on the beach and began to excavate the sand. Over a few minutes, the tip of Vainqueur’s horn began to appear, the dragon buried right under the fomor’s nose.

"Charlene! We have been attacked!" Victor attempted to contact her through the [Whispering Skull] but received no tonality. "[Scarlet Study]."

We are sorry. This mortal is not available right now. Please leave a message, or try again after long-distance scrying, teleportation, and communications, are no longer impaired by a Field effect.

What kind of Field?

Field: [Devil’s Triangle].

… aka the Bermuda Triangle.

Great. Just great! At least he knew he was north of the Dagger Coast, but if the legends about that location were a reality in Outremonde… Come to think of it, Wotan must have ambushed them here on purpose, in a place where they could not contact their allies.

He and Vainqueur could always fly back south, escaping the triangle, and rejoining civilization to bring back reinforcements. He needed to gather whatever supplies had survived the crash, free the dragon, raise the dead if possible, and get out of here before the fomor returned for a second round.

Wait.

There was something else on the plane… something dear to him.

"No!" Victor panicked, flying above the island in search for her, only to come back empty-handed. "No, no, no! Marinette!"

His bazooka!

She had been on board when Wotan brought down the plane! These bastards drowned his bazooka! His loyal weapon, with which he had threatened dozens, killed vampires, and partied with so much!

"Murderers!" Victor collapsed on the beach, hitting the sand with his hand. "She was too young! Too young!"

The vizier cursed, his eyes looking at the endless, merciless ocean, where his beloved weapon would rest forever. A burial at sea.

That fomor… the system never registered fomors by their names before, probably because they lacked a soul. Why did this ‘King Wotan’ appear in his screens and notifications then? Maybe because it wasn’t a true fomor, but another creature pretending otherwise? How could he be powerful enough to demolish Vainqueur with a single attack, even if it was optimized to damage dragons?

Unless… Could it be…

A shiver ran down the Vizier’s spine, as a terrifying possibility formed in his mind. A very outlandish one, and one he couldn’t confirm unless he analyzed Wotan with [Monster Insight]. But if it was correct, then Murmurin’s troubles had only just started.

A new event interrupted his trail of thoughts. Victor slowly squinted, as he noticed a shape on the sea. He briefly worried about a Valkyrie, before realizing otherwise.

A ship.

A large ship, getting closer! And its crew had even sent a small boat, manned by two people, to rescue Victor. They must have seen the smoke from the burning palm trees, mistaking it for a distress call.

The Vizier briefly canceled his [Naglfar] not to disturb the newcomers, Vainqueur excavated enough to look like a whale buried in the sands. In his experience, it was better to gradually introduce new people to the dragon way of thinking, instead of overwhelming them with worrying information. Still, he grabbed his scythe, just in case his saviors weren’t friendly.

The small boat soon reached the beach, allowing Victor to see its passengers. The first was a birdkin, a humanoid parrot with flamboyant emerald feathers and a rounded hat, and the second a one-eyed orc. Both carried sabers and muskets around their belts.

"Well, well, well, look at that mess," the parrotkin said, as he climbed down from the boat, followed by his orcish companion. His eyes set on the remains of the Piggybank’s wing. "What kind of shipwreck is that?"

"Greetings," Victor welcomed them, as they noticed him. "How good to see friendly faces. I’m Victor, Victor Dalton."

"Hello, I am Jean-Micheng Robbery," the parrot beastkin playfully nodded at him. "And this is my first mate Maurice Ransom. Always glad to rescue survivors. If you can come with us, we can introduce you to Mr. Giveusallyourstuff."

"That would be very kind of—" Victor stopped, understanding the not so subtle message. "Oh, wait, I get it."

"Good," the orc scavenger added. "Very good. Give me your underwear too."

"He collects them," his fellow raider added. "You don’t want to learn why."

"Well, unfortunately, I have a date with Miss Screwyou on that island, so I must decline."

"Oh, look at that," the birdkin said with an even more sarcastic tone than before. "Another member of the Ain’t-you-a-dead-smartass family. This is so cute."

"Guess we’ll have to introduce him to my cousin Sarah Slavery soon," the orc added. "She’s very mean, and she never lets go."

"But she pays well, especially for half-fiends bastards like you buddy. She’ll probably cut off your tail too; I heard devil tails make for good aphrodisiacs."

Victor sighed at these stupid crooks. "Guys, I am a winged half-dragon wearing armor made from loan sharks’ souls and wielding a scythe with an [Insta-death] feature. I have sand in my boots, and I’m pissed. So for your sake: Go. Away."

"Ain’t that terrible," both drew muskets and aimed at Victor's head. "You have a scythe, we have guns."

"And I have a dragon."

The two exchanged glances. "I don’t understand that metaphor, either," the orc admitted to his companion.

"You will," Victor said, as the shore around them moved on its own.

The two would-be pirates took a few steps back, as Vainqueur’s neck fully emerged from the beach, his body dusty with sand. They immediately shot at him with their muskets, the bullets bouncing off his scales.

"Minion… what is all the racket?" Vainqueur complained, clearly struggling to wake up. He hadn’t even registered the attack.

"Angry locals, apparently," Victor deadpanned, pointing his scythe at the pirates. "They proposed to carry us on their boat to the mainland."

"Ah, new minions." The dragon narrowed his head at the two crooks. The orc fell on his lap, having wet himself, while the birdkin was too terrified to fly away. "And you start your new lifelong employment by threatening my chief of staff, from what I heard. Do you have coins on yourselves?"

"... yes?" the birdkin responded. "Yes?"

"Give them to me. Give me all your money."

The two would-be robbers exchanged an astonished glance, then reluctantly grabbed purses around their belts and threw them in the sand. Victor would have almost felt sorry for those two if they hadn’t tried to pull a fast one on him first. Call it karma.

"Nothing like the feeling of my hoard growing bigger in the morning," Vainqueur said before glancing at the big boat nearby. "Is that your ship over there?"

"Y-yes?" the orc cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Give it to me too. I demand to be spoiled." The dragon shook himself to get rid of the sand on his scales. "You see, Manling Victor, this is how you talk to uneducated strangers. You kindly ask them to give you all their possessions, in return for extending their short lives a little longer."

"And you sweeten the deal by bringing them civilization afterward?" Victor replied with heavy sarcasm.

"Of course not. Giving back is a minion’s job. A dragon only receives from the universe." The dragon scratched sand off his horn. "Friend Victor, why does my head feel naked?"

The Vizier glanced up at his master’s head and winced upon noticing the broken remnant of a crown lodged between the horns.

"Minion? What is wrong?"

They all had lost something dear to them today.

13: Swimming with the Sharks

"My crown…" Vainqueur mourned, as he rested on the ship’s deck. "My imperial crown…"

"I know, Your Majesty," Manling Victor reassured him, while his undead dwarf lackeys oversaw the pirates. After salvaging whatever they could from the shipwreck and raising their dead minions with the power of Victor's cup, the adventurers had spent hours in that Devil’s Triangle, with no shore in sight. "We will get you another!"

"You better, minion!" Vainqueur had taken the captain’s hat as a replacement—after the birdkin pirate kindly ‘gave’ it to him—but it wasn’t the same! Neither did his accommodations befit his station!

After the pirates offered Vainqueur the ship out of the goodness of their hearts, the dragon climbed on its deck and managed to fit between two masts. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but the dragon considered himself too good to fly when minions could transport him instead.

He still mourned the destruction of his Piggybank with all his heart though.

So he had renamed the ship the Piggybank II.

"Troll Barnabas will have to remake another crown from scratch, even shinier!"

"I will try to contact him again, as soon as we leave the triangle," Friend Victor said, turning to the two pirates who tried to rob him. "How far are we from civilization?"

"I dunno, traveling in the Triangle is weird," the birdkin grumbled. "The currents, magnetic forces, and even the skies change at random!"

"We rarely venture there, and only after storms wreck ships there," the orc added.

"And it would be way faster if our ship didn’t have excess weight," the birdkin said, glancing at the dragon. The Emperor wondered if he was supposed to understand something, before brushing it off.

"That is not an answer," Vainqueur replied, his bitterness making him sound raspier.

"Give us a few days, until we find the way out again," the birdkin said hurriedly. "Then we can reach the pirate city of Port Damné and resupply there."

"And then you’ll let us go?" the orc asked, pleading.

"Of course not," Vainqueur replied. "Minionship is for life, and death."

"I used to think Averagism was the only form of equality," a revived dwarf muttered. "I stand corrected. Undead Averagism, where all are equal in death, is the purest equality of all."

"How about we make everyone undead?" another dwarf added. Like his fellows, except a paler skin, he looked as he did in life.

"Patience, my equal fellow. Patience. All come to Death."

Obviously, the exchange made the living work harder to reach civilization.

"I tell you, Friend Victor, Wotan will pay tenfold for this humiliation." Vainqueur hadn’t felt so vengeful since Batling Lavere.

"Actually, who was that guy?" Friend Victor asked. "We were lucky to survive one round, but I’m pretty sure he will come back for another."

"He is a fomor who styles himself as ‘King’ Wotan." Vainqueur loathed the title since he had copied it from the dragons. "When they were younger, when fairies and dragons fought one another, my fellow Grandrake taught him his place and took his eye."

"I assume they didn’t see eye to eye afterward," Manling Victor joked.

"Ever since he has hunted my kindred so he could practice his vengeance against his target," Vainqueur said. Once he had disdained the fomor’s victims as handicapped dragons but now knew better. "By using fake princesses called Valkyries, he lured many of my kindred to their death. We nicknamed him Dragonbane, but he retired to his northern domain after the fairies sued for peace…"

"Until Your Majesty declared war on them again," Victor finished, "I’m surprised he didn’t break his agreement like Melodieuse."

"Wotan is many things, but tricky and treacherous he is not. When he gives his word, he abides by it, and he only believes in strength." Vainqueur remembered the battle, and the pain he felt from the fomor’s lightning. "Stronger he has grown, if he can wound my pristine scales."

But his previous tactic only worked because of the surprise. The dragon would take him down next time they crossed paths.

"About that, there’s something that bothers me," Friend Victor said. "He used [Charged Attack] right before using his devastating lightning attack."

"Like me with my breath," Vainqueur nodded.

"Yes, like you."

"You believe Wotan copied my classes?!" The thought made Vainqueur restless, enough to sway the ship.

"Which is impossible, since as far as I know, you need a soul to gain levels, and the fomors have none."

"Minion, before I arrived, was it not believed that dragons could not gain levels too?" Vainqueur reminded his servant. As a true detective who had solved Furibon's conspiracies, he knew not to exclude a possibility because it invalidated prior facts.

"Yeah, and fomors can create corrupted [Crests]," Manling Victor added. "Even if it seems difficult to believe… they could have exploited a flaw in the System to empower themselves with classes. If I’m true, then the worst is yet to come..."

"I will not abide by fairies stealing from the dragon-made System," Vainqueur declared. "I defeated them with or without classes, and I will do it again."

"We need to return to Murmurin, prepare our defense—"

"No."

Manling Victor paused. "No?"

"Obviously, Furibon sent Wotan to delay us, so he could corrupt El Dorado as he did with the entire planet Moon," Vainqueur enlightened his minion on the wider conspiracy. "Us turning back from our quest is exactly what he wants."

His Vizier remained silent in awe of his master’s deductive power, before putting his hand on his helmet in a sign of respect. "Your Majesty, leaving Murmurin—"

"My minions can take care of themselves," Vainqueur brushed off his lackey’s worries. "If we cannot expect them to defend my hoard and empire in our absence, then how can we ever feel safe? You have to learn to trust, my dear Victor."

"Yes, but—"

The sound of a bell interrupted the chief of staff, as the watchkeeper sounded the alarm. "Weresharks! Weresharks in the water!"

Vainqueur glanced over the deck, noticing at least thirty shark fins quickly surrounding the ship from all directions. While Manling Victor and the undead remained calm, as befitting of true minions, the pirate crew panicked.

"The Teeth of Dagon!" the orc pirate panicked. "We’re doomed!"

"Look, we can repel them," Victor replied, casting buffing spells on himself. "Vainqueur will boil them, I cut them, you nail—"

"They have a [Fisherman] leading them!" the birdkin snarled back at him.

Vainqueur snickered, but much to his surprise, his manling froze in fear. "A [Fisherman]?" he repeated with dread. "How many levels?"

"Twenty!" The birdkin, showing himself unworthy of minionhood, tried to fly overboard and abandon the ship. He barely flew a few meters away before being cut down by a harpoon from below and dragged screaming under the waves.

"And BLEEP!" Victor looked up at his master. "Your Majesty, don’t hold anything back! This is a fight to the death!"

"Minion, why should I fear a fish hunting other fishes?" Vainqueur asked, casually putting his hand in the water and catching a humanoid shark in his fingers. The animal tried to bite his hand but broke his teeth on the dragon’s scales.

"Because they have a capped [Fisherman]!" Victor parried a wereshark’s teeth, as one of the creatures jumped overboard and attempted to bite his head off. By swirling on himself, the chief of staff tossed him overboard. Yet half a dozen blue sharkmen climbed on the ship, assaulting the crew with fangs and tridents.

An enormous, white-skinned wereshark leaped from the waters, making the entire deck tremble. Blasphemous markings covered his hide, and a necklace of fangs glittered around his neck. "You mammals will fear the wrath of Jajambe, chosen by Lord Dagon!" he roared while brandishing the harpoon which killed the birdkin. "I will rip your legs with my steel-cutting tee—"

"Jaja?" Manling Victor said, seemingly recognizing the creature.

The shark captain immediately stopped barking threats, his crimson eyes squinting upon noticing the chief of staff. "Vic? Vic, is that you?"

"Jaja!" Victor rushed to the sharkman’s side, his fear turning to joy.

"Vic, you son of a mammal!" The wereshark and Vainqueur’s chief of staff immediately underwent a strange kind of brotherly hug. "What are you doing here? Wait, is that your boss over here?"

"We crashed on an island nearby, and we ‘recruited’ this ship’s crew. And indeed, the dragon is my ‘master.’" Vainqueur noticed something strange about how his friend made the word sound but guessed his minion needed to unload stress.

"Happy to meet you, Lord Vainqueur. Vic couldn’t stop talking about how much he missed you." The shark turned to his fellow fishmen, who had stopped their assault in confusion. "Drop the attack, he’s a pal of mine! We went to school together!"

"School?" Vainqueur asked his chief of staff, releasing the sharkman in his hand when the others stopped harassing his minions. Both groups glared at one another threateningly, save for the leaders.

"Scholomance," Friend Victor said, without explaining himself. "We followed the same [Ritualistic Magic] class."

"I was taking remedial courses to learn how to awaken my own monster lord, the great Dagon, from his slumber beneath the waves," the wereshark explained. "Vic helped me practice, and we had a lot of fun. ‘Member the shoggoth?"

"How could I stop ‘membering that? Wait, wait, wait, don’t tell me your master causes the Field Effect?"

"I won’t tell you, then," Jajambe replied with a smirk. The sight of his three rows of teeth made Vainqueur’s newer minions recoil. "We are so close to waking him up, I can almost smell the blood in the water. Pity that ship is yours though, I would have taken it."

"I can only respect such dutifulness from a chief of staff, even not my own," Vainqueur said. "However, I fail to see how attacking us would help your master."

"Oh, we need sentient tributes to sacrifice," the wereshark replied. "Since it’s a slaver ship, I thought nobody would miss it."

"Slaver ship?" Vainqueur squinted his eyes at the fish.

"Why, yes? I mean, I could smell all the elven blood in the ship’s hold from fifty miles away."

Both Vainqueur and Victor exchanged a glance, then glared at the pirate crew.

As it turned out, the ship carried more than one hundred chained ‘slaves’ in its hold, overcrowding a space made for half that number. Being too large to see for himself, Vainqueur had sent his minions down, and they brought back a sample of elves, diseased, beaten, and frightened like mice.

They probably expected him to eat them.

"Apparently, the crew preys on, and enslaves, would-be colonists or exploration ships having run aground in the Devil’s Triangle," Victor told his master with clear distaste. "With a particular focus on endangered sentient species."

"Port Damné is a slavering pirate port, and elves fetch a great price there," one of the weresharks said.

"I’m just sayin’, if you need to lighten your ship," Jajambe the shark glanced at the pirate minions, who stood in a straight line, pissing themselves. "I can help."

"No eating slaves, Jaja," Victor immediately shut him down.

"We do not eat elf slaves," Jajambe the shark protested. "They have so little meat on them, it’s like chewing bones. We aren’t dogs. I can settle on the crew."

Vainqueur grew impatient with his lack of understanding. "Minion, what is slavery?"

His chief of staff looked up at him. "Your Majesty does not know?"

"I keep hearing about it from lesser species, and they all seem to agree it is bad… but then I do not understand why they do it."

"Because it pays well!" one of the pirates shouted as if it would save him from punishment.

"You shut up!" Victor lambasted him for speaking out of turn, although it appealed to Vainqueur’s curiosity—and greed. "Slaves… they’re like minions, except it sucks a lot more for them."

"Minionship cannot be bad," Vainqueur replied. After all, the only alternative was food. How could anyone turn this promotion down? "So why are these creatures… disheveled? Are they not taken care of?"

"No, because slaves are merchandise," Friend Victor explained. "They can be bought and sold at their master’s will."

"You cannot buy a minion!" Vainqueur protested. "You have to earn them, and their adoration!"

"Also, they have no rights at all, are never paid for anything, are never taken care of, and have no vacations, ever."

"They have no vacations?"

"No," Victor said ominously.

"Then, if they have no gold, no rights, no time off, then what do they have?" Vainqueur asked, puzzled.

"Nothing. Nothing at all, and that’s the problem."

The more he heard, the less the dragon liked it. After Friend Victor finished explaining the ins and outs of slavery, there was only one way for a dragon to react.

"By the Elder Wyrm, that is indragon!" Vainqueur blamed the pirates. "You make me ashamed of being your master!"

The pirates lowered their heads, in penitence for their sins.

"But I forgive you," Vainqueur spoke, channeling the spirit of wyrm forgiveness. "Because I see that the evil you commit is born of ignorance. Ignorance of the dragon way of life, which is the purest, truest way to live, as taught to us by our Elder Wyrm progenitor. And because true minionship is taking care of their servants, as if they were part of their hoard. For minions have feelings beyond their master’s wishes!"

Friend Victor remained eerily silent, awed by Vainqueur’s passion.

"Clearly, this ‘slavery’ is a debased corruption of the minion institution," the dragon continued to enlighten his audience. "A minion is no item to be worn and cast aside! Minions are sentient beings who must be cared for, so much that they want to be minions! They need to be respected, even honored, for their contribution to the hoard, and a dragon cannot eat them without proper reason. This is not Prydain! And I have not even breached the worst consequence of this slavery business…"

"There’s something worse?" one of the weresharks asked, curious.

"Yes! By poaching elves to extinction and mistreating them, slavers make it harder for new princesses to be born!" Vainqueur shook his head. "As an environment-responsible dragon, I shall not stand by it!"

"Then… What does Your Majesty suggest?" Manling Victor asked.

"First, you will unchain all these ‘slaves,' so they can be set free, healed, and cared for. Then we set sail to this ‘Port Damné’ on our way to El Dorado, to bring it dragon civilization immediately. I will not abide by minion abuse on my watch."

"Oh, that should be fun," Jajambe the shark relished at the thought. "If you spare us a few captives for our [Rising Deep Ritual], we can show you the way there."

Vainqueur glanced at the horizon, to the savage, lawless lands he couldn’t glimpse. Lands free of dragons, and thus, of hope in a better life.

Vainqueur the Minion Liberator.

That new title sounded right.

"Minion?" Vainqueur asked, suddenly realizing something worrying.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Am I becoming a cattletarian?"

14: Goldbeard the Pirate

Shopping for princesses was morally right!

It was true that Vainqueur hadn’t eaten a minion in a long while… and that he had come to realize that they had feelings beyond serving dragons… but catching princesses was a dragon’s duty! He also ate manlings on occasion, just not his minions!

He wasn’t a cattletarian!

"... Grandrake, you said?" Jajambe the shark asked Manling Victor, the two having been glued together for the entire voyage out of the triangle. The weresharks in the waters below had guided the ship through reefs and currents, under the light of the midday sun.

"You’ve heard of him?" Friend Victor answered, completely unaware of Vainqueur’s existential crisis.

"The lost hoard of Grandrake is a famous legend in the Dagger Coast. It draws adventurers and treasure hunters every now and then. Not that they have any chance of finding it."

The mention of a hoard drew Vainqueur out of his existential depression. "It is true that Grandrake is a bit..." The wyrm struggled to find a word which wouldn’t demean the inventor of princess hunting. "Senile."

"Dragons can become senile with age?" Manling Victor asked, obviously horrified that his own beloved master might forget him.

"Not age," Vainqueur protested. As if the noble dragon race wasted away with age, instead of growing ever more powerful! "A curse from a princess’s magician lover. As if a princess did not want to be shown off as a priceless trophy!"

"Yes, indeed, how strange," Victor said with sarcasm, obviously horrified.

"Grandrake suffered one of the greatest ignominy known to dragonkind," Vainqueur said. "He forgot the location of his first hoard… including his favorite princess! She must have grown into a queen by now!"

"Why did you say nobody could find it?" Manling Victor asked Jajambe.

"Because I know where it is," the wereshark replied. "And unless they are a dragon and can fly, they aren’t going to claim it anytime soon."

A flying lair for the hoard? Why hadn’t Vainqueur thought of that?! "Minion, we shall make a stop to that place on our way to El Dorado and recover the lost hoard."

"To return it to its previous owner?"

"Of course not. An abandoned hoard is free for all dragons to claim for themselves."

"And there might be a weapon we can use against Wotan there," Manling Victor said, ever dutiful.

You have left the [Devil’s Triangle]. Field effect negated.

"Finally!" Vainqueur’s Vizier crossed his arms and meditated. The dragon assumed that he contacted Murmurin through his [Scarlet Study] perk.

The dragon left his servant to his duty, watching the sea until they finally reached a large, tropical island. The locals had built an immense port, the biggest Vainqueur had ever seen, on its shores. Hundreds, maybe more ships similar to the Piggybank II had dropped their anchors there, while a group of them formed a defensive perimeter around the bay.

Even from a distance, Vainqueur could smell wonderful scents coming from this place: spices, meat, elves, and most importantly, gold aplenty!

"Here is Port Damné," Jajambe the shark said. "The most rotten place on Outremonde. You can’t trade there if you’ve half a soul."

Vainqueur quickly realized why the locals had fallen so low as to corrupt the institution of minionship. The surplus of gold had corrupted them, and without a dragon to provide a tribute to, they had let their wealth go to their heads.

So Vainqueur would relieve them of it.

"Well, as expected, unrest followed after we lost contact, but Jules ‘handled’ it," Manling Victor said, after emerging from his trance. "Our army has grown by one hundred sentient zombies, fifty-five ghosts, and one penanggalan."

"Penawhat?"

"Your Majesty doesn’t want to know."

"Then, Manling Victor, you shall announce my presence to these sea peasants of Port Damné, and order them to submit to my imperial authority. Tell them that I bring dragon civilization as the ‘Minion Liberator,’ which is non-negotiable."

"You should use a pirate nickname to inspire fear," Jajambe suggested. "These mammals only respect strength and beards."

"That is ridiculous," Vainqueur replied. "Superior beings have scales, not hair."

"Thank you for the kind comment, Your Majesty," Manling Victor replied with sarcasm, tired from the journey.

"He’s not wrong," Jajambe shrugged as if it was ever in question.

The dragon thought about a fitting title and eventually settled on one. "Then announce me henceforth as Vainqueur Goldbeard, Emperor of the Pirate Sea."

"As Your Majesty wishes. [Widen Voice]." Manling Victor finished to cast a spell, his words now resonating across the sea.

"People of Port Damné! I am Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of the V&V Empire, Ishfania, and the Albain Mountains! His Majesty, the great dragon Vainqueur Goldbeard Knightsbane, Emperor of the Pirate Sea and Minion Liberator, has come to conquer your city and free all the slaves!"

"Tell them to give me all their gold too," Vainqueur said. "For the baby coins’ safety."

"The Empire will also take a one-time tribute of gold in exchange for bringing you dragon civilization! Think of the baby coins! The baby coins!"

"I shall give them a few hours to submit," the dragon decided, feeling merciful.

"I think we won’t have to wait that long… and they don’t seem to want dragon civilization."

Manling Victor pointed a finger at the defensive perimeter of ships, all of them moving towards the Piggybank II. Vainqueur heard the sound of firearms in the distance and then watched black spheres landing in the water near their own ship.

Cannonballs. How quaint.

"Then I shall give these pirates a taste of my power," Vainqueur declared, deciding to start with his weakest ability. "[Geomancy]!"

Geomancy activated! Field Type: Ocean.

Effect: [Tsunami]!

"Minion, what is a Tsunami?"

His Vizier didn’t have the time to answer, as his Perk activated first.

Under the strain of Vainqueur’s magic, the sea suddenly rose right below the ships which would do him harm. An immense wall of water sent five of them flying straight to the skies, then advanced towards the rest while getting higher and higher. Vainqueur’s attack crushed everything in its path, rising as high as forty feet.

"Ohoh, brutal!" Jajambe the shark relished at the sight of the devastation. "Father Dagon’s wrath is upon us!"

Vainqueur raised his head in pride, happy with the result.

Except the wave did not stop at the fleet.

As it kept going towards the harbor, threatening to devastate it, Manling Victor turned to his master in panic. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

"[Geomancy]!" Vainqueur raised his arms, unleashing the full might of his magic to steer away the destruction. His efforts slowed down the tsunami but failed to steer it away.

"[Demonic Arcana]," Manling Victor cast spells on his master. "[Misunderstood Genius Inspiration]!"

[Elemental] spells have been strengthened!

Your intelligence has increased by two stages!

"Seagardium Leviosa!" Vainqueur shouted, the wave bowing to his whims. By extending his arms, the dragon caused the tsunami to split in half, collapsing on itself.

Bending to his magic, the very sea kept widening. A dry pathway opened in front of the Piggybank II, revealing reefs, coral, and the remains of ships on the seafloor. Both halves of the ocean laid separated by Vainqueur’s might alone.

"Ha, it worked!" the dragon gloated, while the weresharks whistled at his seascaping. He had saved his new colony from his own spell!

"I think Your Majesty just pulled off a Moses," Manling Victor replied, astonished by his master’s power.

Vainqueur had no idea what a Moses was, but it sounded awesome.

Congratulations! For surviving Wotan’s storm, bringing the wrath of Motha Nature on these puny pirates, improving your geomancy, and devastating an entire city-state’s military with a single spell, you earned a level in [Geomancer]!

+20 SP, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK.

"Minion, I gained a level!" Vainqueur rejoiced. "You will fetch me a new [Heroic Crest] soon!"

"Your Majesty, what about the city?"

"Tell them that this Tsunami was the first plague of Vainqueur, sent to punish their sins against dragon civilization," the wyrm declared. "The second will be the plague of fire… and I shall not need to send a third!"

In the end, after the sea had returned to normal, the crew landed on the city, whose authorities had promptly sued for peace. The crew planted Murmurin’s flag on the tallest building available, and the Empire won its first colony.

Vainqueur had opened a portal back to Murmurin with his [Golden Road], ripping space in half and allowing his minions to cross the ocean. When Jules stepped out of the portal as the first settler, the ghoul glanced around at the remains of the pirate fleet floating near the harbor, rubbed his hands, and then spoke words that would become famous.

"I can work with that."

"You will," Vainqueur had replied, from atop a pile of magical items which his victims had dropped into the sea. "For I henceforth rename this new conquest ‘Port Vainqueur.’ Slavery and piracy are sins in the eyes of the Elder Wyrm and shall be forbidden. One day, I shall split the sea again, and all slaves will cross the ocean floor to the promised land of Murmurin; where all minions are equal before thine eyes. Now, go, and make me money."

And so, dragon civilization arrived in the New World, heralding the end of the golden age of slavery. Jajambe called dibs on the heads of rich slavers as payment for his services as a guide, and Vainqueur agreed so long as he led them to the Lost Hoard of Grandrake.

Seven years in a school for evil masterminds made someone numb to a lot of things.

Afterward, Victor spent an entire day recovering corpses thrown on the shores by Vainqueur's tidal wave, spraying them with blood from his [Black Grail], or helping Jules and his necromancers raise conventional undead. Vainqueur, as ever, simply toured the city in search of gold.

"Arise, my child." Victor spilled black blood on the corpse of a pirate, his magic restoring the corpse to life… or an illusion of it. Funny how almost everyone in a pirate city was bound to Happyland.

"I’m… I’m alive…" the pirate, a rat beastkin, couldn’t believe it, as he looked up at Victor. "Are you…"

"I am not Jesus, Mithras, Death, or whatever god you were about to name," Victor interrupted him. Why did everyone ask that? "See the scythe?"

"I was about to say Orknoob," the man said, looking at the shipwrecks on the shore. "Is this Japan?"

The Vizier frowned. "No. No, it is not."

"Oh." The pirate sounded disappointed. "Can you kill me again then? Maybe it will work next time."

Victor remained silent, before pointing a finger at a dwarf-made, rounded metallic vehicle crushing the harbor's pavement below its legs. The machine looked superficially like a cross between a tank and a spider, with a heavy cannon and loudspeakers on its back.

"CLASS AND GENDER EQUALITY SHALL BE ENFORCED!" Marbré shouted through the loudspeakers, as the machine patrolled the docks. "EMBRACE AVERAGISM OR BE ERADICATED! WE COME TO HELP!"

"Is that a car-cart?" the undead asked, before rushing at it to die again. "Sweet!"

By now, Victor had stopped caring. He just moved on with the next corpse, silently praying this one didn’t worship the Esoteric Order of the New World.

Congratulations! For being Scholomance’s valedictorian, surviving a meeting with King Wotan, helping your master control his magic, and then mass-raising an army of undead, you have earned a level in the ultra-prestigious [Weathermaker] class! You earned the [Devil Archmage I] Class Perk.

+30 HP, 10 SP, +1 STR, +1 VIT, +2 INT, +1 CHA, +2 LCK.

[Devil Archmage I]: You can learn and cast spells one tier above your current one. You can also learn and cast spells with the [Evil], [Fiend], and [Weather] traits, but only those equal or below your current tier access; if they belong to an exclusive school of magic, you count as if you met the other requirements.

So he had access to seventh tier spells? Sweet! And the stat bonus didn’t look too shabby either!

"I see that you enjoy your new class." The goddess Camilla manifested in a puff of smoke near him, observing the harbor with interest. "I sensed a strong influx of necromancy, and I see that I underestimated it."

Underestimate? They almost sank Jamaica! "If you could lend me a hand in raising these people, that would be great."

"I have limits to what I can do without causing Mithras and other gods to knock on my door," she said, and she sounded genuinely saddened by her chosen’s burden. "On the bright side, you should gain experience, although not enough for a new level."

Victor would rather have this mess done quicker. He doubted a new level would make the difference against King Wotan.

Camilla seemed to notice his anguish and materialized a bag full of scrolls for him. "These are spells mattering to your specializations, especially [Weather]," the goddess said. "If you master them in tandem with Vainqueur’s own [Geomancer] abilities, it should give you an edge against the fairy lord."

"About that, I have a very important question," Victor turned dead serious. "Do the fomors have class levels?"

"I cannot say," the goddess replied, her tone just as dreary as his. "Sablar is shrouding my sight, and his cultists have started flocking to Prydain. Which makes me worried."

Worried enough to inform Victor directly. "Any suggestions?"

"Deliver your [Black Grail] to the high priest of the Thaoten empire, south of the Dagger Coast," the goddess replied. "In exchange for the opportunity to study it, and upon learning that I favor both of you, he should provide help. Both to reach El Dorado, and in your war against the fomors."

"If Vainqueur doesn’t pick a fight with Furibon on the way there."

"The lich already reached the golden city days ago," Camilla said, almost absentmindedly. "And I do not think he will leave it either."

15: Raiders of the Lost Hoard

Vainqueur had to give it to Grandrake. Nobody would try to steal a hoard hidden there.

Springing from both the waters and the air, a huge tornado formed an impenetrable barrier of swirling winds in the middle of the ocean. Unlike other similar phenomenons, this particular twister did not move from its particular spot, far south of Port Vainqueur.

"The island is in the eye of the tornado," Jajambe said, swimming in the water while Vainqueur and his chief of staff flew over him. "The only way to get inside is to fly through it. At least, my sharks said that’s how Grandrake kept getting in."

"Grandrake is a lightning dragon," Vainqueur said. "A mere storm could never harm him."

Having left his new conquest to his minions, the dragon had decided to immediately claim the treasure while he could. According to his most prized minion, one day later and they could reach the New World’s southern continent, where new minions, gold, and Furibon awaited them.

"This is clearly supernatural in origin," Manling Victor noted, now carrying a bag of scrolls on his back, "if it has held for years."

"I will brave the storm and summon you on the other side, minion," Vainqueur declared. "You lack the strength and vitality to make your way through without sinking."

"Actually, if Your Majesty would give me a few seconds, I could perhaps end the storm on my own." The minion raised his scythe, wielding it like a wizard’s staff. "[Weather Control: Clear Skies]!"

Manling Victor’s scythe surged with dark energies, releasing a wave of magic over the sea. The tornado collapsed on its own, the unnatural winds dispersing over the horizon and revealing a small tropical island smaller than the city of Murmurin. A dense forest of palm trees covered most of its surface, and a small, pointy mountain stood proud in its middle.

"Minion, with your control of the weather and my ability to bend the cosmos to my geomantic will, we shall redraw the maps as I see fit!" Vainqueur boasted for both of them.

Jajambe whistled. "Look, if you ever need help in sinking an island beneath the waves, just gimme a summoning call. I’m sure Lord Dagon would enjoy laying waste to landwalkers after I wake him up."

"And for assisting the Empire, you shall be spared," Vainqueur agreed. "All those wishing to lay waste to Prydain are welcomed in my armies."

"I’m sure my boss will spoil us after his long nap," the sharkman replied. "Anyway, a fish’s gotta go do his duty; continue south and you’ll reach the Thaoten’s capital of Kukulcan in no time. Been nice to see you again, Vic."

"Before you go," the Vizier said. "Why didn’t you tell me you were a [Fisherman]?"

"I thought you would think less of me," the sharkman replied. "I mean, we have a terrible reputation. Most think we have to eat human babies to get a class this powerful."

"Is it true that when you reach level twenty—"

"Yes, we can do that with fishes. All [Aquatic] creatures even."

Manling Victor shivered. "Man, that’s evil."

"Guess how I got invited to Scholomance?" And on these words, the sharkman swam away, followed by his retinue.

Vainqueur flew towards the island, hungry for gold. He could only imagine the fortune the good Grandrake had accumulated before his unfortunate curse. The old wyrm said he had gathered a most impressive hoard, one he would have bragged about for centuries—

BLEEP!

His [Virgin Princess Radar] went into overdrive.

"Princesses!" Vainqueur’s head twisted, possessed by his dragon instinct. "Many princesses!"

More than he had ever sensed in a single location!

"Your Majesty—"

"LATER!" Vainqueur surged towards the island while ignoring his minion, his mighty wings blowing tropical trees. "PRINCESSES!"

The hunting season had begun!

Victor watched Vainqueur crash onto the forest’s island with a sigh, birds and other critters fleeing the forest as the dragon rampaged through. Thank [Monster Knight] he didn’t develop that particular dragon weakness.

"Then again," he mused as he flew over the island’s sandy shores, looking for a cavern where Grandrake could have hidden his hoard. "Pretty women in general are my kryptonite."

The Vizier didn’t have to look for long, for he found one of the strangest sights on a beach.

A garden of giant, overgrown crimson mushrooms, turned into improvised houses. He could see whole cultures of enormous fungi, enough to sustain a small settlement. A woman tended to them, near the frontier with the forest.

The creature looked like a mushroom version of Allison, a dryad with mushrooms growing out of her body instead of flowers, and purple skin instead of olive-colored. She sensed his approach and glanced up as Victor landed right in front of her.

"A man?" the dryad asked, looking at him with curious eyes. "Are you a fiend? You ended the storm?"

"Yes for the storm, and technically not a fiend. My name is Victor, and my boss and I are looking for—"

"You’re a boy, you have to run," the mushroom lady interrupted him, not sounding quite right in the head. "Quick, before they notice you."

"Who’ll notice me?" Victor asked, only to hear sounds coming from the forest and the village. He immediately cast buffs on himself, even if the [Weather Control] spell had drained a good chunk of his SP.

Within a minute, a dozen women, each from different species, emerged from either village or the forest to gather around him. While all of them were humanoids, they ranged from a pink catkin, with the rarest shade of pink fur Victor had ever seen, to a centaur. With the exception of the catkin, all of them belonged to long-lived species.

Unlike the dryad though, they looked far from healthy. While they probably used to be strikingly fair maiden, they looked disheveled, sick, dirty, and malnourished; their nails had grown into claws, and their teeth had turned yellowish. They gazed at him as if he were some kind of alien traveler, and worryingly, they had a certain crazy glint at the edge of their eyes.

And not the cute, Chocolatine kind.

"Hello there, traveler!" The leader, an elf dressed like an amazon, grinned at him in a way that should have felt reassuring, but wasn’t, at all. According to her fur-made clothes, she must have been forced to survive on the island for a long while. "I am Elf Princess, from the Sablaris Empire."

"Victor, Victor Dalton," the Vizier replied with a frown. She sounded as if she thought the elf empire still existed. "Don’t you have a name?"

"We forgot them," the centaur admitted. "The dragon called us by our species, and it stuck. I’m Centaur Princess."

"You’re looking for the treasure too, are you not?" the Catkin asked, the Vizier reluctantly nodding. He had a very bad feeling about this meeting.

"We are the hoard, the ‘bragworthiest’ a dragon could ever gather," Elf Princess said; meanwhile, the mushroom lady kept making discreet signs to Victor in the background. "A hoard of forty princesses, each from a different species."

"I only count a dozen of you..." the Vizier left his sentence unfinished, as he tried to make sense of the mushroom dryad’s sign messages.

Get… away…

Not right... in the head?

"Most died of old age, or hunger," ‘Cat’ Princess said. "The dragon left us here for decades! I lost two of my nine lives on this backwater island!"

"Without Mushroom, we would have starved to death," Elf Princess agreed, the dryad stopping making hand signs when her fellow turned to her. "She’s very good and kind."

"A few haven’t returned from gathering duty on the rest of the island," Centaur Princess said. "We’ve been so hungry… mushrooms are not enough!"

Poor girls… no wonder they looked half-mad, isolated and malnourished for so long.

"We can save you," Victor promised. "We can get you out of this mess."

"Indeed you will." Elf Princess licked her lips. "We didn’t have enough meat. But you… you will do."

Oh.

Oh...

And BLEEP, cannibals!

"Don't you dare try to eat me!" Victor took a step towards the forest, only to find his back against a mud wall.

"Oh no," Elf Princess’ fingers shone with magical power, having backed him into a corner. "We’re cannibals. We can’t eat a half-human."

"We can only savor the flesh of other princesses now," Cat Princess added.

"We tried to eat the few unlucky adventurers who managed to brave the storm, but they tasted terrible," Centaur Princess said. "We ate the corpses of our short-lived princess friends."

"But we don’t have any to sustain ourselves anymore," Elf Princess finished. "We need to make more princesses. And this is where you come into play."

…

This was Hell.

This place was his Hell!

"Back off, ladies!" Victor raised his weapon to protect his manhood. "I have a scythe, and I’m not afraid to use it!"

"It will be much easier for all of us if you don’t resist," Cat Princess said, drawing a bone knife. The others, with the exception of a terrified Mushroom Princess, surrounded the Vizier from all sides threateningly. "There is only one part of you that we need."

"Look, I really don’t want to hurt you, but if you take another step—"

A rumbling sound shook the ground, trees collapsing on the beach. The ladies turned at the source of the commotion, a crimson dragon with a pirate hat, and a wriggling treasure bag.

"Found you!" Vainqueur’s voice boomed across the island, as he raised a bag with one hand; he must have summoned it with his [Golden Road] perk. "Get into the princess bag!"

The woman looked at the creature with shock. "A dragon?"

"I said, get into the princess bag!" Vainqueur grabbed Elf Princess with his free hand while she screamed, and put her in the bag like one would do with groceries. Realizing what would follow, the other princesses immediately attempted to run back to the village. "You will not escape my hoard!"

With a sigh of relief, Victor watched on as the dragon quickly pursued and caught all the cannibals in his bag, only Mushroom Princess managing to escape by burrowing herself into the ground. Proving himself the best princess hunter of his generation, Vainqueur had little trouble capturing all of them.

"Your Majesty, I…" Victor fell in adoration before his protector. "I love you. So much."

"Minion, we already had this conversation. I value you too, but only as a friend and minion." The dragon shook his head in disappointment. "See? This is why we dragons should not raise princesses in captivity. They become feral and violent if left out of their natural environment for too long. I will have to ask a veterinarian to take care of them before I return them to the wild."

"This happened before?"

"Not that often…" Vainqueur cleared his throat, sweeping the unfortunate subject away. "We had princess hunting mostly figured out after the first century."

Victor just tightened his pants, to reassure himself.

"Now, where is the last one?" Vainqueur walked towards the woods, trying to find Mushroom Princess. "Kitty, kitty, kitty…"

The Vizier watched the dragon leave, collapsing on the sand with relief.

He needed a comforting shoulder, a familiar sight to wash away this sinister encounter from his mind.

"[Black Horseman: Chocolatine de Gevaudan]."

His sort-of friend with perks materialized right in front of him, with a delightful expression, and boots drenched in a red liquid.

"Vic, I thought you would never call!" The werewolf smiled at him, a crimson spot on her cheek, a bloody knife in one hand, and a giant insect’s head in the other. "I’m sorry, I’m not dressed well. You summoned me in the middle of a meal."

The Vizier glanced at the head, and on a closer look, realized it belonged to an insect demon.

A moth.

"That’s…" Victor recognized the creature. "One of Isabelle’s guards…"

"Oh, yes, I knew we agreed on an open relationship, but I was feeling a bit jealous anyway... so we had a friendly talk," Chocolatine chirped, playing with her knife; and Victor suddenly wondered whose blood was on it. "I had to make sure she was cut out for the job."

The wording made the Vizier shiver.

"Anyway, Viiiiic… did you call me for something? Maybe… practice?"

"You’re a good girl," Victor lied to protect himself. "I just wanted to tell you that."

"Silly, of course I am! Was that ever in question?"

Finally!

It had taken him a good hour, but Vainqueur had finally cornered and caught the last virgin maiden! His bag was full and heavy with the weight of their princessness; with so many of them, he would triumph over Icefang’s contest with no trouble at all.

Unfortunately, he had yet to find any piles of gold on the island. Grandrake must have hidden it well.

Vainqueur would have loved to stay here for a few more hours until he could locate it, but each minute wasted there gave the wicked Furibon more time to find El Dorado. The dragon would settle on tossing the princess bag on his hoard through his [Golden Path], leave minions to scout the island in his stead, and then move on with his friend to the south.

Above in the skies, a faint rain began to fall. Vainqueur wondered if his Vizier had changed the weather again, before a glance at the horizon told him otherwise.

A cloud of lightning had approached the island at full speed; a fairy lord riding at its helm.

Vengeance was at hand!

16: The Burning Fields

"I suggest we run," Manling Victor pleaded to his master.

The dragon glanced down at his minion. The two had gathered, alongside Sweet Chocolatine—why a disaster happened whenever his lackey prepared to breed, Vainqueur would never understand—in the tropical forest to make their stand, before Wotan’s arrival. The gate to his hoard, created by [Golden Road], remained open next to them; the dragon had tossed his full princess bag atop his mountains of gold.

"We will not retreat, minion," Vainqueur replied, the overwhelming pressure of the enemy's aura growing stronger. "We shall make our stand there. Wotan cost me a crown, and I will have Troll Barnabas craft me a new one from his bones."

"It was a miracle we survived his [Ragnarok] spell the first time," his Grand Vizier pointed out. "While we have advance warning this time, we are fighting a lightning user in the middle of the ocean. If we laid an ambush on more favorable terrain..."

"On the contrary, minion, I believe we must face him in this place. We have the power, we have the skills, we have the will. Wotan will not relent in his hunt, and a dragon does not run."

"You have me, Vic!" Chocolatine said with conviction. "I can summon help!"

"If the terrain does not favor us, we must change it," Vainqueur decided. "The foe we face is strong, but V&V do not know defeat! We have bested grasshoppers, vampires, fairies, and all foes who stood in my way! The empire will prevail!"

Charisma check successful! You have reminded your servant of your own invincibility!

"Alright, in that case, no time to waste," Manling Victor said, with the true authority of a tactical chief of staff. "I will call allies with my [Diabolism] spells, and so will Chocolatine. Meanwhile, His Majesty must burn the forest to the ground."

"This will reveal our location, minion," Vainqueur pointed out.

"But the smoke and flames will reduce their air maneuverability, and both of us are immune to fire. Not them." He turned to Chocolatine. "Can you—"

"[Fire Ward]," the priestess replied, casting protection on herself.

Vainqueur moved to action. Closing his [Golden Road] to keep his SP, he unleashed his mighty breath on the trees. Within seconds, he started an inferno so powerful, even the rain could not extinguish it. His flames spread all around the group, smoke, and steam filling up the skies.

"[Summon Prayer of Isengrim]!" Chocolatine prayed, two giant golden wolves materializing at her side. The sweet girl herself soon transformed into a silver-furred werewolf, her clothes adapting to her new size, and she quickly cast fire protection spells on her allies.

Manling Victor’s own summoning sounded decidedly more impressive. "[Ars Goetia: Happyland Battle Harem]!"

In total, eight creatures materialized to answer his chief of staff, each of them female. Four manling-like females with velvet bat wings and sinuous pointy tail; two dark cousins of Miel the angel, with black feathered wings and wielding bows of fire; and finally two womanly creatures with the lower body of snakes and six arms instead of two, each carrying a different weapon.

"Oh, hi Mr. Victor," one of the serpentlike women said, sounding like the leader of the troop. "Good to see you again. Why did you call our company? Security service, or the group massage special?"

"Vic..." Chocolatine trailed, sound half jealous, half hungry. "What are these, a buffet? Succubi are not good at fighting!"

"We find the term ‘succubi’ old fashioned and racially demeaning," one of the bat-winged demoness replied. "We prefer the term ‘horizontal angels.’"

"I swear they are very good at close combat," Manling Victor said. "I checked. Also, battle special."

"Oh," one of the winged creatures said, disappointed.

"The happiness of our major shareholders is the paramount goal of our VIP security company," the second snake creature said. Vainqueur found it very pleasing to see his minion had recruited more 'scaled' creatures. "Ladies, form a perimeter."

"I cannot cast protection spells on His Majesty since your [Spell Purge] will remove them," Manling Victor lamented, raising his hands at the skies. "But I can take away that storm [Control Weather: Sunny Day]!"

Obeying the might of Manling Victor’s sorcery, the rainy clouds dispersed, letting the bright sun shine strong in the skies.

The weather condition changed to [Sunny Day]! [Fire], [Plant], [Light] and [Sun] effects will be strengthened, while [Water], [Darkness], and [Frost] effects are weakened!

"Good, now [Spirit Shield]." The minion summoned his protective barrier around himself, but no sooner did he do so, than dark clouds and lightning bolts reappeared.

King Wotan’s [Storm Caller] passive Perk changed the weather to [Heavy Thunderstorm]! [Lightning], [Wind] and [Water] attacks will be greatly strengthened, [Fire] attacks will be weakened!

"Argh, the storm is a passive ability," Victor complained, as he kept casting buffing spells on himself. "I can counter it, but whenever my focus slips away, it returns… and he can strengthen [Ragnarok]."

Once, Vainqueur would have flown straight to the enemy, fearlessly engaging him in aerial combat without bothering to prepare. He would have fought Wotan the dragon way.

But Bat Lavere had taught him a very important lesson when she had almost trapped the dragon in a bottle. That some foes could hurt him, and underestimating them could be fatal. If Wotan had trained all his life to fight dragons, then Vainqueur would defeat him as a dragon tactician.

"Then minions, you shall protect my Vizier, while he clears the weather," Vainqueur declared with his commander's voice. "Do not let Wotan summon his lightning. [Fire Crown], [Spell Purge]!"

As flames surrounded his body, incinerating his captain’s hat but leaving his kingly mantle unharmed, Manling Victor once again cleared the skies of the thunderstorm… only for an arrow of light to pierce the smoke clouds, aiming straight at Manling Victor.

"[Heartseeker Spear]!"

"[Victory Fist]," Vainqueur said as he flew towards the projectile, deflecting it from its course with his hands. An electrical shroud around the weapon damaged his claws slightly, but the spear landed on cindered trees nearby, having widely missed its targets.

Here comes Dragonbane.

Riding on his monstrous horse’s back, King Wotan flew through the clouds of smoke, eight valkyries following him. His spear returned to his hand without a word, while Vainqueur’s wounds closed on their own as [Master’s Shield] activated.

The fairy lord offered no word of warning, no unworthy boast. He offered Vainqueur only the swift promise of a fight to the death.

"[Call the Hunt]," Wotan thundered, two monstrous fairy beasts appearing in a puff of smoke among the flames, trapping Manling Victor’s group in a pincer attack. These elephant-sized hounds of pure darkness growled back at Chocolatine’s wolves, who howled back. Meanwhile, the fomor’s valkyries called upon a ghostly, warrior spirit each, doubling their numbers.

"Sigrun!" Wotan pointed his spear at Vainqueur. "Leave the dragon to me, and slay the rest!"

"[Master’s Aegis]!" One of the valkyries, which Vainqueur assumed to be the leader, called upon her magic. Silvery bonds of light briefly linked Wotan and his escort before vanishing.

Half of any damage King Wotan receives shall be distributed to his Valkyries!

Good, that way Vainqueur could kill them all at once!

"For the empire!" the great wyrm roared, as he lunged at Wotan in the skies, leaving his minions to fight in the burning forest. "For my hoard!"

[Victory Roar] activated! All enemies had their strength lowered by one stage!

Stat decrease negated by King Wotan’s [Fomor Arrogance]!

The dragon and the fairy lord circled one another above the burning forest, while on the ground their minions fiercely engaged one another amidst the flames. Vainqueur opened his mouth to unleash a devastating fireball, opening the hostilities.

The fairy lord called upon a shield of swirling winds, deflecting the flames around his horse and himself. He charged at the dragon, intending to pierce his hide, and Vainqueur welcomed the closer proximity. Trusting in his abilities, the Emperor attempted to grab the spear and disarm Wotan, pulling him from his horse.

But the fairy lord, sensing a trap, immediately backed down, the dragon pursuing him relentlessly.

"You fight better, Knightsbane, but not well enough." King Wotan enhanced his spear and lightning, clearly intending to replicate the strategy that allowed him to surprise Vainqueur last time. "[Supreme Thunder: Dragonslayer], [Maximize Lightning]."

King Wotan’s [Lightning] attacks will ignore resistance, and inflict additional [Dragonslayer] damage!

[Lightning] element greatly strengthened!

The dragon didn’t let him. "[Shining Majesty]!"

Vainqueur’s scales brightened to gold, and then unleashed a searing, blinding flash of light. King Wotan, too certain that his windy shield would protect him, was hit head-on.

A glorious vision of Vainqueur’s boundless hoard manifested in the light, burning the fomor’s skin and blinding his last eye. While his magic protected the fomor from most of the damage, his horse let out a scream of pain, as the light cleansed his flesh from his bones.

Now a shining, burning star, Vainqueur lunged at Wotan and dragged him from his dying mount, crashing the now unhorsed fairy on the fiery ground below.

Wotan attempted to free himself, his body coating itself in electricity; lightning which bypassed both his [Mirror Scale] and [Spell Purge]. His wounds regenerating as soon as they opened, Vainqueur kept the fomor firmly in his claws, knowing his flames and light would hurt his foe more.

And harm him he did. Vainqueur kept flying while hammering the fomor against the fiery ground, leaving a trail of cinders in his wake. Finally, he opened his mouth to try and breathe directly in the hunter’s face, as he did against that golem in the north.

"[Eye of Odin]," Wotan snarled, a phantom blue eye appearing where the right one should have been. Somehow able to now withstand the vision of Vainqueur’s beautiful hoard, the fomor speared the dragon through the shoulder, his thunderous spear piercing his scales like butter.

Vainqueur let out a cry of pain, the wound forcing him to release Wotan from his grasp. He took his flight, circled around the burning battleground, and prepared to firebomb the fomor lord from above.

"[Hasten], [Skill Up]." Having risen up and recovered, the fomor began to move at incredible speeds, dodging Vainqueur's attack and retaliating by raising his spear at his flying foe. The weapon’s tip unleashed a mighty thunderbolt at the dragon, hitting him in the chest.

The sheer power of the blow interrupted Vainqueur’s [Shining Majesty] and propelled him backward, to crash near the bottom of the island’s mountain. His scales hit the rocky ground with a loud noise.

[Master’s Shield] negated by distance!

Vainqueur barely had the time to get on his back legs before Wotan charged at him, faster than ever. Having changed the field enough, the dragon immediately switched to magic. "[Geomancy]!"

The very ground shook under the might of his magic, causing Wotan to lose his footing and interrupt his charge.

Geomancy activated! Field Type: Volcanic Island.

Effect: [Eruption].

At the center of the island, a mountain’s tip detonated, casting rocks, ashes, and flames all across the island. The sun vanished, obscured by the natural disaster, while the entire landmass trembled.

Vainqueur let out a roar as he charged to continue the battle anew, the volcano answering with a mighty explosion.

The battle had turned into a brutal fight, long before the ground trembled.

Protected behind both his barrier and allies, Victor had spent the last few minutes struggling to prevent Wotan’s supernatural storm from reasserting itself, a task which needed almost all of his concentration. He had been reduced to watching his allies fight on their own, which frustrated him to no end.

But thankfully, Chocolatine could handle herself.

Leading her wolves like a pack, she had engaged Wotan’s shadowy hounds, breaking the pincer maneuver and allowing the fiends to engage the valkyries without interruption. Their preparations had paid dividends; with their magical fire resistance, the forest fire burned their enemies but not the V&V member or her wolves, giving them a slight advantage.

Still, the hounds fought back with fury and outmatched the wolves in size and power. Each blow of their clawed hands created small craters, and one bite would break the wolves in half… if they could touch them. While Chocolatine’s wolves circled around one of the hounds, the first serving as a lure while the second attacked from behind, the priestess had engaged the other fairy beast on her own. She kept praying to Isengrim, casting spells on herself to move faster, hit harder, and wound the beast with rays of light. The fairy beast had lost one eye and searing flames immolated it from head to toes, while the werewolf remained unscathed.

In fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

She can spellcast while in monster form, Victor realized. That [Mook Promotion] hadn’t been in vain! Eventually, Chocolatine jumped at the hound’s throat and tore it out, the monstrous creature collapsing among the flames. The werewolf immediately moved to help her summoned allies against the remaining beast.

Meanwhile, though, the valkyries and their undead soldiers had proved themselves a lot more difficult to fend off. Having figured out his role in weakening their master, they kept launching spears of light at Victor, healed themselves from their burns with spells, and fought together as a well-trained warband. While the smoke filling the air had forced them to the ground and on unfavorable terrain, they outnumbered his fiendish bodyguards by two to one.

Although they struggled to hold against the siege, his summoned fiends managed so far. Their tactic was deceptively simple: the succubi used spells to create protective wards and walls of ice to delay the attacks, or enthralled the warrior spirits into attacking the valkyries whenever they could wrest control. Meanwhile, his serpentine mariliths ruthlessly cut swaths of fury and steel through the enemy formation, preventing the valkyries from making any focused push. The erinyes remained behind as the last line of defense, supporting their coworkers by firing arrows of destruction.

"The more you kill, the bigger the golden parachute!" Victor shouted to encourage them. "And you get a company dwarven car, each!"

[Rally Minion] activated! All your minions’ stats increased by one stage.

Enhanced by his tirades, his fiends had defended him well. Often, one of the Valkyries burned without warning or found herself vaporized by searing light; Victor assumed they took on the damage which should have hit Wotan himself.

The more he observed, the more he had grown convinced some of them had levels in a variant of his own [Monster Knight]. [Master’s Aegis] effect was too close to [Master’s Shield] for it to be a coincidence.

How long could they hold? How long would it take for Vainqueur to defeat the fomor?

The mountain exploded in an orgy of smoke and flames, answering his question.

The Vizier’s concentration allowed him to maintain the weather effect, but as the skies darkened and the very ground beneath his feet trembled, he realized the island was doomed. The eruption would wipe away its entire surface, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

Meanwhile, Victor could see the flashes of his master fighting Wotan at the bottom of the mountain. Watching the duel of the titans from the distance was something to behold, but the hunter pushed Vainqueur away from his allies, and closer to the devastating eruption. Without his regeneration, the dragon might die from attrition or the island’s destruction, even without the fomor activating [Ragnarok].

In spite of the distance, Victor tried to use his [Monster Insight] perk on Wotan, to check his class fomor theory…

And much to his horror, instead of nothing, the system provided him with a screen.

Storm King Wotan

Soulcrested Fomor (Fairy/Elemental)

Level: 35 (Kaiser (Fairy Lord) 15, Dragonslayer 10, Stormbringer 9, Berserker 1)

Strong against: all status ailments, stat debuffs, Fairy, Fire, Dragon, Lightning, Water, Earth, Wind, critical hits, Insta-death, non-cold iron Physical attacks.

Weak against: Fairyslayer, Elementslayer, Poison, Beast, and Starmetal.

The mightiest dragonslayer among the fomors and Odin’s inspiration on Earth, Wotan gained a soul through Mell Odieuse’s Soulcrest, and thus the ability to level up. In return for this favor, the fairy tyrant asked him to bring her Vainqueur’s head. Bound by an alien, but ironclad, warrior king code, Wotan will not relent until he keeps his word or dies trying. Maybe both.

In short, kick his fairy ass!

"Your Highness!" As if sharing the Vizier’s very thoughts about their master’s well-being, one of the valkyries, the leader, abandoned the fight to rush towards the mountain.

That was it. "[Pact with the Archfiends]," Victor cast his best [Diabolism] spells, his body transforming into a paragon of demonic majesty.

You sacrificed half your HP to gain the power of an [Archfiend].

[Troll Regeneration] activated!

Best combo ever, but it cost him his focus on the weather, allowing lightning to once more crackle in the skies. No time to waste.

"Evacuate the island!" Victor ordered, dispelling his shield and cutting down a warrior spirit in his way, his scythe gorging itself on his soul. "I will go help Vainqueur!"

"But Vic—" Chocolatine began to protest as her wolves chewed the last fairy hound to death, but he didn’t give her time to complain.

"You!" Victor turned to his demonic employees. "Take my girlfriend to Happyland if you must, but go!"

Somehow, his wording was enough to silence Chocolatine - in fact, she swooned in response. As a succubus immediately started spellcasting to open a portal, Victor charged towards the volcano, cutting a swath of destruction through whoever stood between him and the mountain.

No friend left behind.

17: A Clash of Kings

Fire and ashes.

That was what Vainqueur’s world had been reduced to, as he kept battling that fomor who just wouldn’t die!

Warning! You have lost half your health!

The dragon ignored the pain, as Wotan’s spear gored through the scales on his chest, shedding golden blood. The spear still embedded in his body, the dragon grabbed the fairy lord’s neck and lifted him above the fiery mountain, through clouds of pyroclastic flows. They went through a whirlwind of ashes, melting Wotan’s pristine skin.

The fairy lord’s body radiated lightning, the electricity surging through Vainqueur’s body and threatening to make him lose control of his flight. While he held Wotan with one hand, the dragon had to use all his strength in the other to prevent his spear from progressing deeper into his body.

The wyrm quickly reached the highest point he could, right above the raging volcano. The eruption sent debris and stones the size of houses flying through the skies, each powerful enough to bring Vainqueur down.

Finally, as he sensed the lava below, Vainqueur opened his mouth and unleashed a fireball right in that dirty fomor’s face. Releasing his hold as the blast hit, the dragon propelled Wotan towards the crater, carried by a giant fireball.

Beforehand, Vainqueur would have gloated, spoken to the food, and boasted about his inevitable victory. But now, he only had roars to offer. If Wotan would not rest until he died, then the dragon too would fight to the end.

As lightning thundered in the background, Vainqueur flew down, falling upon the fomor like a fiery comet. His claws cleaved through the fairy lord’s torso, accelerating the descent.

Both crashed through the crater’s edge and unto the raging lava below, an arena of molten rock and heat. The private baths of a red dragon… and the best arena where to make a final stand.

His lower body below the lava and his royal mantle now ashes, Vainqueur raised his fists to finish the fight the gladiator way.

[Show-off] activated! Your precision and evasion increased!

Wotan’s upper half rose from the fiery hell too, his mantle consumed by the flames; his helmet melted on his face, changing his appearance from that of a dignified manling to an incarnation of fury. His spear had fallen during the crash, embedded into the crater’s edge. The fairy raised a hand to summon it to his side, but Vainqueur didn’t give him the time.

With a furious roar, the dragon punched Wotan in the face, tossing him backward against a wall of molten stone, and shaking up the entire mountain.

And keep pummeling the fairy’s face, Vainqueur did! He hit him twice, then thrice!

Driven by grim determination, Wotan clenched his teeth and retaliated with a punch of his own, hitting Vainqueur squarely in his beautiful face.

The two titans exchanged blows, each attack causing the crater to tremble. Walls of stones collapsed around them, bursts of lava sprayed their scales and skin, and fresh blood mixed with the magma.

But no matter how hard Vainqueur hit his enemy, the fomor kept coming. And while the dragon had his foe beaten in punching expertise, Wotan moved faster and resisted blows better. The dragon felt organs he didn’t know he had itching, bones breaking, scales getting torn apart.

Critical health! Critical health! HP and SP critically low! [Bravo Bull] activated! Your strength increased! Critical health!

Forced back, Vainqueur decided to use his remaining SP for a final push to victory. "[Shining Majesty]!"

His scales flashed bright, searing the fomor’s flesh and disorienting him at a critical moment; even if he could see through the illusion, the light was all too powerful. Pushed by the knowledge granted to him by the system, Vainqueur took a step back to build momentum, raising his fist to deck Wotan in the face.

"[Holy Spear]!"

A spear of light hit Vainqueur right in the right eye, blurring his vision.

Vainqueur roared in unbearable agony, as a Valkyrie descended into the crater and the pain canceled his [Shining Majesty]. The dragon opened his mouth at her to blast her with flames...

He couldn’t finish.

His hands moving like snakes, Wotan forcefully closed the dragon’s maw shut, turned around, and threw Vainqueur against the crater’s edge. Tons of stone collapsed on the dragon, keeping him down. The sharp agony of his wounded eye didn’t help either.

"Sigrun, thank you," Wotan said, with a tone that reminded Vainqueur of how he often spoke to his prized chief of staff. "Now leave, and live."

"I cannot abandon Your Highness in a place like this!"

"My storm has returned," Wotan said, flying through some magical power above the lava and finally calling back his spear to his hand. The sound of thunderbolts dwarfed even the tremors of the eruption in strength. "I can finally call the supreme lightning of victory."

"You will kill us both if you use your attack here, you stupid fairy!" Vainqueur snarled as he struggled to free himself from the rubbles, knowing that the bolt would cause the crater to collapse and bury them all alive.

"Good."

The disdainful word surprised the dragon, who knew fomors prized their own life above all others. Yet that primal fear that drove the fairies on was nowhere to be seen in the warrior’s single eye.

"You are the greatest threat to the fomor race since Balaur’s foolish war on the mortals, Knightsbane," Wotan declared, sounding proud of fighting such a powerful opponent. "If you are to die here, buried under the earth by your own foolishness, then my life is a small price to pay. Now that I have a soul… I no longer fear a warrior’s death."

How could he do that? How could any fomor do that?

No… the System had given him vision; the unthinkable will to lay down his life for the sake of his species' survival.

It was like sacrificing one’s hoard to save a minion’s life!

That copycat, Vainqueur did it first!

"Sigrun!" Wotan ordered as he raised his spear to call upon his ultimate lightning. "This is your last warning! Leave!"

"I will not abandon Your Highness," the Valkyrie replied, shielding her master with the courage of a true minion. "Until the very end."

"Then to oblivion with all of us." The smoke clouds lightened with electricity. "May my thunderbolt be the last thing you ever see, Vainqueur! Glory to the fomors! [Ragnar—"

"YOUR HIGHNESS, BEHIND THEE!"

[Master’s Shield] activated.

Demonling Victor emerged from the clouds of smoke above the crater, falling upon Wotan from behind, his scythe raised for a surprise attack. The Valkyrie launched a spear of light in her hand to intercept him, but missed.

King Wotan turned his head around, to watch death descend upon him. Demonling Victor’s scythe lowered towards his neck…

Splash!

Blood splattered King Wotan’s body, as Demonling Victor’s scythe cut through his valkyrie’s flesh, gorging itself on her soul.

Unable to stop Vainqueur’s minion in time, the fairy thrall had flown in the scythe’s way, taking the fatal blow for her master. Her aging body fell towards the magma, while Wotan turned around. A swing of his spear sent Victor crashing against the crater’s edge, breaking his bones and wings with a loud, sickening noise.

"Sigrun!" Wotan let out a roar of fury as he failed to recover his servant’s corpse before it fell into the magma, vanishing beneath waves of lava. "Sigrun!"

Panicking at the sight of his wing-broken servant barely hanging to the crater's edge, Vainqueur managed to free himself from the rubble, preparing to take flight and rescue his friend.

"What is this?" King Wotan’s face twisted into a manling expression, which Vainqueur recognized as pain and confusion. "This feeling of weakness?"

King Wotan’s emotional confusion sharply lowered all his stats!

"What have you done to me?!" the fomor’s anguish at losing his chief of staff almost made Vainqueur pity him. Almost. "The pain is unbearable!"

"It’s called sadness," Demonling Victor struggled to scoff, the fomor’s mighty blow having shattered his ribcage. While he could survive the heat, he couldn’t breathe through the smoke well. "Get used to it!"

Unable to process these feelings the way a dragon could—by focusing on their own awesomeness—the fomor pointed his spear at Demonling Victor, to fry him with his lightning. "You shall take your wits with you to the grave, mortal! [Ragna-"

Exploiting that single moment of inattention, Vainqueur charged towards Wotan, opening his wings to fly at him. The fairy heard Vainqueur coming...

And the dragon poked the fomor in the eye!

Wotan let out a wail of fury and pain, losing his focus as he put his free hand on his face. "Stay," Vainqueur raised a fist and punched Wotan with all his might. "Down!"

The sheer power of the blow blew smoke and ashes in all directions and sent Wotan falling down into the lava, his entire body vanishing below the magma.

This time, he didn’t rise up.

The tremors increased, and Vainqueur realized they had no time to waste before his [Geomancy] destroyed the mountain. "Minion!" He shouted as his wounded eye started to recover thanks to [Master's Shield]'s regeneration, flying towards his Vizier. "My hand!"

Demonling Victor used the last of his strength to jump into Vainqueur’s palm, allowing the dragon to seize him. Both flew out of the crater, as an earthquake caused half of it to collapse into the magma. "Sweet Chocolatine?" the dragon asked, having very little time before the final explosion.

"She’s fine!" Demonling Victor replied. "Your Majesty, fly us out of there fast!"

And Vainqueur did, navigating through clouds of smoke and beyond the island, just as the volcano exploded behind them.

The mountain collapsed on itself, as a titanic column of stone and ashes took to the skies, raining fiery rocks upon the burning island and the sea. Great waves battered its shores, drowning them below the water. The island had turned into a candle that could be seen for miles.

Vainqueur and Victor grimly watched the apocalyptic devastation from a safe distance, wounded, hurt, exhausted… and most importantly, victorious.

Congratulations! For prevailing over King Wotan in an epic battle and sealing him beneath the earth, you earned two levels in [Geomancer]! You earned the [Terraform: Landmass] class perk!

+30 HP, +40 SP, +2 SKI, +2 AGI, +2 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK.

[Terraform: Landmass]: 50 SP per fifty meters radius. You can permanently terraform a flat land into the following [Fields]: [Forest], [Marsh], [Desert], [Hill], [Snowland], or [Plains]. If you use this ability in a mountainous area, you can only apply the [Forest] or [Snowland] Field effect.

You earned a [Heroic Crest].

A gift from the heavens descended upon Vainqueur, a shiny, rainbowy crest floating before him.

He would have preferred a more pleasurable golden shower… but it would have to do.

Use [Heroic Crest] to break past the level 60 class ceiling?

"Yes!" He had lost his mantle and crown for this victory! He deserved a reward!

Congratulations! You broke past the sixty level class ceiling! Your [Crested] Perk has been upgraded to [Epic]!

[Epic]: Marks one as a mythical adventurer and demigod. Allows access to the most powerful of classes and entrance to [Valhalla] upon reaching level 99. This replaces [Crested].

"This isn’t over," Demonling Victor said, before shapeshifting back into his manling form, "There must still be Valkyrie survivors, and Wotan may not be dead. We have to expect more—"

"Minion," Vainqueur interrupted his friend. "Shut up, and appreciate the feeling of hard-won victory."

His Vizier fell silent, and enjoyed the moment.

18: Interlude: Jolie Dragon vs the World

●                       Defenders of the Niece, Volume III, chapter four, "The First Princess."

Disaster! The worshipers of Sablar, the worm god of destruction, have made their way to the New World! The vile Frank the Anark has captured Oriane, princess of the wood elves tribes! Everywhere, evil triumphs!

But a hero has come! The beautiful dragon Jolie, eager to rescue princesses everywhere (so she can keep them for safekeeping), tracked down the villain to his lair in the heart of the jungle. At her sides are the Shining Knight, Kia Bekele, and the fearsome Kobold Rangers, bane of rabbits and Defenders of the Niece. Together, they can overcome any princessnapper.

But the opposition is strong. As they approach the enemy’s stronghold, the air grows foul and thick with the stench of poverty…

Jolie, dragon [Paladin] adventurer, shivered in excitement. Today was the day.

The day when she would become an adult by capturing her first princess, all by herself! An elf princess!

True, her uncle had once given her one for her Bragging Day, but to be acknowledged as a true princess hunter, a dragon had to claim a maiden by themselves. Unwilling to abduct a manling, since they had feelings, the young dragon had crossed the ocean on a ship towards the New World. The one place where elves still had tribes large enough to produce princesses.

After a long search, they had finally located a fair maiden… only to discover that the evil cult of Sablar had abducted her first! Confronted with her duty to gather all princesses for safekeeping, Jolie had immediately given chase to the villains.

Maybe she would gain her thirtieth level while at it?

"Kia?" Jolie asked her best friend, as they moved through the dense jungle. The Kobold Rangers surrounded the young dragon from all sides as her true defenders, while her own armor’s noise made birds and insects fly away.

"Yes, Jolie?" Kia responded, cutting vines with her shiny blade.

"Are there Perks that can drop princesses?"

The knight paused and glanced at her dragon squire. "I’m sorry?"

"Uncle has a Perk that showers him with gold when he is awesome. If I become marvelous like him, will I be showered with princesses?"

"Jolie, that is not how the [Gladiator] class works, at all."

"But can it be done with another class?" Red asked, curious. "If Chief Victor can summon skulls, can a dragon summon princesses?"

"I… maybe?" The knight shrugged her shoulders. "I haven’t heard of any class like this, but you cannot rule out the possibility."

A [Princess Maker] class? Awesome! Jolie couldn’t wait to gain it!

The young dragon’s [Virgin Princess Radar] bleeped, causing her to raise her head in excitement. Her maiden sense wasn’t as powerful as her uncle’s, but she could sense her target nearby. "She’s near!" she said giddily. "Very near!"

"Looks like we found the cult," Kia said, pointing a sword through the foliage. Jolie and the rangers peaked above her shoulder, gazing at a large camp full of tents. While tall grass usually covered the ground, the entire area had been scourged of vegetation, leaving only dry dirt. As she focused on the source of the princess signal, Jolie noticed a huge, closed stone gate at the northern edge of the camp.

"Alright, if we are discreet, we can take them by surprise," Kia hushed to the group, before frowning as she caught a glimpse of flags in the middle of the camp. Each of them had the symbol of a badly drawn blue planet on their surface. "At my signal, one, two, three—"

"Oh, visitors!" Kia froze, as an orc came from the camp to welcome them, spoiling the infiltration. "Have you heard about Orknoob our Savior? He died on Earth for our sins!"

"What is an Orknoo—"

"Don’t ask!" Kia interrupted Blue before he could ask the question, sounding more annoyed than she had ever been. "Don’t encourage them!"

"Is this not the camp of Sablar?" Pink asked.

"Oh, the cult of Sablar has always supported the Esoteric Order of the New World," the orc said. "In their own words, ‘the sooner you all reincarnate on another planet and leave this one a lifeless husk, the better.’ Their priests are very kind and do their best to supply us with carts. You can find their leader Frank in the north of the camp if you’re here to meet him."

"Infiltration successful!" Jolie said gleefully, while Kia put her hand on her face for some reason.

"Milady is so cute!" Red flattered her.

"Anyway," the orc said. "If you want I would gladly tell you all about the teachings of Orknoob our Savi—"

"We’ll be on our way, thank you," Kia interrupted him.

"Oh, can I get spells from this guy?" Blue asked. "I am looking to convert away from Mithras, too restrictive."

"Oh, unfortunately, no, Orknoob doesn’t offer special classes. But, but, if you donate to the true church, they can show you the path to Japan, where everyone is a school—"

"Next," Jolie’s chief of staff interrupted the conversation yet again, raising her voice this time.

"Yes, no time to waste!" Jolie said, fired up by her dragon paladin instincts. "We will defeat all these villains and rescue Princess Oriane! For my hoard!"

"For the hoard!" the rangers shouted in response, uncaring about warning the puny orcs.

"Jolie, we cannot keep an elf hostage," Kia protested, unable to understand the tenets of Cattletarianism. The orc looked at them as if they were mad and then departed without a word. "They’re almost extinct!"

"But Kia, it is fine to keep elf princesses! Elves do not have souls!"

"Jolie, we already had this discussion. Elves may be vegetarian, that doesn’t make them cows."

"But that is what the Elder Wyrm said when it created the world!" Jolie protested. "It made grass to feed cows! Hence anyone who only eats grass is cattle!"

"And what about a human vegetarian? Are they cows too?"

"Silly Kia, if a manling abstains from eating meat, then it is no different from me abstaining from eating manlings!"

The shining knight surrendered in front of Jolie’s implacable dragon logic. "This discussion will wait until we actually rescue the princess."

Spurred on, Jolie ran through the orc camp with her minions in toes, the local orcs looking at her in amazement of her dragonliness. "Sorry, sorry!" Kia pleaded with the locals, as the dragon paladin crushed a few carts and card games on her way to the gate.

Soon, Jolie found herself right in front of the stone doors sticking out from the ground, and there she found the princess kept in a steel cage.

She was perfect in every way, a beautiful, dark-skinned elf with green hair and shiny jewels that radiated princessness. Even in the face of capture and surrounded by orc dung, she looked dignified.

Her jailers were a trio of orcs, two of them thugs armed to the teeth with axes and knives, and the third something else entirely. The leader overshadowed his minions by more than a head, pushing more than eight feet in size and examining symbols on the stone doors. Thick steel armor covered most of his body save the arms, with a planet-eating worm symbol painted on his chest. The monster breathed through a strange mask with a tube linking the mouth to his back, leaving only vicious eyes exposed.

All turned at Jolie’s group with frustration, as the dragon and her minions formed a line to face them.

"That thing is an orc?" Even Kia seemed perplexed in the face of such a fearsome princessnapper.

"He’s enormous!" Blue complained. "He’s as big as a troll!"

"I’m Frank the Anark!" the villain boasted, glancing at the heroes of justice with annoyance. "Who in the Happyland are you?"

"Jolie Dragon, greatest dragon paladin in the WOOOORLD!" Jolie howled to the sun, while her rangers clapped in response. "I have come to rescue the princess from your clutches, vile villain!"

"Another, other rescuer?" The orc let out a growl of rage. "Could you goody-two-shoes please mind your own business? I ain’t hurting your princess or anything!"

"We know you stole her from the Wood Elf Tribe!" Pink recounted the orc’s crimes. "That you intend to sacrifice her to the vile Sablar!"

"Sacrifice… oh, that’s what it’s all about, right?" The orc’s eyes turned disdainful. "Just because we are orcs worshiping the god of destruction and abduct an elf maiden, you think we will sacrifice her? Like savages?"

"... yes?" Kia answered the stupid question.

"Well, that’s racial stereotyping! All we will do is dump her on the other side of that planar gate, alongside these idiots," the orc pointed at the camp. "As soon as we figure out how to open the doorway."

"W-why?" Jolie couldn’t grasp her head around his ill-intent. "Why kick a princess through a door to nowhere?"

"Because princesses represent the aging establishment, and Sablar thrives on its destruction!" Frank the Evil ranted. "And destroy civilization we shall! We’ll create a world without rulers, without kings! Without queens!"

"Without princesses?" Jolie panicked.

"Without princesses!"

The words echoed through Jolie’s skull like a haunting echo, filling her mind with images of an apocalyptic future. A world of darkness, where dragons would roam the world without purpose, without princesses to shelter.

Charisma check successful! [Terror] negated!

She faced the greatest threat to the dragon way of life since Furibon the Goldslayer. Jolie had grown convinced of it. "You’re evil!" she declared. "You’re evil, and you have to be stopped!"

"What is wrong with you people?! When we massacre your villages to depopulate the world, you complain, and when we offer you a non-violent alternative, you still do it! Make up your damn mind!"

"Yeah, you make genocide look like the easy way out!" one of Frank’s henchmen accused them. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Hey, Frank!" the third orc pointed a finger at Kia, with terror in his eyes. "That girl… it’s Kia Bekele!"

"Kia Bekele?" Frank’s eyes widened in surprise, his anger replaced with apprehension. "The Shining Knight? The woman who killed Balaur?!"

"And I am her squire!" Jolie said proudly.

"... oh," the villain noted, intimidated in the face of true justice. "Well, ain’t that a big problem? I only see one solution to it."

"The secret technique?" one of the henchmen asked, dumbfounded. "But we never used it before! It’s unorcish!"

"There is a first time for everything!" Frank adopted a menacing stance. "Prepare yourself, men!"

"Minions, to me!" Jolie called the rangers and Kia. They brandished their weapons, ready to lay down their lives for the greater good.

And then, it happened.

Frank and his henchmen turned around, towards the jungle, and ran. They ran, perhaps having summoned a powerful beast right behind the heroes, or sprung a trap. Yet Jolie could not sense anything extraordinary. Perhaps they had called upon an invisible creature? Or...

Or…

"Not again!" Kia jumped after the fleeing orcs. "Come back! I’m not that strong! [Hasten]!"

"My exp!" Jolie panicked, running after the villains. "My exp is running away!"

"Catch them!" Red ordered, the Kobold Rangers chasing after the orcs before they could take cover in the jungle.

"[Chrono Summon]," Frank cast a spell while running, as Kia started catching up to him. "[Brachiosaurus]!"

Kia answered with a laugh. "It’s an herbivore, nothing to worry about!"

A huge shadow formed right above the group, and Jolie realized where the orc had summoned the creature.

[Heroism] activated! You get a stat bonus to rescue allies in distress!

"Minions, get down!" Reacting on impulse, Jolie grabbed her closest minions, Black and Blue, and pushed them away from the growing shadow; Kia, Pink, and Red were fast enough to dodge, while Yellow simply raised a shield and summoned a barrier of light around himself.

BAM!

An enormous, Vainqueur-sized scaled beast fell into the clearing, blowing dust and rocks in all directions. Tents went flying, orcs ran screaming, trees collapsed, and even the princess’ cage fell to the side. Only the stone gates remained intact.

"Kia! Pink!" Jolie blew away the dust with her wings, while the scaled beast let out a growl of pain, its bones broken by the fall. "Yellow!"

"We are fine, Milady!" Pink shouted. "We are alright!"

After checking Black and Blue, who were more surprised than hurt, the dragon rushed after the villains, only to find them long gone.

No! The evil orc had fled! The princess had been saved… but at what cost?

"Poor beast," Pink said as she examined the scaly beast howling in agony. "The fall broke its legs."

"To cowardly abuse one’s minion like that orc," Red shook his head. "Loathsome."

"Blue, help me cast healing spells on it," Yellow said, emerging from the dust unharmed. The Kobold Rangers gathered around the beast, to nurse it back to health.

"Why?" Kia complained, hitting the ground with one fist. "Why do they always flee? Why?"

"It is okay, Kia!" Jolie reassured her, as she approached the steel cage to check on the princess. "We have saved Oriane anyway!"

And indeed they had! The blast had weakened the cage, enough for Jolie to break it open with her bare claws! While covered in dust and bruised, the princess was unharmed. "Thank you, fair dragon," she said in elf with a delicious, honeyed voice. "You have saved me."

"And now I will bring you home with me!" Jolie nodded happily.

"To my tribe? You will bring me back to my tribe?"

"No, to my home!" Jolie gently caught the princess by her robes, lifting her like a kitten above the ground. She let out a squeal of surprise, which made her even cuter. "Yoush ash now my prinshesh!"

"Jolie!" her beloved chief of staff started nagging the dragon. "Release her! She’s scared!"

"Shia, elvesh mashe the besh prinsheshes!" Jolie continued, her mouth full from the princess’ dress. "Thasish the trush!"

"Can we at least return her to her tribe first?" the knight pleaded. "If not, they will assume that the cult killed her. Have you thought about her relatives, Jolie?"

The dragon froze, something in her friend’s tone somehow making her ashamed of herself. It was true that by stealing away the princess without her family’s permission, she would be no better than these orcs.

And dragons, as the supreme beings, had a duty to show themselves better than everyone else.

"I’m shorry," Jolie apologized, putting the princess back on the ground and releasing her. "I should make you happy to become part of my hoard, instead of abducting you as those orcs did. We will bring you to your family first, I promise!"

The princess was too shy to answer, and so simply nodded. Kia gave the maiden a pat on the shoulders, whispered a few words in elven to her ear, and calmed her. "I still wonder where that gate leads though," the knight said, glancing at the stone gates. "If Sablar worshipers wanted access to it… there can be nothing good on the other side."

"Oh, maybe it leads to fairyland!" Jolie replied, before examining runes on the door, "There lies the first gate to the Elemental Plane of Earth. Never heard of it."

"You know how to read this language?"

"Uncle Genialissime taught me the tongue of the fomors, so I could insult them in their own language!" Jolie boasted, "They made doors like this one everywhere since dragons created the world, you know?"

Her chief of staff looked at her with her big eyes, amazed by her friend’s knowledge. The dragon felt so proud! "Silly Kia, do you not know how dragons created the world?"

The knight’s lack of answer started to worry Jolie, while the Kobold Rangers tended to the scaled beast’s wounds out of the goodness of their heart. "You do not?"

"I heard conflicting stories," she admitted.

Conflicting stories? From the fairies? No wonder she had such confusing ideas about elves and cows! The dragon couldn’t let that stand, and so decided to open her friend’s mind to the truth, the dragon truth.

"Long ago, there was only void and earth," Jolie recounted her uncle Genialissime’s favorite tale, the one he told her all the time when she was a child. "The earth was without form, and the darkness was unshiny. Then came the Elder Wyrm, first of all dragons, who was just passing through. And it said, ‘let there be shinies!’ And it created the stars with its breath."

"That… sounds familiar."

It should! "And then the Elder Wyrm said, ‘let there be gold and gems for my hoard!’ And it shaped the earth, so it could produce riches for the great hoard! But the Elder Wyrm felt lonely because it had no one to brag to about its immense wealth! And so, it created the dragons in its image!"

"Oh, I know what happens next!" Pink interrupted the conversation, having climbed on the scaly long-necked beast’s back to pet it. The creature had responded by licking its rider. "The Elder Wyrm realized that its dragon children were too good to gather the gold and the gems for the great hoard themselves. And so, the first dragon created the minions, to harvest wealth from the earth."

"But then the dragons and minions became hungry, and so the Elder Wyrm invented cattle to feed them, and then fruits and vegetables so the cows would not starve," Jolie continued. "Because the Elder Wyrm is nice and considerate!"

"Is that the official dragon creation myth?" Kia asked, Jolie nodding furiously; then she added, with a very strange tone. "That explains a lot of things…"

"After having bragged to its children for seven days, the Elder Wyrm said, ‘This whole world is your hoard now, my sons and daughters! Be fruitful and multiply, and breed minions to make hoards of your own! For one day I will return, and you will all brag about your wealth to me!’ And then it departed to add new suns to its piggy bank."

"That’s an interesting tale Jolie," Kia smiled. "But what does it have to do with the gate?"

"I’m getting to it!" Jolie said, having grown engrossed by the sound of her own voice. "Dragons and minions lived in harmony… until the fomors attacked! They rose from below the earth, looked upon the land the Elder Wyrm made, and said, ‘this is our hoard now! We created it!’ Then they built doors, to capture manlings, elves, and dwarves minions through them."

"Wait, the fomors created planar doorways?" The plot twist had taken her chief of staff aback. "To where? The elemental planes?"

"From far, far away, but that’s not important," Jolie brushed her questions away. "The dragons said ‘this is not your hoard, we made the world first’! But the fairies kept lying, so Grandrake stole one of their princesses. And that is how fairies and dragons went to war."

Her chief of staff glanced at Jolie’s princess, then at the gate. "Could it be…" she trailed, a thought on her mind.

But Jolie finished it for her. "Oh, Kia, I understand! I understand what you are thinking!"

"You do?" The knight grinned at her best friend. "You think it is possible?"

"Yes! If the planet moon cannot sustain dragon life, we can go to other worlds instead! I am sure they are full of treasures and princesses!"

Kia’s smile stopped reaching her ears, the strain of the emotions too strong for her.

And so, Jolie Dragon, most beautiful and only niece of the good Emperor Vainqueur, captured her first princess; becoming an adult in the eyes of dragons and minions alike. Princess Oriane was brought back to her tribe, who kindly gifted her to the dragon of justice. For they knew the vile Frank remained afoot, and that Oriane would only be safe as part of a dragon’s hoard!

With the reveal of the gate, the promise of new worlds encouraged the Niece to reach for new heights in her quest for wealth! For her heart is pure, and her hoard golden!

Yet, sometimes, I, Pink Ranger, glimpse at Kia the Shining giving strange, morose looks at those doors. For she had glimpsed at the trials beyond.

But fear not, for in the end, dragons will always prevail!

19: Advanced Civilizations

Congratulations! For helping your master defeat King Wotan and trapping his right-hand woman’s soul in your scythe, you have earned a level in [Weathermaker] and a level in [Reaper]!

+30 HP, +10 SP, +2 VIT, +2 SKI, +2 AGI, +3 INT, +2 CHA, +2 LCK.

By reaching level thirty in [Reaper], you maxed out the class! You can no longer take levels in it, but you gained the capstone ability [Charon’s Grim Harvest]!

[Charon’s Grim Harvest]: Reaper Capstone, 5 SP per second. You summon phantasmal, flying sickles in a wide radius around yourself, which will instinctively seek out all non-undead creatures within your vicinity to harvest their souls. The sickles inflict medium [Spirit] damage on contact, and if one kills a target, their soul is transferred to your main scythe as if affected by the [Helheim] Perk. With each soul harvested, the Perk’s radius will increase exponentially.

By consuming many fresh souls and your capping of the [Reaper] class, your scythe evolved into a [Scythe of Charon]!

[Scythe of Charon]: +30 critical; inflicts a STR/VIT debuff on successful hits.

Well, it was bound to happen. Maxing out the [Reaper] class and Vainqueur breaking past the level 60 cap made Victor somewhat happy, but didn’t make up for the post-battle exhaustion.

"Are we there yet?" Vainqueur asked as they flew over the shores of the New World, leaving the Dagger Coast behind them.

"The pyramid is there," Victor pointed his scythe at a tipping point over the horizon. Although the sun had almost set, he could see dozens of winged, crimson ships flying over the area, the first sign of civilization since they sank Grandrake’s island. "This is the great pyramid of Kukulcan, capital of the Thaoten Empire."

It didn’t take them long to reach the city, built in the middle of a lake of blood.

Beyond that ominous bit, the place couldn’t look more awe-inspiring. Far larger than any city of the Mistral Continent, the Thaoten capital was an entire island linked the lake’s shores by four bridges, one for each cardinal point. Built almost entirely of orange bricks, the houses were aligned in a very organized fashion, a stark contrast with the chaotic Murmurin. Immense alleys all lead to the city’s center, a massive mesoamerican pyramid as tall as the Empire State Building.

"I smell undead everywhere," Vainqueur said, aiming for the pyramid. Unlike Port Damné, no ship attempted to stop them; in fact, they moved out of their way.

"This is a vampire theocracy, ruled by undead priests," Victor explained. "The vampiric Red Plague came from here, brought by explorers from the New World to the Old. Most of the citizens are reptilian lizardkin, and the worthiest citizens are rewarded with unlife."

He had also heard they sacrificed their enemies to feed their elites, but thought it wiser not to mention it.

"Batlings, hm?" Vainqueur grunted, gazing at a population of humanoid lizards watching at him with awe. "At least these ones have scales, which is a mark of utmost patrician refinement."

"It’s fine, Your Majesty, these ones are friendly," Victor said, noticing a crowd waiting for them at the main plaza, right at the pyramid’s base. Since night had now fallen, mists swirled around the pyramid, taking the shape of albino lizardkin.

As always, Vainqueur made his presence loud and clear by landing on the plaza, blowing bricks in all directions. Victor’s own landing was a lot more discreet.

The crowd that welcomed them was almost entirely reptilian, but the species making it up were surprisingly varied. While many were lizardkin, some of them obviously vampires, Victor noticed many winged kobolds, serpent-like creatures, and even wyverns among them.

The vampiric lizardkin obviously led them, each wearing elaborate, Aztec-like dresses of feathers. One of them stood out from the lot, an albino lizardkin with an elaborate winged hat and a staff resembling a mighty mosquito, the symbol of Camilla. Victor immediately used [Monster Insight] on him.

High Priest Xolotl

Lizardkin Vampire Progenitor (Undead/Reptile)

Strong against Holy, Unholy, Moon, Berserk, Darkness, Fire, Lightning, Blood, Frost, Necromancy, Drain, Insta-Death, Mind-Control, Disease, Poison, Fatigue, Sleep, and Beast.

Weak against Sunlight, Life, Manslayer, and Scaleslayer.

One of the first vampires of Outremonde, a follower of Camilla older than most countries. As personable as an undead, bloodsucking abomination against nature can be, he is currently on a ‘socially responsible’ vampire diet, feeding only on the blood of disgraced politicians.

"Welcome, great guests!" the priest said, his voice old but brimming with power. "I am one of the Thirty-One spiritual guides of the Thaoten Empire, Xolotl. Mother Camilla foretold your coming."

"Ah, a dragonian speaker," Vainqueur said. "Perfect. Minion, announce ourselves."

"I am Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of His Majesty Vainqueur Goldbeard Knightsbane, August Emperor of the V&V Empire, Ishfania, the Pirate Sea and the Albain Mountains. He is also known as the Defender of the Hoard, Minion Liberator, Greatest Gladiator, Billionaire Adventurer, and bringer of Dragon Civilization."

"A great evil lies close, priest," Vainqueur declared. "The vile Goldslayer Furibon will soon turn the golden El Dorado to lead! We must stop him!"

"That too."

"We Thaoten will help you on your holy quest," the priest replied. "You shall be guests of honor for the night, and the nights afterward. A great feast of cattle shall be ordered to celebrate your coming."

"I also demand a lava bath!" Vainqueur ordered. "I am weary, wealthy, and important."

"You will have it."

This made the dragon pause. "You… you have a lava bath?"

"Of course we have one," the priest replied, shocking Vainqueur. He clearly hadn’t expected them to deliver on his usual impractical demands. "Dragons are great and mighty beings, and we have honored the few who delivered their wisdom to us since the empire’s early nights."

"I also want minions to cater to my every whim," Vainqueur demanded, pushing his luck.

"Bring the dragon-kissers minions," the vampire priest ordered while raising his staff. Immediately, a group of a hundred, winged kobolds arrived to serve Vainqueur. Many of them wore strange fur mantles.

And then, before the Vizier knew it, the kobolds threw themselves at V&V’s feet, their backs exposed. On a closer look, Victor could finally see the mantles closer, and what they truly looked like.

Doormats.

"Our guests are too important to walk on the ground of common citizens," Xolotl continued. "Our minions will make sure you never have to go outside your private quarters. Go on, and try them."

Victor glanced at his master, who was completely speechless at this degree of servility, and hesitantly stepped on a kobold’s back. "Is it painful?" the Vizier asked, hoping he didn’t crush the poor creature’s back. "Am I too heavy?"

"It is perfect!" The kobold replied with an… aroused voice. "The feeling of being trampled by a higher being fills me with joy!"

"We are experimenting with minion chairs, who will allow guests to sit anwhere," the priest continued. "And fawners, who will fawn over you while you bathe. They will remind you of how good and wise you are for the entire duration of your stay."

Victor could almost see the gears turn in Vainqueur’s head, as he probably imagined new ways to order his minions around. "Manling Victor, this is the greatest archeological discovery since gold mining!" he declared. "We found a lost, advanced minion civilization! Far more advanced than yours!"

"I’ll do my best to reach that stage of development, Your Majesty," Victor deadpanned.

"It is fine, minion, I forgive you. You are only half a dragon."

Victor had to admit it, these vampires knew how to greet guests.

They had given Vainqueur and Victor each an entire wing of the pyramid as their own, each bigger than the Vizier’s manor. The Reaper’s own room included a king-sized golden bed, a magical mirror serving as some sort of interplanar tv, a jacuzzi, a sauna, a hammam, and, the pinnacle of luxury, a small, private, primitive soccer field.

How did the architects manage to fit all of that in a single place?

In any case, Victor traded his armor for a dressing gown, kindly offered by kobold servants eager to serve him. He jumped in the bed, whose feather-made mattress felt so soft, he could sink in it.

But unfortunately, he had a few things to check out before enjoying that warm place.

"Isabelle?" Victor closed his eyes and mentally focused on the demonic CEO, praying she was alright. He would have contacted Chocolatine first if her being overplane didn’t hinder his [Scarlet Study] Perk. "Isa?"

"Yes, darling?" the voice responded warmly through telepathy.

"Oh, thank the archfiends, you're alive!"

"Why would I be dead?" the governor responded, sounding irritated.

Because he thought a certain werewolf had killed her. "Oh, we, we almost died on our end, I had to check you out; especially since you’re starting out on your new job. Chocolatine said she exchanged a few words with you."

"That werewolf girl? We had a very pleasant conversation, I like her. She understands how Hell works so well she could have been a demon herself. We will definitely do business in the future."

Really?

"However, I came back home afterward to find my guards slaughtered, and a cow’s head in my bed," she admitted. "Why is that?"

"Because the only horse in Murmurin is mine," Victor replied, sighing. Clearly, while Chocolatine had agreed not to murder the competition, godfather-style intimidation remained a viable strategy.

"I see… any idea who the culprit might be?"

"No," the Vizier lied.

"I see," she replied with a tone that implied she believed in the opposite, before adding, sensually. "When are you coming back?"

"At least a month or two."

"I will have a surprise on your return, but I will not spoil it telepathically. Take care."

Victor ended the communication, puzzled, before mentally checking up on his allies in Murmurin and Port Vainqueur. Since they would open an embassy in the Thaoten Empire, probably with a permanent portal towards their own empire, he asked Allison, Malfy, Miel and Vainqueur’s major minions to be ready to cross over soon.

"We will take care of the princesses Vainqueur brought to us," Allison said. "Poor girls, isolation did terrible things to their sanity."

"Can you try to locate their still living relatives?" Victor asked. "We should try to return them to their loved ones if we can."

"Vainqueur won’t be happy."

"I will cook up some excuse, and dragons have a catch and release program. He will understand."

By now, Victor understood how dragons worked, their levers, and what arguments could convince them. While uncaring, Vainqueur was no longer inconsiderate of people’s feelings now either; he would probably be more open than ever to such suggestions.

"Also, I have come across disturbing news," Victor dropped the bomb, "We have come across a fomor with class levels."

Allison's answer took a while to arrive. "Are you sure?"

"Certain, and I doubt that he is an isolated case. Vainqueur buried that fairy lord under an erupting island, but I doubt he died." As a good Vizier, Victor refused to believe the enemy dead until he had disposed of the body personally. "I will share with you the coordinates of that place, and I want it watched at all times."

"It will be done. I will tell everyone to remain on high alert as well."

Victor nodded, stopping the communication after sharing the island's rough coordinates. His [Monster Insight] had mentioned a soul crest... could it be an unknown type of Crest capable of granting class levels, even to fairies?

"You will die," a new voice said.

The Vizier interrupted the communication, glancing at his scythe, and the new soul in it.

"My master still lives, below the earth, raging against his bindings," the Valkyrie, Sigrun, taunted him. "My sisters will find you! You may run, but you will never escape His Highness’ justic—"

Victor mentally muted the sound of the scythe, leaving the Valkyrie to fruitlessly try to scream at him. One of the tricks he had learned at Scholomance.

A sulfuric portal opened in the room, causing the Kobold servants to panic before Victor raised a hand to calm them. About time, he thought, as Chocolatine stepped through. He was starting to wonder if the fiends intended to keep her for ransom.

"Ta-da!" Chocolatine had traded her dress for an indecent black corset, with tiny wings and a demon tail attached. "How do I look? How do I look?"

"Amazing," Victor replied, before noticing the receipt in her hand. "What is this?"

"The expenses," she said, giving it to him. "The succubi said the overplane travels cost extra."

That was a way to put it! "Thank the gods I make as much as a third world dictator," Victor said out loud, upon reading the number on the check. "Before Vainqueur’s cut that is."

"What is this place?" Chocolatine asked as Victor hid the receipt under the mattress, the werewolf putting her arms around his neck. "A tomb?"

"The Thaoten Empire’s central pyramid."

"The Thaoten? Awesome! You should invite Jules too, he always wanted to visit this place. Is it true they built their capital in the middle of a blood lake?"

"Yes, and I still have no idea how they did it."

"Silly, obviously one demon at a time!"

Her childish excitement made all his worries and exhaustion melt away. "We can go sightseeing if you wish," Victor said, putting his arms around her waist and drawing her closer to him.

"Oh, can we try the local cuisine? I want to add new recipes, and I believe you can only understand another culture by tasting them."

Victor didn’t comment on the ambiguous wording, and he didn’t have the strength of heart to deny her. "Whatever you want," he said, briefly kissing her on the lips. After the very tense situation with Wotan, he felt relieved to be in her arms again. He couldn’t put a word on it, but the werewolf’s company made him feel somewhat at peace, in ways other women didn’t. And that was in spite of her general insanity.

"You’re so sweet, Vic," she said, after breaking the kiss. "I’m sure we will learn a lot! I mean, you cannot build a country as big as their own without making many species coexist together. I know they have a bad reputation because they brought vampires to us, but Charlene is one, and she’s super nice!"

As if to answer her thoughts, a cloud of mist intruded into the chamber, soon coalescing into the high priest Xolotl. If he was surprised by Chocolatine’s appearance, he didn’t show it, and simply greeted her. The spellcaster probably had them under tight surveillance. "Dear guest and chosen of the goddess, I hope that you found your accommodations appropriate for your rank."

"I’m thankful for your hospitality," Victor said, frankly impressed by it. "And I’m sure Vainqueur is too."

"You see me rejoiced," the priest said with an archaic manner of speech, before showcasing his own Claimed branding on his arm, below his priestly dress. Since he didn't speak like a reincarnated human, Victor guessed the goddess claimed the reptile as a personal favor. "I would delight in tasting your holy blood as you taste mine, so we may blood-bond as fellow chosen of the Goddess."

"That’s… intimate…"

"Vic, I bit you everywhere that counts, and I’m sure Charlene did too," Chocolatine said with a happy grin. "Shouldn’t you be used to it?"

"You’re not helping."

"If blood drinking is too close, we can perhaps each cut a lump of flesh and taste the other’s?" the priest suggested a middle ground.

"Oh, do you make cakes out of demons too?" Chocolatine interrupted, suddenly interested.

"We have many unique recipes," Xolotl replied, clearly proud to showcase his culture to a foreigner. "Fiendish Pathé, Chocolate-stuffed Phoenix Heart, Imp Filet… still, I insist on the exchange ritual. Among Thaoten, to share one’s blood is the supreme expression of trust and friendship."

In diplomacy as in the bedroom, sacrifices had to be made… "Sure," Victor said. "But please be gentle when we get to it, okay?"

Now he realized that wasn't the best way to describe it...

"Excellent. As expected of one worthy of the goddess, and the supreme servant of a dragon lord."

"About that, how did you achieve such a level of… cultural refinement?" It hurt just to say it.

"We Thaoten are a highly advanced society," the priest said like he was repeating a script. "Yes, a very advanced society."

"You can drop the mask," Victor said. "I recognize a kindred spirit."

"Oh, thank the goddess, you understand the pain," the priest said, the word resonating with the Vizier. "One dragon at a time, scaled brother. Our empire is old, and while we have only met a few of them, dragons embody chaos. We found these guest rituals easier to placate them with, than having the fiery ones scour our countryside of its cattle."

"Oh, can you give us a tour of your city?" Chocolatine asked. "I want to visit every corner!"

"With pleasure. Truth to be told, we Thaoten would enjoy fostering good relationships with an oversea nation. Our attempts to establish contact with countries beyond the ocean ended in disaster, when they rejected Mother Camilla’s gift and slaughtered our envoys."

Vampirism. A plague for some, a gift for others. "We’re preparing for war though," Victor warned. "Against the fomors."

"Good. To fight in the goddess' name against the soulless heathens is a Thaoten’s duty, and we need more sacrifices. The lake of life needs fresh new blood."

"Do you know of Isengrim, the best god ever?" Chocolatine preached for her deity. "He is kind and amazing!"

"We know of the Great Hunter, and he is granted a temple in our Holy City, but we exalt Mother Camilla above all others," Xolotl replied, before focusing back on Victor. "While I will answer the call of the goddess, we Thaoten are an equal necrocracy. My Thirty fellow rulers will ask for gifts and tribute in exchange for help. Especially to access El Dorado."

"Oh?" Victor frowned, "They would be more open to a war than going there?"

"The Golden City is a cursed place. I told the dragon that he was not the first of his kind to seek it, but he still wishes to go there."

"Cursed how?" Victor asked.

"It has drawn many foreigners, thieves, and would-be conquerors, and let few of them leave," the priest said. "There is a great calamity trapped there, a ‘superbeast,’ or so it is called. It cannot escape the city’s vault, but it can still call the greedy to him. The lich you hunt must have answered its lure. In any case, my fellows will not risk bringing the curse on their own pyramids without proper compensation."

"Would this be appropriate?" Victor asked, showcasing his [Black Grail] on a bedside table. "It is an artifact of great potency, which Camilla asked me to deliver to you; it can raise the dead under specific circumstances, providing the illusion of life."

"Interesting," the priest nodded, casting a few spells to identify the object. "This is a holy artifact."

"I can let you borrow it for studies, in exchange for a passage to El Dorado, and the opening of negotiations for military help."

"That should do," the priest declared, happy with the proposal. "We priests of Camilla always study the undead condition, so that we may share the gift of immortality to all. Once we have perfected vampirism, we shall embrace as brothers while the sun rises. One night, we shall cure death for all beings of Outremonde!"

"Also, if you are part of a cult, could you provide me with equipment?" Chocolatine smirked. "I really need ropes, a sacrificial knife, and a pig for later."

"We do not have any ‘pig,’ but we do have llamas," the priest replied. "Do you wish to sacrifice it? Does your god demand blood?"

"It’s just for, uh…" Victor shivered, struggling to find the right way to say it in polite society, before abandoning. "Breeding."

"Breeding? With a beast?" The priest suddenly understood. "Oh, I understand. You make a sacrifice to improve virility before the bedding of the bride."

That was a way to put it… "Can you help, then?" Chocolatine asked, clearly eager to do the deed after visiting the city.

"I will see that the temple’s acolytes bring you what you need, and more. [Summon Item]." The priest raised his staff, and a crimson potion materialized in his hand. "This sacred elixir brings great health to the living. Yes, great health!"

"But you priests are undead," Victor frowned.

"On the undead, it offers spiritual health," the priest replied. "I would not advise partaking it with a mortally blessed person unless you can keep them in a safe, secluded environment. The effects are very strong for the uninitiated. Take it now, and it will cleanse your body of its impurities before the event."

Xolotl then graciously excused himself to ‘see to the cattle feast,’ leaving Victor and his favorite werewolf with the bottle. The Vizier took the first sip, and while it tasted nothing like blood, he couldn’t put a word on the mixture.

It didn’t feel effective either.

[Darwinist] activated. You will count as [Undead] for the purpose of the [Mushroom Wine of Power].

The cosmic trip will begin shortly. Prepare yourself.

The cosmic trip? Like what, teleportation?

…

Why were his fingers starting to look like snakes?

20: The Trip

Victor’s hands had transformed into snakes, and his legs into tentacles, but otherwise, everything was fine.

The world had turned orange, and the stars into red eyes looking down on him. The pyramid now looked like a Freudian representation of pent-up sexual energies, and the spirit of slaughtered cows danced around it.

"Viiiiiiiiiccccc!" Chocolatine said, walking and talking in slow motion. "Aaaaarrrrrrrrreeee yyyooooouuuu aaaaalllllrrrrrriiiiiggggghhhhhttttt?"

"Yes," Victor said. "I feel amazing." He felt warm inside, as if the energies of the cosmos heated him up.

"Yyoooouuu doonnnottt loookkk aallrrrrigggghtttt!"

"MEEENYYYYEEEOOONNNSSS!"

Victor looked up to see Vainqueur flying under the crimson eyed sky. The dragon had gained a pony-shaped crown and the look of a drunk psychopath in his eyes.

"LLLUUUUVVV MEEE!"

And the dragon ripped the skies in two and showered the Thaoten city with gold and minions. He could see them fall, all of them. Allison, Charlene, Miel, Malfy, Jules, Rolo, all of them falling like a rain of bodies with bright baby smiles on their faces.

Okay, maybe there was something wrong with the universe.

That was what the intellectual, rational part of Victor thought. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt happy, like never before.

So the Vizier hopped happily in the street with Chocolatine, as the other minions landed on their feet among the cow ghosts and the giant lizards eating them. Allison transformed into a tree upon landing, Charlene into a swarm of bats, Malfy into a giant centipede with a thousand contracts in each pincer, showing them to the lizards. Houses turned into candy and sweet cakes; everything smelled like orange.

And Vainqueur vomited honey on everyone.

"This world is amazing!" Victor declared, climbing up a tree so he could see the beautiful landscape better. He found it strangely difficult.

"VVIIIICCC!" Chocolatine called him from below, as he continued his ascension upward. "Stttttttoooopppp! Peeeeeeeopppplleee aaaarrreee waaatttchhhiiiinnnggg!"

The great cosmic eyes looked down on him with curious interest, for a reason Victor couldn’t explain. The tree of life put a branch in his face, but as he kept climbing, it started helping him get up. From below, Chocolatine howled and transformed into a wolf, before chewing the roots.

The Vizier finally reached the top of the tree and looked at this amazing world with fresh new eyes. A message boiled within him; a message of peace and harmony, that he couldn’t wait to share.

"MRRR. Viiiicctoooor!" Miel called him, flying above the tree where he had taken refuge. "Yooouuurr kkaaaaarrmmaaa! Thiiinnnkk aaabooouttt ttthhee kaaarmmaaa!"

With the beautiful energies bursting within him, Victor couldn’t lie any longer. "I lied! I lied about everything!" he said, flying toward her and dancing with her above the ground, far away from the tree below and everyone else. "I have a Perk!"

And he blessed her with the light of truth, unloading every lie he had ever said. They all transformed into flies, making him lighter and warmer.

Miel then transformed. She transformed before Victor’s very eyes, her eyes turning red, her two hands multiplying into four, eight, twenty, thousands! They slapped, and punched, and clawed him everywhere that counted.

He should have felt pain, but instead, he could sense himself approaching enlightenment.

A hand sent him flying back, and he bounced back a building, then on a bat, then on a soft marshmallow thing that propelled him back on his two feet.

Congratulations! For daring to venture through the street of a metropolis completely naked, you earned the [Exhibitionist] personal Perk!

[Exhibitionist]: You gain a bonus to Evasion when fighting naked.

What?

He looked at himself and realized he had no armor anymore. But he couldn’t see his fleshy bits, for his skin now shone with the power of love. He had become a walking neon star, illuminating the universe with love radiation.

Warning: for publicly confessing your insurance fraud, you have lost all the benefits of your Karma Insurance plan!

Just in time for a horde of winged monsters to charge at him from all sides, waving underwear and pants at him.

"STTTTOOOPPP HIIMMM!" a thunderous voice shouted hysterically. "UUSSEEE TTHEEE PAAANTTS! FRRRAAAUUUDDDDSSSSTTTTEEERRR!"

"MIIINNIIIOONNN!" Vainqueur shouted from above, vomiting honey. "KIIIICCCKKK TTTHEEIRRR ASSS! YOOUU CAAANNN DOOO ITTT!"

Victor could, for he now wielded the one true power of love. He raised his hands, and fired a rainbow at the hateful masses from his snake-fingers. He kept showering everyone with his light, defeating all those who dared approach.

God.

This was what being a god felt like!

"Do you see, Vic?" Chocolatine’s voice echoed in his head, except no longer in slow motion. "It always looks like this to me!"

"It’s wonderful!" Victor shouted back, blasting everyone with rainbows.

At long last, once he had overcome all the hate, he summoned a cup of chocolate to his hand and showered the winged creatures with the substance. They quickly rose from the dead as chocolate statues, delicious and sugar-full.

Bats and loving people surrounded him, to partake in his love radiation. They took his chocolate cup and he shared his warmth like a lamb, letting them bite him everywhere. They absorbed his energies, and while he felt weaker, he had to share it with everyone.

Congratulations! For being bitten by dozens of vampires eager to drink your holy blood—and Charlene—as part of a feast gone awry, you have earned the [Vampire Kiss] monster Perk!

[Vampire Kiss]: You can drink the blood of the living to replenish yourself by biting them, consuming a liter of blood every minute of sustained effort. You recover half the HP damage you inflicted, and the victim contracts the [Vampiric Red Plague] unless they possess resistance or immunity to [Disease]. Creatures without blood are immune to this Perk.

Warning: critical health!

"Uussee ooouuurrr poooweer!" Xolotl’s voice echoed, as the bats all offered their own holy energies in return. "Uussee ooouurr poooweeer!

Victor raised his hands and collected all the radiation offered to him, the rainbows flowing into his heart and refreshing him."Come to me!"

A voice called from above. From the Mooooon!

"Come to me!"

And Victor answered, riding a rainbow toward the shining celestial object. The city became a speck, as he flew out of the atmosphere and through the dark cosmic void.

"Minion!"

Victor turned his head behind him, for the voice did not belong to Vainqueur.

It was that cursed cat he inherited from Lavere, Felix von Meow! Chasing him on his own rainbow! "Your lap is mine, manling!" The feline extended his claws with fiery determination. "Come back to me!"

"How can you fly?!" Victor asked.

"I am a cat! I can do anything!"

Victor accelerated, trying to outrun his furry pursuer. Thankfully, powered by envy instead of cosmic love, Felix couldn’t catch up to the Vizier, who entered the Moooooon’s orbit.

He watched Croissant, dressed like a barbarian, fending off spiders and looking up at him. "Croissant!" Victor waved a hand at him, "I love you!’

"BLEEP you!" the werewolf flipped him off in response.

Victor continued his flight around the Moooon, past the dark tentacles on its back, until he reached a light behind it. A floating orb of green goo, radiating love and warmth.

"Welcome, Victor!" the wise creature spoke to his mind, bringing him clarity. "I am your spirit animal, your totem! The green slime!"

The slime? Awesome! And here he thought he would have a rabbit for a totem!

"The signs were there since the beginning, slimy one! You have finally embraced your inner stickiness!"

Congratulations! For meeting your spirit animal, the mighty green slime, you earned the [Slime Totem] personal perk!

[Slime Totem]: Mindless [Slime] type see you as one of their own and do not attack you unless provoked first; otherwise, +5 to charisma when interacting with sentient [Slimes].

"The sliminess is the key, Victor!" his spirit animal told him. "To glue all species together is the key to peace! Your soft stickiness must conquer all! But you cannot glue the hateful one, no, for she is unjellifiable!"

"What must I do?" Victor asked as both flew beyond the Mooooon, towards a strange black wall beyond the edge of reality.

"You must stick to your dragon! Be the slime armor that coats his scales, the shield that will protect his life! For if he dies, the hateful one’s arrows of light will burn everything! Only Vainqueur can defeat the hateful one! Only him! But only you can end the war! Stickiness, slimy one! Only stickiness can end the cycle of destruction!"

"I will jelly them all!" Victor promised his totem, as he kept flying forward and left the slime behind. "I swear!"

"May the glue be with you!"

And then Victor’s flight ended when he crashed against the black wall like a window, landing on soft paper.

"... Vic? Vic is that you?"

Victor recognized Camilla’s voice, rising back to his feet to find himself in the middle of a giant map. Five colossal deities, the Dread Three, the Moon Man, and Shesha, looked at him with surprise. From their point of view, he must have looked no taller than a mouse.

"How did he get in?" Deathjester asked. "No, seriously, how? How did he get in?"

"Victor, I am sorry, but this is a private, god-only gathering," Camilla said with an embarrassed smile. "I will have to kindly ask you to leave..."

The goddess paused, as she examined his fleshy bits and the bite marks all over his skin. "Oh, my..."

"Why is he naked?" Shesha asked, more confused than anything. "Did Cybele send him?"

"Hey, friends, what are you doing in my hallucination?" Victor asked, still high.

"Gamete prophet, what are you doing in my hallucination?" the Moon Man answered, just as high as his chosen.

"I knew it was your fault!" Veran complained. "I told you all we shouldn’t have let him gamemaster this session! It never ends well!"

Deathjester sighed. "Moon Man, please send him back home."

"Yes, Gamete Prophet, come back after defeating the Final Boss, if you can," the Moon Man asked kindly. "And congratulations for your thirty-two new eyes."

"What eyes?" Victor asked, having only two.

"Oh, sorry, I am looking a bit too forward."

"Roll me!" Dice, the only god with Victor’s size, jumped on the map next to the Vizier, crushing Atlantis while at it. "Roll me for my turn!"

Pushed by insanity, and the drug, Victor lifted the dice above his head and stood in front of the gods, menacingly.

"No, no, no, human, don’t!" Veran panicked, trying to throw him off the board.

And Victor rolled Dice.

"Twenty!" the luck god shouted like a child. "Natural twenty! New stuff!"

A surge of world-shattering magic swallowed Victor whole, and all went dark.

Victor woke up with the worst headache of his entire life.

Oh, gods… oh gods, the pain… he could barely feel his body, and the sun on his eyes didn’t improve his mood.

For undergoing a harrowing spiritual journey, you have gained a natural Resistance to all forms of recreational drugs. You may or may not come to regret it.

His eyes acclimated to the sunlight, his ears to the sound of the jungle, and his skin to the sensation of grass on his back.

"Minion, you are awake!" Vainqueur looked down on him with a joyful look. "Finally."

"My… my armor…" Victor panicked, for he was cold, and covered with bite marks. "Where did my armor go?"

"You desecrated it," Vainqueur replied absentmindedly. "Thankfully, Sweet Chocolatine recovered your scythe and underwear."

Desecrate? Uh…

"Friend Victor, I am so proud of you," Vainqueur said with fondness. "You tried, and that is the important thing. I admit that I was very worried when you flew towards that cursed lead hellhole in the skies after you destroyed these puritanical birds... but you tried to fulfill your minion duty."

"Did what? I don’t remember… uh, my head, it hurts so much…"

"It is my fault, minion," the dragon reassured him. "I should have told you we red dragons have a serious dwarf intolerance, and you inherited it. I do not know how many you ate to get that drunk, but one was too much already."

"I… I don’t understand…"

"I know. We are superior beings. We think we can control our dwarf addiction, that you can contain your thirst with one or two. But we cannot. You cannot dwarf responsibly, minion. No dragon can. To dwarf, or not to dwarf, that is the only choice. So, when you are confronted by dwarves, do the courageous thing. Say no. Say no to dwarves."

What kind of nonsense...

"In any case, we are almost to El Dorado, so get back up. Furibon will not commit suicide alone."

And there was something sitting on his lap. Something warm. Victor managed to raise his head, to peek at it.

It was that damn cat.

Looking up at him with smug, triumphant eyes.

21: El Dorado

The sun was high in the sky, yet darkness had taken over the earth.

Vainqueur could sense it all. The grim nightmares that awaited them behind the trees. The malevolence lurking at the heart of the jungle, the disgusting stench of paupers grasping for the gold of the well-to-do. The same, wordless evil that he had faced on the planet Moon, had returned to lay waste to Outremonde.

The curse of lead poisoning, and the evil lich that spread it.

"FURIBON!"

Vainqueur’s roar echoed through the dense jungle, chasing birds away. "Was that… necessary?" his chief of staff complained, wincing from the noise. "My ears…"

"I want him to know!" Vainqueur declared. "To know that justice is coming and that he will have to answer for his baby coin genocide."

The mere thought of the wicked Furibon corrupting the golden perfection of El Dorado, as he did with the moon, filled the dragon with fury.

To rest until his chief of staff returned from his hangover-induced flight, Vainqueur and a minion expedition had set camp in the heart of the forest, near the golden city. Xolotl the priest had guided them through, protected from the sun by parasol-wielding minions of his own. Other kobolds fawned over Vainqueur, constantly reminding the dragon of his greatness, wealth, and genius in whispers. The dragon made a note to recruit an elite fawner force to serve him in Murmurin.

Otherwise, only three minions of Vainqueur had dared to follow him in the war against Furibon’s cruelty: Sweet Chocolatine; Untasty Allison; and Tasty Malfy.

Manling Victor hadn’t recovered from last night's overdwarfing and struggled to stay standing even when using his scythe. He had needed Sweet Chocolatine’s help to put his boxers on, and couldn’t use a Perk to save his life. The adorable werewolf had cast every healing spell she knew on him, to no avail.

For dwarf intolerance had no cure. Vainqueur knew that well.

Manling Victor’s return to the camp was met with a variety of reactions. Allison reddened like a tomato and moved her hands on her mouth to suppress her laughter. Malfy looked at the Vizier with near-religious admiration. And Xolotl...

"Brother, you are back." The lizard priest moved to give the greatest of all minions a passionate hug. "I pray to the goddess that you achieved illumination on your spiritual journey."

"I… I don’t remember much…" the half-dragon admitted. "I think… I’ve been bitten…"

"Brother Victor, you have bloodbonded with the entire city’s priesthood. You are more than a guest. You are part of us, and we are part of you."

"They said… that I was easy…" Victor muttered as the priest broke off the embrace, before noticing Allison. "Hey, it’s… it’s Al…"

With her hands still on her mouth, the dryad turned away from Victor, doing her best not to look at him. Such shyness. "Did I do… something wrong?" the Vizier blurted, before putting a hand on his mouth too.

"Yeah, I mean, you started dancing while throwing off your clothes in public," Chocolatine said. "She even tried to slap some sense into you. Don’t you remember?"

"No… Oh, gods, I want to puke..."

"But then you removed your underwear and you started ranting about ‘universal cosmic love,’ and she couldn’t stop laughing, and I did too... and we would have gotten to the really funny part if it wasn’t for that meddling angel!"

"What… what is that?" Friend Victor asked upon noticing a pile of items in the middle of the camp.

Vainqueur had been meaning to ask as well. Since Manling Victor’s dwarf-fueled rampage, imp messengers had kept piling up stuff for the dragon and his minion. Cakes, gems, letters, golden watches, refined pens, demon-leather notebooks… by now it had reached the size of a small hill, and more imps added stuff to the pile.

"These are all the gifts from the Corporate Overlords, the letters of congratulation, the alliance proposals, the invitation to private orgies, the codified offers of bootlicking, and… and…" Thick black liquid poured from Malfy’s insectoid eyes. "Mr. Victor, I… you..."

"You’re… crying…" Manling Victor frowned. "Malfy, are you crying?"

"I am moved to tears," the fiend cried. "I never thought this day would happen… but you did it. You did it. You and Your Majesty, you are more than business partners. You are heroes."

"I know," Vainqueur said, always proud of himself. "I know, minion. But thank you for reminding me."

"Did what…" Manling Victor would have been happy for his master too if he wasn’t suffering from his dwarf hangover. "Can’t remember..."

"I want to be your trainee!" an imp immediately asked Manling Victor. "Take me!"

"See this, imp?" Malfy said, managing to wipe away his tears of joy. "This is not the face of a mortal. This is the face of a hero. Not the one Happyland expected... but the one it needed!"

"All minions of my minions are my minions," Vainqueur declared. "I will gladly accept your fealty, imp."

As the critter rejoiced, Manling Victor frowned. "I have the feeling I have done… something terrible…"

"You have done your duty, minion, and this is what matters," Vainqueur said. "I am also pleased to learn you did not cheat on me with this cat, however refined a master he may be."

"Cheat…" Manling Victor glared at Felix the cat, who had followed them back to the camp. "Why is he here? How is he here?"

"I am a cat, I can do anything," the feline spoke in his native tongue, which was a close enough variant of dragonian for Vainqueur to understand him. Indeed, he had never known ‘meow’ was a variant of ‘minion’ until today.

"Because he is cute!" Chocolatine said. "Look at him. Look at his tiny eyes!"

"Felix claimed you as his Doer of the Thing, and I very carefully reminded him of your minion vows," the dragon replied in his native tongue. "We talked about it over a cup of milk, and I found him to be an extraordinarily refined and intellectual creature."

"Your dragon master is the most exquisite being I have met who is not a cat," Felix flattered Vainqueur. "He is such a paragon of kingship, with such novel ideas about minion management… what enlightening discussions we had."

"Truly, I am marvelous, and I wish more creatures shared my understanding of true nobility and quality breeding."

"These are the hallmarks of true superiority over the common rabble," the cat agreed. "The splendor of nobility."

"If only the plebeians could reach our level of culture, we would have worldwide peace," Vainqueur said. "Alas, we can only take solace in ourselves, our native species, and our well-trained chiefs of staff. Such is the burden of a superior intelligence."

"I dream about the day when minions will finally understand how to fulfill my every need," Felix nodded in complete agreement. "And when I find a lap as comfortable as your chief of staff’s."

"Remember my words," Vainqueur told the feline. "Only once, I allowed you to experience this rapturous contact with my most prized possession. To give you a taste of the essence of ultimate minionship."

"What about my lap?" Sweet Chocolatine proposed. "I will cuddle you on the belly and scratch your ears!"

"No," Manling Victor said, jealous. "No…"

"Yes!" Felix jumped at the werewolf. "Mine, mine, mine!"

"Oh, I will give you milk, and food, until you are so full of fat around the bones, you can no longer walk!" Sweet Chocolatine rejoiced, taking the cat in her arms and the feline purring in response. Malfy eagerly took her place in helping Manling Victor stand up, barely repressing a joyful sob.

"But enough self-congratulations." Vainqueur cleared his throat, using his [Golden Road] to teleport the pile of gifts to his hoard. "We must reach the golden city before Furibon turns it all to lead."

"Maybe he isn’t… isn’t there to turn the city to lead…" Manling Victor blurted out

"Why else would he be there, minion?" Vainqueur asked a simple question. "After what he did to the Moon, how can you doubt?"

"This is… a conspiracy theory…"

"Yes, exactly, a worldwide conspiracy against gold itself, and we have to stop it. For the baby coins." The dragon turned to priest Xolotl. "Lead the way, foreign minion."

And so, after a two hours trip through trees and foliage, Vainqueur and his minions finally came into view of El Dorado.

Never before Vainqueur had witnessed such a beautiful spectacle.

Great walls protected a magnificent city the size of Murmurin, one created in the same style as the Thaoten's; the ramparts themselves surrounded by a river of molten gold. Tall pyramids stood side by side with house-covered hills and ancient temples, while four colossal, armored statues of ancient lizard warriors stood watch over all cardinal points of the city.

Everything, everywhere, from the tree to the ramparts to the pyramids, was made of solid gold. A shade so pure, it reflected sunlight in all directions, turning the city into a shining jewel whose sight would burn the eyes of the unworthy.

Dragon heaven existed, and Vainqueur had found it!

"Amazing," Allison gasped, all minions present speechless at the sight.

"This is as far as I can lead you," Xolotl said. "I must return to Kukulcan and offer gifts to the goddess. You must fulfill your holy mission on your own, oh great scaled one."

"You have done well, small minion of the gods," Vainqueur said graciously, amazed by his level of lackey technology development. On his return to Murmurin, he would have his own servants import that doormat mantle in bulk.

"I will return and discuss with your dwarven emissaries on how to keep a portal between our lands open, so our civilizations may bathe in one another’s blood," the priest declared, before bowing politely before Manling Victor. "I will await your return, so that we may partake in the potion of power together—"

"No…" the Vizier weakly panicked. "No more mushrooms!"

"As you wish," the reptile said with obvious regret, before excusing himself and returning to his jungle alongside his own minions. Vainqueur instantly regretted the loss of the fawners, but now was not the time for fawning.

Now was the time for action.

For as he smelled the lich’s terrible presence in these walls, Vainqueur looked for any sign of his wicked nemesis’ presence. And he didn’t have to look for long.

In this perfect picture of heaven, the dragon noticed an anomaly. The pyramid farthest from their own position. The metal that coated it differed from the others, an alloy dark and foreboding.

A pyramid of lead.

"No!" Vainqueur panicked. "We are too late! Furibon is already at his vile work!"

"Can’t be…" Manling Victor’s eyes widened, upon realizing that his master was indeed right all along. "He is… he is really transforming the city into lead?"

"I was right! I was right about everything!" Vainqueur immediately extended his wings. "Minions, with me! We must stop Furibon! Form the battle line!"

With Malfy carrying Manling Victor in his arms, the dragon opened the charge, crushing any tree or foliage between him and the golden city’s gates. His minions followed, but Vainqueur paid them no mind.

For in that moment, only the thought of saving heaven from lead poisoning ruled the dragon’s mind.

You have fallen under the [Curse of Greed]’s influence.

Curse of greed? Pfft, as if greed was a curse, instead of the universal truth to which all bowed to.

…

And soon, all this gold would be his.

22: The Life we Lead

Beautiful.

Simply beautiful.

Vainqueur had never seen such an exquisite city. Everything, from the pavement to the walls, was made of gold. The builders had even painstakingly recreated an entire park, replacing the flowers, trees, and grass with superior golden duplicates.

"Look at these," Allison said, pointing at gold statues standing all over the streets. While most represented lizardkin and other reptiles, they also included a great variety of species, such as manlings, elves, beastkin, and orcs; each statue having a wildly different clothing style, although all shared a look of unbridled desire on their faces. Truly the ancient civilization that built this place was a model of minion inclusiveness.

They even had a gold statue of the great wyrm Grandrake, greedily rubbing his belly with a maddened look on his face, in the central plaza. What a refined, dragon-friendly city! Vainqueur could spend an eternity there.

He would. "Minion!"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" His Doer of the Thing answered.

"After the goldslayer is vanquished, we will move the capital of my great empire, and my hoard, to El Dorado," Vainqueur decided. "I finally found a place worthy of me."

"There is something wrong here," Untasty Allison said, growing more and more agitated. The lich’s nearby presence must have put her on edge. "I do not sense any plants inside the city’s walls."

"When everything is made of gold, there is no need for green," Vainqueur replied with pride, but it didn’t improve the dryad’s mood. But not even her whining nor Malfy crying out of joy every time he looked at Manling Victor could spoil the dragon’s mood.

"It is so clean," Felix the cat commented. "But where are the minions cleaning it up?"

Indeed, El Dorado was incredibly silent. Vainqueur couldn’t hear any bird or local minion for the life of him, and he had excellent ears.

Not that he cared. Indeed, the more time the dragon spent walking on these roads of golden bricks, sensing the metal’s warmth on his scales, the more he felt at home. Vainqueur was not entirely fond of the Thaoten-like architectural style of the buildings, but he would get used to it.

With this city added to his hoard, he would win his bet with Icefang easily!

A look at a lead pyramid returned him to reality, and reminded him of the threat the city faced. "Sweet Chocolatine," Vainqueur said. "Do the thing."

"Do the thing? With whom?"

"The smelling thing."

"Oh, right." The werewolf sniffed the air, her excellent sense of smell put to the dragon’s use. She quickly caught a scent and guided them through a wide street, eventually leading the group towards a plaza, right at the steps of a flat-top pyramid.

And there…

They found him.

That fleshless, floating incarnation of pure evil. A monstrous abomination of golden bones and jeweled teeth, whose very appearance mocked a hoard's beauty. Silver-stained robes covered most of its unnatural body, which flew through the sacrifice of orphaned baby gems. Like a serial killer, he had poisoned five gold statues of manling warriors with the curse of lead, and prepared to murder a sixth with his bare hands.

"Furibon!" Vainqueur shouted.

"Vainqueur?" The lich recoiled in fear of dragon justice, cowardly using the surviving statue as a hoard shield. "VAINQUEUR!"

"FURIBON!" Vainqueur shouted louder. "I have crossed the ocean, conquered countries, defeated giants, so I could finally track you down!"

"... and you had nothing better to do?" the lich asked with contempt.

"What could be more important than destroying you, despoiler of the gold?! After you turned the moon to lead?!"

The lich remained silent for a long moment, as he absorbed the words. "That may be the stupidest thing I have ever heard you wyvern say," Furibon rasped.

And like that, the lich added reptilian racism to his long list of negative qualities. "So you deny transforming the planet moon into a lead hellhole?"

"Happyhole, Your Majesty," Malfy corrected. "The politically correct term is happyhole."

"Oh, I see where this is going," the lich let out a sound sounding like sarcasm, which made sense when faced with suicide by wyrm. "I turn a dragon’s hoard to lead once, once, and it is all people remember me for. Wonderful."

"You turned a dragon’s hoard to lead?" Felix asked, hanging from Sweet Chocolatine’s arms. "That was stupid, even for a pile of dog food."

"... it seemed like a good idea at the time," Furibon said, reveling in his odious historical negationism. "Why am I defending my choices to a cat? Truly I have hit rock bottom today. I feel my intelligence score decreasing just by talking to you."

"Hey, Furi!" Having partly recovered from his dwarf addiction, Manling Victor waved a free hand at the enemy. Vainqueur wanted to scold him, but instead focused entirely on the lich; he needed to save the gold statue hostage, no matter what.

The lich pointedly ignored the chief of staff, before noticing something out of the ordinary. "Dalton, why are you only wearing boxers and a scythe? No, on second thought, I do not want to know."

"Get away from the gold statue, you monster!" Vainqueur ordered. "She is innocent!"

The lich let out a deep bellowing sound, which Vainqueur took for a sigh. "I was genuine when I said I never wanted to see you lizard again, and every word you say only reminds me of why. Can we not coexist by ignoring one another?"

"So long as you threaten all that is golden in the world, I shall never rest!" the dragon emperor roared, the ground shaking from the strength of his belief. "I saw the lead pyramid, Furibon! Once your [Transmute Gold to Lead] was a weapon against dragonkind, but now it has become a twisted, perverse addiction!"

"This is different! I am trying to save everyone from this self-replicating gold! If I do not transform El Dorado to lead, the New World is doomed!"

All of Vainqueur’s fears came to the forefront of his mind, as he realized just how deep the lich was willing to sink into depravity. Worse, his minion seemed corrupted by his foul, twisted words. "What do you mean?" Manling Victor asked, his mind overtaken by the villain’s insanity.

His heart torn at the thought, the dragon decided to sacrifice the gold statue hostage for the sake of greater wealth. With a fearsome roar, Vainqueur opened his mouth and unleashed a mighty fireball at his nemesis before he could drive Manling Victor insane.

"[Za Warudo]!"

Time seemed to freeze for a brief instant, and a split second later, Vainqueur’s fireball only melted gold. The lich had teleported out of the path, coating his body in a stone-like substance and magical protections.

[Curse of Greed] activated.

You can now turn matter to gold on touch.

Oh?

Awesome! "Fall to the poke!" Vainqueur unleashed his ultimate attack, rushing at his foe with a lone finger raised; empowered by greed and fury, the dragon moved faster than lightning.

"You… you reptilian fool!" the lich snapped. "The more you spread it, the stronger the curse gr—"

The dragon poked his foe in the skull without a word.

At once, the blessed power of greed activated, instantly turning the entire lich into the purest shade of gold. The floating undead crashed on the ground, sealed once more.

"How did Your Majesty do this?" Malfy asked, amazed by his master’s goldliness. "Did you gain a new level?"

"That was… easy…" Friend Victor said. "Too easy."

"This is divine punishment from the gold itself!" Vainqueur replied, refusing to let his minion’s sour mood spoil his victory. All his new levels had paid off! "I saved El Dorado! And now it is mine!"

"I still think we should look around for a trick," Manling Victor said.

Vainqueur grumbled. "Fine, fine," the dragon said absentmindedly, too eager to test his new power to look for imaginary enemies. "As you wish, minion. I will repair the damage Furibon did to my city with my golden poke in the meantime."

"Oh, can we come with you?" Chocolatine asked. "This place looks amazing!"

"Certainly, my minion," Vainqueur said, glancing at her and the cat in her arms with interest. "Certainly."

Empathy negated by [Curse of Greed].

He wondered how much they weighed in gold...

This place gave Victor the creeps.

He couldn’t put his finger on why, but that whole city gave him chills on his back. And no way could Furibon be taken down so easily.

Climbing the stairs of the pyramid and examining the temple at the top had only exacerbated his intuition. The hall he, Allison, and Malfy currently occupied should have looked magnificent, with its shining column and its central altar illuminated by a hole in the roof above.

But outside the main effigy representing a startlingly beautiful woman at the center of the room, the many statues around him felt wrong; from the greedy looks on their faces to the scenes of fighting they represented.

"Mr. Victor, this temple is [Cursed]," Malfy said, his usual cheeriness replaced with unease. "I can tell."

"Vic, I…" Unfortunately, the second she laid her eyes on him, Allison put her hand on her face as she struggled not to laugh.

Victor tightened his hold on his scythe, embarrassed. What the Happyland did he do while drugged? Miel no longer answered his telepathic calls, which meant she had probably left the plane, and whenever he asked for an explanation, Malfy started crying.

"Sorry." His friend managed to somewhat regain her composure, although she clearly struggled to. "Vic, there is indeed something very wrong with this place. This is a temple of Cybele, but my goddess does not respond when I try to contact her for advice."

"How is that even possible?"

"I assume another deity has a stronger influence over El Dorado and blocks out the others."

Yeah, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

As for that gold transformation, when did Vainqueur gain a new level? True, Victor hadn’t checked all of his favorite dragon’s abilities recently, and he had a way of pulling powers out of nowhere… but why did he have the feeling it was connected to the strange statues outside?

…

Uh oh.

"Allison, Malfy, we have a big problem," he said, the two looking up at him with shared unease. "I do not think the statues outside are actually statues. I think they’re people."

"And you would be right," said a rasping voice.

Victor turned around almost lazily, the lich floating from behind a golden pillar. "Dalton," Furibon said, very much ‘unalive.’

"Furi? That was a decoy outside?"

"Yes," the lich replied, annoyed by the nickname. "I learned my lesson. Fighting dragons is stupid, and yours even moreso."

Aha, he was right! "So… how is your [Stockholm Syndrome]? Hanging on?"

"I cured it, but thank you for asking. How is your [Lima Syndrome]?"

"Still coping with it."

"I have a cure if you need one."

"Vic, didn’t he capture you?" Allison asked, astonished by the surreal scene. "Why are you treating him like a friend?"

"Eh, we decided to let bygones be bygones a while ago," Victor shrugged. "I would have rather talked to you before Vainqueur, but…"

"We do not have much time," Furibon cut through the pleasantries. "I need your… your…"

Since the lich clearly struggled with that word, Victor cleared his throat. "Our help?"

"Yes, your help. We do not have much time. Knightsbane fell under the curse’s influence, like the members of my expedition. You only have to look outside to see the results."

"Expedition?" Allison frowned.

"He is a registered adventurer now," Victor shrugged. "I kept tabs on him."

"I assume Vainqueur doesn’t know about that."

"I stand by what I said, I have no intention of ever setting foot in Ishfania again," Furibon declared. "If you leave me be, so will I. But in his current state, your dragon will not listen. He can already turn what he touches to gold, and the worst is yet to come. After a time, his greed will get the better of his sanity."

An ugly picture formed in Victor’s mind. "They turned each other to gold," he realized, horrified.

"When the cursed ones ran out of flesh to turn to gold, they started touching themselves," Furibon said, before stopping. "Not the best phrasing, but you understand my point."

"What about Choc?" Allison frowned, suddenly worried. "Why haven’t we been affected?"

"If they are not Claimed, undead, or fiends, they are already doomed. Undead and fiends are naturally resistant to curses like this, and the Claimed in my group were shielded from its influence. It makes me believe it has a divine origin. And the more the curse spreads, the stronger it gets."

If Vainqueur fell under its sway, it would become unstoppable. "How do we stop it?" Victor asked, remembering what Xolotl told them. "Our guide told us an ancient evil slumbered in the city. Maybe it is the cause?"

The lich shrugged. "I have pinpointed its source to a sealed temple in the city’s center, but I cannot break the magical barrier around it. I settled on turning all the gold I could find into lead in an attempt to weaken the curse, but with Knightsbane under its influence..."

"I can get in with [Skeleton Key]," Victor said. "If we can slip past—"

"Miiinnnniiiooonnnnsss…" Vainqueur called from outside the temple; his voice should have been endearing, but just came across as sinister. "Where are yoooouuu?"

… oh gods.

It was a horror movie, and Vainqueur was the slasher villain.

23: The Shiny-ing

Greedy fools, all of them!

Vainqueur could smell their treachery. They all lusted for his hard-worn gold. "Minions, get out!" the dragon called from outside the pyramid, crushing the statue of the vile Furibon underfoot. "Minions! Minions!"

He had activated the Blinkblink ring, turning invisible to catch them in the act of stealing. For the dragon knew, deep in his heart, that they were busy pilfering his treasure.

Why, they even dared not to acknowledge their emperor’s order!

"Minion!" Vainqueur summoned his friend to his side when no one answered. Manling Victor appeared next to the dragon, a strange, worried look on his face. "Here you are!"

"Y-your Majesty." The dragon sensed hesitation in his voice, as he looked for his master. "W-where are you?"

"Shush, minion," Vainqueur said, his lackey looking in his general direction. "I’m using my Blinkblink ring to surprise them."

"Them?"

"The traitors! Tasty Malfy, Untasty Allison, they are traitors and thieves! I can feel it in my bones!" The very thought infuriated him. "But you… not you, my chief of staff. You are the only one I can trust. Because you worship me more than anything. You still love me, right?"

"Y-yes, of course!" Manling Victor reassured his master. "I owe you my life!"

"Yes, you do. That is why I can trust you. Because you are my friend. Not like the others, those ingrates. Now, where are they?"

"I, I do not know!" Manling Victor said. "We separated earlier to look for Furibon!"

"A mere excuse to hide their duplicity!" Vainqueur illuminated his minion’s mind, dispelling his idealistic delusions. "They must be stealing as much gold as they can before they escape! We must find them!"

"I—I heard them talking about another temple in the city!" Friend Victor said, remembering an important piece of evidence. "I can lead you—"

"LEAD?" Vainqueur’s roar made his friend stumble. "Where?!"

"It’s, it’s the verb, Your Majesty, the verb!"

Vainqueur calmed himself, but only barely so. "Minion, do not play tricks on me. My patience is at an end."

"Certainly, Your Majesty…" Manling Victor cleared his throat. "I can guide you to the temple and then we will interrogate them."

"I will have them kiss my finger," Vainqueur said. "If they love me as you do, they will. Not like the others."

"About that…" Manling Victor trailed, as if afraid of the answer. "Where is Chocolatine?"

The dragon briefly hesitated about sparing his friend’s feelings but decided he should better be warned of what they were up against. "I had to do it, minion. She was fifty."

"Fifty what? Years? Werewolves live that long?"

"Fifty kilos," Vainqueur said.

Manling Victor opened his mouth, before noticing her near the plaza.

The gold statue of Chocolatine, still holding the treacherous Felix in her arms, and that greedy look still on her face.

"I had to do it, minion," Vainqueur told his friend, who looked at the statue in horror—horror at her treachery. "They lusted for my gold with their greedy eyes, then tried to turn me into treasure… after I gave them a minion job! Do you know the unemployment rate among your kind, Manling Victor? You do not, and you do not want to know. While I achieved full employment!"

"I…" Friend Victor was speechless at the revelation.

"She was full of lust for my gold!" Vainqueur ranted. "She would have turned you to gold too, but I saw it coming! I saw them both coming, her and that money-grubbing cat! How, you may ask?"

Manling Victor said nothing, listening to his master’s wisdom.

"I have a sixth sense to detect a minion’s inner shininess: the Shiny-ing!" Vainqueur explained to his servant. "I can tell how much they will weigh in gold! I can! Because I am wealthy in gold, but poor in minions! Do you know how much a kobold is worth? The average kobold weighs twenty kilos, and we have more than five thousand of them! Which translates into a hundred tons of gold, if we do not fatten them first! Imagine the size of my hoard afterward, minion!"

"I… I can’t…"

"Because you lack imagination," Vainqueur replied. "But we will start with the traitors first. Allison weighs forty-five kilos, and Malfy more than one hundred-twenty kilos."

His chief of staff answered with a quick nod and immediately flew towards the new temple. Vainqueur followed on foot, invisible and subtle. Now that he thought of it, Icefang probably weighed tons in gold; after rubbing his superior wealth to his face, he could add his rival to it.

"Even Jolie is full of greed, minion," Vainqueur said. His shiny-ing sense told him she lusted for his hoard; all the time she behaved like a lovable niece, he now realized that she only wanted the inheritance.

"Your Majesty isn’t considering turning his own niece to gold?" Manling Victor asked with a strange tone.

"I…" Vainqueur marked a short pause, as his head began to hurt. His shiny-ing told him how much his niece weighed, which made him happy, but a part of him screamed, ‘Vainqueur, no!’

Charisma check successful! You temporarily regained your empathy!

"Of course not," Vainqueur said, horrified that the thought even crossed his mind. "She is worth more than gold to me, no matter how much I spoiled her."

Manling Victor let out a sigh of relief.

"But I am cutting her out of my will, and you too, for the sake of fairness. I will keep everything for myself."

He would simply turn himself to gold after doing the same with his empire, becoming part of this grandiose hoard of El Dorado. He would stay the richest dragon forever until the sun died out in the sky!

Vainqueur entertained these shiny thoughts for the entire trip, as his favored minion led them to a new golden pyramid, albeit one different from the others in architecture. The statues represented giant insects, and the stairs circled the pyramid towards the top like a coiled worm.

Vainqueur sniffed the air. "I do not smell the treacherous minions nearby…" The dragon glanced at his beloved lackey. "But I can smell the lich’s odious odor on you, minion. You should bathe, and very quickly."

"Yes, of course," Manling Victor said, as he landed on the stairs towards the flat top. Vainqueur tried to climb them up as well and…

BAM!

He hit his head against an invisible wall. The dragon hit it with his free hand, then blasted it with flames, to no avail. "Wow, I guess I will just catch the minions inside!" his chief of staff said with a strange tone. "I will get going—"

"Wait here, minion," Vainqueur said, activating his trump card. "[Spell Purge]."

His ultimate Perk activated, weakening the barrier and stripping him of his invisibility.

His chief of staff recoiled in horror.

For it was true that Vainqueur had changed a little. Some of his scales had turned golden, empowered by his newfound [Curse of Greed]. He also carried a long, golden axe in his hand. His eyes must have shone with the glitter of gold.

As for the axe? He had found it laying around. The dragon had no idea why, but he had the compulsion to take it with him. Still, just like Ogron’s weapon the past year, it was a constant struggle for the dragon to wield it within his claws.

Still, he immediately smashed the barrier with it. "Here is Vainqueur!" the dragon snarled, the weapon shattering the invisible wall and collapsing it.

Nothing could stop the power of gold! He even felt his shiny-ing flare up, stronger than ever.

Empathy negated by [Curse of Greed].

The dragon’s shiny-ing activated, making him suspicious of his chief of staff’s strange behavior. He had been acting shifty for the past hour, and it bothered Vainqueur.

He sniffed his chief of staff and noticed the smell of Tasty Malfy and Untasty Allison on him. He would have shrugged it off as the consequence of close proximity, but the scent seemed a bit too strong.

Like he was wearing them. "Minion Victor, have you been hiding the traitors from me?"

"O-of course not!"

Having known his chief of staff for so long, Vainqueur didn’t need magic to identify the sentence as what it was.

A lie!

His chief of staff lied to him!

No, no, his friend would never do that. That was his imagination. But his shiny-ing told him there was only one way to be sure. "Minion," Vainqueur presented him his royal free hand. "Kiss my claw."

Gold-to-be Victor froze in place.

"Minion, I won’t hurt you! I only want to touch you!" Vainqueur insisted, wagging his hand at him. "If you truly love me, you will kiss my claw!"

Much to his consternation, his lackey hesitated, as if torn between his loyalty and treacherous compulsions. Vainqueur prepared to grab him by force...

"Okay." His chief of staff straightened up. "I will kiss your hand, Your Majesty."

"Yes, you will, because I am your master."

"No," Manling Victor replied, quickly adding before the infuriated dragon could chastize him. "I will kiss your hand because you are my friend, Vainqueur… and because I trust you."

The dragon emperor frowned, his minion climbing down the stairs toward his beloved dragon until he was right in front of his scaled hand. Manling Victor took a long deep breath, closed his eyes, and prepared to kiss his master’s finger.

He would be perfect as a statue, the most beautiful of Vainqueur’s collec—

Charisma check successful! You temporarily regained your empathy!

No.

No!

"Wait!" Vainqueur hastily distanced his hand from his minion, although his body refused to budge. "Wait, minion!"

Empathy negated by [Curse of Greed].

No, this was a ploy!

The minion pretended to obey, hoping his master would change his mind at the last second! Such a subtle trickery, only a dragon could uncover it.

"Kiss my…" Vainqueur’s throat tightened. "Kiss my…"

No!

What was he doing? That was his friend, the one minion he had sacrificed his entire hoard to raise from the dead! The one destined to follow Vainqueur all the way to godhood! He was worth more to the dragon than any weight in gold!

Gold…

If he transformed everything he had to gold, he would never be able to keep every part of his treasure in sight. Thieves would pilfer his statues, and share them with paupers. And then… and then…

It would create inflation!

Intelligence check successful!

Too much gold in circulation would make him poorer!

It had to stop!

[Curse of Greed]—

Curse nothing! "Go away!" Vainqueur willed it, and the universe obeyed. "Vainqueur Knightsbane bows to none!"

Charisma check successful! [Curse of Greed] negated by [Dragon Arrogance]!

Instantly, Vainqueur’s scales regained their crimson luster, and the overwhelming pressure of the shiny-ing vanished from his mind.

Congratulations! For successfully breaking the [Curse of Greed]’s hold over yourself through the twin powers of dragon-minion friendship and economical theory, you have earned a level in [Kaiser]!

+30 HP, +10 SP, +1 STR, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +1 INT, +1 CHA, +1 LCK.

"Your Majesty did it!" Manling Victor congratulated his master. "I knew you could shrug that curse off!"

"Who else but a dragon, Friend Victor?" Vainqueur grumbled. He glanced at the axe in his hand, before casually tossing it away. "A dragon-chief of staff bond of trust is unbreakable."

No sooner did he say it, that the consequence of his recent actions dawned on him. "I turned my minions into gold," the dragon panicked. "I turned my sweet, lovable minions into cursed gold."

"Yes, and if we want to change that, then we still have work to do." Manling Victor put a hand in his boxer, before bringing something out. "You can come out!"

Instantly, black specks inside the palm of his hand grew larger, eventually transforming into a bug fiend, a dryad, and…

"FURIBON!" Smoke came out of Vainqueur’s nostrils.

"I saved your servants from yourself, wyrm," the undead replied haughtily.

"I wish there was another place where to hide," Allison said, looking traumatized. "But Your Majesty took us by surprise."

The dragon didn’t care, his eyes set on the undead in their midst. He should have known the lich would be linked to this disaster! "Minion, get out of my way, so I can burn the lich to cinders!"

"I hate you too, Knightsbane," Furibon replied bluntly. "But we both have allies trapped by the city’s curse."

"We need to cooperate," Manling Victor said. "With Your Majesty’s destruction of the barrier, not only can we move all in, but whatever is trapped there will try getting out. I have no idea what kind of creature lays in wait inside, but the more numerous we are, the better."

"Cooperate? With the goldslayer? The enemy?" Vainqueur almost snarled ‘never,’ before the picture of Sweet Chocolatine summoning fiends that he could poke flared in his mind; as well as Felix flattering him in a very exquisite way.

Eventually, his concern for his minions overcame his hatred for Furibon.

"Temporarily," Vainqueur warned with a threatening tone. "Very temporarily."

The lich let out a shrug, Manling Victor putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s go," he said, the group turning towards the pyramid.

Ready to claim their rightful loot.

24: The Superboss

The temple on top of the pyramid looked a lot larger from within than outside.

Victor could have fit two copies of his manor in these golden halls, although the building had clearly degraded over time. A pillar holding the roof had collapsed, wall mosaics had eroded into incomprehensible gibberish, and a thick layer of dust covered the ground. It appeared no one had stepped in this place for eons.

Yet, the sealed evil of El Dorado had made its lair there, waiting on the other side of the hall.

The beast lurking in this hall was a terror to look at. A monstrously long, crimson worm with an armored exoskeleton covering its entire body, the entity had six clawed insect legs to support it and the tail of a scorpion. Six blue eyes circled its mouth, a lamprey-like abyss of golden teeth.

While already an unnatural mishmash of verminous animals, what terrified Victor the most was its size. It was even bigger than Vainqueur, reaching eighty feet in length from the tip of its tail to its mouth.

And yet, the group found the monster while it was reading a book.

Victor blinked at the surreal sight of a giant abomination even bigger than Vainqueur lifting a book and flipping its pages through telekinesis, paying no attention to its visitors. The Vizier recognized the cover as "The Denial of Death, by Ernest Becker;" with a quick glance, he noticed a tower of volumes, folios, and treaties at the creature’s right, and a smaller pile of miscellaneous toys on the left. They looked a lot like...

"Wait, is that a Super Nintendo?" Allison recognized one of the items on the pile.

Her words echoed through the walls, making the creature peek from his book towards the disparate group crossing the temple’s threshold. "Yes?" the creature sounded like a horde of locusts painfully trying to imitate human words. "What do you want, mortals?"

"Are you the source of the Shiny-ing, wormling?" Vainqueur asked with haughtiness.

"Yes," the creature replied, not bothered at all by the silly name. It looked a lot like paintings of…

…

Victor activated [Monster Insight], and started praying.

Sablar, God of Destruction

Deity (Insect/Divine)

There is absolutely nothing you can do to me. Go home.

I am the Worm who Eats the World, and I am too lazy to say more.

Holy sh—

"Sablar!" Victor had never seen Allison angry, but a demonic spirit seemed to have possessed the priestess of Cybele. Her face had twisted into a raging snarl, and she immediately channeled magic through her fingertips. "[Blackthorn]!"

"Allison, this is a terrible idea—" Victor protested, but she already launched a volley of spiky thorns at the deity. Vainqueur instinctively imitated her by unleashing a mighty fireball, while only Malfy did nothing, knowing it was useless.

Even Furibon started casting a spell in panic, as the projectiles threatened to hit the giant worm. "[Za Waru—"

Sablar peeked from his book, as the group crossed the threshold. "Yes?"

Victor blinked and glanced at his surprised companions. The projectiles had vanished as if they never had been launched. While Furibon quickly understood the situation and Allison remained confused, Vainqueur immediately went on the offensive again.

"[Spell Purge]!" The dragon used his favorite defensive perk. "Ah! Now you can do nothing to—"

"[Spell—" Vainqueur paused, realizing time had rolled back right before he launched his spell. This time, he simply glared at the worm of the world. "How do you do this, wormling?"

"I erased time," the god replied flatly.

"That makes no sense—" Victor protested.

Time rolled back again before he could finish his answer.

"You cannot roll back time anytime someone contradicts—"

He did.

"What were you saying?" the god asked, sounding vaguely smug.

"It totally makes sense when you think about it," Victor grumbled.

"Yes, it does." Sablar closed his book, the volume joining the top of the pile. "Why are you here, mortals? I have no desire for crude violence, especially during my holiday."

"Your holiday?" Victor blinked at the surreal answer. Was he dreaming?

"This is my vacation resort," the god said. "I cannot destroy the world seven days a week. I have been overworking these past centuries, so I am taking it easy for the current millennium. While my rivals roam the planes to play games together, I prefer alone time in the ruins of Outremonde."

"But…" Furibon struggled for words, completely at a loss. "What about the seal outside? How can anyone keep a deity sealed?"

"That weak barrier? I raised it to keep wandering explorers out of my room. I can come and go as I wish."

Yeah, it seemed Xolotl's info might have been a little unreliable. "You read and play games at home all day long?" Victor frowned. "Are you a shut-in?"

"Social distancer," the deity defended his lifestyle. "I am currently playing Last Fantasy VI since a Claimed of mine brought it from Earth."

"Really?!" Victor had always wanted to play that game!

"Vic, this is Sablar, the god of destruction and despoiler of the environment!" Allison seethed, her hatred for the vile deity overwhelming her better judgment. "Don’t cozy up to him!"

"A Claimed of Cybele." Sablar let out a heavy, condescending sigh. "I do not understand you people. We both love nature, so should we not get along?"

"A nature lover? You?" Victor had to admit it, the dryad showed complete fearlessness even in the face of her own deity’s nemesis. "You turn forests to sand, and people to gold!"

"I wish to return Outremonde to its original environment, a perfect sphere of earth and metal," the worm responded much more calmly. "I do not comprehend what beauty you find in trees. They are ugly and full of noisy creatures. Can you not see the beauty in silent, motionless mountains? Of lifeless gems and gold?"

"There is nothing more beautiful than a hoard," Vainqueur said, defending his own way of life. "They would agree with us if they had any taste."

"Indeed, Vainqueur," the god added. "Dragons and I share a belief in the superiority of minerals and metals over life itself."

"You know us?" Victor could have sworn the worm’s words had shaken his dragon friend, albeit only a little.

"Of course he does," Vainqueur replied, showing his chest. "Who would not?"

"The dragon raised a disgusting city where my followers left a beautiful desert landscape, and you, earthling, created a landmass where there was nothing but water. Yes, I know you both."

"What are you calling disgusting, wormling?" the dragon’s mood soured instantly.

"Island?" the Vizier repeated, more confused than insulted. Sablar was… surprisingly laid-back for a god of destruction. Seeing the deity in the flesh shattered every myth Victor had created in his head about him.

"Did you not roll Dice yesterday?" the worm god asked. "You willed a new island into existence, west of this continent."

Victor did his best to ignore the glances Malfy and Allison sent him. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"This is a waste of time," Furibon said, at his wits’ end.

"The lich speaks true, no matter how unlikely that sounds," Vainqueur raised his voice. "Free my minions immediately, fairyspawn."

"Wait, that soulcrest thing, Wotan gaining levels…" Victor glared at the deity. "It was your doing?"

"No," the deity replied, "Mag Mell may have created me for his wars against mortals, but I have no love for the fomors. I support those who walk the path of annihilation, and I will not release anyone. Children of the earth your minions have become, and they will remain so until this world comes to an end."

Malfy, who had remained silent until now, cleared his throat. "If I understand the divine laws—and since I attended Hell Law School I do—you should not be able to directly interfere with the life of those who do not worship you."

"We deities have a ‘gentlemen’s agreement’ with loose rules," the god corrected. "We can affect Outremonde and grant miracles within our purview. Dice rains destructive weather, Camilla unleashes undead plagues, and Shesha fulfills requests paid with money."

"At an overpriced rate!" Vainqueur complained, still obsessed with getting a refund.

"Prices are a meaningless, abstract value," Sablar added with a nihilistic tone. "The citizens of this city petitioned me, wishing to turn everything they touched to gold. I granted their request, and those foolish enough to let greed overcome their heart deserve their fate. That is all."

"This is not satisfactory," Vainqueur let out smoke from his nostrils.

"Your Majesty, this is a god," Victor protested. "He could kill us all without blinking, and I do not even know why he hasn’t yet!"

"I have found that patience and stoicism are the keys to a peaceful, fulfilling life," Sablar replied calmly. "Time consumes all eventually. You will all die in the end."

Yeah, Victor suspected the deity was just being lazy. No wonder the world still existed.

"If you granted a wish, that means you must have crafted a contract with the citizens of El Dorado," Malfy guessed, always the cunning one. "I cannot imagine any mortal foolish enough asking a blessing from a higher power without building a strong legal case. If we could examine the wording..."

Great idea, if they could find a loophole in the curse, they might have a shot at freeing their allies without violence.

"They did make a very long wish." Sablar’s eyes blinked, a floating long scroll appearing before the group. "I granted it to the letter."

Malfy immediately seized the scroll and read it, Furibon peeking over his shoulder to find a line. "There," the fiend found a weak spot. "Disputes over the wording of the wish or amendments to its nature shall be decided in contests of wits and skill."

"It seems the citizens of the city were smart enough to leave a backdoor," Furibon noted.

"There!" Allison pointed a finger at the destructive deity. "If we win, you will cancel the curse!"

"I am under no compulsion to agree, and I am starting to wonder if I should simply turn you all to sand," Sablar replied, starting to get annoyed.

"I am blessed by the goddess Cybele," Allison replied.

"And I by five deities," Victor boasted, his dryad friend glancing at him in shock and jealousy, "Do you truly wish to piss off half the pantheon over such a trivial matter? Not that you are very popular already..."

The worm examined the group in silence, weighing his options. "You will not leave me alone until you have your way…" he trailed off, before reaching a conclusion. "I have neither the time nor the will for games with mortals. If you only seek only the freedom of a few, then I can offer you… a compromise."

"Afraid you will lose, wormling?" Vainqueur taunted him. "You should be."

"I was a mortal too once," the deity replied, "Only fools underestimate others, no matter the rift between our respective strengths. So I make you a proposal: I will release your friends and the lich’s allies from my [Curse of Greed]. You will be allowed to leave El Dorado alive and free."

"But the city, the curse, and its other victims will remain," Victor saw the huge catch.

"And it will keep claiming more people," Allison added, very much against it.

"My city of gold will stand, and keep expanding into this forest," Sablar promised. "But you will be long dead when it is time to suffer the consequences."

"Like global warming?" the Vizier joked, Allison glaring at him.

On paper, it wasn't a bad deal. For them. They avoided a very risky endeavor, and they left unscathed. No win, but no loss either.

The rest of the New World would be BLEEPED though. People would still come to the city even if forewarned, and El Dorado would keep claiming victims. The curse would infect more people, and they would probably spread it outside its confines.

"We can’t accept that," Allison said, and Victor mostly agreed. Abandoning hundreds of thousands of people to an eternity as gold statues was just plain wrong.

"I believe it is a fair deal," Malfy countered. "His Majesty came here to find the lich, and we have. Once we free Lady Chocolatine, we have nothing else to gain from this risky venture."

Much to Victor’s surprise, Furibon too seemed hesitant. "You said you were saving the world from that curse," the Vizier reminded him.

"Before I knew the god of destruction was behind it," the lich replied, probably afraid. The creature in front of them was one of the entities capable of killing the undead permanently. "Confronting him is an all-or-nothing gambit, and even if we win, he will certainly bear a grudge."

"I refuse your compromise."

Victor looked up at Vainqueur in surprise, and so did Sablar. "Why?" the worm asked, voicing the Vizier’s own thoughts. He would have expected the dragon to at least consider the offer.

"I am the minion liberator," Vainqueur replied haughtily. "You transform would-be minions into lifeless furniture, however shiny. Like slaves."

"They are worth more as gold than as flesh," the worm god replied with cold disdain.

"They are worth more if alive, and I have the proof right here," Vainqueur glanced at Victor. "Your scheme is a cruel mockery of everything a dragon should stand for; making gold something shameful instead of praiseworthy. How could I look at a golden statue now, without wondering if it was not created by your foul sorcery?"

"If I strip the curse, the city will return to its original state," Sablar attacked Vainqueur’s weak point. "Do you truly wish to see all this gold vanish forever?"

The dragon bristled but stood firm in his decision. "A true dragon has quality standards. Your wealth is what lead is to true gold."

At this point, Victor thought he had never respected Vainqueur more.

Sablar observed Vainqueur for a moment, then turned to look at Furibon. Even though he hated the dragon, his sheer arrogant resolve convinced even the lich to stand firm.

With his ultimatum denied, the deity finally lost patience. "Fine," he declared, "It is, as they say, your funeral. If you beat me in a fair contest, I will lift the curse and return this city to its original state. But if I win, and you will swear that my rival deities cannot complain about it…"

The deity moved until his head reached the golden hall’s ceiling.

"You die."

…

"Is there nothing else you could want from us?" Victor asked innocently.

"You die permanently."

He walked right into that one.

"I agree," Vainqueur replied with pride. "Prepare yourself for defeat, wormling! I will defeat you at the only game worth gambling this city's fate over!"

The dragon let fire from his nostrils, preparing to make his grandiose announcement.

"Cards!"

Victor facepalmed.

"This shall be the ultimate test of my dragon skills," Vainqueur declared confidently as if he had already played the game a thousand times before.

"Sound strategy will always prevail." To Victor’s astonishment, Furibon seemed to support the decision. "Vainqueur! For this time alone, I shall fight by your side!"

"You will only drag me down with your poverty!" the dragon refused. "Never!"

"Are you two seriously considering to gamble our lives over a card game?" Allison panicked.

"There will be no cards," Sablar buzzed threateningly. "My kind of social entertainment is of the... rougher sort. I thought more of an ancient tradition, practiced by both dragonkind and my own creators."

"The minion battle." Vainqueur glared back.

"Of a sort," Sablar replied, "You and your four minions will fight my favored champion to the death."

"I shall not be treated as that wyrm’s animal!" Furibon protested, but the deity ignored him.

Instantly, golden collars materialized around the mortals' necks, with an annoyingly tight hold. "If you leave the city’s confines until a winner is decided, you will die," Sablar declared, a summoning circle appearing before him. "Now come, my prophet. Let loose sweet destruction. Your god commands it."

A familiar creature materialized, projecting an overwhelming, suffocating aura.

A malevolent mummy of black bones and scroll bandages, clad in dusty green robes resonating with sheer arcane power. The funerary mask covering his face only revealed two glowing lights in place of the eyes.

"My fellow Vizier." Akhenapep, master of Mot the genie and destroyer of the southern continent, glanced at his one-time student Victor. "Long time no see."

25: Fallout

Vainqueur had a strange feeling at the sight of this bandaged corpseling.

The exact same pressure that came off from Wotan, if not worse. His minions seemed to recognize the newcomer: Manling Victor had turned paler than a corpse, and Untasty Allison was speechless.

"Oh, Great Sablar, is it apocalypse o’clock already?" the mummy minion asked his master. "Is it time to lay waste to the living?"

"Start with these five," the worm said, before raising a barrier around his toy hoard and himself. "Kill them all. I do not care how."

"Ah, nothing better than a massacre in the morning." The strange undead turned to the group, glancing at Manling Victor in particular. "I see that you have gotten far in the world, cultist. Mayhaps you can entertain me before we start indulging in violence?"

The Vizier, who had remained a silent statue since the mummy’s appearance, recovered his words. "In hindsight," he finally spoke up. "This may have been a mist—"

The mummy quickly raised his finger and zapped Manling Victor with a ray of green light in the middle of his sentence. The magic blast sent him flying through the threshold and out of the pyramid, the Vizier’s flesh burning where the spell hit.

"Vizier stratagem six," the corpseling mused, his finger still shining. "‘The law of no talking.’"

Vainqueur immediately lunged at the cowardly mummy, only for a screen to appear before his eyes.

Akhenapep’s [Spell Trap] triggered.

Instant casting of the spells [Timeleap], [Sablar’s Repulsion], [Meteor Rain].

Vainqueur barely had the time to watch the undead glitch out of existence, before an almighty invisible force propelled everything backward. The temple exploded, its walls shattered, and all people present but Sablar were repelled in all directions.

The dragon ended his brief, uncontrolled flight by smashing into a lead pyramid, crashing through the outer walls. The dragon grunted as he recovered his bearing, the top of Sablar’s pyramid having been blown apart. While the deity calmly read a book from within his barrier, the dragon could see neither the enemy nor his minions.

He did notice the rain of stones in the sky though.

Dozens of meters-wide fiery stone fell from the heavens towards El Dorado and the surrounding jungle, ready to devastate it on impact.

His minions! His goldified minions!

Vainqueur immediately flew up and started blasting the falling stars with his breath, destroying them before they could hit the ground and devastate the city below. He couldn’t vaporize all of them, some hitting gold pyramids and collapsing them, others devastating the jungle beyond the city walls. Mighty forest fires started everywhere.

The sound of magical explosions caught the dragon’s attention, as he noticed the mummy engaged in an aerial, magical duel with the vile Furibon. While the lich flew by his own means, a dust tornado carried Akhenapep up from the ground. Furibon unleashed fiery stones of his own and ice spikes; the mummy casually blasted the projectiles with green rays, while coating himself in protective spells. Activating his Blinkblink ring, Vainqueur prepared to attack from behind.

"[Za Warudo]!" Furibon briefly blinked out of existence, only to reappear with his jaw broken, Akhenapep’s fist within an inch of his skull. The lich went flying down, near a meteorite crater.

The mummy then turned to Vainqueur, and the dragon realized that the creature could see him even while invisible. "[Accelerated Entropy]."

Instantly, Vainqueur’s rings crumbled to dust, his Blinkblink effect cancelled. The dragon let out a roar of rage at the undead’s cruelty while flying straight at him, claws extended.

"[Nuclear Winter]." Akhenapep unleashed a mighty storm of shining green ice at Vainqueur, damaging his scales and inflicting excruciating pain.

Warning: You are losing 100 HP per second of sustained fire! You have been [Irradiated]! Healing effects will be greatly weakened for you!

You have lost a quarter of your HP.

Vainqueur activated his [Spell Purge], his defense pushing away the biting cold. Even better, the negation of the spell activated the new benefit of his [Witchfinder General] class, burning off the mummy’s hands. The dragon opened his mouth, ready to blast him apart.

"[Greater Seal: Dragonfire], [Accelerated Minor Seal: Holy Fire]." The dusty undead quickly covered himself with protective spells, his scroll-skin turning to black steel and a complex symbol materializing on his chest. "[Adamanskin], [Accelerated Glyph of Sablar]."

The dragon immediately unleashed a stream of fire; but instead of consuming the mummy, his witch-burning flames swirled around him like harmless flickers, absorbed into the chest tattoo. Vainqueur wisely chose not to activate his [Fire Crown]. Instead, he used [Shining Majesty] to radiate light with his scales while getting closer.

His golden beauty was too much for the mummy, who hissed in pain and retreated before the dragon could grab him. "[Alacrity], [Accelerated Hasten]."

Akhenapep’s spellcasting time is drastically reduced for all Tier III spells and below for thirty minutes.

Tier III? What purpose did it serve—

"[Piercing Magic Arrow]." Akhenapep fired a volley of five golden arrows at Vainqueur, and they hurt. The mummy unleashed a second, then a third group before the dragon realized that these spells somehow bypassed his [Spell Purge].

Furibon, who had recovered enough to fly back into the fray, shouted a warning at his 'ally.' "[Pierce Magic Arrow] ignores all magical protections, wyvern!"

"[Piercing Magic Arrow], [Piermagarrow], [Pimarrow], [PMA]!" The more Akhenapep cast, the shorter the name of his spell, until they became incomprehensible noise. The constant magical artillery barrage only increased in violence, the rain of golden arrows itching his body and piercing his hide.

Warning! You have lost half your HP!

As his HP dwindled faster than Manling Victor’s pants during breeding, Vainqueur had no choice but retreat, only for Akhenapep to direct his magical artillery at his left wing, shredding it. The dragon lost control of his flight and crash landed into a goldified street.

He couldn’t fly anymore.

He couldn’t fly!

All dragons could fly! This was heresy!

Akhenapep attempted to nail Vainqueur on the ground, but lightning bolts from Furibon forced him to focus his rain of arrows on the lich. Furibon teleported away each time the artillery barrage threatened to hurt him, causing the mummy to adopt a new strategy.

"Come to your Ur-Pharaoh, armies of Sablar!" Akhenapep raised his hands from the top of his dust tornado, while his meteor rain subsided. "[Ur-Pharaoh Defenders], [Accelerated Uranium Elementals Summon]."

In a flash of light, animated masses of green, shiny rocks appeared around the mummy, instantly rushing at the grounded Vainqueur. At the same time, two giant gates of stone rose around the left and right sides of Akhenapep, opening to reveal a dark, underground tomb on the other side. Giant, armored undead knights and rusted copies of Rolo the Golem walked through in regimented battalions, trampling the golden street under their footsteps.

"This is cheating!" Vainqueur protested, blasting the green rocks with his searing flames before they could approach. "Minions cannot summon more minions in a minion battle!"

Dodging a spell from Furibon, the mummy spat on the ancient tradition and vanished inside his dust storm with a final curse. "[Radioactive Sandstorm]." The dust tornado turned greenish and radiant, before slowly expanding across the city, forcing his lich foe to fly back.

The undead’s minions noticed Vainqueur and charged at him. The dragon rose on his back legs and activated [Victory Fist] as they closed the gap between them, punching an undead knight through the chest and then another. The smaller golems, though, jumped at him, hanging from his shoulders, wings, and neck. Vainqueur snarled as he took a few steps back, the minions threatening to overwhelm him.

Blasts of black fire and jagged beams shot off most of the golems, while hordes of insects started eating the undead alive, disrupting their battalions.

On the right side of the devastated street, Tasty Malfy and Untasty Allison appeared, the first summoning demonic locust clouds, the other vines to entangle the mummy’s summons. The wicked Furibon flew above them, containing the expanding sandstorm with a purple barrier.

On the left, Friend Victor led the group of demons he had called against Wotan, having himself transformed into his overgrown goat form. They immediately engaged the undead knights, turning the entire area into a warzone. Dozens of gold statues shattered or broke from the fighting, the dragon thankful they had brought the battle away from Sweet Chocolatine and Felix’s trapped forms.

"Take a message to… don’t care about extra cost… transport them…" Vainqueur barely heard Demonling Victor's conversation with his troops, their words drowned by the noise of spells and weapons clashing. A succubus opened a portal to Happyland and fled through, while Demonling Victor raised his scythe to cast a spell, "[Control Weather: Sunny Day]."

Demonling Victor immediately negated the mummy’s unnatural sandstorm, causing it to collapse before its diseased winds could reach Vainqueur. The skies cleared, the sun shining brightly on the disoriented Akhenapep and the war zone around him.

"[Permascan]." The wicked Furibon cursed the mummy with his magic by surprise, a floating screen appearing above his head.

Akhenapep, the Ur-Pharaoh

Type: Black Pharaoh (Undead/Eldritch)

Level: 85 (Ur-Pharaoh 20/Sablaris 20/Chronomancer 30/Dark Lord 10/Sealmaster 5)

HP: 2214/2550.

Weaknesses: Spirit, Life, Holy.

"Level 85?" Untasty Allison panicked, while the gates remained open, more reinforcements coming.

"A capped [Chronomancer] and [Sablaris]?" Even Furibon was afraid!

But Vainqueur? Against an enemy with less than three thousand HP? The dragon wasn’t impressed, having more than twice that amount. His [Witchfinder General] instinct told him that like any non-dragon wizard, that mummy could hit hard, but couldn’t take much damage in return. "[Geomancy]!" he snarled, after shaking off the last of the golems.

Field Type: Ancient Ruins.

Effect: [Earthquake].

While Tasty Malfy was accidentally knocked back and Untasty Allison endured, both Furibon and Friend Victor simply flew as the first tremors started. The very ground around Vainqueur shook, houses collapsing and enemy minions being thrown off their feet. The road of false gold broke, rifts appearing everywhere. One of the mummy’s gates crumbled, but the other endured the attack, allowing more monsters to go through.

"[Za Warudo], [Accelerated Scrying Shield]," Akhenapep vanished once more, replaced by flying stone spears, piercing golden arrows, and a monstrously huge, winged, many-eyed squid. The wicked Furibon repelled the projectiles with his own spells, while the newly summoned creature raised its tentacles threateningly at Victor.

"Ah'mglw'nafh shuggoth!" it hissed in the ancient, lead-laden language of the Moon.

"Y' ymg' mgepuln gnaiih!" Demonling Victor answered in the monster’s language. The squid stopped, exchanged a few words with the Vizier, then let out a sound which the dragon took for a laugh.

Then it turned on the mummy’s armies, smashing golems with its tentacles on its way to the last gate.

"Vic, what did you do?" Untasty Allison asked, breaking rank with Malfy and Furibon to cast healing spells on Vainqueur. "[Full Heal]."

You recovered 10 percent of your HP. [Master’s Shield] granted you the [Regen] status

"Oh? I told her that I knew her dad, and we exchanged pleasantries," Demonling Victor said as he cut off a golem in half with his scythe, while Allison used the same spell again and again on her master. "She made a very inappropriate black cat joke though."

Akhenapep suddenly teleported into their midst, taking the trio by surprise. He hit the ground with his talon, causing spears of stone to rise from the pavement below the group. Demonling Victor immediately raised his [Spirit Shield], stopping the deadly spell, while Allison quickly cast a spell. "[Cybele's Tree of Life]!"

A tree of pure, sacred green light erupted below Akhenapep, its holy energies making it squirm and shamble.

"[Mean Look]," Akhenapep retaliated, his funerary mask somehow glaring menacingly at them, with a particular focus on Untasty Allison.

[Instadeath] negated... for you.

V&V stood proud, but the dryad instantly collapsed, her eyes lifeless. Before Manling Victor could even shout her name, the mummy disintegrated her with a green ray. "You will raise her later, minion!" Vainqueur tried to inspire hope back in his minion’s heart. "For now, we prevail!"

[Instadeath] negated... for you.

Both members of V&V lunged at the mummy, scythe and fist raised. Akhenapep glitched out of existence before Vainqueur’s hand could squish him, unleashing a disrupting wave of energy in all directions.

Most of your minion’s buffs have been removed!

[Master’s Shield] re-activated! You gained the [Regen] status.

"He leaps through time!" Furibon shouted from afar, while he and the demons tried to contain the constant reinforcements by reaching the last gate. Malfy was busy shaping a bridge of ice over the enemy army to better circumvent them."[Time] effects are useless against him, and he can move even inside my own [Za Warudo]!"

"Leap through time?" Demonling Victor quickly figured out the enemy’s technique, "He teleports to the future, bypassing all attacks! That’s his strategy! He summons monsters, traps and area of effect spells before skipping town!"

"Then he will reappear at the same spot where he last vanished." Vainqueur raised his hand, and as he had expected, the mummy popped back where he had vanished the first time. The dragon immediately poked him in the face.

The godly minion raised his arms in protection, and instead of being snapped in half by Vainqueur’s blow, simply stumbled back. His metal scroll-skin mostly resisted the attack, although the proximity with [Spell Purge] lifted some of the mummy’s protective spells, wounding him with fire. Furibon's screen above his head showed the damage.

HP: 1720/2550.

That was all? Vainqueur decided to simply eat the mummy alive, but it started retreating at indragon speed, retaliating with a quick volley of golden arrows. His minion immediately rushed to his side, his [Master’s Shield] activating to help Vainqueur recover from his wounds.

Unfortunately, the mummy immediately noticed.

"Feel the power of decay, dragon. [Fallout]!" Akhenapep cast another spell, his body turning greenish. His scroll-skin radiated a sickening light, making Vainqueur ill.

All creatures near Akhenapep will lose 2 Max HP per second, except [Undead], [Eldritch], [Alien], [Insect], [Elemental] and [Artificial] types.

If your current HP surpasses your new Max HP limit, you will develop a [Radioactive Tumor].

Demonling Victor unleashed a stream of black fire that, instead of being fully drawn into the mummy’s seal protections, overwhelmed the mummy's defenses and wounded him. Vainqueur rejoiced at the sight of that minion killer’s pain, once again preparing to squash him.

Raging with frustration, Akhenapep raised his hands, unleashing the same repulsion effect he used at the fight’s beginning. His pulse sent both members of V&V backward, throwing Vainqueur against a pile of golden bricks, and his Grand Vizier on another. The dragon quickly found himself buried beneath debris.

Vainqueur barely had the time to raise his head, to see his prized minion cornered. "[Victor’s Skull Sentries]." Demonling Victor's summoned skulls swarmed Akhenapep and briefly distracted him, allowing their scythe-wielding master to get back on his feet.

"[Black Curse]!" Vainqueur's chief of staff shouted, but his magic failed to affect the mummy, forcing him to engage the mummy with his scythe. Empowered by his magic, Akhenapep dodged every attack.

"You force me to take desperate measures!" Demonling Victor raised his free hand...

And ripped his boxers away!

[Exhibitionist] activated! Demonling Victor's evasion increased!

The mummy trembled before the minion's sheer manliness, as he was forced into close combat.

Demonling Victor had the advantage in close combat, swinging his scythe and briefly forcing his foe on the defensive while avoiding any spell. Yet Akhenapep stopped time again, and when it resumed, all of the flying skulls exploded mid-flight while shadowy chains restrained their summoner. Demonling Victor found himself trapped on one spot, while Akhenapep charged a powerful attack.

The dragon struggled to escape the rubble and rescue his minion, but his wounded wing worked against him. When he managed to throw off the last of them, he was too late.

"[Atomic Ray]!"

The mummy unleashed a devastating blast of energy at Demonling Victor’s waist, snapping his body in half.

Vainqueur’s eyes saw red, as both halves of his minion fused back into the shape of an unconscious manling Victor. Was he… was he dead?

"Stratagem thirteen," Akhenapep mused, "the rule of corpse disposal. [Piercing Magic Arrows], [Accelerated Disintegrate]!" A volley of golden arrows transpierced Manling Victor’s corpse before a green ray of light disintegrated his flesh. Within the blink of an eye, only his minion's scythe remained behind.

No…

Not again!

[Berserk]! status applied!

It already cost him a fortune the first time!

Vainqueur’s vision turned red, unleashing a stream of flames to the heavens in fury. He clawed Akhenapep, this time the blow powerful enough to force him on the defensive. Meanwhile, Malfy, the wicked Furibon, and their allies struggled to close the gate, the number of monsters going through having turned unmanageable.

A Happyland portal opened once more, Manling Victor’s winged servant slithering through… only for the gate to widen further and further, and a familiar red dragon to step through, unnaturally being ridden by her minion.

"Uncle!" Jolie shouted, like a true dragon [Paladin]. "Golden justice is here!"

At this point, Vainqueur was too pissed to care.

26: Golden Leaders

[Master’s Shield] negated! You have lost your [Regen] status!

The reminder of his chief of staff’s demise made Vainqueur more furious than ever. If he could still fly, he would have bathed the entire city in his holy flames from above, melting the false gold and the mummy with it.

Instead, he still blasted everything nearby with fireballs, while fruitlessly trying to smash the fireproof Akhenapep with his claws. In spite of his own immense agility and speed, the mummy’s magic allowed him to dodge every attack.

Meanwhile, his beautiful niece had joined the fight, casting spells while Knight Kia rode her—the very sight only fueled Vainqueur’s berserk rage further. "[Aura of Justice]!" Jolie shone like silver, bathing her uncle in holy light.

You gained +2 to all attack-based checks, and your unarmed attacks will inflict additional [Holy] damage!

Holy? That was the mummy’s weakness! The knowledge only bolstered the dragon’s determination to bring the undead down. Akhenapep attempted to retaliate with golden arrows, but Vainqueur’s onslaught gave him little opening.

He barely noticed the infernal portal widening further, an immense, long-necked lizard passing through. With the Kobold Rangers on its back, the beast trampled golems underfoot on its way to the last gate; Malfy had reached it thanks to his ice bridge trick, trying to freeze the doors while Manling Victor’s tentacled abomination kept undead soldiers away from him. Meanwhile, the evil Furibon flew towards Vainqueur after noticing Victor’s leftover scythe.

"Furibon!" Jolie showed her tiny fangs at the vile lich and fired a small, fiery projectile at him. "You will pay for your crimes against Uncle and hoardinity!"

"Jolie, no!" Kia called out from the niece’s back, cutting down an undead knight with her shining sword.

"Not me, you inbred lizard!" the lich complained while dodging the attack and stealing Manling Victor’s scythe. Vainqueur knew they may be an ally, but his niece’s response made him proud.

"Uncle? Is that your niece over here, dragon?" Akhenapep noted, renewing the spell protections Vainqueur had disabled during their close encounters. "Because I cannot, in good conscience, let her dedicate the rest of her life to revenge after I kill you."

The words snapped Vainqueur out of his rage-fueled rampage, replacing his fury with fear. "Don’t you dare!"

"That would violate Vizier Stratagem thirty-eight," Akhenapep interrupted his assault on Vainqueur to point a finger at his niece. "‘The law of family sets’! [Atomic Ray]!"

Vainqueur’s heart skipped a beat. "Jolie!" He rushed to his niece’s rescue, as the mummy unleashed the same beam that killed his chief of staff. But the red dragon was too far… too far!

Instead, the vile Furibon flew at Jolie's side, touching her pristine scales with his dirty hand. "[Teleportation]!"

The lich, the dragon, and her rider vanished out of the beam’s way, dodging death. They reappeared a few feet away, safe and sound. "You villain…" Jolie couldn’t believe what happened. "You, a villain, saved me?"

"No, I saved her," the lich replied, glancing at the rider. "You should be optimized to destroy him."

Knight Kia climbed down from her master’s back. "Jolie, go help the others."

"But, Kia—"

"Go help the rangers and the others close the gate," Knight Kia repeated with calm, her blade shining with heavenly energies and her eyes with a greater fury. "That one is too strong for you."

Akhenapep pointed one hand towards Vainqueur, and one towards Jolie’s group. Everyone had fallen into a tense stand-off.

"Jolie, go," Vainqueur ordered, his eyes set on the minion slayer. This time, the niece obeyed, flying above the remaining enemy minions and burning them. Akhenapep’s funerary mask briefly shifted to his summoning gate, which Malfy had trapped in ice.

"[Sacred Sword of Mithras]." Knight Kia’s blade doubled in length, transforming into an iridescent solid rainbow. She took a few steps towards Akhenapep, and then outright rushed at him. "[Miracle of D’Arc], [Blade of Dispelling], [Accelerated Hasten]!"

"[Atomic—"

"[Accelerated Ancient Meteor]!" Furibon unleashed a mini-meteor at Akhenapep before he could attack Knight Kia. The mummy glitched out of time to dodge the blow, allowing Vainqueur and Kia to close in. Akhenapep dodged the dragon’s poke, but not the paladin’s blade.

And he screamed for it.

Much to Vainqueur’s consternation, unlike his fruitless attempts from before, Knight Kia’s blade actually hurt the mummy. Her sword cut through his reinforced leadskin like butter, sparkles glittering in its path.

Akhenapep’s HP screen also dwindled tremendously.

HP: 670/2550.

The mummy let out a roar of rage, unleashing the same repulsion attack he used before. An invisible force slammed Furibon against the pavement and forced Vainqueur a few feet backward. Meanwhile, a rainbowy armor appeared around Kia, shielding her from the attack.

In fact, she didn't seem bothered by the mummy’s radioactive aura either.

"You are a [Saint]?" Akhenapep prepared to zap Knight Kia with a spell, astonished by his attack’s failure. "[Greater Dispel—"

Too late.

Knight Kia’s holy blade swiftly cut him in half from the skull to the pelvis, killing him instantly.

Or so Vainqueur thought, as the mummy glitched out of existence and reappeared a few feet away, Furibon’s screen still showing his HP above his head.

HP: 670/2550.

The mummy barely had the time to regain his composure before Vainqueur hit him from behind, crushing him with both hands on the street. His immense strength shook the ground with deafening noise, sending pieces of the pavement in all directions.

Yet the mummy reappeared afterward, shaken, but alive.

"Why won’t he die again?!" Vainqueur roared with consternation, trying to squish the undead like a game of whack-a-mole; Knight Kia backing him up, their enemy furiously struggling for his unlife.

"[Save Scum], the [Chronomancer]’s fearsome capstone!" Furibon let out a hiss of frustration, supporting his nemesis with a jagged beam. Akhenapep used his [Za Warudo] to avoid the attack and break the encirclement, reappearing on a pile of debris twenty meters away from them. Vainqueur immediately pursued him before he could recover. "Every time death should claim him, he reverts to a ‘quicksave state’ right before the last blow!"

"He cannot be killed?!" Kia launched a holy sun at the mummy, who dodged by time leaping.

"The ability consumes SP and doesn’t recharge them, so he cannot recover once he runs out of them," the lich replied. "There are other workarounds, like killing him in an [Antimagic Zone], canceling the Perk outright, or judicious use of status ailments..."

Then Vainqueur simply had to outlast this vermin. Force him to waste every drop of his magic until he had nothing left to power his ability.

The dragon blasted the mummy with his mighty flames while running at him, forcing the villain to reapply his chest seal to absorb them. In the background, Malfy and the rest had managed to condemn the summoning door, and now focused on the stranded minions of Akhenapep.

"Enough!" the mummy snarled, realizing the brilliance of the dragon’s plan and switching strategies. "[Ur-Pharaoh Ascension]!"

A golden glow surrounded the mummy, empowering him, changing him. His body grew in size, quickly casting a shadow upon the dragon, and threatening to crush Knight Kia underfoot. The paladin had to run away. Vainqueur looked up… and up…

And up.

Gone was the mummy, replaced by a giant of armored gold, his funerary mask now a soulless, condemning visage. His head reached more than a hundred feet above the ground, and he could easily grab even Vainqueur himself within his hands.

The giant raised his knee, extending it back, and then—

BHAM!

The giant kicked Vainqueur with more strength than Wotan’s lightning or Maure’s wind spear, shattering his ribs and propelling him backward.

The dragon smashed through one of the last pyramids still standing, came out on the other end, and finally ended his trajectory against one of the city’s outer walls; his body having made a hole within.

Vitality check successful. Death averted.

Warning: you have less than one hundred HP remaining!

Critical health! [Bravo Bull] activated, strength increased!

Vainqueur struggled to remain conscious, his eyes dizzy and his body wracked with pain. He could hear the steps of the giant, as he trampled houses on his way to finish off the dragon; Knight Kia sliced his leg, but her blade barely dented his reinforced skin. Even Furibon and Jolie couldn’t do anything, flying near the Ur-Pharaoh’s shoulder while unleashing fireballs and bolts at his head.

Thankfully, Vainqueur’s minions proved more effective. Having disposed of the remaining minions of Akhenapep, Malfy froze the titan’s right foot with a breath of ice, briefly slowing him down; while the Kobold Rangers, their beast of burden, and Manling Victor’s summoned allies climbed the mummy’s left leg and tried to anchor him.

The emperor glared at this incoming insult to gold, which strangely hadn’t cast a spell at him yet. Perhaps the vile mummy couldn’t do so in this shape, having transformed to continue the fight while saving his SP.

The dragon wondered if his breath could melt that statue from that far…

…

False gold.

"Furibon!" Vainqueur roared to his nemesis. "Do the thing!"

The vile lich heard him, and seemingly understood the atrocity asked of him… Only for the glow in his empty eye sockets to somehow turn smug. "Say it!"

"Never!" Vainqueur refused to lower himself to his level.

"Say it, wyvern!" the lich insisted, in his boundless cruelty. The gold giant looked at them with confusion, before realizing the threat Furibon presented. Instead of continuing his course to finish off Vainqueur, he raised his hand to smash the flying skeleton like a bug.

Vainqueur closed his eyes, the memories of his poor minions and his beloved niece flashing in his mind. He had to do it for them.

"Turn him to lead!" the dragon roared, tears in his eyes, sacrificing his morals for the greater wealth. "Turn him to lead, you evil, sadistic monster!"

The lich instantly raised his hands, as Akhenapep’s finger threatened to close around him. "[Transmute Gold to Lead]!"

And so, in a flash of sinister magic, the wicked Furibon turned the golden Ur-Pharaoh into a vile statue of lead. The spell spread throughout the titan, transforming him in a matter of seconds; the mummy didn’t even have the time to counter the curse through his own magic.

The giant pharaoh was petrified; weakened by lead poisoning.

"[Charged Attack]!" Vainqueur gathered his remaining strength, the power building up in his belly, and then unleashed it upon the giant.

The dragon fired a massive beam of pure energy at the giant’s heart, the attack melting it, and then worked its way on the other side. His minions wisely dispersed, as a rain of molten lead overflowed from the wound.

The giant’s [Save Scum] activated, rewinding him to his previous state; that of a statue of lead. Vainqueur kept unleashing his attack, melting his heart a second time… and then a third…

On the fourth try, the titan stopped rewinding time, and Vainqueur’s breath incinerated him whole. Like a wax candle, the giant collapsed into a lake of boiling lead, spreading across the streets of El Dorado like a diseased flood. Knight Kia took refuge on a pile of rubble, Jolie flying down to catch her in her arms and bring her to safety. The surviving minions of Vainqueur fled the flood, deeper into the city.

As Vainqueur breathed his last flame and inhaled again, he let out a sigh of relief. The mummy didn’t come back.

As the lead lake cooled off and solidified, a humongous pile of items appeared at the mummy’s last spot; the battle's spoils. The mummy’s funerary mask, a dragon-sized ring, a scepter, piles of gems and treasures... his minions had also dropped many rewards, spread all over the battlefield.

Not worth his chief of staff.

"Uncle!" Jolie flew at his side, Knight Kia in her hands. The upstart minion immediately cast two spells on him: [Greater Restoration] and [Full Heal].

[Irradiated] status and Max HP reduction removed.

You regained all your HP.

Vainqueur could feel his wings again, and his chest no longer itched. Perfect.

Right afterward, the worm god Sablar teleported in the middle of the lead lake, a killjoy to the end.

"The racket is over. Congratulations, my prophet…" The deity looked around him, noticed the pile of treasure, and then the dragons, lich, paladins, and minions surrounding him with murder in their eyes. "Oh."

"Your actions cost me two minions, vile worm," Vainqueur hissed, while Knight Kia barely restrained herself from attacking him.

"A shame, I hoped for more," the deity replied callously, his eyes full of malice. Time seemed to rewind for the lake of lead, as it gathered back on the spot of Akhenapep's defeat. It quickly coalesced into the mummy’s shape, shaken, surprised, and defeated. "My prophet, the march of time will not claim you today."

The minion instantly knelt at his master’s clawed feet. "My lord Sablar, I failed you."

"A single defeat doesn’t invalidate a lifetime of atrocities in my name," the deity reassured his chief of staff. "You have done your best. This battle was but a sideshow, to the troubled times to come."

"We’ve won, get on with it." Furibon sounded as exasperated as Vainqueur himself.

The worm god glanced at the lich with contempt, before letting out a buzzing sound.

Instantly, the false gold plating of the ruins vanished into flying dust, eroding at indragon speed. El Dorado quickly transformed from a false vision of paradise to a devastated ruin of red, bloody bricks and concrete. The collars around Vainqueur's, Furibon's and Malfy's neck turned to dust. "Do not expect the citizens to be grateful for your deed," the god mused. "Learn that you have made a powerful enemy of me today, mortals."

"Go back to your ruins, fairyspawn!" Vainqueur snorted back.

"Now I have to find a new vacation resort," the deity complained. "Such a waste."

"My pyramid trumps this city," Akhenapep told his patron deity. "It is quieter, deep below the earth."

"Oh? It sounds like my kind of safe space." The worm god teleported both of them away.

The battle was over.

Congratulations! For leading friends and foes to victory against a mighty archmage, you earned three levels in [Augustus], one level in [Kaiser], and three levels in [Witchfinder General]! You earned the [Pontifex Maximus], [Malleus Maleficarum], [Incinerator], and [Master of Silence] class perks!

By capping the [Augustus] class, you earned the [Glitzy Theater] class perk!

+150 HP, +70 SP, +8 STR, +7 VIT, +6 SKI, +6 AGI, +5 INT, +10 CHA, +5 LCK.

[Pontifex Maximus]: 60 SP. Your near-religious authority inspires your allies to greater heights; for five seconds per charisma point of yours, all their attacks and spells inflict fifty percent additional [Holy] damage.

[Incinerator]: any creature killed by one of your [Fire] attacks (be they your breath, spells, or perks) has their corpse instantly disintegrated, preventing future revival attempts. Even effects such as transformation into an undead post-mortem cannot bring back the deceased.

[Malleus Maleficarum]: Variable of 20 SP. You target a single target within one hundred feet of yourself with a phantom hammer, inflicting [Spirit] damage. If the target has levels in a spellcaster class, the attack becomes super effective; for each 20 SP you sacrifice to the spell, the hammer has a chance of dispelling one magical protection of the target on a successful Luck check.

[Master of Silence]: 80 SP. You infuse all allies within thirty feet of you with your silent hatred for spellcasters. For ten minutes, all unarmed and armed attacks have a chance to inflict the [Silence] ailment on a successful Luck check, preventing magicians from using verbal spells.

[Glitzy Theater]: 100 SP. You can summon a golden theater over a mile around yourself, trapping everyone present until you release it; [Teleportation] effects to escape the trap’s confines always fail, but teleportation inside and within the cage remains possible. The theater counts as a gladiator arena for the purpose of your Perks.

"I… I gained levels." Knight Kia had tears in her eyes, immediately embracing her mistress by the neck. "Jolie, I gained new levels!"

"Me too Kia!" the dragon replied, nuzzling her minion’s cheek. "So many at once too!"

Malfy raised his pincers, as if expecting a promotion of some kind… which didn’t happen. "Why?" the fiend complained. "Why will I not evolve into a CEO? I sinned so much!"

"Oh, a new class?" Furibon’s glee angered his nemesis.

"You are unforgivable," Vainqueur lambasted him. "Your saving of my niece is commendable, but nowhere near enough to atone for your sins. And if you wish to survive for the next five minutes, you would better leave my minion’s scythe alone."

"It is the only memento left of him, wyvern," the lich replied. "If you wish to revive him—"

"You would blackmail me?" Vainqueur let out smoke from his nostrils. "Tread carefully, lich."

"Your Majesty, I can deal with the matter of Mr. Victor," Malfy coughed. "I know exactly where his soul is."

"You do that, Tasty Malfy," Vainqueur ordered, his eyes set on the lich even as his demon minion opened a portal alongside the other fiends present. "And do not even think about touching my rightfully earned loot, Goldslayer."

"Rightfully earned? I defeated the mummy and saved your worthless life!"

Both glared at one another, although newcomers quickly interrupted their tense contest.

The victims of the lifted [Curse of Greed] invaded the devastated warzone; most of them lizardfolk similar to Xolotl, although Vainqueur noticed manlings and elves among the crowd. Best of all, Sweet Chocolatine and Felix showed up.

"You… are you the one who freed us?" one of the lizardkin asked.

"Yes, yes," Vainqueur raised his head haughtily, prepared to receive his daily dose of praise and adoration. "It is I who saved you all."

"You dirty pauper, how could you?!"

Vainqueur paused, glancing down at the crowd; almost every native lizardkin staring angrily at him. "Excuse you?"

"How dare you bring your poverty here, to the richest civilization in the world?!" The lizardman kept shaming his savior. "El Dorado was the brightest place on Outremonde, and now it looks like lead! No tourist will ever come fill our coffers now!"

"Give us back our gold!" another lizardkin complained. "You made us poor, so you better reimburse us!"

"Refund!" the crowd chanted. "Refund! Refund!"

Even Vainqueur’s minions and allies were too shocked by the sheer ungratefulness to properly lynch them. The manlings and elves present wisely put distance between themselves and the locals.

The dragon glanced at this collection of idiots, the biggest piles of lead crap he had ever seen in his very long life. Remembering that his best minion died for them, Vainqueur raised his head, closed his eyes, and took the higher road. The dragon road.

CHOMP!

With one bite, the dragon swallowed the lizardkin whole, silencing the angry crowd.

It was strangely tasty, like hate food.

"I am going to eat you," Vainqueur declared with cold fury. "I am going to eat you all."

And so he did, running after the ungrateful lizards as they screamed for their worthless lives; Manling Victor’s star squid, which had survived the fight, soon imitated the dragon.

"Uncle!" Jolie protested while the minions chanted ‘Vainqueur best dragon’ in the background. Furibon washed his hands of the spectacle, retreating in a corner with Manling Victor’s scythe. "That is not very Paladin!"

The holy niece prepared to rush between Vainqueur and his food, but Kia put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't bother, Jolie," the knight said. "They brought it on themselves."

At this moment, Vainqueur felt much better deep down, a burden lifted off his shoulders. He still had it.

He was no cattletarian.

27: That time I reincarnated as a cup!

Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of the V&V Empire, woke up with one hell of a body change.

Gone were his limbs, his mouth, his wings, and his tail. He could feel a ghostly impression of them as if he had been amputated, but he had no hand to facepalm with. Scratch that; Victor no longer felt, or at least, not in a human way. He could no longer distinguish cold from warmth, scents, or tastes. He could only see and hear as if watching through a television screen.

Observing the world through the sculpted eye sockets of his [Black Grail], Victor Dalton had become something more than a man.

He had become a cup!

As expected, his soul had moved into the [Black Grail] after Akhenapep murdered him. He had cheated death, even after losing his Heaven Insurance. And from what he could see, Xolotl had the [Black Grail] placed on an altar inside an underground sacrificial chamber, like a holy relic.

Nobody was around, except for two skeleton guards standing watch over the entrance.

Victor was finally safe.

Congratulations! For pulling off a karma houdini, avoiding the consequences of violating your Karma Insurance, and dodging divine judgment through your villainous artifact, you earned two levels in [Moriarty] and two levels in [Weathermaker]! You earned the [Asteroid Dynamics] and [Zmey Rider] class perks.

+60 HP, +40 SP, +2 STR, +2 VIT, +3 SKI, +1 AGI, +8 INT, +4 CHA, +6 LCK.

[Asteroid Dynamics]: Whenever you are in combat, your evil genius predicts the movements of your enemies by subconsciously analyzing all variables, granting you a boost to precision, evasion, and criticals equal to half your Intelligence.

[Zmey Rider]: You can summon a unique [Zmey] as a familiar. A [Zmey] is a fiendish, dimwit lesser cousin of true dragons bringing rainfall wherever they go. If your [Zmey] is killed, you lose the Perk.

Sweet. Since he gained experience and Sablar hadn’t come to kill him permanently, Victor assumed Vainqueur and/or Kia had prevailed against Akhenapep. He hoped there weren't too many casualties…

Wait, he could gain stat boosts as a cup? Without a body?

Huh, interesting. Could it be that the stat increases, Perks, and system benefits were linked to his soul, instead of his body?

"Hello?" Victor attempted to talk to the skeletons, but no sound came out. Not even a telepathic contact of any kind. "Take me to El Dorado, and I shall grant you more power than you can possibly imagine!"

The skeleton guards ignored him.

And here he thought that diabolical whispers were a feature of all evil artifacts… He attempted to call for help through [Scarlet Study] and came back with a system screen.

Usage of Perks impossible while inhabiting improper vessel.

He would have to solve that design flaw next time. Thankfully, he could still control all the [Arisen] his Black Grail had created, [Enthralling] them to do his bidding. He just needed one to bring him to El Dorado, spray his ashes with black blood, problem solved.

Now that he thought of it though… did [Enthralling] sentient beings count as slavery? Even if they literally owed their unlife to him, and that it was only for one task? Considering Vainqueur’s own stance in the matter, he had to tread carefully with it.

Victor decided he would just send a telepathic SOS message through their bond, and hope his undead creations would feel grateful enough to help.

"Minions! Minions!"

Nearest [Arisen]: 15 kilometers.

Only fifteen kilometers? Had he raised new undead during his drug trip in Kukulcan? Victor hesitated to call that good but thanked his luck all the same as he called out for rescue.

Your [Arisen] are moving to your position.

Great, he just had to wait.

How long would it take?

As it turned out, a long, long while. Gratitude was much less persuasive than magical command.

Victor first tried to entertain himself by counting sheep, then asking riddles to the skeletons. After a while, it grew boring, so he considered what new name he should use while in cup form.

Victograil?

Cuphead?

Grail-kun?

Grail-kun it was.

"Hey, I’m Grail-kun! I’m immortal, but don’t tell anyone!" Victor called out to the skeletons, feeling like an idiot afterward. Truly, he was going mad. How long had it been since he sent a SOS?

You have been a [Black Grail] for two hours.

Two hours? What were his undead saviors doing?

Nearest [Arisen]: 5 kilometers.

Damn, the confinement would drive him mad. He had to do something. Maybe the skeletons would sound the alarm if he moved?

Ngh…

Ngh…

Nnngghhhh!

Argh, moving as an inanimate item was hard! No wonder the One Ring became such an asshole, Victor felt like a quadriplegic!

Finally, using all of his willpower, Grail-kun managed to tip himself over, falling from the altar. "Freedom!" Victor screamed in silent satisfaction, as he hit the ground and rolled towards the skeleton. "Suck my cup!"

And it worked! The skeleton glanced down at Victor, seizing him gently… and then put him back on the altar before returning to its post.

This body was a mistake.

What else could he do? His Grail had been linked to both Happyland and his scythe, allowing him to transfer souls to an [Arisen] vessel. While he couldn't send his own soul to his scythe without risking the disruption of his own tenuous anchor to Outremonde, he could always summon a captive. If his scythe remained intact, he could use them as messengers.

"Come to me!" Victor ordered. "Grail-kun commands it!"

A shade appeared right next to the cup, invisible to the skeletons, but not to Victor. The Vizier instantly recognized her as Wotan’s Valkyrie, Sigrun... although, for some reason, she appeared to him naked.

She was a beauty, a Scandinavian, muscled beauty with long, braided blonde hair and ocean-colored eyes. With her feathered wings, she reminded Victor of Miel.

On a closer look though… She looked somewhat wrong. The lines of her face were too symmetrical, her body proportions a bit off. She looked like a statue shaped by someone with only a rough academic understanding of humans. Since Wotan had created her as false princess bait, it didn’t surprise the Vizier much.

Victor should have probably lusted after her, but didn’t. He assumed his new body’s lack of hormones and brain chemistry prevented him from feeling arousal, or even physical pleasures. No more of that sweet dopamine.

Why can’t cups have nice things?

"You…" The woman glared at him. "Was condemning me to silent suffering not enough for you? You have to degrade me with your cold stare?"

He did gain a strange kind of satisfaction from her annoyance though. His evil artifact instincts had already kicked in.

Also, he recognized her voice. "Wait... you’re the one!"

"The one?" At least she could understand him.

"On that island, after our first battle with King Wotan—"

"Your crushing defeat at my master’s hands, you mean," the Valkyrie replied with pride.

"You asked if my corpse was still warm!" It had bugged Victor for days. "Why?"

"... I have no idea what you are talking about."

Victor glared at her, and then remembered he had no eyebrows. What an underrated body feature. Instead of giving that liar the stare, he gave her the silence.

After a long, awkward moment, the Valkyrie glanced away, embarrassed. "We are not called shieldmaidens for nothing," she admitted.

…

"So not only would you have violated my corpse, you would have done a hack job at it? I am deeply offended, on both counts!"

"You were supposed to be dead," she said as if it was his fault. "Do not remind me of that missed opportunity, dragon slave."

"I assume you aren’t going to help me call for assistance?"

She answered with a silent glare of her own, except she had the eyebrows to make it work. Victor grumbled to himself as he furiously pondered what to do next.

He could always hope for an [Arisen] or necromancer to make their way into the chamber, true. But the more he waited with that infuriating shade for company, the more he wanted a quick way out.

"Even if your allies survive, you will stay a cup for all eternity," Sigrun taunted him. "My sisters and my king live. They will come for you, for your dragon master. There is only doom for your damned soul."

Wait.

That was it! The [Black Grail] could select damned souls from Happyland to return to the material plane! Since he was the cup itself, Victor could probably project his consciousness into the infernal planes!

"Sigrun, you are a genius!" Victor thanked the surprised Valkyrie, focusing on his link to Happyland and leaving her hanging.

Victor Dalton awoke in a dark room, back in his original body; or rather a ghostly, astral projection of one.

Was it Happyland? He couldn’t see anything, although he heard a few whispers in the background. "Hello?" Victor called out. "Is someone there?"

Someone switched on the light.

"SURPRISE!"

Victor backed down, as he found himself surrounded by a massive crowd of thousands of demons, all acclaiming him.

The Vizier noticed Malfy, his lawyers, and his usual summons among them, alongside the host of archfiends and succubi he dealt with at Scholomance. But countless others he didn’t recognize, from many-eyed green slimes to fallen angels in business suits. Imp ninjas acted as security, their tiny eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.

The room they occupied looked like a demonic variant of Wall Street’s famous stock market room, with screens showing the latest ‘soul dividends yields’ and ‘corporations’ credit notes’ embedded in skull pillars. Multiple banners with slogans such as ‘Happy Damnation Victor!’, ‘Our Hero Dalton,’ and ‘Happy Hellday’ had been attached to them.

"W-what the?" Victor blinked, not having expected something like this. "What's happening?"

"Mr. Victor, I am so glad to see you again!" Malfy couldn’t suppress his tears, a demon lawyer wiping them away with a bloody handkerchief. "I threw this party at the last minute after His Majesty defeated Akhenapep, and I was starting to wonder if you would ever fall downstairs! Unfortunately, Mrs. Maure couldn’t make it in time."

"Gentlefiends!" The biggest demon in the room clamored, silencing everyone. Victor recognized the entity, a massive, crowned black fly-human hybrid, as the dreaded Beelzebub. "Your attention please!"

The fly lord raised a cup of bloody champagne and started an inspiring speech.

"You all know me as Beelzebub, CEO of Infercorp and honorary Chairman of the Corporate Overlords Board. I have been, to some of you, a boss, a father, a competitor, or a cutthroat challenger. In one case, all at the same time. But tonight is not the time for rivalries in Soulwell Street; tonight is a friendly Sabbath for all of demonkind, where we can all celebrate our collective achievements."

"Thanks to our efforts, we have lowered the average age of work on the material plane to six, six years old! We created millions of jobs for children everywhere!" The demons clapped, while Victor stood there, his mind unable to compute the scene before him.

"Thanks to our progressive policy of constantly lowering mortal salaries, we managed to achieve man-woman equality of wages! I could go on, talk about how our rebranding increased our damnation conversion rate by fifty percent or this year’s historical soul dividends. I will do none of that. For today, we gathered to acclaim one, who is a hero to us all."

The fly lord raised his glass to the Vizier. "All of us, a round of applause for our shareholder Victor Dalton!"

The crowd acclaimed him instantly, their warm congratulations deafening. "Uh, thanks," he said, completely lost.

"For your extraordinary act in the service of Happyland, the Board of Corporate Overlords unanimously decided to grant you the Medal of the Order of the Fly; the highest decoration known to demonkind." The fly archfiend approached Victor and put a winged cross medal on his ghostly chest, while the cheers redoubled in intensity. "You are a hero, Mr. Dalton, and you will always be welcome among us."

What the Happyland did he do? Definitely something terrible.

Afterward, the demon lord called for an orgy, and trumpets resonated through the market room. Lines of naked succubi and their male counterparts, the incubi, walked into the marble-paved hall, playing instruments or carrying golden plates full of drinks, toasts, and cocaine.

With a completely clueless Victor in the middle of it all.

Demons swarmed to the Vizier like a horde of groupies, so many at once that he could barely make sense of their words. Some congratulated him, one offered him drugs, a few offered alliances, and a fiendish slime even asked to bear his child.

"Get away from me!" the chief of staff shouted, confused and lost. "I only want fresh air!"

Immediately, his summons formed a ring around him and pushed away most of the crowd, allowing him to breathe at last. Only Malfy could get past the safety cord.

"Congratulations, Mr. Victor." The bug fiend handed the Vizier a glass of bloody champagne. He also noticed a demon lawyer sniffing cocaine off a succubi’s breast in the background. "I had that gut feeling you would become Happyland’s greatest champion, and by Mammon did you shatter all my expectations!"

"What did I do?" Victor asked. "Is it about Heaven? What did I do to Heaven?"

Malfy still threatened to cry in joy but managed to keep his composure this time. "They gave up."

Victor froze. "They gave up?"

"The angels gave up!" Malfy replied cheerfully, before finally realizing his associate didn’t get it. "The pigeon. She tried to stop you when you undressed in public. Don’t you remember?"

"No." He didn’t even know Miel had attended the party. It made sense in hindsight since Vainqueur had activated [Golden Road] to bring reinforcements.

"But then you put her right in her place by revealing your insurance fraud to everyone!" Malfy relished in the memory. "She slapped you many times in return, but you seemed to enjoy it very much."

Oh, gods. The Vizier vowed to apologize to Miel after this mess.

"As usual for fraudsters, the pigeons arrived in mass to ‘smite down the wicked one.’" Many demons chuckled in the background. "And you beat them all!"

"I beat up angels?" If the insurance fraud hadn’t barred him out of Heaven, that part certainly did.

"Yes! And then… and then you revived them with your [Black Grail] to ‘apologize’!" By now Malfy could barely make coherence sentences, laughing in the middle of his sentence.

"So the angels gave up on me." Victor accepted it as just and fair, having brought it upon himself. "Does it really warrant all this partying?"

"You don’t get it, Mr. Victor," one of Victor’s marilith bodyguards said, clearly struggling against her mirth. "You raised angels with your [Black Grail]."

"But…" Victor finally got it. "The Black Grail can only raise souls bound to…"

"As it turns out…" The marilith began to tear up. "Angels go to Hell when they die!"

Every demon within earshot exploded into diabolical laughter afterward, no one even contesting the use of Happyland’s old branding.

"The face they made… I nearly choked," Malfy caught his breath. "You almost killed me back then, Mr. Victor. You almost did."

The unresponsive Vizier guessed centuries of exhorting mortals for SP did decrease karma.

"After that humiliation, their whole system crumbled!" An imp ninja provided Malfy with a wine glass of his own. "They reevaluated their old client files and realized that a large chunk of them had committed frauds like you. Twenty-three point five percent, according to my inside sources. I heard Mithras is furious."

One out of four? That could happen with a lot of angelic corruption. Victor really, really didn’t like where this was going. "They… the angels no longer sell insurance?"

"No!" Malfy gloated. "Oh, certainly, they will keep accepting pure souls on merit, but not only have they completely backed down from the neutral karma market, but they also canceled all their existing subscriptions! You destroyed the pigeons’ credibility all by yourself!"

…

"Malfy, am I evil?"

"Only ‘accidentally’," Malfy reassured him, only to ruin the sentiment right afterward. "Which gives you plausible deniability in a court of law. You are a model for all of us, Mr. Victor. Oh, also, do you want wine with your cocaine?"

"No, no drugs!" Not ever! "I need to go back to Outremonde, and get revived, now."

"You can always become a Fiend, Mr. Victor," Malfy proposed. "Your soul only needs to absorb Happyland’s energies to trigger a transformation. Usually, you would start at the bottom of the corporate ladder, but as a major shareholder, we can speed up the climbing process."

"Wait, my soul becomes a demon? What happens if I die again?"

"Maybe you will go to Heaven!" Malfy teared up, throwing his wine everywhere on the marble floor.

Yeah, he would rather go back to a human body instead of becoming a giant fly. If only to properly make up with Miel.

"Victor?"

The Vizier heard Camilla’s voice in the back of his mind, sensing the goddess speak to his cup form. And she wasn’t alone.

"Return to your cup," the goddess Shesha spoke to his mind. "We must talk."

28: God Game Night II: Good Expansion

Mithras hated game nights.

The god of order, the sun, and medicine didn’t quite remember how these gatherings started. But he knew how they always ended up: with him patching up a new cosmic mess.

This time, Cybele hosted their gathering. She had set aside a large room in her planar realm of Arcadia, an open space with a floor of moss and pillar-shaped trees. A giant mushroom served as the gaming table, surrounded by fungi thrones, while bioluminescent plants and fireflies provided a faint light. This place truly was a vision of a natural paradise; even as the god of civilization, more at home in cities than forests, Mithras felt soothed.

The sight reminded the deity of his time in the ninth legion, defending Britannica from the Caledonians. He had been a worse person back then, fighting to conquer the people of the earth out of misguided loyalty for one nation.

Manifesting into the room in his sun-king form, Mithras found Cybele and Isengrim already present. His friend Leone, goddess of nobility, teleported right afterward, a golden knight as beautiful and fair as daylight.

"Welcome, my dears," Cybele greeted them, her skin and face hidden beneath a hooded cloak of woven moss. As the goddess of pleasure, anyone witnessing her exposed face couldn’t help but… well… pleasure themselves. Simply hearing her melodious voice would have brought mortals low.

"Greetings!" A white deer with blades for antlers, the god of hunters Isengrim had somehow managed to sit on his throne, his hooves on the table. "My friends, you look terrible!"

"We had a difficult day," Leone said, exhausted. Once having been Mithras’ squire while a mortal, the two had remained friends after she conquered Valhalla. While Cybele kept trying to push them into a romance of some sort, the sun deity saw their relationship as that of a mentor and student.

"So it was true that angels were swinging both ways—"

"We shall not speak about it," Mithras interrupted Cybele, the mere mention of this disaster making him burn with anger. To think that he had ordered his paladins and clerics never to harm an angel unless in self-defense… how could he have been blind to their corruption for so long? "I wish to relax, not open new wounds."

"Well then, I will not probe deeper." The goddess invited them to take their seat, as the last invited member of the gathering arrived.

Seng, goddess of the sea, dreams, and alcoholism, was a wreck. An eastern mermaid with black octopus tentacles for legs, she seemed to have just left a rabble-rouser party, her short raven hair messy and her black eyes creased. She only wore a blue bra and a purple flower in her hair; tattoos of plunder and obscenities covered her arms and neck.

She was the one goddess they should have barred from this table, and Leone reminded them why once Seng took her seat, a bottle of alcohol in her left hand. "No booze at the table."

"It’s whiskey!" Seng protested.

"You’re only allowed to play if sober," Mithras reminded her sternly. "Nobody wants another flood."

"It was an accident, alright! Gimme a break!" The goddess pouted her hand tight around her whiskey. "Just one bottle!"

"One, and pace yourself," Cybele said, more tolerant than the others. "Or else I will prematurely eject you from this gathering."

"Since when did you turn into a bore?" Seng grumbled while Cybele set the map of Outremonde on the mushroom table. Mithras observed the gaming board of Outremonde with melancholy.

Centuries ago, when the System was new and the deities few, Mithras had ruled the first mortal empire directly as a god-emperor. He had defended a small city from fomor depredations, helped it form alliances with other settlements, and slowly united the fairies’ slaves into a strong nation covering most of the Mistral continent. The Mithraic Empire.

Mithras himself never had any intention to rule it forever. His role was to serve as civilization’s guiding hand to the New Folk, be they humans, elves, dwarves or beastkin. In time, he might have broken the fomors’ power over Outremonde entirely and prevented future tragedies. Most mortals worshiped him during that time, to the point of nicknaming him the One God.

In his own arrogance, he hadn't foreseen the Dread Three ascending to godhood together. They challenged Mithras for supremacy and even killed him; when he revived in Valhalla one year afterward, his empire had already fractured.

An era of chaos followed, as deities old and new directly fought for control of Outremonde. Chaotic gods rose during those troubled times, from the Moon Man to Sablar the World Eater. Since the supreme power in Valhalla revived deities a year and a day after their avatar’s death, none could gain the upper hand for long.

After years of disastrous fighting, Cybele, the second oldest deity after Dice, brokered a gentlemen's agreement between her fellow divinities. She argued that they restrain themselves to affect the world through their portfolio, Claimed, and worshipers. The war had exhausted everyone, and the gods agreed to make peace.

In the end, isolated and outnumbered, even Sablar submitted. The worm god knew his ambitions would cause the other gods to unite against him should he make a fuss, and he had played the long game since. If anything, patience made him even more insidious.

Over time, Gardemagne had managed to recover its predecessor’s western and northern borders, but it remained a shade of the old empire. The vampiric Nightlands, in particular, remained a sore point for the god of law. Gardemagne had been Leone’s pet project, while Mithras had mostly focused on the Eversun Empire farther east, where his church held great sway. The nation hadn’t performed as well as he had hoped, surrounded by hostile powers and mired in political corruption. Would this session change things?

A dice fell from the heavens on the table, to no one’s surprise.

"Roll me!" Dice shouted. The gambling deity always managed to land on the gaming table whenever they began a session. The gods had found it easier to include that living disaster for the purpose of damage control, rather than letting it run rampant. "Roll me!"

"I would like to go last, as usual," Mithras asked politely, ignoring the dice.

"At the bottom?" Cybele replied.

Why did she always have to sound like she meant something dirty? As far as Mithras could tell, Cybele didn’t even do it on purpose. The ascended [Paladin] simply nodded, and the goddess of forests opened the session.

"Today, we continue our long-term campaign of Outremonde: Crusader Realms Edition," Cybele began, acting as the Game Master. "We shall each play a chosen country and guide them. The campaign ends when the entire world is at peace or destroyed. Before you ask Leone, one country taking over Outremonde still counts as a victory condition."

"Roll me!"

"Shesha will not be among us?" Isengrim asked, ignoring the petulant dice. She usually participated in their sessions, pitting her Nagastan against Mithras’ own Eversun Empire.

"She said she had a rendezvous with Camilla and one of her Claimed." Leone tightened her fists at this. "Since it concerns one of my beloved Claimed, I proposed to fill in for her."

"Roll me for initiative!"

"She also told me the meeting could shed light on the fomor problem."

"Is it true that they can level up now?" Mithras asked immediately, having heard the rumor. If true, then the time for games would end.

The memories of his own abduction to Outremonde came back to haunt him. He still remembered leading his centuria to investigate barbarians raiding the shores of Britannica, expecting to return home by noon. Only it hadn’t been pirates, but tyrants from another world, looking for slaves to torment.

King Balaur was still the size of a mere man back then, but just as brutal as ever.

The five years Mithras had spent as the fomor's thrall was a blur, a nightmare full of screams and slaughters. He didn’t even remember his original roman name, erased one whipping at a time. When the [Paladin] had finally escaped after learning of the class system, he had vowed to protect the mortals of the world from the evils he had experienced.

"I cannot say for now," Cybele replied, Sablar having shrouded the fairies’ activities to her sight. She rolled Dice four times, once for each deity except Mithras. "The turn order will be Leone, Isengrim, myself, Seng, and finally, Mithras. Since Dice has no country, he will serve as, well, our dice."

Of course, no one would roll Dice if they could help it, but the possibility satisfied the chaotic deity for now.

Mithras played the Eversun Empire, the easternmost country of the Mistral continent, while Leone influenced Gardemagne. Seng oversaw the Jade Empire from which she originated, and Isengrim the vast plains of the Beastlands. Cybele herself usually managed the wild Dark Forest, which she disputed with the fomors, but would manage Shesha’s commercial empire of Nagastan instead for this session.

"The fomor Mell Lin’s rat plague spreads east, killing thousands across the Serica continent. The Teikoku Empire walled its shores to prevent the infection, while the Jade Empire and Nagastan managed the disease the best they could. Westward, Sablar’s El Dorado..." Cybele all but spat the word with contempt, "is gone. Wiped out. Destroyed. Crumbled. Annihil—"

"We get it, Cy," Seng interrupted.

"Elsewhere, the fomors marshal their forces after the V&V Empire’s declaration of war against them, while the dragon establishes colonies in the New World. Leone, what will you do?"

"I declare a holy war against the V&V Empire."

"What?!" Isengrim protested, "No way, I have worshipers there!"

"Leone, holy wars are not the only solution to every problem," Cybele tried to temper her.

"I hate to be the rule stickler instead of Mithras, but you need a casus belli to start a holy war," Seng grumbled. "BLEEPING nobles, always thinking laws apply to others…"

"They destroyed Heaven!" Leone said with wrathful intent. "Heaven! With insurance frauds!"

"I too take this fiasco very personally, Leone," Mithras told his one-time squire. Corruption always infuriated the god of law. "And I swear that I shall go Old Testament wrath on the angelic authorities responsible. But the mortals only exposed existing, institutional problems in Heaven’s administration. A beautiful afterlife should never have been for sale."

Heaven needed to reform and return to its original, humbler roots, and Mithras would help spearhead the reform personally. In his experience, most angels meant well, with their system corrupting them; only by changing their institutions themselves, could the forces of good get back on the road to redemption.

"They destroyed an island and almost sank another," Leone pointed out. "That dragon and his human partner are living disasters. Neither can I tolerate a nation of fiends, undead, and eldritch horrors from space arming themselves right next to a peaceful Gardemagne. Isengrim, you of all deities should support me in this."

"Why would I support a war involving my sweet, lovable worshipers?" the hunter god protested.

"You shall respect the hunt," Leone quoted Isengrim’s own scriptures. "Hunt to feed, or to thin the herd, but never for profit or pleasure, and never to extinction. Except demons and undead. Demons and undead can be hunted for pleasure, for profit, and to be made extinct."

"Oh, yes, I said that," the white deer nodded. "With emphasis on the can. Not must. Neither of those monster types have any ecological niche besides leeching off the living, and so I do not begrudge my worshippers for hunting them."

"Hence you should see nothing wrong with culling off this so-called V&V Empire’s population."

"I disagree," Isengrim replied firmly. "Because so far, they have worked hard to bring life back to the desert Sablar’s chosen left in their wake, and they built a community where all species can coexist. I wholly support the initiative."

"We cannot put an entire species into one box or another," Mithras said, Leone frowning at him.

"Even the fomors?" she asked the hard question.

"Even them," Mithras said, firm in his belief. "Everyone should be judged on their individual merit. Humans, dragons, fairies, demons… angels. This is justice. Victor Dalton is bound to Hell for his deplorable behavior, but his followers should not be punished for his misdeeds."

"They broke the slave trade in the New World," Seng argued. The mermaid goddess was very attached to the notion of freedom, albeit not the point of rivaling Deathjester’s brutal brand of anarchism. "How can you want to pick a fight with slave liberators?"

"V&V also brought down that vile insult to nature called El Dorado," Cybele defended the two. "The chaos they bring, while worrying, is ultimately balanced by the good."

"And of the two nations of monsters preparing for war," Seng said. "You should focus on the other, Ms. Stickintheass."

This gave Leone pause, the goddess of knights glancing at Prydain. Their Wild Hunts had already raided Gardemagne’s shores and kept rampaging elsewhere across the world for an unknown purpose.

"Fine," she said. "But I'll keep the holy war casus belli for later. Mmm…"

The goddess of knights hesitated to attack Prydain but decided against it for now. The fomors had barricaded themselves in their stronghold, and it was more sensible to keep troops at home, to protect their borders against Wild Hunts and the V&V Empire alike. Instead, the deity chose diplomacy.

"I ask my church to serve as matchmakers between Prince Dimitri of Gardemagne and the Witchdom of Tsaria's queen; and between Princess Merveille of Gardemagne and Prince Komnius of the Eversun Empire, for the purpose of political alliances through marriage."

"Prince Dimitri is no longer pinning after Kia?" Cybele asked, sounding extremely disappointed. She had worked so hard in the background to set these two up.

"He gave up after she left for the V&V Empire," Leone replied, leaving the ascended dryad to ponder the implications. "I want Gardemagne to grow stronger through diplomacy and refinement. With most of the rebuilding from the Century War done and the Age of Discovery bolstered, I now launch a renaissance of the arts across the kingdom. Gardemagne will conquer the continent not through force, but with its culture. I end my turn."

As usual, Isengrim shepherded his flock on Outremonde, asking them to push the frontier further. The white deer had ascended while protecting small communities from monster and fomor depredations and had little interest in larger nations. As far as he was concerned, humble, small victories mattered more than large scale events.

"I will also ask my [Fairy Hunters] to move to Gardemagne, just in case," Isengrim said as he finished his round. "Your turn, my dear Cybele."

The goddess of forests glanced at the map of Outremonde, then snapped her fingers. An enormous wooden board rose from the ground to her side, covered in pictures. Mithras recognized the faces of his chosen Kia Bekele, Victor Dalton, and countless others; crimson links joined two photos together, such as Vainqueur Knightsbane and an obscene pile of gold.

"What are you doing?" Leone asked for everyone there, as Cybele summoned a feather to her hand.

"I am updating my mortal relationship board, now that the Kia-Dimitri ship sank." The goddess scratched the back of her hood with her free hand. "With whom could I set her up..."

"JoliKia!" Seng immediately jumped on the occasion to push her favorite pairing. "Love transcending species!"

"They are cute together, but.." Cybele didn’t seem keen on the idea. "I don’t know… it’s missing something..."

"Roll me!" Dice insisted, "Roll me for the romance route!"

"Kia deserves nothing but the best," Mithras said. His Claimed had done the world a great service, and he would do his best to make her happy. "Is there no charming, dashing young man or lady with whom she could have a fulfilling relationship?"

"We should let her make her own choice," Leone replied. "She is young, give her time to find herself without help."

"I have tried everything," Cybele complained. "Can you even fathom the number of lads and ladies I sent her way through the Century War and afterward? Most find her too impressive to approach, and the rare time someone does, like Dimitri, she never settles!"

"Maybe relationships simply do not interest her?" Leone suggested, herself having only ever loved adventure. "There is nothing wrong with that."

"Is ChocoVic still strong?" Isengrim asked, deeply invested in the matter. Cybele nodded in response. "Good. I will defend that mating pair with my life."

"I shall not give up on Kia’s case," Cybele insisted. "Although I do not see who could replace Dimitri."

"What a noob."

The voice of Deathjester put Mithras on edge. He glanced at his left, finding the assassin grinning at him in a corner.

"Are you here to play or fight, murderer?" Leone asked with cold professionalism, while Mithras simply glared at his nemesis in silence. It took every ounce of willpower not to smite that feathered fiend where he stood.

"Oh no, don’t mind me, I just came to defend my champion’s honor." The jester whistled as he stole Cybele’s feather. "Cybi, you’re not seeing the easy solution there."

The dryad remained silent, as the god of crime started editing her pairing board.

"You just need to set every woman on your board," Deathjester redrew all pairings until they all converged into one face. "With my favorite Claimed, Victor Dalton."

"Even Kia?" Cybele asked.

"Except Kia," Deathjester clarified. "And that’s the genius part. With no alternative, every male on your board will zoom on her instead, like Helen of Troy, until one is successful at winning her heart."

"That is…" Cybele pondered it. "Innovative…"

"As long as ChocoVic remains the one true mating pair, I have no objection," said Isengrim.

"And as long as I draw breath, harems shall never be allowed at this table!" Mithras declared. He knew Deathjester only did that to mess with the sun god through his Claimed chosen.

The jester chuckled at his nemesis. "Hey, Mithras. Didn’t you hear?"

The god of justice’s eyes turned into supernovas.

"Dead angels go to Hell!"

Mithras summoned a pillar of holy flames to strike down his loathsome nemesis, only for Deathjester to vanish while cackling like a maniac. "How does he keep sneaking up in our gaming rooms?" Seng asked, confused.

"He is the god of thieves and spies," Mithras replied, joining his fingers to suppress his righteous anger. "Ignore him. He’s a nuisance. If you snub him enough, he goes away."

To his frustration, Cybele remained mesmerized by the altered board. "He does make a good case—"

"No harems," Mithras shut the proposal down. "Shall we return to Outremonde? You must guide Nagastan."

Cybele put away the relationship board, grumbling all the way. "For Nagastan… with the plague still going on, I will encourage mortals to confine themselves at home and do nothing; priests and casters will cast [Cure Disease] spells, while alchemists and other crafters shall work on cures."

"Would it not be better to have all the sick people quarantined in one place?" Leone suggested. "Instead of everyone?"

"Every person at home is a hero," Cybele replied with wisdom. "Every sofa, a battlefield."

Mithras had the intuition this was just an excuse to encourage matings at home but kept it to himself.

It would soon be his turn, and he already considered what to do. Leone had a point; a new war was on the horizon. Not between nations, but between fomors and mortals.

Mortals had exhausted themselves after the Century War, but the events of the past year told him the fairy lords were quickly rising in strength. Perhaps it was time to bring back his Shining Crusaders together, and prepare. The V&V Empire might have caused troubles, but the sun god felt that they would become a bulwark against the fairy’s forces; they needed every help they could get.

Of course… if Outremonde survived the next turn.

Every deity glanced at Seng with a tense silence, much to her chagrin. "Why are you looking at me, like I’ve eaten a baby?"

As the god of honesty, Mithras couldn’t help but say the truth. "We are waiting for you to screw up somehow."

"You aren’t going to try and sink Atlantis again?" Cybele asked, having worshipers there. Dice's latest rolling had also caused an earthquake there, and while the continent had survived, it remained vulnerable.

"W-what, of course not!"

"The Teikoku Empire?" Leone pushed. "The western islands?"

"What, just because I caused a flood one time while drunk—"

"Four times," Mithras corrected her. "You did it four times."

"You’re just jealous that I’m on the ascendancy with the Age of Discovery!" Seng protested angrily, tossing out her open bottle in her anger. "Mortals are finally crossing the seven seas in my divine name—"

Leone panicked first. "Your whiskey!"

Seng’s bottle unloaded its content in the pacific ocean, divine alcohol flooding everything.

"Oh, BLEEP, oh BLEEP I BLEEPED up!" The sea goddess apologized, pushing her bottle away, but too late. A massive spot of alcohol spread through the sea. "I, I created a whiskey ocean!"

Mithras sighed, knowing he would spend his next turn mitigating this disaster.

Yet another round wasted keeping the world in one piece...

29: Need a Raise

"I need a raise," Victor said while in cup form.

"Me too," the goddess Shesha replied. The reptilian deity and Camilla had settled in the hidden chamber, the skeleton guards bowing before them. Apparently, the divinities had no problem hearing Victor's thoughts in item form.

"You need a raise?"

"Although I have been commissioned by your dragon friend to revive you and Cybele’s chosen, bringing a mortal back to life is much more expensive without a vessel to work on."

"We can discuss it a bit later," Camilla said. "There are a few things we wish to confirm with you first, Victor."

The cup waited in silence.

"Yesterday night… you achieved a greater understanding of the universe through drugs." Camilla seemed deeply embarrassed. "Do you remember anything? Like seeing us gods in a compromising position?"

"I don't remember much," Victor wisely kept the truth to himself. "It was very blurry after the slime totem part."

"Good," she said with relief. "Good. Our worshipers are not ready."

"And now, for my own concern." Shesha nodded, her gaze turning harsh. "Can fomors level up?"

Victor would have nodded if he had a head. "Yes. Yes, they can."

Both goddesses listened to him, as he gave them a report of the battle with Wotan, including what he had learned through [Monster Insight]. The more he spoke, the deeper the divinities frowned. "This is very worrying," Camilla declared. "I will share the information with everyone."

"There has been an increase of fomor Wild Hunts around the world," Shesha added. "First in Gardemagne and the Winter Kingdoms, then to Serica, the eastern continent. Now I understand why."

"They’re grinding," the Vizier realized, horrified. "Like us. They’re preparing for war."

"Usually, the locals of Serica would have organized and pushed them back by now, but the magical plague spread by the fomor Mell Lin disrupts everything," Camilla lamented, herself the goddess of illnesses. "I’ve had my worshipers work on a cure, but progress is slow."

"Can a fomor become a god?" Shesha asked the scariest question. Both Sablar and Dice had been created by one, so… perhaps a fairy could ascend to Valhalla upon reaching level ninety-nine.

The mere possibility of a fomor deity silenced everyone for a good minute.

"It’s not going to happen," Victor swore.

"No, it won't," Camilla replied with firm resolve, "And for that, Vainqueur will need you alive and well."

"Unfortunately, you do not meet my cost requirements," Shesha said.

"Surely, we can draw into Murmurin’s gold reserves," Victor proposed.

"No, you barely have enough funds in your entire empire, to fund both resurrections," Shesha corrected. "With yours being slightly less expensive, since your soul remains anchored to the material plane."

"What? That’s bullshit!" Victor protested. "You can alter reality on a whim, but rebuilding a mortal body from scratch costs too much?"

"Do you take death for a revolving door?" Shesha replied. "As strange as it sounds, yes, rebuilding a mortal coil tailored to the original soul is harder than it looks, especially when the target has already been reincarnated already."

"Even for you?" Victor asked Camilla. "I mean, I don’t want to beg for favors, but you are the goddess of necromancy."

Camilla shook her head with reluctance. "Victor, what do you know about deities? How do we function?"

"You triumph at Valhalla and gain phenomenal cosmic powers?"

"True, yet far from the whole picture," Camilla replied. "When we proved ourselves in Valhalla, we won our hundredth level: that of the supreme [Deity] class. Among many, many benefits, it upgrades our mortal classes and perks into divine variants. I, for example, have thirty levels in [Ascended Necromancer], and ten levels in [Ascended Plague Doctor]."

"Ah, and that’s what determines your portfolio as a deity?" Victor guessed. "Shesha must have been a capped [Merchant], and you a [Necromancer]."

"But that also means that our cosmic powers, while vast, are bound by our choice of classes, and we cannot change them after apotheosis. Thanks to a divine Perk, Shesha can buy anything, even a new life, if mortals pay her enough money by the System’s standards."

"Of course, I take a twenty percent cut," the goddess of commerce said. "I cannot let a crisis get in the way of my profits."

"Since I never had levels in classes that could allow true resurrection, I can only revive my followers as undead beings," Camilla said with sadness. "As far as I know, outside of Shesha, only Sablar and Dice could fully revive you, each through a different method."

"While you… you can revive me, but only as an undead?"

"As the goddess of death, I can do so indeed," Camilla said. "But I would prefer you to return to full life."

Huh? Victor too, since he liked being alive, but why was the goddess of necromancy opposed to him becoming an undead? Because she wanted him to become one on his own?

"If you are destroyed as an undead, you will have no more do-overs," Camilla explained. "Unless you take levels in the [Lich] or [Dracolich] class, and you do not meet the requirements for either. Considering your propensity for getting yourself killed..."

"It’s just my third time!" Victor complained but realized that she had a point. Becoming a fiend could perhaps help, but he would rather avoid becoming hellbound for the rest of his existence.

"I cannot proceed with the revival without your consent," Shesha said. "The choice is yours."

"Doesn’t my [Claimed by Shesha] Perk grant a discount?"

"Yes, and I already included it." Damn. "Out of curiosity, who killed you so thoroughly this time?"

"Akhenapep, Sablar’s prophet."

"Him again?!" To Victor’s surprise, the greedy goddess’ serene face transformed into pure fury. "He is alive?"

"I wouldn’t say alive, but yes, he still exists. You know him?"

"That wicked bastard ruined my entire resurrection business!" Shesha loudly complained, her divine voice making the walls tremble. "Once, heroes paid me mountains of gold each year to raise their own, until he designed his cursed Vizier Stratagem list and shared it with every would-be overlord in the world! At the apex of its popularity, no villain left a body behind to raise within an adventurer party’s budget!"

Camilla made discreet sign language sentences to Victor while Shesha kept ranting. ‘Don’t tell her we have a course based on his teachings at Scholomance,’ the cup interpreted it.

"In spite of my best efforts to obscure that fact, elite criminals now either destroy the bodies or seal the souls of their victims, to deny me my rightful market share!" Shesha kept going on, completely oblivious to her fellows. The more she spoke, the more she reminded Victor of a demon marketer. "Now villains who simply leave corpses behind like this Mell Odieuse can be counted on one hand! Has Vainqueur destroyed that wicked one for good?"

"I… I dunno, maybe?" Victor replied, disturbed by the fire in the goddess’ eyes.

"If he has, I will make him a [Saint]," Shesha declared. "With a lifetime reduction card."

Since the goddess had finally calmed down, Victor pondered his own case. While he wanted to return to life, the cost of raising both Allison and himself would economically cripple Murmurin, at a time when it needed every resource available.

"Revive Allison alone," Victor decided.

"Are you sure?" Camilla asked him. "Do you want me to raise you as an undead? Or return to Happyland?"

"Give me time before either," Grail-kun replied. "With my soul anchored to that cup and my existing resources, I’m sure I can figure out a way to revive myself. Even if nobody’s found out a way before!"

"That’s the entrepreneurial spirit." Shesha appreciated his resolve. "When the existing offers aren’t satisfactory, innovate and conquer the market."

"To motivate you further, if you manage to revive yourself without divine help, I will grant you a present." Camilla winked at him.

"Oh? What kind of—"

"MINION!"

Before Victor knew what hit him, his cup body teleported all the way from Kukulcan to the ruins of El Dorado, right before a furious dragon.

"Minion!" Vainqueur glared at the [Black Grail], "How dare you refuse to work? After I invested so much in you?!"

"Your Majesty, I swear I did it to save you money! I can raise myself at a cheaper cost!"

"You better!" Vainqueur complained, a bit calmer than before. Victor noticed that he had grown much fatter, his belly full; had the dragon feasted on cattle while he partied in Happyland?

Thankfully, as he had expected, the group had managed to defeat Akhenapep, turning El Dorado from a pile of golden rubble, to a pile of stone rubble. Chocolatine and Felix had recovered, alongside Furibon’s explorer buddies. Kia was busy praying next to him, while he noticed Jolie and the Kobold Rangers tending to a giant dinosaur in the background.

The cup almost asked where the locals had gone, before marking a short pause. "Wait, you can understand me?"

"I adapted your soul frequency so it works as telepathy." Furibon glanced down at Victor, holding his scythe in his hands. "That was how I could communicate with Lady Maure while trapped in your scythe, during your first visit to Happyland."

"Huh? Thanks."

"I only did it because the dragon would not stop pestering me, not because I care," Furibon shrugged with a tsun-tsun skull face.

"Do not believe for a single second that it makes us even, lich." The two nemeses glared at one another, Victor almost seeing the lightning between their eyes.

"Finally, manling, you have taken a form befitting of your station." Felix the cat licked his whiskers, while Vainqueur was too busy glaring at his enemy to pay attention. "You have become the perfect litter box."

"No!" Victor complained, but the cat already started climbing on him. "Somebody save me! Help!"

"Felix, bad cat!" Chocolatine quickly grabbed Grail-kun and kept her close to her chest, far away from the feline’s vicious attention. Victor would have found the situation comfortable, could he feel anything.

"So, Vic, I only ask the goddess Shesha to revive Allison?" Kia briefly interrupted her prayers. "I can only cast [Contact Deity] so many times."

"Yes, I will figure out a cheaper way to revive myself, and as they say, ladies first," Victor replied.

"You better. I would be loath to adventure with a crippled party."

Victor paused. "What?"

"No way I’m letting you go anymore, your party always gets the best fights," Kia declared with an air of finality. "I have also come across highly sensitive information that we need to discuss."

"Me too. It’s about the fomors, isn’t it?"

The [Paladin] nodded. "You remember the adventurers who ambushed both our teams?"

"Those with the rifles and Earth weapons? A fomor was among those who attacked us in the Winter Kingdoms."

"I wondered where they got all their advanced weapons, and I believe I do now."

"Yes, yes, we will deal with the fairies in due time," Vainqueur interrupted the discussion. "Now get on with the resurrection, minion, and end my wallet’s silent agony."

"It’s a shame we don’t have remains of your body, Vic," Kia sighed.

"I kept a strand of your hair," Chocolatine purred to Victor. "Would that be enough?"

"... why did you keep my hair?" Victor asked.

"To sniff them in your absence, of course!"

He cupwalked right into that one.

"Hair could have served as a [Phylactery] or a [Torc of Soul Vestment], but not a full resurrection," Furibon replied. "Could you not leave a bone behind for safekeeping?"

How could Victor know Akhenapep would vaporize his body? Even Wotan’s Valkyries had settled on molesting it instead.

Besides his allies, with his Perks negated, he could only call upon the [Black Grail]’s abilities. The Vizier could use the black blood to restore an [Arisen] and perhaps transfer his soul within, but he would only count as an undead.

Victor had designed the [Black Grail] to restore a person’s body, no matter the damage, by spraying it with magically transformed black blood. It could restructure flesh, even only for the purpose of creating undead.

Yet… yet if he used the [Black Grail] to coalesce its prepared blood into the shape of a body, using a DNA strand as a template...

"Choc, can you throw my hair inside my cup, and add a lot of fresh blood?"

Millions of gold coins!

Millions of gold coins from his castle’s gold reserves, thrown down the drain to revive one minio. And not even his best one at that! If Vainqueur hadn’t been generous, fair-minded, and a perfect paragon of wealth, he would have rampaged afterward.

Yet the dragon managed to keep his self-control, as the vile Shesha answered Knight Kia’s silent prayers. Untasty Allison’s body reformed in a flash of green light right in front of the [Paladin], completely restored.

"I am… I am alive again?" she asked, surprised that her minion deathcare covered destruction through disintegration. "I can’t believe it…"

"You better change your tune, because you are indebted to me for the next…" Vainqueur caught his breath. "Four thousand, five hundred, and ten years! Which is the time it will take to reimburse that cursed goddess’ resurrection fee! I expect you to work for free until you fully pay back my due!"

"As usual," the dryad replied with a strange tone but wisely bowed before her emperor. "I am… I am very thankful for Your Majesty’s decision. I thought you would only ever raise Vic."

"You may be a lowly minion, but you died in the line of duty, to save the honor of gold itself," Vainqueur replied. "I would be an inconsiderate master if I did not recognize your extraordinary service."

Over time, the dragon had come to recognize that minions should not be thrown away casually. They had feelings of their own, and more importantly, they fueled the hoard’s growth more alive than dead. Vainqueur’s fortune had increased exponentially as his minion count did, ergo, both sustained one another.

"Now, go make me some money and help my chief of staff," the dragon dismissed her. Leaving Cup Victor to his cheaper revival attempt, Vainqueur had asked his minions to gather today’s loot in one place—from the battle and what he recovered from eating all the local inhabitants—so he could personally claim it all for himself.

He refused to give an inch to Furibon, not even after their short-lived alliance. The second his chief of staff would return from the dead, he would send that lich to the crypt from whence it came...

"Uncle, Uncle!" Jolie brought him a shy, intimidated elven maiden. "Look!"

Vainqueur’s [Virgin Princess Radar] bleeped at the sight. "Jolie, is that what I think it is?"

"Yes!" The young dragon boasted proudly. "I caught my first princess, all on my own!"

"Congratulations!" If Vainqueur were a weak, soft-hearted manling, he would have cried of joy. Instead, he nuzzled his niece kindly. "I am so proud of you, to catch a princess at your age! I cannot wait to tell Genialissime!"

"Stop Uncle, you’re embarrassing me," Jolie weakly protested, as her uncle showered her with affection.

"Did I hear princess?"

Vainqueur and his niece looked, as the shadow of a third dragon circling above the pile of loot, before making a dignified landing right next to it.

The red dragon instantly recognized the gold statue from El Dorado’s main square, brought back to life after the curse ended. The great, famous princessnapper hadn’t changed much since the emperor’s childhood, although he had grown bigger; even more than Vainqueur himself, by a head and a half. The lightning dragon’s blue scales were marred with scars, and a row of metallic horns formed a beard-like decoration around his head. His azure eyes crackled with lightning.

"G-Grandrake?" Jolie’s tail wagged in giddiness, at the sight of the draconic legend.

"Ay ay," the old dragon said. "It is I, Grandrake. I came to this El Dorado looking for golden princesses, and that is all I remember."

"A wicked villain put this area under a curse of false gold," Vainqueur said, still furious over that fiasco. "I had to lift it."

"That voice… is that you, young Vainqueur?" The older dragon looked at his crimson fellow with impressed eyes. "My, last time I saw you, you were but a wyrmling! How much you have grown, almost as big as me!"

"Indeed, great Grandrake, I am now the strongest and richest dragon in the world," Vainqueur boasted, while Jolie gazed at the princess hunter with awe. Her uncle nuzzled her to approach the dragon legend. "This is my adorable niece, Jolie, who just captured her first princess!"

"An elf princess?" Grandrake examined the shy elf, who took refuge behind her dragon catcher. "And a pure-blooded one at that! Not one of these human-elf mongrels. I see that you have an eye for quality, even at your young age, young Jolie. Elf princesses are canny, and are rarely found in the wild! She reminds me of that one I caught in the Sablaris Empire..."

"We found that one and your princess hoard, almost all of them rabid from isolation," Vainqueur pointed out, "I will have our family's veterinarian, Genialissime, domesticate them back into princess society."

"That one? That was my first hoard… or maybe my second? I keep losing them since that fairy-blooded wizard cast his spell on me."

"Is this Grandrake? The Princessnapper?" Knight Kia casually approached the dragon group like the uppity minion she was. "I heard they ask princesses to disguise themselves as men in the Winter Kingdoms, to prevent you from claiming them."

Grandrake frowned. "What did that manling say?"

"He cannot hear Kia?" Jolie asked her uncle.

"Ah, yes, Grandrake has grown deaf in his old age," Vainqueur told Jolie. "But only to poor people."

"So wyrmlike," Jolie said, impressed by Grandrake’s dragonliness.

"That’s degrading!" Knight Kia complained.

"What did the little homeless manling say?" Grandrake asked.

"That you were too wealthy for her," Vainqueur taunted the [Paladin].

"That is true indeed!" Grandrake said with the utmost expression of dragon snobbery. "I have lost more wealth than you will ever earn!"

"Please, can you tell me about one of your Princess Hunter adventures?" Jolie begged the elder dragon. "My uncle Genialissime always read me one when I was a wyrmling!"

"Ohoh, with pleasure! What about the time I caught a Mermaid Princess?" Jolie listened with rapturous focus, ignoring Kia sulking next to her. "After hunting the Crocodile Princess in the jungle of Scirocco, I looked for a challenge in the eastern sea. I knew she would be the most difficult animal to catch, for the Mermaid Princess is shifty. Do you know that they can stay seven days and nights underwater, without having to breathe at the surface?"

"Seven days?" Both Vainqueur and Jolie repeated at once, amazed.

"Seven days and they only need five minutes of breathing before repeating the cycle! I knew that if I wanted to catch her, I needed to pursue the Mermaid Princess until she had no choice but to return to the surface. For seven days and nights, I chased her across the eastern sea, never sleeping, never giving her a respite. The beast, cunning as she was, led me to the Great Barrier Reef, where her kind created a coral colony; the same place where I felled a leviathan in my youth. I knew the creature could camouflage among coral, and perhaps, she intended to use her own fellow mermaids as a decoy while she slipped away. But a true Princess Hunter always prepares. To catch a princess, you must think like a princess."

Jolie inhaled. "What did you do? What did you do?"

"I laid a trap," Grandrake boasted. "I let the animal believe that she had lost me, and then—"

"AAARGH!"

The dragons turned at the source of the scream, facing a most horrible sight.

A stillborn abomination of bones, flesh, and chicken dragon wings laid on the ground, covered in black blood. "Oh gods…" Cup Victor complained, like Jolie’s mother when she laid her eggs. "Oh gods, trying again!"

Every minion onlooker except Chocolatine—who looked at the spectacle with hunger—took a step back in horror, as a half-formed hand rose from the black blood spilling from the cup.

Vainqueur immediately understood the situation.

"My chief of staff is giving birth and just miscarried! Stop shaming him!" The dragon ordered his horrified minions, before looking at the screaming cup with sympathy. "Do the honorable thing, and support him in embarrassing silence!"

So they did, patiently waiting as Cup Victor kept screaming.

30: The Dragon's Share

In the end, Cupling Victor miscarried six times.

With each attempt, the newborn’s quality improved, from half-formed insults to dragons, to a perfect copy of Manling Victor without the skin. The grail kept wailing, surrounded by an enormous pool of blood and corpses, while everyone else watched him in silence. None dared to speak up.

As the grail produced a bubble of blood, Tasty Malfy joined the party, stepping through an infernal portal. "What did I miss?" The fiend noticed the cup and the lake of blood, his mood improving noticeably. "Is that… is that what I think it is?"

"My minion is giving birth." Vainqueur wondered if he had misunderstood the minion biological cycle. "To himself."

"A satanic resurrection!" Malfy raised his pincers. "I never saw one before! Mr. Victor, you can do it!"

"Minions, stop saying nonsense," Vainqueur said, glancing at Indebted Allison. "You, help my chief of staff carry the body to term!"

"How, Your Majesty?" The dryad dared to talk back, Vainqueur blaming her stressful debt rather than lack of minion education. "Putting my hands in the blood?"

"Do not speak, minion! Do!"

"Do what?"

"The thing!"

"The body…" Victor the cup screamed, as the blood bubble became bigger than a house. "The body is coming!"

"I hope it’s a girl!" Jolie said with giddy joy.

"I hope it’s a princess!" Grandrake added.

"I’m going to vomit," Knight Kia said, showing a complete lack of support for Cupling Victor’s suffering.

Finally, the bubble exploded, releasing Manling Victor back into the world with a flood of blood.

The body washed up on the pavement, groaning all the way while the cup turned inanimate. Vainqueur glanced at the newborn, and to his pleasure, the seventh time had been the charm. No more mismatched wings, no more mismatched organs, and no more snakes for fingers.

"Oh BLEEP," Manling Victor said, as Sweet Chocolatine and Untasty Allison helped him get back on his feet. "Oh BLEEP that sucked."

"But it was cheap," Vainqueur declared, proud of his Vizier saving him money.

"I think my liver is in the wrong place," Manling Victor complained, Knight Kia casting healing spells on him. "It felt worse than King Wotan’s lightning."

"Wotan?" Grandrake scratched the back of his head. "That name sounds familiar."

"A lightning fairy that would not die," Vainqueur reminded him, before dismissing him. "I buried him under a volcano."

"Yes, that petulant fairy child!" Grandrake laughed as if reminiscing a funny joke. "I still remember him trying to get my attention by throwing lightning at me and take back my Fairy Princess. It was amusing for a while, but I had to gently poke him in the eye to make him stop."

"Well, this was a complete waste of time," Furibon said, backed up by his expedition’s members. "Now, can we decide what to do with the reward? I will take my leave and forget you all afterward."

"The reward?" Vainqueur glared at the lich, before glancing at the enormous pile of loot left behind by the mummy and El Dorado’s locals. Everything there impressed him with its shininess, but he would need his chief of staff to identify the exact value with his [Eye for Treasure] Perk.

"Furi, is that the dragon you kept telling us about?" Vainqueur once more paid attention to Furibon, finding him backed up by a group of would-be minions. One elf, one orc, a ratkin, and a birdkin; they carried themselves with the confidence of experienced adventurers. "Vainqueur Knightsbane?"

"No, it is another dimwit dragon," Furibon replied with heavy sarcasm, before calming himself. "It is him, unfortunately."

"He’s so huge!" The ratkin looked up at Vainqueur with awe.

"Yes, it is I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, but you will call me Your Majesty," the dragon declared with pride. "With a capital M. I can tell the difference."

"How?" The elf frowned, before taking a step back as Vainqueur glared at her.

"What do these paupers say?" Grandrake asked.

"Nonsense I should expect from a lich’s lackeys," Vainqueur said.

"Ah, a lich, is that what you are?" Grandrake nodded at Furibon, unaware of his depravity. "That reminds of that Lich Princess I caught in Tsaria, after a long chase through a winter storm. A remarkably proud and ancient creature she was, but alas, incapable of socializing. She kept killing my minions for no reason, due to undead rabies; I had to euthanize her."

"There are dangerous princesses?" Jolie asked, eager to learn from the best.

"Of course, the world of princesses is full of wild predators… none worse than the Manling Princess. Beware Manling Princesses, young Jolie. Out of all animals, they are the only ones who kill for money."

"Yes, yes, can we split the loot now?" Furibon said hastily, consumed by greed. "We can divide it into three parts, one for each group that contributed to the battle."

"Excellent idea!" Vainqueur replied, separating the hoard into three shares. The brightest, which included the dragon-sized ring, he took for himself.

"Jolie, here is yours." To his beautiful niece, he granted a large share, including armor made of shining stones. The pure-hearted dragonling immediately jumped on her loot, as if it was her own hoard.

"And the third part," Furibon threatened to take it, so Vainqueur immediately grabbed the loot for its own protection. "Is mine too, as the elder dragon’s share."

"What?" The Goldslayer dared contest this fair sharing of resources. "This is theft!"

"Furi, don’t mouth off at the giant dragon…" his orc friend pleaded, while the lich remained full of hate.

"If you take it, you will turn it to lead!" Vainqueur glared at Furibon. "Never again will you touch a baby coin on my watch!"

"Turn it to lead?" Grandrake frowned.

"He is Furibon the Goldslayer, enemy of all hoards!" Jolie showed her excellent judgment, glaring at the lich. "He turned Uncle’s gold to lead with evil magic to hurt him!"

"Once!" Furibon replied as if it excused his loathsome crime. "Once!"

"Once too many!" Vainqueur replied.

"I do not understand you, young lich," the elder dragon told Furibon. "With that kind of magical talent, you could have used your powers for the greater greed."

"I turned a hoard to lead once in my entire existence!" The lich let out a scream of rage. "I have no interest in antagonizing you dragons anymore, and I have helped you loyally against Sablar’s chosen! Am I not entitled to a second chance?"

"It is true that you saved my Jolie from death and a costly resurrection," Vainqueur granted him that point in his favor. "But it does not even begin to make up for your crimes against dragonkind."

"What will it take then?"

Vainqueur frowned at the undead. He had taken his protests as mere deception, but the more he listened, the more he doubted. Could Furibon truly desire to atone for his sins against him?

"You," Vainqueur turned to the lich’s allies, who hid behind their undead master, "Why do you stand with the wicked one?"

The lich’s minions exchanged glances, until the elf mustered the courage to speak up. "Look, Your Majesty, I know Furibon is hard to live with sometimes. He is an undead abomination against nature, cranky, he has no sense of humor—"

"Your support warms my heart," Furibon lied, since he had none.

"—but he is a good teammate."

"He has been with us since the country of Barin put us on an exploration fleet," the ratling added. "I can’t remember the number of times he saved us from monsters."

"Yeah, he helped us map out the jungle so people can settle the frontier, and he never asked for anything in return!" the orc said. "I know there’s bad blood between you two, but… maybe you could… bury the hatchet?"

Vainqueur was confused. How would burying a weapon settle the matter?

Still, the lich’s minions did not appear mentally controlled, or entranced by Furibon’s vile power. Did they… did they genuinely like him? Had Vainqueur’s nemesis truly turned away from his evil ways?

Jolie seemed confused. "Uncle, what do we do?" she asked. "He is evil, but my [Paladin] class asks that I give a chance at redemption to any villain who asks for it."

"I have already helped you," Furibon said. "What more proof do you need?"

"Well then, I have been under a tiresome curse, and I have been looking for a wizard capable of lifting it." Grandrake cleared his throat, ready to dispense wisdom. "Since I can hear you, that means you are wealthy enough by my minion standards."

The lich froze. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You can repay your debt to dragonkind by assisting me in my princess hunts," Grandrake offered, leaving Vainqueur in awe of his boundless dragon generosity. Could the wyrm truly offer a second chance to that puny lich?

Even Furibon was left floored by this magnanimous offer. "Neve—"

"I am a dragon," Grandrake reminded the undead warlock with a paternal smile. "You are now my minion."

"Furi, maybe we should listen to that proposal," the lich’s elf ally said. "It can’t be that bad."

"Do you want to be a dragon’s slave?" the lich insulted the ancient dragon institution.

"Minion!" Vainqueur defended the rightful dragon way. "Slaves do not have vacations!"

"I mean, we get paid for our work, right?" the lich’s orc friend asked the difficult question.

"One one-tenth," Grandrake answered with a kind nod.

"From what you told us about Victor Dalton, he ended up gaining sixty levels and untold riches in less than a year," the orc explained his reasoning, "We get to explore the world with a dragon to protect us—"

"You are seriously doing this to me right now?" Furibon said, astonished.

"Do you refuse to reform the proper dragon way?" Vainqueur asked.

"I will not become a dragon’s servant like Dalton!" Furibon refused the offer for rehabilitation, bound by his evil ways.

"Then," Vainqueur fearlessly expanded his wings. "There is only one way to settle our differences, lich."

"Bring it," Furibon replied, lightning crackling between the two rivals’ eyes.

Uh…

Ugh, Victor felt terrible.

Your soul has a new vessel. You regained use of your class and personal Perks, and your bond to your [Black Grail] and [Scythe of Charon] has grown stronger! Your type has been changed to [Slime/Dragon].

Permanent +6 VIT, -6 SKI and -6 AGI. You gain immunity to [Unholy] and Critical Hits, but you are now vulnerable to [Holy] and [Blood] effects.

You gained the [Bloodborn] monster Perk.

[Bloodborn]: You gain a +4 bonus for checks against physical stat debuffs, disease, paralysis, poison and hostile polymorph effects. Blood-draining and blood purification attacks inflict super effective damage against you.

… a slime. He counted as a slime. This day just kept getting better and better.

Oh, gods, Victor had become a humanoid mimic. Better not to mention that to anyone. He was clearly slower and had a harder time with limb coordination, probably due to his mind adapting to his new flesh. "That was horrible," he stated. "I’m not doing it ever again."

"We women do that for eight months instead of hours," Allison teased him. "You got off lucky."

"Stop comparing it to childbirth!" Victor replied angrily. "I’m not a male seahorse!"

"I’m sorry, you’re just too amusing," the dryad said, her face turning sympathetic as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for carrying on that burden for me, Vic. I will not forget it."

"It’s fine, just make sure I don’t die a fourth time. I get the feeling it will be the last."

Victor managed to hang on his feet, regaining enough motor control to stand up without help. Chocolatine gave him a towel to hide his fleshy part, while Kia handed him his scythe back. "Thanks," he said, using his weapon as a cane. "I, uh, I need a shower."

"Yes you do," Kia pinched her nose with two fingers.

"And new armor, Mr. Victor," Malfy said, patting him on the back, "With Happyland’s logo on your back."

"About that, Kia, can you help me contact Miel?" Victor asked the [Paladin], "She won’t answer my telepathic calls."

"Well, it’s weird because I haven’t been able to summon any angel since yesterday, not even during our battle with Akhenapep." The knight glared at Malfy, as the demon chortled on his own laughter. "What?"

"I need to apologize for something," Victor said. "Is there a way to enter Heaven? Except dying?"

"You can always walk there," Kia shrugged. "We found a portal to the elemental planes, so there must be one for Heaven somewhere."

"Like the one in the castle’s basement?" Chocolatine asked, Felix the cat jumping in her free arms. "How do angels taste?"

"Like fiends!" Malfy said, before rolling on the ground uncontrollably.

"That’s what I wanted to speak about," Kia said, crossing her arms. "I have discovered that fomors created gates to various planes of existence across the world, which they used to catch slaves and bring them to Outremonde. The hellgate in Murmurin may be one among many more."

Remembering her previous statements, Victor instantly guessed what weighed on the [Paladin]’s mind. "You think the fomors have access to at least one doorway to Earth, and that they smuggle weapons through it."

Now that he thought of it, it made a lot of sense. His [Monster Insight] told him that Wotan had inspired the Odin legend, which implied he had visited Earth at least once in the past.

"I have considered the matter, and I now firmly believe the local humans descend from fomor captives, brought from Earth to Outremonde in ancient times," Kia explained. "As were the elves, the dwarves, and many other species inhabiting this planet."

"If they had access to Earth for so long, why didn’t they conquer it though?" Allison asked. "It’s not like our ancestors could have been a match for a monster like King Balaur."

"Perhaps their powers are limited there," Kia suggested. "Outside of reincarnating Claimed, even the gods have no influence on our world."

"The fomors are born of raw, wild magic," Allison considered the matter. "In all likelihood, on a plane devoid of it, they can only maintain their existence for a short while before needing to return home to 'recharge'."

"Do any of you want to return home?" Chocolatine asked, her ears down. She dreaded the thought of her friends leaving her alone.

"No," Allison replied with a sour face. "I have nothing to return to."

Kia shook her head. "There is too much to do here."

"Same, besides informing my family I am still alive," Victor replied. "I agree with Kia. If the fomors have a gate to earth, they aren’t only threatening our world, but Earth as well. Now that they can level up, they are even more dangerous."

"Level up?" Kia asked.

"Fomors can level up now," Chocolatine said. "I recognized some of Wotan’s Perks as those of the [Stormlord] and [Kaiser] classes."

"I don’t know how, but they've gained souls of their own," Victor said, Kia’s fists tightening. "Camilla and Shesha informed me the fomors are running Wild Hunts in Serica, for the purpose of grinding."

"Since Outremonde is round, if we continue West, we should reach whatever version of Japan or Australia this world has." Kia hit her left palm with her right fist, clearly ready to take names. "I say we hit them hard while they remain vulnerable."

"Agreed." Victor nodded. "If they widen the level gap, they may become… huh?"

For the first time since the beginning of the discussion, he noticed Sigrun’s shade in the background. It had always been there while he remained in Grail-kun form, but… she should have vanished now that he had a body of his own.

"What are you doing here?" Victor asked the naked shade. The Valkyrie just glared at him.

"Vic?" Chocolatine asked. "Vic, who are you talking to?"

"I think I see dead henchmen now…"

31: Scaled Woes

The more he thought of Furibon, the more it vexed Vainqueur.

The dragon knew, deep within his bones, that the lich was the secret mastermind behind everything wrong in his life. The planet Moon could never have turned to lead on its own, and Wotan would not have assaulted V&V, had Vainqueur remained safe at home instead of chasing the lich. Ergo, all the lich's protestations of innocence didn’t add up.

This was just a trick! Yes, a trick to avoid his just punishment!

But then, why did he accept Vainqueur’s challenge to settle their war once and for all? Why did adventurers come to defend him out of their own free will? Why did they call him their teammate, with the same care Manling Victor showed to his master?

Could he… could he have friends?

Of course not! Furibon couldn’t have friends, or else he wouldn’t be Furibon!

And yet...

"A class system you say?" Grandrake frowned at Jolie. "Is it anything like that cultivation Jade keeps prattling on about?"

"The System is not a scam!" Jolie defended her livelihood. "It grants power over life and death, gold and lead! Even wizardry!"

Grandrake tried to access the System, blinking repeatedly. "[Princess Hunter]?" he said, having tapped into the ancient power of dragonkind. "What a strange device... this must certainly be ancient dragon magic, but I never heard of anything like this before. Odd, very odd."

"Dragons can do magic on their own?" Jolie asked, her eyes glittering with curiosity.

"Jolie, who else but dragons could invent something so advanced?" Vainqueur replied, before making a joke. "Manlings?"

Grandrake exploded into laughter, before answering Jolie’s question. "Our Elder Wyrm progenitor and the first generations of dragons used magic to grant souls to the first minions, or so the tales said. But since they were already perfect and invincible without it, our ancestors never bothered to train new generations in sorcery. Instead, we focused on what truly mattered: getting richer!"

"This only confirms what I always thought," Vainqueur replied proudly. "That this ancient System was created by dragons, for dragons."

"Indeed, although it is vexing that minions rediscovered it first," Grandrake replied. "Maybe I will study it in-depth after I have my soon-to-be minion Furibon lift my curse of forgetfulness."

"You do not need the lich for that!" Vainqueur protested. "I can lift it myself!"

"You can?" Grandrake asked.

Of course Vainqueur could! He hesitated to test his [Malleus Maleficarum], for that would hurt the older dragon. Better to try the simpler option. "[Spell Purge]!" Vainqueur’s magnificent power washed over Grandrake, lifting negative effects from the older dragon.

Or so he thought.

You could not lift Grandrake’s [Grand Hex of the Forgetful Otaku].

Once applied, curses of the [Grand Hex] series can only be lifted through the exit clause detailed in their original wording.

"Oh, a new message," Grandrake said, receiving the same information as Vainqueur himself. "The original wording? Damnation, I did not pay attention at the time."

"A wizard minion can certainly find back the original wording and the weakness in it," Vainqueur suggested. "I will have my Vizier call his lawyers."

"Lawyers? Are they a kind of wizards?" At Vainqueur’s confirmation, Grandrake thanked the younger dragon with a nod. "I am grateful."

"Thank nothing of it," the emperor replied. "I would never have become such a skilled princess hunter without your stories and example."

"Ah, seeing young lads like you and your niece invigorates me," Grandrake raised his head proudly. "I feel the urge to hunt in my very bones."

"Oh, can you teach me?" Jolie begged the older dragon. "Prettyplease!"

"You wish to learn the ways of the true princess hunter, young Jolie?" Grandrake observed Vainqueur’s niece with a fresh gaze. "Do you have what it takes? The path of the princess hunter is long and arduous. One must be patient, curious, refined!"

Jolie nodded harder than ever, in awe of the ancient wyrm’s wisdom. "I want to be the greatest princess defender there ever was! I will protect them from orcs and any villain who seeks to harm them!"

"My Jolie is environmentally conscious," Vainqueur defended his niece with great pride. "She is mindful of the wildlife."

The young dragon’s eagerness to learn pleased Grandrake’s vanity. "If you wish to discover new species of princesses and protect them like a true Connoisseur, then I will gladly teach you the ropes."

The niece immediately let out a squeal of happiness.

Vainqueur let his niece and Grandrake exchange on how to protect princesses from poachers, before noticing his chief of staff and Knight Kia approaching him. "Your Majesty, we need to discuss a very important matter," Friend Victor said.

"No time to waste on words, my manling," Vainqueur replied firmly. "We must go."

"Go where?"

"Train!" Vainqueur said, glaring at the lich discussing something with his 'teammates.' "Furibon and I will soon settle our grudge once and for all, and we must prepare accordingly."

"You’re going to battle?" Kia asked, eager for bloodshed.

"Yes." Vainqueur glanced down dramatically at his chief of staff, to better impress on him the gravity of the situation. "With cards."

His manling remained silent for a moment, before exchanging a glance with Knight Kia, who shrugged her shoulders. "You are going to settle your entire rivalry with an ancient lich sorcerer over a card game?"

"Not any card game," Vainqueur corrected his minion. "The only civilized card game worth gambling the future over! Monster Poker!"

His manling put a hand on his face, worried for his master, while Knight Kia blinked repeatedly.

"I too was skeptical, when the orcs introduced me to this game," Vainqueur declared, remembering his battles fondly. "But then, as I kept winning, it began to fascinate me. Instant winning hands, deck out, destruction of the enemy… so many ways to crush those who defy me! I never experienced a game like that, where I simply gain money with no cost, nor any risk of defeat! It is a self-perpetuating loop, minion! I win, I raise, I win more, I raise more!"

"But…" Manling Victor choked. "Furibon accepted?"

"Yes, because Monster Poker is a card game, with a heart," the dragon said with wisdom. "Even the lich cannot resist its lure. You would understand if you were a true duelist."

He didn’t.

"Since my fingers are too big to wield cards, I will need your power, minion," Vainqueur explained. "Furibon is no easy prey. We will go west, to uncharted seas, so that we may gather the strongest rare cards, build the most powerful deck in the world, and perfect the art of the winning draw. Once I have defeated the lich, he will atone for his crimes by following the path of minionship."

"If you win, wyvern."

The trio turned to Furibon, whose voice resonated with evil bitterness.

"For if I win, not only will you leave me alone at long last," the lich said, his teeth morphing somehow into a sickening grin. "But I will take a heavy tribute in retribution."

"Can’t you simply talk it out and become friends?" Manling Victor offered, too idealistic.

"Never!" Both the dragon and lich snarled at the same time, the manling sighing.

"I cannot let him get away with his crimes!" Vainqueur insisted, glaring at his forsworn enemy.

"What crimes?" The lich protested. "Have I not done enough good?"

"I am the first to say one alliance doesn’t wash away a lifetime of service to Brandon Maure’s regime," Knight Kia spoke up. "But everyone deserves a second chance if they’re willing to take it. I can always execute him when he screws up."

"My victory will prove your culpability," Vainqueur said. "Name the battleground, and I will meet you there."

"A new landmass appeared in the western sea, surrounded by strange waters," Furibon declared, pointing a bony finger at Vainqueur. "A suitable stage for our final battle."

"Here or in the very heavens, you shall never succeed!" Vainqueur roared. "Three days, Furibon! We shall duel in three days at noon! Show up, or suffer my wrath!"

"I cannot wait to get rid of you forever, wyrm!" Furibon said, before teleporting out with his team. "Three days!"

Vainqueur turned to Manling Victor. "See?"

"Is this truly a priority, Your Majesty?" His chief of staff spoke nonsense. "I have information that the fomors are up to no good in the west."

"The fairies will be dealt with in time, but Furibon remains the greatest threat, and I shall not rest until he is finally defeated," Vainqueur replied.

"Vic, since we are moving west in any case, we can deal with it on the way to the Serica continent," Knight Kia said.

"We?" Vainqueur repeated, glaring at that uninvited guest.

"I would like to join your party if that’s okay with Your Majesty," the knight said. "Jolie has grown to level 30, and the Kobold Rangers have broken past it. They have become very strong, but not enough to confront the fomors."

Vainqueur almost told that unworthy excuse of a minion off, before realizing that he could separate her from Jolie for a long period of time. Without that Paladin’s nefarious influence, Grandrake could certainly bring his niece back onto the proper dragon path; and the older wyrm would defend her better than this wicked [Paladin].

"I shall let you serve me in the fights to come, manling," the dragon declared with false magnanimity. "If my niece allows it."

"Great!" Knight Kia smiled. "I will talk it out with Jolie and be right back."

"Yes, yes," Vainqueur dismissed her, before turning to his chief of staff. "Now, my Vizier, I need you to check the value of my new treasures. Especially what I can wear."

His minion looked into the pile of items, immediately identifying the dragon-sized ring among them; a beautiful golden circle of interwoven worms and dragons eating their own tails.

"Wow, that’s… that’s a powerful [Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh]!" Manling Victor marveled at the item's shininess. "I’ve never seen something so overpowered. +10 to Luck, immunity to hostile [Earth] effects, and it can reflexively cast [Hasten], [Protection from Elements], [Greater Dispel Magic], or [Cure Any Ailment] on the wearer once per day, depending on the situation. Cannot be worn by non-[Dragon] types though."

"As it should." Vainqueur put it around his finger, fitting it perfectly, "I still want my blinkblink ring back. You will ask Troll Barnabas to fashion me one."

"Let’s see… no armor for me… ah!" Manling Victor raised a shining, rainbowlike jewel from the pile. "Here is something for Your Majesty as well. A [Psi-stone]."

"Psiwhat?"

"A [Psi-stone]. Can Your Majesty lower their head?" Vainqueur followed the proposal, lowering his head to the ground. His minion slammed the item between his master’s horns, the dragon sensing the stone melding with his scales.

You have been psi-bonded to a [Psi-stone of Mind-Shielding]. You are now immune to [Mind-affecting] effects so long as the stone remains intact.

"[Psi-stones] are items that you can equip to your brain and spine, providing psychic powers to the wearer," Manling Victor explained. "If you have more than one, they create additional effects."

"Gems that can be worn forever as armor?" This was a dragon’s dream come true.

"Nothing for me in the pile, unfortunately," Manling Victor complained. "And the [Black Grail] will return to the Thaoten for safekeeping. A shame."

"You will have other opportunities to equip yourself, minion," Vainqueur reassured him, glancing at the horizon; he already wondered what he would receive after beating Furibon once and for all.

The next day, after a great feast, Vainqueur decided to leave at dawn. He gathered his minions and allies in the city’s devastated plaza, to give a speech; Manling Victor had finally found clothes made of some furred beast's skin.

"Minions, El Dorado is mine, by right of conquest. This city shall be rebuilt… but as it should be. A city of true gold, fueled by my own empire’s bottomless wealth. While Manling Victor and I," Vainqueur purposefully snubbed Knight Kia, whom no one liked anyway, "go on to end the threat of Furibon once and for all, you shall rebuild this place, as the second imperial colony of..."

Vainqueur let a few seconds pass, before uttering the name he had worked on for the entire night.

"El Goldorado!"

Of course, everyone applauded, some more than others… and not enough for Vainqueur’s taste. The dragon kindly encouraged his minions to renew in their devotion by raising his hand, until the clapping became acceptable.

"Thank you, thank you," Vainqueur said. "You are too kind."

"I will make my new lair there," Grandrake said, his new apprentice Jolie at his side. "Long have I considered opening a princess wildlife refuge, and this jungle seems the perfect place for it."

"Everyone working together to build a new place." Chocolatine had tears in her eyes. "It’s like Murmurin’s old days."

"We have to do even better." Allison nodded.

"When you get back, I will prepare you a new recipe," Chocolatine chirped to Manling Victor.

"I shall delightfully indulge in it," Felix said with feline pride.

"Oh, it cannot be done without you," Chocolatine reassured the cat, petting him between the ears. "You will be the guest of honor."

"I will have new armor made for you, Mr. Victor, within the coming days," Malfy told the Vizier. "One worthy of a Happyland hero."

"Thanks, I will summon you back in a few days."

"Now, it is time to leave," Vainqueur declared, wishing to be early for his final showdown with the lich.

"See you soon, Kia!" Jolie told her chief of staff, as she summoned her griffin to ride.

"I can finally test that new mount," Manling Victor said, raising his scythe. "[Zmey Rider]."

Zmey?

Vainqueur didn’t have the time to question his minion, as the bright skies turned dark, rain falling without warning. For a moment, he wondered if Wotan had returned, only to realize that it was something far, far worse.

The beast flew through the clouds, smashing one of the few pyramids left standing on its way down, and landed among the minions, blowing off most of them in all directions. Knight Kia immediately readied her sword, while the dragons present reeled in horror.

A Zmey had come.

An inbred, primitive cousin of true dragons, this particular Zmey was big for its kind, roughly fifteen feet in length. The green-skinned beast had batlike wings and four legs barely carrying its bulky body, and its three heads resembled serpents instead of lizardy elegance. All in all, the creature looked like a twisted parody of dragonkind.

"Gorynych is there, master!" the beast looked at Manling Victor with stupid yellow eyes, speaking with his three heads at once. "Gorynych avoided all the traffic!"

Grandrake looked at the creature with pure disgust, with even the kind Jolie being uncomfortable in its presence. "Minion, what is that thing?" Vainqueur asked disdainfully, as Knight Kia lowered her sword.

"Gorynych is a good Zmey!" the inbred wyvern replied, wagging his tail. "Oh yes!"

By the Elder Wyrm, the creature looked at Vainqueur now. The dragon turned his head, to better deny that vermin’s very existence. "Minion, send that thing away and use your horse."

"I can’t, I registered Chocolatine," his chief of staff replied. Worse, he seemed mesmerized by the creature, as if he commanded a genuine dragon. "Besides, my horse cannot fly across the ocean."

"But you can!" Vainqueur dared glimpse at the Zmey, whose three tongues laid down like a dog. The creature’s mere presence diminished the glorious reputation of true dragons. "You do not need it!"

"Gorynych is not loved?" The creature crumbled on himself, devastated. "Gorynych is sad."

"You are of dragonkind, show dominance!" Vainqueur lambasted the creature, before instantly regretting it. To acknowledge it as a scion of the dragon family made the emperor sick.

"Your Majesty, that’s uncalled for!" To Vainqueur’s astonishment, Manling Victor came to the creature’s defense… and he wasn’t the only one.

"Poor beast…" Allison whispered.

"Your Majesty, look at him, he’s a giant scaled puppy!" Sweet Chocolatine said, immediately comforting the Zmey. "You’re making him cry!"

What? They favored that abomination over their lord and master?

"Betrayal! Betrayal!" Vainqueur looked at Grandrake, pleading for support.

The older dragon had completely turned his back on the scene, denying the Zmey’s existence like a true wyrm. Jolie hesitated between supporting her uncle’s point of view, and imitating the princess hunter.

"It’s fine, Gorynych," Manling Victor comforted the beast. "His Majesty is just a bit surprised by your arrival. He didn’t really mean it."

"I did!" Vainqueur protested, leaving the Zmey crestfallen and his servants glaring at their master. "Minions, are you shaming me? Me?"

The silence became oppressive. The emperor tried to stand his ground, but he could feel the invisible, unspoken social pressure weight on him. He almost turned away, unable to stand the silent, judgmental gazes of his own minions.

"Zmey eat their own feces!" Vainqueur reminded the minions.

"Your Majesty, I hate to say it," Tasty Malfy cleared his throat, "But you sound... politically incorrect."

Politically incorrect? He was the emperor, his will was the politically correct choice! Why this reaction?

… feelings.

Yes, Vainqueur remembered that minions had feelings that didn’t revolve around their master. Maybe seeing the Zmey hurt awoke a feeling of minion solidarity among them. Do not alienate your minions or they will run away while you sleep, Vainqueur reminded himself.

In the end, Vainqueur handled the matter the true dragon way.

By turning his back on the Zmey, and snubbing him.

"... Your Majesty, are you going to pretend he does not exist?" Manling Victor asked.

"Yes!"

Certainly, if Vainqueur ignored him hard enough, the Zmey would go away.

"His Majesty will get used to you." Vainqueur subtly peeked over his shoulder, watching Manling Victor lying to the Zmey.

"Is that a stick?" the three heads of Gorynych looked at the Vizier’s scythe with attention. "Gorynych good with sticks, master! Like dogs!"

This was going to be a long trip.

32: Dice Island

Riding a dragon across the ocean was awesome.

"Is master liking Gorynych’s back?" the zmey asked, eager to please like a good dog. Vainqueur led the group, while Kia flew on her own griffin nearby.

"It’s a bit rocky, but I will get used to it," Victor replied. In retrospect, his [Monster Rider] perk synergized extremely well with his [Chaos Rider] and [Weathermaker] classes. "I just wish you didn’t bring rain everywhere though."

The zmey couldn’t help but summon rain around him, making the trip very uncomfortable. At best, he managed to make it a faint drizzle instead of a heavy downpour. It bothered Victor as much as Sigrun’s ghost glaring at him in silence.

"Gorynych can change it to [Hailstorm] or [Thunderstorm] if master wishes it!"

"Minion, do not enjoy this!" Vainqueur complained. "To ride on the back of a dragon is contrary to the spirit of minionship!"

The zmey tilted his three heads in giddiness. "Big V recognized Gorynych as a dragon!"

"An inbred, poor excuse of a dragon!" Vainqueur loudly complained, while doing his best to ignore Victor’s mount. "Minion, I am sure his mother and his sister are the same!"

"My mother is my sister’s niece!" Gorynych defended himself.

"Hey, guys, is that normal?" Kia glanced at the waters below them. The sea had suddenly turned from blue to orange, the corpses of dead fish floating on the surface. The very smell had changed from algae to that of a cocktail bar.

"It looks like alcohol to me," Victor said as he glanced down. Having seen much weirder things in Outremonde, it wouldn’t surprise him.

"Who cares?" Vainqueur replied, catching sight of an island in the middle of that strange sea. "I see our destination!"

Floating in the middle of that strange orange sea, the new island that would become the final battleground between Vainqueur and Furibon was small; smaller than Grandrake’s own private resort. Covered in green grass, it would have seemed almost unremarkable except for its location.

However, Victor noticed hundreds of head-like statues lined up on the shore.

It appeared that they had found Outremonde’s version of Easter Island.

The group landed on the shore while the sun began to set. "So, what do we do now?" Victor asked, climbing down from his zmey’s back. "We train for cards?"

"Now, I rest," Vainqueur said, falling on the sand. "I burned tons of fat to reach this place."

"Me too!" Gorynych rolled in the sand, laying on his back right next to Vainqueur. The bigger dragon instantly crawled farther, turning his back on the happy zmey with snobbish zeal. Kia simply let her griffin go hunt the dead fish in the orange sea, following Victor on foot as they approached the head statues.

They all represented the same guy: Victor himself.

Everywhere, he could see dozens and dozens, maybe hundreds, of statues with his face, each wearing a different hat.

Only one statue, in the middle of the main line, differed from the rest. Instead of a head, it represented a muscled, idealized version of Victor carrying the giant god Dice on his back. The scene reminded the Vizier of statues of the titan Atlas lifting the world on his shoulders.

The builders had engraved a sentence on that statue’s pedestal.

"The rolling of the Dice."

"Wow, the resemblance is astonishing," Kia said, completely oblivious to the statue’s true nature. "What a coincidence."

"Indeed," Victor deadpanned, realizing that they had landed on his island.

The Island… of Daltonia.

Or maybe Dicetopia? Since they were the first people to set foot on the island, Victor could give an amusing name.

"I BLEEPed up!"

… or maybe not the first.

Kia and Victor turned to the shore, noticing a strange mermaid sitting nearby while drinking away her sorrows. Unlike most members of her kind, she had a squid’s tentacles for her lower body instead of a fishtail, and held a bottle with each of them; the upper part reminded the Vizier of a Japanese yakuza, with all the tattoos on her skin and only a bra for modesty.

"Are you okay?" Victor approached her, worried. She looked completely depressed.

"I screwed up!" The mermaid complained, completely drunk. "I screwed it up!"

"You too?" Victor asked, curious. "How?"

"I, I turned the sea into whiskey!"

"Whiskey?" Kia immediately moved to the sea to investigate.

Victor, meanwhile, comforted the mermaid by patting her on the back and sitting next to her. "Hey, it’s fine. I mean, I destroyed Heaven, which is way worse." Thankfully, Kia was too far away to listen.

The mermaid handed him a bottle with one of her eight tentacles. "Do you want a drink to forget too?"

"Sure."

"Guys, it’s really whiskey!" Kia shouted, having somehow summoned a bottle to gather as much of the precious liquid as she could.

"That would explain all the dead fish," Victor noted out loud, sipping his drink.

"Yeah, I figure a whiskey sea sounds fun for us… but for the aquatic wildlife? It must be a very hostile environment."

"I shouldn’t have!" the drunk mermaid kept ranting to Victor, having adopted him as her talking board, "I’m Seng! Goddess of the sea, dreams, adventure, and alcoholism! I shouldn’t have killed all these fishes!"

Just in case, the Vizier checked up on her with [Monster Insight].

Seng

Screwup Deity (Aquatic/Divine!)

Strengths and weaknesses: aim for the liver.

*Sounds of crying*

"How can you become a god of alcoholism?" Victor frowned.

"[Drunken Brawler] class," she said, raising each tentacle. "With eight melee attacks."

"Vic, please don’t encourage the drunk mermaid’s delusions," Kia said absentmindedly, as she joined them.

The mermaid spat out her own alcohol. "Delusions?"

"Kia, that’s the actual goddess," Victor pointed out.

The knight smiled at him as if he had said a particularly stupid joke. "Vic, honestly... does that shipwreck look like a goddess to you?"

The mermaid instantly began crying.

"I didn’t say that to be mean," the [Paladin] tried to comfort the siren. "It’s just I have met three actual gods, and they looked much better."

"You!" Seng crawled to Victor, "You know the truth! Defend me from this unbeliever!"

The Vizier opened his mouth until the situation dawned on him.

He was facing a red-drunk mermaid with a maddened look in her eyes, carrying bottles with each appendage, and who somehow turned the sea into whiskey.

"W-why are you looking at me like that?"

… yes, that thing was a goddess.

"Unfortunately, she really is the goddess Seng."

"See, see!" Seng gloated to Kia, completely missing the word ‘unfortunately.’

"Look, I heard the rumors, Victor is very biased when it comes to pretty women," the knight replied, the Vizier glaring at her. "It’s true! And telling that drunkard that she is the goddess Seng is blasphemous towards the real one!"

"S-screw you, paladin, I’m going back to my underwater palace!" The mermaid goddess fled to the sea, spewing insults and tears in equal measure. "I’ll show you! One day, I’ll show you, and sink your entire BLEEPing country!"

Seng vanished into the whiskey waters, while the Vizier silently sipped his drink.

Did it never occur to her that she could simply claim him or Kia and prove her divinity?

His eyes moved to his drink. How strange. It tasted like a very, very strong vodka, the kind that should have made him roll over… yet he felt perfectly fine. He finished the whole bottle, forcing himself to ignore the disgusting taste, and waited.

Nothing.

"I have gained resistance to recreational drugs," Victor realized, crestfallen. "Including alcohol."

"So?" Kia asked.

"So I can’t get drunk anymore." Even a goddess’ alcohol wasn’t enough.

"You can always drink it for the taste," the [Paladin] replied with smugness, consuming her own bottle with delight.

"Nobody drinks whiskey for the taste!" Victor replied. "Alcohol tastes like shit, and we only pretend it doesn’t because we won't admit that we only want to get drunk!"

This day couldn’t get any worse.

A portal in space opened right next to them, the Vizier glancing at it. He expected Malfy to step out, his new armor ready.

But it wasn’t a fiend.

"You two-timing little pile of horseshit!" Victor’s nightmare horse, Noirceur, glared at her rider, the rift closing behind her. "How dare you? How dare you dump me for a zmey!"

What the...

"Somebody called Gorynych?" The zmey immediately ran to the shore, throwing sand on everyone. "Is that a treat for Gorynych?"

"You… you… after everything I’ve done for you!" If looks could kill—and Akhenapep’s did—Noirceur would have murdered her rider a thousand times. "You rider of loose morality!"

"How did you—"

"How did I know that you dumped me? I’m a horse! I sense these kinds of things!"

"You didn’t even like me!" Victor complained, Kia looking at the scene as if he had gone insane.

"I’m your horse! I’m not supposed to like my riders to do my equine duty!" Noirceur glared at Gorynych. "What does he have that I don’t? Wings? I’m a horse, I can’t have wings!"

"Master likes me because I’m pretty!" the zmey replied with his three heads.

"Vic, are you having a conversation with your horse?" Kia asked, worried for his mental health.

"It’s a Perk," Victor shrugged. "She is jealous that I cannot mark her as a mount all the time."

"You can’t? Don’t you have a riding class of some kind?"

"I have. [Chaos Rider]."

"What’s the problem then?" she asked, before frowning, "Wait, how many levels do you have in it?"

"Two." Victor frowned. "You know that class, Kia?"

"One of Balaur’s elite servants, the Green Knight, had that class and promoted it into [Horseman of Death]. He was a horribly persistent hunter of heroes, until Kevin and I put him down." Kia shrugged. "From what I know of the class, you can increase the number of mounts as you level up in it. You should be able to create a stable of monsters and train them."

"How many mounts could I have?" Victor asked.

"The Green Knight used at least five of them. Usually, he exhausted one to death hunting crusaders, and then switched for another."

"Can Gorynych get levels too?" the zmey asked, wagging his tail. "Can Gorynych hump another Gorynych?"

Victor crossed his arms. "Thing is, I thought I should focus more on magic-oriented classes, increase my Tier access."

"About that…" His fellow hero glared at him. "You don’t know [Hasten], Vic! How can you? It’s a spell tax everyone pays, and it’s only Tier III!"

"Give me a break, my curriculum mostly focused on necromancy and summoning," Victor defended Scholomance. "Can [Hasten] cheat death, huh? Can it?"

"Maybe you wouldn’t have died in the first place if you could cast it," the [Paladin] replied. "Vic, even if your build focuses on summoning allies, you should definitely get better at direct combat. You would shine as a magic knight hybrid."

"So you suggest what? That I take a level in a hybrid class?"

"I think you have all the tools to excel in a fight, but you don’t exploit the synergies between your various classes the way I or even Vainqueur do. That’s why we have [Class Scholars] to help us milk our abilities for all they are worth. I can help you master your abilities."

"You will max out this [Chaos Rider] class so we can get back together," the horse declared with jealousy. "I can tolerate you fooling around with another mount on the side, but nobody dumps a Nightmare!"

"And where am I supposed to level up?" Victor replied. "By beating Furibon at cards?"

Kia opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. Her eyes became obsessed by something right behind Victor.

The Vizier turned around, to find himself facing a group of dodos.

As in, the actual, extinct dodo bird. They looked oddly cute from up close, like one-meter tall mutant pigeons with colorful feathers. They showed completely no fear, just animal curiosity at newcomers.

"Vic." Kia couldn’t believe her eyes. "Do you see what I see?"

"Dodos?" Victor asked, unimpressed.

"They’re [Exp Dodos]!" Kia looked at the peaceful creatures with raw desire. "I thought adventurers hunted them to extinction! Do you know how much experience points they are worth? And I’m not talking about the loot that they leave behind!"

Natural twenty indeed.

"Can Gorynych take their feathers?" the zmey asked, the poor birds not fleeing as they should. Apparently, having been summoned to this world, they had never met a predator. "Gorynych wants feathers."

"This must be a gift from Mithras," Kia said, readying her sword. "It’s just too much. This can’t be a coincidence."

"Wait," Victor said, looking at these huge, peaceful pigeons. "Are you suggesting we exterminate the Dodo species again?"

Kia opened her mouth, closed it, and then sulked.

"On the other hand…" Victor considered the practicality of it. "We are going to fight fomors soon. We need all the levels we can get, and if they really give as much exp as you say… maybe we should. For the greater good."

"Vic, you sound like a shoulder devil and you aren’t even doing it on purpose."

"I mean, if it’s not us, it will be other explorers," Victor said, trying to convince himself. "What is the worth of a bird’s life, compared to the countless children of Murmurin? I… I have to think about my country’s future."

"Yes, murder them, level up in [Chaos Rider], and then take me back," the nightmare horse encouraged her rider. "Nobody will ever know! Do it!"

"Minion?"

Victor realized that Vainqueur had woken up, his head raised above the dodo flock.

"I listened to your conversation, and I heard a very beautiful word," the wyrm said, glancing at the bird. "Loot."

The poor birds looked at the hungry Vainqueur, with the eyes of someone facing their entire race’s extinction.

Status of [Exp Dodos] of [Daltonia]: Endangered!

The sight of the message caused Victor’s conscience to awaken. He had brought these adorable, suicidal birds into existence; he couldn’t exterminate them.

"Your Majesty, this would be wasteful!" Victor told Vainqueur before he could roast the poor animals where they stood. "If we kill them all, there won’t be any more [Exp Dodos] in the world!

Charisma check successful!

"Once again, my Vizier, your forward-thinking astounds me," Vainqueur said. "I now understand the meaning of gold farming."

The dragon suddenly grabbed two dodos with both hands, the other birds finally getting the memo and running away.

"I am going to breed them into a self-renewing loot source!"

Somehow, Victor wondered if that solution wasn’t even worse than the genocide option.

Vainqueur rubbed the two birds against the others, in a way that reminded his Vizier of a Neanderthal trying to make fire with silex stones. The dragon managed to send feathers flying everywhere but seemed increasingly annoyed by the lack of results.

It suddenly occurred to Victor that Vainqueur’s knowledge of other species’ reproduction may be… lacking.

"Minion."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Fetch me a slime. I am going to… experiment."

33: The Winning Card

The time of the final battle had come.

Vainqueur had to give it to the lich. Furibon may be wicked, but he did honor his word. At noon, on the appointed day, he teleported on Dodo Island, backed by his supporters and a huge orc.

Meanwhile, V&V’s supporters dwarfed them in numbers. Fiends, moonlanders, mounts, and a flock of dodos had gathered to encourage the winning team, carrying banners with Vainqueur’s name on it.

"I spared no expenses, Your Majesty," Manling Victor explained, as he revealed the final deck. "I refreshed this deck with forbidden cards from all corners of the multiverse, Happyland, the Elemental Planes…"

"And even from the cursed Planet Moon?" Vainqueur asked, Manling Victor nodding gravely. Even now, the dragon glimpsed Tasty Malfy and the squid Thul-Gathar among their supporters. "If we are to defeat Furibon, we must resort to extreme measures. May the Elder Wyrm forgive us."

The orc conjured a massive wooden table with magic, allowing both the lich and Manling Victor to sit at each side, the crowd surrounding them. Vainqueur remained behind his chief of staff, to give him orders while he manipulated the cards with his tiny hands.

"I am Manitou, the arbiter of this battle of Monster Poker," the orc declared, who would also provide the special effects. "On one side… the tactical genius, Furibon of the Counterattack!"

Everyone but the lich’s supporters booed him. Even the dodos!

Knight Kia didn’t count. "This is stupid," she said. "A card game of all things…"

"The gods play cards," Thul-Gathar replied in his slippery tongue, "This is duel of fate."

"On the other, side" Manitou extended a hand to Vainqueur’s side of the table. "The invincible duo, dragon and minion, brain and brawn… V&V!"

This time, the cheers became deafening, the dragon raising his head with pride at his genius being recognized by all.

"I will remind everyone of the new Monster Poker standard format rules," Manitou explained. "Each of you will play with a deck of forty cards minimum, and you cannot have more than three copies of a card in your deck. You have ten spots in your dungeon zone, five for minions, five for traps. Spells can be used from the hand, and equipment can be added on top of your minion card."

Both Furibon and Vainqueur’s minions shuffled their deck, the rivals glaring at one another. Five giant coins floated behind each side.

"You start with a hoard of five gold coins, representing your life. If you have no minion to defend yourself, an enemy can destroy a coin. If your hoard is depleted, you lose; same if you have exhausted your deck and can no longer draw at the beginning of your turn."

"Five coins is too little for me, and too much for a pauper like him," Vainqueur told Furibon.

"A pauper you will become after I am done with you, wyvern," the lich replied with sadistic glee.

"Now, I put these face-down special cards in the middle of the field." Manitou set five cards in the middle of the table, close enough for each player to barely grab them. "At any point, you may switch cards of your hand with these. They can be extremely powerful… or completely useless. It’s a gamble, but such is the spirit... of Monster Poker!"

"There is one thing I will not budge on: you cannot discuss strategy together," Furibon warned V&V. "Dalton, you can state the obvious and encourage your master as any supporter can, but no tactical advice. This is between me and the wyrm."

"My minion is my hand," Vainqueur declared with pride. "The hand that shall crush you!"

"The wages are such," Manitou concluded. "Should V&V prevail, Furibon shall surrender to an eternity of atonement through minionship. Should Furibon win, V&V shall be bound by a restraining order, and their entire hoard shall be turned to lead, permanently, as a fine. Finally, the loser shall surrender his best card to the winner!"

Vainqueur’s heart skipped a beat. His mind refused to accept the thought of losing, but the danger was real. The fate of the true gold, of all the world’s wealth, laid in his hands.

"Now." Each party put a deck to their side and drew five cards. "Battle!"

[King of Games] activated!

"[IWIN!]" Vainqueur gloated, revealing the five cards, automatic victory combination.

"Or so you think," Furibon replied, showing a card from his hand. "For you activated the hand spell, [Dice’s Reroll]."

An illusion of a twenty-faced dice appeared above the board, canceling the [IWIN!] message.

"It forces you to send your five [IWIN!] cards to the crypt, cancel the effect, and draw five more cards to replace them," Furibon explained. "Did you truly think I would not do my research? I know you always win with your first hand, so I prepared accordingly."

"But how could you be sure to draw that counter on your first turn?" Manling Victor asked, suspicious.

Furibon chuckled. "I trimmed my cards."

"You cheated!" Vainqueur roared. "Disqualify him!"

"Card tricks are not against the rules of Monster Poker," Tasty Malfy noted. "Neither is the use of Perks like your [King of Games]."

"Monster Poker is all about outside the box thinking!" Manitou shouted while Furibon’s supporters kept shouting his name. Vainqueur grumbled as Manling Victor had no choice but to discard the winning hand. Yet, the dragon smiled inwardly, as he would win with the next draw.

For he had three copies of the [IWIN!] card combo in his deck.

"I am not finished," Furibon declared, revealing a new card. "By sending cards from your hand to the crypt, I can activate this spell from my hand: [Harem Ban]!

The card’s picture represented a paladin in shining armor, chasing away five monster girls, a boy, and a slime.

"It forces you to send every copy of the cards you discarded this turn, from your deck to the crypt."

Vainqueur blinked, as the words registered. "What?!"

Before he knew what hit him, ten cards magically moved from his deck to the crypt, his two remaining copies of the [IWIN!] series destroyed. The dragon fumed with shock and fury, as he could no longer pull off his favorite combo.

Impossible… no one had survived past his first draw before!

"What’s the matter, wyvern?" the lich taunted him. "Speechless?"

"That’s Furibon of the Counterattack," Manitou said with a smirk. "Always one step ahead."

Vainqueur clenched his fangs but kept his cool as his minions chanted his name, drowning out his nemesis’ taunts. "You have only delayed the inevitable, lich," the dragon declared, as Manling Victor drew five cards. "I trust in my Vizier’s deck! It has more winning strategies within than you have ribs!"

Furibon snorted, as Vainqueur could finally resume his turn. While it was no winning hand, his minion had drawn powerful cards.

"I summon the level 10 minion [Goblin Hero]," Vainqueur declared, a red-capped green goblin appearing on the field, wielding a tiny sword.

A minion’s level represented their power; if two minions with the same level fought, they destroyed one another. Minions with a level above 30 were Crested Minions and needed the tribute of a weaker minion on the field to appear. While epic minions, with a level above 60, were so powerful that they each had an individual, unique summoning method.

"[Goblin Hero] allows me to summon an extra minion each turn, so long as they are level 10 and below. I select the [Kobold Commander]."

A purple kobold joined the goblin, fist-bumping it.

"[Kobold Commander] allows me to add a Crested minion from my deck to my hand," Vainqueur didn’t even have to tell Manling Victor which one, for it symbolized his own vow of minionship. "The [Scythe Lord]."

"Obviously," the lich said. "But you cannot summon him this turn without a special effect."

Vainqueur ignored the lich. "Since I cannot attack on the first turn, I place a trap in my dungeon zone and I end this round."

With a wall of minions to protect his hoard, the dragon had nothing to fear.

Or so he thought!

"I discard two minions from my hand, [Wicked Priest] and [Fortress Knight]," Furibon threw almost half his hand into the crypt. "Which allows me to summon this minion per its special effect!"

A skeletal warrior clad in tight, green clothes appeared, wielding a curved blade and a familiar, crimson capote. His level, 60, appeared right next to his head. "[Undead Matador]!"

"Be wary, Your Majesty, this creature cannot be destroyed in battle!" Manling Victor warned his beloved master, "and he can attack a hoard directly!"

"Indeed, and I equip him with [Metal Glider]," Furibon summoned a miniature plane right below the monster’s feet, allowing him to fly. "Which grants my matador the ability to attack twice a turn!"

Which he did.

The matador flew over Vainqueur’s defenders, and swiftly cut through two of his coins. The dragon reeled from the pain of watching his hoard depleted, while Furibon added his final card on the board. "I place a trap in my dungeon zone, and I end my turn."

"Manling Victor, draw!" Vainqueur ordered, his partner obeying. "I call—"

"Not yet," Furibon said, revealing his trap. The picture showed a manling accepting a poisoned apple from Mag Mell. "I activate the trap, [Fairy’s Poisoned Gift]. By paying one coin, I can draw until I have six cards in my hand."

"You would sacrifice your own gold?" Vainqueur could only watch as the lich descended into depravity, turning a coin to lead and drawing cards to refill his hand. "You shall not get away with it! I sacrifice [Goblin Hero] to call my level 53 [Scythe Lord]!"

His mighty servant rose from the goblin’s ashes, a wicked, armored reaper of souls, swinging a scythe of screaming ghosts. The card that represented Manling Victor’s faith in his master, and dedication to him.

Vainqueur reminisced about the trials they undertook to complete the ultimate deck. Manling Victor had been skeptical about this card battle, almost as much as Knight Kia; but as they completed their harrowing spiritual journey through Dodo Island together, he had finally understood his destiny. To help his master defeat evil, at Monster Poker!

Words could not describe the ordeals the two faced to earn the [Scythe Lord]... but through them, they won this card’s allegiance.

And with it, they would win!

"When [Scythe Lord] is summoned, I can revive any minion from my crypt as an Undead Type." [Goblin Hero] returned from the dead, a tiny skeleton animated by [Scythe Lord]’s will. "And my reborn minion’s effect activates, allowing me to bring another reinforcement! The level 10 [Slime Knight]!"

A childlike blue slime swinging a tiny sword joined the minion army, bravely standing next to the [Scythe Lord].

"I see V&V strategy now," Manitou mused. "A beatdown deck."

"Beatdown?" Knight Kia asked, having zero knowledge of such a high-stakes, intellectual game.

"He will summon as many minions as he can to overwhelm his foe," Manitou explained. "It’s a good strategy… but of no use against Furibon’s immortal defense!"

"None of your creatures can defeat my [Undead Matador]," the lich taunted his rival.

"Which is why I activate my trap, [Ultimate Minion Sacrifice]," Vainqueur replied. "Two of my minions will give their life to destroy any one of yours!"

His [Goblin Hero] and [Kobold Commander] bravely rushed at the matador, exploding upon contact. When the dust settled, all of them had perished. Vainqueur almost cried a tear of regret, but decided to honor the sacrifice through victory.

"Minions, take back his hoard!"

Furibon chuckled, as a ghostly armored knight appeared right in front of his hoard, parrying scythe and slime. "What?!" Vainqueur’s eyes widened.

"Remember the [Fortress Knight] I discarded earlier?" the lich taunted him, the ghost vanishing. "By removing him from the crypt and from the game permanently, I can shield my hoard from attacks this turn."

Argh, the lich had planned for everything! "I place two traps in my dungeon zone and I end my turn, coward!"

"Coward I may be, but the winning one," Furibon replied, drawing. "I activate the spell [Adventurers’ Guild Reinforcements], which allows us both to draw two cards."

Both rivals increased their hands by two, Furibon chuckling as he drew the second one. "You know, Vainqueur, when you challenged me to battle, there was one card that I immediately added to my deck, before even considering my overall strategy. A card I knew would bring you to your knees. A card I just drew."

The dragon remained strong and proud. "Bring it."

And so, Furibon cast the most wicked of spells. "[Lead Buster]!"

One of Vainqueur’s coins turned to lead and then collapsed into dust.

The dragon froze for a few seconds, reliving the darkest days of the War of the Hoard. The dark times when Furibon roamed the world freely, murdering baby coins and abducting minions to his cursed fortress. Vainqueur had flashbacks of the conflict, of baby coins screaming in agony and minions dying all around him.

No, Vainqueur thought, forcing himself back to reality. He could not let the lich sink its claws into his mind.

"Next, I activate the spell, [Vampire Raid]," Furibon revealed his newest card "While I cannot summon normally this turn, we can both call every undead in our hands to battle, so long as they are level 60 and below."

Once again, Vainqueur’s supreme genius had worked out in his favor, for Manling Victor had added a few of those critters to the deck. Regaining his presence of mind, the [Augustus] immediately summoned the only undead in his hand: [Zombie Averagist].

A rotting dwarf from the underworld, [Zombie Averagist]’s level equaled the average level of all monsters on the field, narrowed to the lowest number.

"As for me, I call a level 60 [Vampire Witch], and my favorite minion…" Two monsters appeared on Furibon’s side, a vampire dressed like a wizard, and a golden skeleton atop a throne of gems. "[Golich, the Wealthiest Undead], level 58!"

[Zombie Averagist]’s level grew to 44. While Vainqueur had more minions on his side, none could defeat any of Furibon’s own.

"When [Vampire Witch] is summoned, I can add one copy of a spell in my crypt, from my deck to my hand," Furibon said, bringing out a card, "Guess which one?"

Vainqueur’s eyes widened, as he braced himself for impact.

"[Lead Buster]!"

The dragon’s hoard shrunk to only one coin, much to the audience’s horror. "That’s how Furibon will win," Manitou analyzed. "A Monster Poker battle is a mental marathon. Vainqueur is a dragon, and so vulnerable to stress… while as a brainless undead, Furibon will always keep a cool head."

"His Majesty has faced worse odds, and came out victorious!" Malfy reminded the dragon, the minions cheering him up. "Happyland stands by you! BLEEP his soul!"

"Now, my servants, attack!" Furibon shouted, his [Golich] unleashing a tsunami of gold against the weaker [Scythe Lord].

"You set off my trap, [Level Switch]." Vainqueur revealed one of his face-down cards. "Our minions switch levels during a single battle!"

His [Scythe Lord], now stronger, leaped over the gold tsunami and cut down [Golich], destroying him. The sight of the gold throne vanishing with it broke Vainqueur’s heart. That cursed lich used psychological warfare to weaken him.

"You have only brought time, Vainqueur!" Immediately, the lich ordered his vampire to attack the victorious [Scythe Lord], and this time, she skewered him with an icy spike.

"Minion, I could not protect your card," Vainqueur apologized to Manling Victor, as the [Scythe Lord] vanished into dust.

"You did what you could," his Vizier comforted him. "He will return. A chief of staff’s job is never done!"

Once again, Vainqueur relieved a flashback of his training days on Dodo Island, as Manling Victor practiced his winning draw hour after hour, night after night. His minion had remained determined to fulfill his duty, no matter what!

The words gave Vainqueur his faith in himself back, as Furibon added four more traps and ended his turn. Immediately, the ground on his side of the field opened, [Golich] rising back from the crypt atop his hoardlike throne.

"As long as I have more coins than you, wyvern," Furibon rubbed the wealth inequality to the dragon, "[Golich] will return from the dead at the end of my turn."

"Minion, he is using the power of gold against us!" Vainqueur panicked.

"It has begun," the orc nodded. "Furibon’s fearsome Undead Lockdown. He will slowly deplete the enemy’s hoard while reviving his minions again and again."

"Indeed, it seems that I have secured—"

"Do you not dare say it!" Vainqueur interrupted the lich, who grinned smugly in response.

"—a serious lead."

The dragon growled, Manling Victor putting a hand on his scales to calm him. "We can still win," his Vizier reminded him, drawing.

"I activate two of my four traps," Furibon revealed two of his face-down cards before Vainqueur could react. "[Return of the Lich King] and [Signs of the End Times]."

The first card revealed itself, boosting Golich’s level to 68. "All revived minions on the field will gain ten additional levels," Furibon explained. "This card will remain in the dungeon zone until it is destroyed."

As for [Signs of the End Times]... The trap revealed itself, showing a picture of the wicked god Sablar. A counter of three appeared on it. "Minion, what does this card do?" Vainqueur asked.

"On your third turn after its activation, Furibon will summon an extremely powerful Epic minion," Manling Victor warned his master.

Neither the card nor its user could be allowed to survive that long. They had to win. For the dragonlings, and the baby coins.

Vainqueur analyzed the situation. With the current field, [Zombie Averagist]’s level increased to 46; not enough to defeat any enemy minion. The dragon glanced at the five special Poker cards, feeling, deep within his bones, that they held the key to victory. Trusting his instinct, the dragon decided to make an exchange.

"I invoke the Poker Equation, and switch two of my cards!" Manling Victor dramatically raised his hand, having practiced the ‘miracle draw’ technique for three days. In an instant, he exchanged two good cards with two almighty ones.

"How predictable!" Furibon revealed a trap, representing a werewolf spying on a gathering of kobolds at night. "[Moonlight Sabotage]! It sends one of your hand’s cards to the bottom of your deck, where it will stay even after your deck is shuffled, and allows you to draw a new one in return!"

Vainqueur could only scream in rage, as one of the two almighty cards was buried below his deck while Manling Victor drew a replacement. Still, the other was more than enough. The dragon and his Vizier exchanged a look, nodding at one another.

"I use the almighty, [Supreme Fusion]," Vainqueur revealed the cheat spell. "I can fuse three monsters from my deck, moving them to the crypt, and the result will arrive at the beginning of my next turn."

The ultimate, all-powerful minion.

"Next, I sacrifice my [Slime Knight] to summon a stronger minion, [Excalighost]." His slimy champion transformed into a living, floating ghostly blade with a Level of 60. "Which means my [Zombie Averagist]’s level rose to an average of 62!"

His dwarf grew stronger from the power of shared mediocrity, demolishing the [Vampire Witch] with his mighty Equality Punch attack!

"Then I activate the spell, [Level Cap]," Vainqueur used the last card in his hand. "All minions whose level has been artificially increased will be destroyed!"

"You are going to destroy both my [Golich] and your [Averagist] if you do this!" Furibon didn’t understand such an advanced strategy.

"I am counting on it!" A powerful magical light cleared up the field, leaving only [Excalighost], "And now you are wide open. Minion!"

The sword immediately cut one of Furibon’s coins, finally bringing down the bastard’s wealth from four to three.

"Finally, I then activate my remaining face-down trap, [Loot Finder]," Vainqueur revealed the final part of his masterful, genius move. "I can remove a multiple of five cards from my crypt from the game, and I gain an additional coin for each."

Removing fifteen cards and voluntarily keeping a few special ones in the crypt for later, Vainqueur watched gleefully as his fortune increased from one to four, overcoming Furibon’s own. "Now that I am the wealthiest of all, [Golich] will remain in the crypt where he belongs."

"He broke the lockdown!" Kia shouted, now excited by the battle.

"And Furibon has no cards left in his hand," Malfy noted, while the lich’s supporters remained stone-faced. Furibon himself let out a snarl of frustration; clearly, his only remaining trap couldn’t help him out of this situation.

"Ready to give up, lich?" Vainqueur taunted him.

"Furibon will not give up." Everyone glanced at the orc commentator. "He is a true duelist. So long as he believes in his deck, his cards won’t let him down."

The lich simply drew.

… and chuckled. "Perfect. I discard the Level 0 [Card Djinn] from my hand!"

A bottle materialized on the field, a tiny blue goblin peeking from within.

"When discarded, [Card Djinn] allows us both to draw five cards from our deck," Furibon said, both players increasing their hands’ size from zero to five while the genie vanished.

Why add a card that helped his opponent as much as himself? A look at his depleted deck told Vainqueur why.

"Minion, how many cards do we have left?" Vainqueur asked, worried.

"Only seven," Manling Victor replied grimly.

That lich bastard intended to force Vainqueur to deck out!

"First of all, I activate the spell [Unjust Tax]," Furibon played the most evil card in his entire deck. "Each time you lose a coin this turn, I will gain one in return."

Did that mean the lich intended to deplete Vainqueur’s wealth this turn? How?

"You are not the only one with three copies of a card, Vainqueur. [Lead Buster]!"

One of the dragon’s four coins turned to lead, a golden copy appearing on Furibon’s side; inverting their net worth!

"Next, I use the spell [Minion Recycling]." A brown, colored smoke-spewing cup appeared behind Furibon. "Which allows me to recycle one of the spells I used this turn by discarding a minion from my hand. [Lead Buster]!"

Vainqueur stumbled back from the illusory onslaught, his heart broken.

"Last but not least, since I discarded my [Card Djinn], I can still summon a minion this turn. The one from your worst nightmares’, wyvern." Furibon raised a card to the very skies. "The legendary [Gold Eating Insect]!"

"Impossible!" Vainqueur shouted, the skies darkening from the coming of this monstrous, ancient evil. "We dragons destroyed every single trace of their existence!"

"Not all of them," Manitou said grimly. "A single copy of the card survived this ancient dragon purge, protected by the legendary order of duelists."

It appeared, exactly like in Vainqueur’s most sinister memories.

A tiny golden ant, whose single level couldn’t hide its aura of pure evil.

"During each of my turns, this vermin will devour part of your wealth!" Furibon raised a finger, the insect launching himself at one of Vainqueur’s two remaining coins.

"No!" The dragon screamed in horror, relieving through the darkest moment of dragonkind. The ignoble animal swallowed the coin whole, bypassing [Excalighost], and popped up another one on Furibon’s side.

In one round, the lich had reduced Vainqueur’s wealth to one and increased his own to six.

"Finally, I set a trap," Furibon said, "and I end my turn."

With his master’s newfound, ill-gotten wealth, [Golich] returned from the crypt, joining the vicious insect; once again, [Return of the Lich King] increased his level to 68, more than Vainqueur’s remaining monster.

So it was with a heavy heart that Vainqueur ordered his chief of staff to draw.

"You have pressured me thus far, Furibon," the dragon declared, as the enemy trap’s counter fell to two. "But this ends now."

For at long last, his ultimate minion had come!

"Behold, the most powerful champion a dragon could ever want!" Vainqueur hyped up his ultimate card, as [Supreme Fusion] summoned it on the field with a flash of burning light. "[Vainglorious, the Ultimate Three-Headed Dragon], level 90!"

His arrival cowed all onlookers.

For it was a vision of perfection; an immense, majestuous, three-headed dragon, each of his heads crowned! His mighty roar inspired fear in even the lich’s cold black heart.

"A zmey!" Gorynych wagged his tail.

"A dragon!" Vainqueur snarled back. "That can attack three times in a row! More than enough to demolish your army! As for your hoard, I play the spell [Hungry Master’s Call]! It allows me to summon a number of minions whose combined levels are below that of my strongest champion on the field!"

Namely, he could summon all three minions in his hand!

"Behold my army!" Vainqueur boasted, as two level 10 [Slime Knights] and one white-furred, level 25 [Werewolf Girl] hit the field, bringing his army to five. "Attack!"

His mighty dragon obeyed his master, two of his heads incinerating the [Gold-Eating Insect], and that cursed [Golich]. Then, the last head led the assault, all minions charging at Furibon’s coins.

Only for a ghostly knight to block all their attacks.

"Remember the card I discarded to use [Minion Recycling]?" Furibon gloated. "Another copy of [Fortress Knight]!"

"Damn!" Manling Victor cursed, as the enemy’s hoard escaped destruction.

"It is fine, minion," Vainqueur reassured his chief of staff. "Our army will finish him off next turn. I set one trap, and I end my turn."

The situation favored them. He had an invincible card in play, an army, and Furibon had emptied his hand last turn.

Still… the lich kept two face-down traps in play, with one he had been sitting on for numerous turns now. Did he keep it as a last resort? What about the new one? What if he had another dangerous, instant coin destruction card in reserve?

Not that Vainqueur doubted his victory, but… the dragon held his breath.

Furibon dramatically drew a card, looked at it...

And let out a snarl of sheer rage. "I end my turn," Furibon said bitterly, unable to use his newest card. "[Golich], return to me!"

The immortal undead prepared to return, but Vainqueur put a nail in his coffin by revealing his own set trap: [Golem Dysfunction].

"My trap prevents an enemy minion’s summoning and cancels its effect permanently," Vainqueur revealed with smug satisfaction, the picture of a golem’s wreckage crushing [Golich]. "Your undead servant will never return!"

The lich clenched his fists, now completely vulnerable for the final blow.

"My final turn," Vainqueur dramatically declared, his minion preparing to draw as [Signs of the End Times]’s counter dropped to one.

"Indeed!" Furibon finally revealed the mysterious trap, representing a broken clock. "[Kingu Kurimuzon]! I skip one turn of time for each of us!"

Before Vainqueur knew what hit him, the very world briefly distorted into a flash of red, the counter of [Signs of the End Times] hitting zero. The card exploded, summoning the lich’s own ultimate minion.

"Here it comes." Furibon raised his hands, as a monstrous, colossal minion appeared on his side. "[Fomor King Balaur]!"

The creature that appeared was no mere large and mighty dullahan, but a colossus matching Vainqueur’s own ultimate dragon in level. A knight with burning blue flames for a head, and wielding a mighty axe of flesh and bones.

"You created a card after that bastard?!" Knight Kia shouted in outrage at Manitou.

"When summoned, [Fomor King Balaur] destroys all minions on my enemy’s side," Furibon revealed, the titan raising his axe. "This power cannot be countered, and for each card destroyed by this effect, you, Vainqueur, must send an equal amount from the top of your deck to the crypt. And I count five."

Which left Vainqueur with…

"One card!"

The crowd shouted, as the enemy minion brought down his axe and cut through Vainqueur’s entire army; and in flagrant defiance of historical accuracy, even the dragon! Manling Victor had no choice but empty the deck down to one; the final card he could draw.

It took a moment for Vainqueur to process the sight, as his entire crowd of admirers had fallen silent, while Furibon’s few fans sang his name in admiration.

The dragon only had one card in his deck. The magical card. If Vainqueur didn’t end it this turn, Furibon could simply skip his turn and automatically win. And with one coin left and no protection, the lich could always attack if his rival somehow replenished his deck.

Vainqueur had been backed into a deadly corner.

The dragon glanced down at his chief of staff, who looked back with eyes full of determination.

No. The battle wasn’t over. So long as he breathed.

"Now, draw your last pathetic card, Vainqueur," Furibon said, his colossal fairy swinging its axe.

"This deck, crafted by my minions, contains no pathetic cards!" The Emperor prevented Manling Victor from drawing. "But before I end this, I want to ask you something, lich!"

"Ask away, but be quick. I want to end this farce and be done with this period of my life."

"At no point did you exchange your cards with the mystery ones," Vainqueur pointed out. "Why?"

The spellcaster scoffed. "Why rely on luck when you can decide your own fate?"

"Is there no place in your black heart for surprise and showmanship?"

"No," Furibon replied bluntly. "Be it at cards or in life, practicality, predictability, and sound strategy will always prevail."

Vainqueur had expected something so basic. "And this is where you are wrong. For you have not considered one key element. What separates a beautiful dragon like me, from the likes of you."

"Your friendship with Dalton?" Furibon mocked him.

"My popularity!" Vainqueur roared, rousing his fans. "For when you play a card, it is carried only by your own strength! While every move I play is supported by the love and wishes of thousands of minions! And they won’t let me lose!"

And so, carried on by the cheers of Vainqueur’s admirers, Friend Victor drew the ultimate card and revealed it. A kobold raised from the dead by his beloved dragon master.

"[Minion Revival]!"

"That card cannot revive any minion above level 60!" Furibon cackled, before freezing. "No…"

"Yes! I revive [Scythe Lord]!" The undead warrior rose from the dead, his effect immediately activating. "Who can revive any minion in the crypt, ignoring its summoning conditions! And with your [Return of the Lich King] still active, both gain ten levels!"

His majestuous, three-headed dragon returned from the dead, his level skyrocketing to 100. With one head, it blasted the fairy lord, and then two coins of Furibon’s hoard with the others.

"I still have four coins left, and you only have one minion," Furibon boasted about his stolen wealth. "You lost with dignity, but you still failed."

"Have you forgotten the last card in my hand, Goldslayer?" Vainqueur had Manling Victor reveal it. "The spell, [Unfusion]!"

Instantly, his three-headed revived champion divided into its components: three beautiful crimson, level 60 wyrms.

The lich’s confidence crumbled, right as the dragons shattered one coin each while their fans exploded into cheers. "Carry this pain with you to the grave, Furibon!" Vainqueur shouted, as the [Scythe Lord] prepared to give the coup de grace, "It is by doubting my popularity, that you reinforced it!"

With a resigned, disgusted look, the lich raised his hand. "[Troll Button]."

The final trap on Furibon’s field revealed itself, representing a troll smashing a big red button with explosions in the background.

"When I lose my last coin, I can destroy one of the enemy’s."

Vainqueur’s last coin exploded, right as [Scythe Lord] cut Furibon’s own.

The illusions collapsed into nothingness, revealing the lackluster, final result to every onlooker.

"A draw?!" Every supporter from both sides shouted at once, pissed. Furibon looked away, bitter.

"I demand a rematch!" Vainqueur snarled. "Immediately!"

"Enough!"

The Emperor glanced at his favorite manling, who rose up from his seat before making his way to the lich. "Furibon," Manling Victor looked deep into his foe’s eyes. "Through this battle, I think I understood you."

"This is ridiculous," the lich said.

"Not so much," Manling Victor said, seizing Furibon’s final card, "[Troll Button]. A card that can never allow its user to win, and whose only use is to force a draw… so a new battle can take place. You could have switched this card for another, one that could have helped you win, but you didn’t."

Furibon fell silent, the chief of staff’s words taking root in his cold, dead heart.

"Deep down, you enjoy this rivalry. You don’t hate us enough to give it your all, but Vainqueur bothers you just enough that you wish to deny him victory. This card…" Manling Victor raised Furibon’s ace, that of a big fat troll smashing a button with a smile. "This card represents your true feelings!"

Manitou the orc had tears in his eyes at the sight.

"We fought side by side once," the Vizier finished, "If you both come clean, we won’t have to continue this endless, pointless struggle."

"Of course we have," Vainqueur declared. "He is the Goldslayer, the enemy."

"Your Majesty, this is going to sound very cliche," Manling Victor cleared his throat. "But don’t you defeat your enemy when you make peace with him?"

The dragon blinked, having difficulties processing the concept. Making peace with Furibon? After what he did?

"I… I apologize."

Vainqueur immediately looked at his nemesis.

"I apologize for turning your hoard to lead, Knightsbane," Furibon struggled to spit out every word, but did so sincerely. "I acted on impulse, and I have regretted my act ever since. I will not do it again. There, I said it!"

With that out of the lich’s empty chest, his empty gaze settled on Vainqueur.

After everything… After everything, the lich had asked for a dragon’s pardon.

"I… I… I...f…" The dragon struggled to find his own words. "I...f…"

"I forgive you?" Manling Victor tried to help.

"I forget you!" Vainqueur finally said it, with tears in his eyes.

The lich remained speechless, while Manling Victor facepalmed in shame at the sight of his beloved master crying.

"Go and sin no more, I forget you!" Although it took him all his strength, Vainqueur took the high, dragon road, and granted Furibon mercy. "I forget you, Goldslayer! I forget you!"

The lich exchanged a glance with the Grand Vizier. "That’s the best you will ever get," Manling Victor said, smiling and extending his hand. "Bygones be bygones?"

Furibon examined the hand with apprehension, before finally shaking it. "Bygones be bygones."

And so, at long last, as fairies and wyrms once did, surrounded by the cheers and tears of minions…

Liches and dragons, at long last, made peace.

34: Empathy Training

Fourth day of the experiment.

Progress had been slow, especially with the final battle against the wicked-yet-forgotten Furibon, but resumed immediately afterward. The Dodo Daycare, or "Dodocare," was almost entirely operational. [Exp Dodos] could roam the island freely inside vast, demon-guarded pens, interacting with one another and the wildlife the empire would introduce.

With his dwarf lackeys having opened a portal linking the island to Murmurin, Vainqueur had converted the whole island into a minion breeding resort, under Tasty Malfy’s supervision. The fiend intended to build facilities such as hostels, beach services, and cruises. In time, Vainqueur hoped to even open a princess wildlife sanctuary there.

But for now… now it was time for the final stage of the Dodocare experiment.

Vainqueur looked over a group of dodos sleeping beyond a fence, then at his lab assistant. "Minion Victor."

"I have the slime." His Vizier raised the chosen creature, a pinkish jelly struggling within his arms. "The [Pink Molester], which can reproduce with anything. This thing is the Mick Jagger of slimes. If it moves and isn’t a minor, it will BLEEP it. Sometimes, it’s not even that discriminate."

"What about the genes? Does it have perfect genes?"

"It has elite stats in every category. Malfy even told me that some of its offspring… could shine on their own."

"Like gold?" Vainqueur asked, immensely interested. If true, then his dream of making the ultimate, golden dodo might finally be within his grasp! "Is it willing to breed?"

"Oh yes!"

But clearly not with the bird; the slime simply couldn’t resist Manling Victor’s raw sexual energies, and the Vizier barely kept it from hugging his face. "For some unexplained reason… It has taken a liking to me."

"Good. We shall redirect its breeding frustration towards the birds."

"Are you really sure you want to do it though? Once unleashed, nothing will stop it."

"Minion, we must save the [Exp Dodos] from extinction, no matter the cost. It is for my own good." Vainqueur gave the fateful order. "Release the beast."

And so, Manling Victor painfully threw the lustful slime beyond the fence, introducing the [Pink Molester] to the dodo pen. Sulking angrily at the Vizier’s rejection, it turned towards the birds, ready to breed with every last one of them. It immediately tackled the one nearest to it into a bush.

Manling Victor turned away, too soft-hearted to see what would happen very soon, but Vainqueur could not allow himself to do the same. He had to guarantee the breeding program would stay on track.

So he watched everything.

Congratulations! For creating a wildlife sanctuary for the [Exp Dodos] to save them from extinction (whether they like it or not) and making peace with the lich Furibon, you earned one level in [Witchfinder General] and three levels in [Dungeon Breeder]! You earned the [Improved Hybridization] and [Rabbit Plague] class perks!

+60 HP, +30 SP, +3 STR, +2 VIT, +3 SKI, +3 AGI, +2 INT, +4 CHA, +2 LCK.

[Improved Hybridization]: Your minions can now produce hybrids that should not make anatomical sense... such as the mighty OWLBEAR or the elusive Manbearpig! Monsters that do not share a common [Type] will create a dual-type offspring that possess one type from each parent. This Perk will not affect creatures unable to reproduce at all, such as golems or skeletons.

[Rabbit Plague]: If you or any of your minions use an ability meant to summon another monster, they call an additional creature of the same type. Can you breed the ultimate minion?

Oh yes, he would!

"That’s disgusting."

Vainqueur glanced at the evil Furibon and his living followers, who vomited at the sight. As if they had never seen a bird and slime breed before! "You cannot understand free love between species, lich," the dragon said. "I said I would forget you. Do not remind me for too long."

"Believe me when I say that I do not intend to meet you ever again after we teleport out."

"I haven’t thanked you for saving my hide from those adventurers," Victor told the lich. "I still owe you one."

"You convinced Knightsbane to stop bothering me," Furibon replied, Vainqueur doing his best to ignore him. "As far as I am concerned, that makes us even."

"So, what’s next? We’re going west after this ‘experiment’ is done."

"There is too much of the New World to explore to cross the sea further," Furibon replied. "Maybe I will try to find this ‘Holly Wood’ you earthlanders keep babbling about."

"So this is farewell?" Why did the Vizier seem sad? "It was just a one-time deal?"

"At least until Sablar comes after all of our heads," the lich replied grimly. "And he will."

"Furibon is just being gloomy," his elf cohort replied. "I’m sure we’ll meet again soon. I’ve got the feeling things are about to get funnier as time goes on."

"Now that you are finished with cliche, stupid lines, I will teleport us away before my diabetes worsens," Furibon declared, before casting his spell, sending a final glance at Manling Victor. "Dalton."

"Yes, Bone Daddy?" The minion braced himself.

"You are an unbearable manwhore and a complete screw-up," Furibon insulted his chief of staff back, making the dragon glare at him. "But I had fun."

And so, with those words, Furibon finally vanished, allowing Vainqueur to forget him. Finally, they could go back to the truly important thing.

"Minion."

"Yes?"

"Grab a dodo and help."

His Vizier made a very strange face, as if he was silently screaming.

"Find them good partners whose loot-worthy Perks can be passed on to the lineage," Vainqueur clarified his intent, since his chief of staff couldn’t see as far as he did.

In three generations, he would have his golden dodo.

Riding on a dodo’s back wasn’t fun for either party.

Victor shifted uncomfortably on the back of his mount, as the bird carried him away from the daycare and towards the beach, where he was to meet with Kia for the purpose of training. While the creature had enough strength to carry his new rider, it clearly had no training with it. It was a constant struggle just to stay on it.

Still, the beast endured with great courage. Victor had decided to name him ‘Dodolion’ to honor his bravery.

As the mighty team strolled through the beach, they caught sight of another unlikely duo training on the sand. Victor couldn’t help but blink at the sight.

"Master!" Gorynych wagged his tail, while Noirceur the horse struggled to sit on his back. "Gorynych gained a level in [Ranger]! Because Gorynych is good with horses!"

Victor and Dodolion looked at the inbred dragon’s rider, who glared back.

"What, you think a horse cannot be a [Chaos Rider]?" the nightmare asked. "You two-legged racist, I will show you."

Victor and his mighty bird looked at them for a full minute and continued forward without a word.

They found Kia tanning on the sand, wearing only a black swimsuit with her sword and blade within arm’s reach. Hearing them arrive, the Paladin looked at Victor, then at the dodo, and then struggled not to laugh.

"Shut up," the Vizier said. "I’m doing this for the exp."

"Is it working?"

Congratulations! For loyally serving as your liege’s hand against Furibon, proving your worth as a true duelist, and fearlessly riding the rarest of all monsters, you earned two levels in [Chaos Rider]! You earned the [White Rider] class Perk!

+60 HP, +2 STR, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +2 INT.

[White Rider]: While you fight mounted, when you cast a spell or use a Perk with you as its target (such as a buff), your mount counts as an extension of your own person and will gain the ability's benefits. You can add two more creatures to your marked mount stable.

"Yes." Incredibly, Dodolion was worth so much exp, that just riding him helped him level up faster. At least now his horse would stop complaining about not being marked. They would stay a few more days to train and then continue the journey west.

Kia glanced at the creature, then decided the extra experience wasn’t worth the humiliation.

Victor couldn’t help but examine her closely, having never seen the [Paladin] without her armor on. As expected, she was the very picture of an amazon, with the body of a professional athlete that would make Chocolatine, Charlene, and probably all the women he knew jealous. He didn’t notice any scar or blemish he would have expected from someone with her lifestyle, which he attributed to her healing spells.

Victor could have sworn she had gained fat and then lost it recently though, a glimpse at a whiskey bottle next to her telling him why.

"You’re making me uncomfortable," she said, noticing his gaze.

"Sorry," he said, focusing on her face. "Kia, can I ask you a personal question before we begin? Why do you look so unhappy when you drink?"

She shrugged. "I don’t feel alive unless I’m fighting."

That wasn’t an answer, but Victor read between the lines. "I don’t understand you," he said. "How can you be unhappy? You’re a hero, everyone loves or admires you… I get that you feel at your highest in a fight, but you shouldn’t feel down the rest of the time."

"It’s not... Did you ever have a purpose in life? Like Vainqueur watching his hoard grow?"

Victor thought about Vainqueur, Murmurin’s development, the war with the fomor, the gods, and everything that brought him all the way from the Albain Mountains to this island. "Making Vainqueur happy, and creating a place where monsters and civilized species can coexist in peace."

"I didn’t have a purpose on Earth, and it always gnawed at me," she replied. "Then Mithras and Leone gave me a literal divine mission to defeat Balaur. For a decade, I had a clear goal. My life had meaning. It was like playing a game where you know you have to keep pushing forward until you reach the ending. Those were the best times of my life."

"But then you reached the ending, and your life kept playing."

As Victor had guessed, while she hid it well, Kia struggled with depression.

"And I only recapture that sense of fulfillment when I fight," she admitted, her hand aiming for the bottle; and not in a funny way.

The sight spurred him to action. "Maybe you can find another," Victor suggested, trying to keep her attention away from the drink. "Like conquering Valhalla. You’re by far the closest, and it would keep you motivated."

"I thought about it, but what afterward? I become another ascended [Paladin] like Mithras and Leone?" She shook her head. "They want to expand their chosen countries, improve Outremonde step by step. They have visions. Call me unimaginative, but I always saw myself as a soldier."

Victor wondered how she would feel if she realized the gods played dice with the universe but kept it for himself. He had the sense to keep it quiet for Camilla, he wouldn’t blurt that out now.

"Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about my life, my status, or anything. I just don’t feel happy in general when I have no higher calling to aspire to."

"What about your teammates?"

"Kevin found his calling in politics. He always liked ‘Kingdom Building’ and translated it into real life. The others… depends. A few hit the road, others looked for a way to return to Earth."

And none of that interested her. "What about adventuring with Jolie?"

"It’s fun, but without an overarching goal…" She smiled at him. "Look, Vic, you’re very kind, but Kevin spent two years asking almost the same questions and it got us nowhere."

"I won’t give up on you," Victor replied. He may not be as close to her than most of his other friends, but she had repeatedly come to his and Vainqueur’s help when they needed it. No way in Happyland would he turn his back on her.

"Maybe we can talk about something a bit less gloomy?" Kia changed the subject. "Have you managed to learn [Hasten]?"

After he confirmed it, she jumped back on her feet and stretched. "Good. From what I gathered from our battles, you really don’t fare well in a close encounter."

"Easy for you to say, you’re literally optimized to kill monsters in close combat."

"Yes and no. I did plan my classes to improve that way, but I mostly figured out how my Perks and spells could synergize best on my own. What I don’t understand is that with your level, equipment, and abilities, you should be a lot harder to kill."

Victor sighed. "Thing is, I have many powerful Perks with devastating synergies, like [Charon’s Grim Harvest] and [Nightmare Realm], but they do not prevent friendly fire."

"Ah, I get it. You have a Boss build. You’re not meant to fight with a normal party, except summoned minions."

"Sort of." On his own, he could simply summon undead or fiends immune to his most dangerous abilities, then control the battlefield with his other abilities. Pretty much like Akhenapep. "And while I’m good at creating and leading undead, the fight at El Dorado taught me that I’ve very few ways of damaging them. They’re my kryptonite."

"There are necromancy spells that harm the undead as easily as the living," the knight pointed out. "That’s not my field of expertise so I leave you to solve that on your own. Which leads me to what I believe is your Achilles’ heel."

Victor listened in silence, finding it refreshing to discuss with a professional ahead of him in the [Epic] department.

"I think you have too many Perks and options," Kia said. "Which is a problem my party faced when we reached a high level. We end up with so many abilities we do not quite figure out which ones have become obsolete, which ones have untapped potential, and so on."

"I always figured out it was better to have many options."

"That’s where you’re wrong. A good Perk isn’t one that can solve a single problem, but many problems at once. Like your [Darwinist] saved your hide many times."

"Except with drugs."

"Except with—" She marked a short pause, looking at him as if he was joking, then straightened up. "If you have too many abilities to draw on, it creates decision paralysis in battle, which can cost you a lot. The most dangerous [Epic] level foes I’ve met are those who mastered a few, but very powerful strategies. Masters of None don’t get anywhere."

"So you suggest that I cut down my options? Like using [Perk Forge]?"

"Yes." She nodded. "If you haven’t used a Perk in, say, a month, you should consider discarding it, especially if you can make a stronger one. As for the rest, I suggest we develop a few go-to strategies that maximize your effectiveness. Would you mind showing me your stats?"

"No harm in that."

They spent a good half an hour discussing his Perks and build, identifying the monster Perks he should fuse, which spells he could now ignore—his old [Death Candle] spell would no longer help in dangerous fights—and Victor's key strengths.

But most importantly, after reviewing his stats, Perks, and equipment, the two realized that the Vizier always inflicted critical hits with his scythe. "Wait," Kia said with a frown. "You have a Perk that allows you to use your [Scythe] as a spellcasting wand?"

"Yeah, it was one of the earliest ones I got from [Reaper]."

"Then your crit chances should transfer to the spells you cast," Kia realized.

"You can crit with spells?"

"With some offensive ones, yes. You never noticed?"

Victor shook his head. He had almost entirely focused on buffs and summoning spells and rarely used direct damage ones. "Why didn’t Deathjester tell me this?"

Kia made a face at the reminder that opposite deities claimed them, but remained professional. "Deathjester was an assassin. He killed the old fashioned way, using illusions to disorient his foes before he landed a killing blow."

"And he never considered the feature."

"Unfortunately, your best Perks combination, [Nightmare Realm] and [Charon’s Grim Harvest], will target anything that isn’t you, an undead, or summons immune to their effects. If you were a ruthless dark lord leading hordes of undead, you would be very tough to fight."

"So you suggest that I instead focus on offensive spells that can crit when I fight with allies?"

"Yes." She nodded with a smile. "Alongside buffing yourself up with tricks like [Hasten], especially with your Skill stat. While most of your physical stats are average or mediocre for your level, your Skill is through the roof. If sufficiently enhanced, you should be nearly impossible to hit."

"‘Magicrit Dodgetank,’" Victor mused.

"You also need to get new armor," Kia warned. "You’re hard to hit, but squishy. We will also need to practice your reflexes."

Why did it sound like she would use him as target practice?

Victor froze, as he noticed something at the edge of his vision. He turned to face the whiskey sea, noticing a flock of birds flying straight towards them.

No.

Not birds.

Kia’s hand grabbed her sword, while Victor raised his scythe, Dodolion making a shrieking sound.

"Our sister," one of Wotan’s Valkyries pointed a blade at Victor, as the others formed a flying circle around the group, "give her back."

35: Dialogue Options

On one side, a flock of twenty Valkyries armed to the teeth.

On the other side, two Epic level adventurers and a ferocious dodo.

Yeah, not a fair fight. The poor ladies had no idea how outmatched they were.

Victor examined the flock, and realized that many of them had already been killed on the island. Yet somehow they formed a battle line right before him. "You can revive your own," the Vizier guessed. "That’s how you knew I captured her soul."

"We Valkyries can collect worthy warriors who wish to fight forever in Lord Wotan’s halls. That is our [Einherjar] ability." The new leader of the flock, a black-haired maiden wielding a spear of light, landed on the beach right in front of the Vizier. She pointed her weapon at his head. "But you trapped Sigrun, and we cannot bring her back. Release her at once."

"I don’t understand everything, but you won’t get far making threats." Kia raised her sword, surrounding it with light.

"This does not concern you, human," the Valkyrie replied, very much oblivious to the [Paladin]'s true identity. "We have no quarrel with you."

Kia wasn’t impressed, and neither was Victor. Since Gorynych and Vainqueur were in the vicinity, their group had the advantage. Even Dodolion looked placidly at the flock, calm and serene.

Still, the Vizier would rather avoid a fight if he could. "I think we all need to calm down here."

"Release our sister and we will be on our way," the Valkyrie leader insisted, "We will take her back by force if needed."

"Wait," Victor caught on. "Would you be willing to negotiate peacefully for her release?"

The war maidens exchanged glances, while their leader frowned at him. "Why would you give her back without a fight?" The concept of a peaceful discussion sounded almost foreign to her. Apparently she only made her demand as a courtesy.

"I dunno, because threats and violence aren’t the answer to everything?"

Charisma check successful!

"What do you want then, dragon thrall?"

"I know your master still lives," Victor said. He had learned from Akhenapep that every buried evil would escape at one point, no matter how tight the seal. "I want him to stop coming after us. Talk him out of it."

"Impossible," the woman shook her head. "Lord Wotan made an oath to the fairy queen that he would bring her the dragon’s head."

"His word once given he never breaks," Sigrun’s shade added with pride, seen only by Victor. "Not like you shifty mortals."

An honorable kind of fairy? Good, the Vizier would work with that. "What was the exact wording?"

"Bring me Vainqueur Knightsbane’s head, and I shall grant you the soul you crave."

As he thought, he had found a glaring loophole in it. "Then, here are my terms then," Victor said. "I will release the soul on three conditions. First, you will answer all our questions as best as you can. Second, after we are done, you will depart this island peacefully. And third, if and when Wotan comes after us again, I want you to convince him to parley instead of attacking on sight. If he picks a fight with Vainqueur afterward, that will be his funeral, but I want him to sit down and negotiate with us for ten minutes."

Charisma check...

Successful!

The Valkyrie leader pondered his offer, before answering. "I cannot promise my lord will listen, but otherwise… you have our word. We will answer your questions, leave this place without harming anyone, and we shall carry your message to Lord Wotan. If you release our sister."

Finally, a villain with common sense.

"Are you sure about it, Vic?" Kia whispered to him, low enough for the fairy thralls not to hear them. The [Paladin] hadn’t relaxed at all, her blade firmly pointed at the flock. "We can take them. If you release that soul and let them go, that means problems later."

"Maybe, but we won’t get many opportunities to learn about the fomors’ operations," the Vizier replied. "I say it’s worth the risk."

"Stop whispering among yourselves and ask your questions," the Valkyrie leader ordered. "I have no desire to stay on this island any longer than needed."

Right, right. "What’s your name?" Victor asked the leader.

"Brynhildr."

"Brynhildr, who is the fairy queen who sent your master after us?" He already suspected the answer, but he wanted confirmation, and to see if the ladies lied to him.

"We know her as Mell Odieuse," Brynhildr replied truthfully. Apparently, while loyal to their master, the Valkyries couldn’t care less about the other fomors. "She looks like you humans yet is anything but. She is a cruel beast of great power, and many fairy lords crowned her as queen."

"Fomors elect a common leader only during wartime," Kia pointed out. "They are too proud to stand a higher authority otherwise. What do you mean by many?"

"Many fairy lords of Prydain and Mistral bent the knee, save our own Lord, Baba Yaga, and loners like the Jack O’Lantern. She sent emissaries north, west, east, and south across the world, to the unseelie, the yokai, and the rakshasas, offering power in exchange for loyalty."

"And for what purpose?" Victor asked grimly.

The entire Valkyrie flock looked at him, as if he were an idiot to even ask. "To exterminate the mortals."

He walked right into that one.

"Lord Wotan said no though," Brynhildr admitted.

Victor frowned. "He refused?"

"There is no honor in killing creatures who cannot kill you in turn," she replied with great pride. "A true warrior’s worth is determined by the mettle of his foes."

"Lord Wotan coexists with the people of your Winter Kingdoms," another battle maiden added. "So long as they leave him alone and do not interfere in his dragon hunts, neither does he bother them."

"You won't convince me that a fomor can care about humans," Kia spat.

"Lord Wotan cares not," Brynhildr admitted. "But he does not take pleasure in killing your kind either. He only seeks the blood of dragons and other worthy foes. While his kindred attacked civilians to gain levels, he hunted zmeys and dragons to prepare for yours."

Well, Victor guessed that like on Earth, not all psychopaths were genocidal serial killers. "In the volcano, I heard him speak about Balaur’s crusade. He said it had been a threat to his own race."

"It was," Brynhildr nodded, Kia stiffening at this. "Lord Wotan thought this war pointless, and time proved him right. Fomors were few and are now fewer. Unlike you mortals, they cannot replenish their numbers easily. Since he would not bend the knee nor serve in her armies, the fairy queen asked him to hunt your dragon lord for her gift."

"So, if I follow," Kia said. "This Odieuse can somehow give fomors souls, and thus access to the System, in exchange for their service. How does she do that?"

"Mag Mell, Odieuse’s father, used the blood and bones of dragons to create a new crest: the Soulcrest. One that empowered our Lord with a soul of his own."

Bones and blood? "The kidnapped dragons!" Kia immediately guessed the obvious cause.

"Grandrake told Vainqueur that old dragon magic could create souls," Victor grumbled, putting a hand in his hair. "Damn, Mag Mell must have reverse-engineered it somehow."

"I am not familiar with the term," the Valkyrie admitted. "Nor do I know how it works. I leave magic to spellcasters."

"How many Soulcrests does Odieuse have?" Victor asked.

"One. But unlike your System’s crests, it can empower as many warriors as needed."

Victor didn’t know what to make of this. On one hand, reliance on one artifact meant that destroying it could cripple the fairies’ war effort. On the other hand, the item could reasonably give the entire fomor race access to the System in a short amount of time. "Where is that crest?"

"I do not know," the Valkyrie replied. "I only saw it once at a stone circle in Prydain, during our lord’s soul ceremony."

"Mag Mell must probably keep it on hand all the time," Kia suggested. "Too many of his experiments backfired in the past to let that artifact out of sight."

"Do you know what Odieuse is planning?" Victor fished for info.

"She said that she would summon ‘arrows of light’ on Samhain, the night when fairy magic reaches its apex. Arrows that metal men would fire with great bows, to burn all the formors’ enemies to ashes. Lord Wotan brushed her off, so I do not know the details."

So the slime prophecy foretold. In all likelihood, Victor had found that ‘Hateful One’ he should help Vainqueur defeat. "And what will they do once they have these arrows?" the Vizier asked. "Attack Gardemagne?"

"Not Gardemagne," Brynhildr said while looking straight into the Vizier’s eyes.

…

"BLEEP."

"You declared war first."

"Where is Odieuse?" Kia asked, frowning when Wotan’s servants failed to come up with an answer. "Mag Mell?"

"Probably Prydain," Brynhildr replied evasively.

"Any lead you could give us?"

"We do know the location of their kindred, the piper Mell Lin. The fairy queen put him in charge of a place where fomors could gain levels quickly, near what you call the Jade Empire. The stables, I believe."

"The [Exp Farm], Brynhildr," another Valkyrie said. "That was its name."

The title somehow sent a chill down Victor’s spine. "What do you know about that place?"

"Only that Lord Wotan wanted nothing to do with it."

"That Mell Lin is probably the same piper that helped and then left the Nightblades to die," Kia said. The two asked for more details, but the Valkyries didn’t know much. As it turned out, Wotan’s attack on Vainqueur was a one-time favor only.

And since this proud lord of lightning never swore fealty, Odieuse didn't let him into her plans. The Valkyries knew nothing of Prydain’s defenses, the fairy queen’s forces, nor even what Odieuse could do.

"Do you have any other questions, mortal?" Brynhildr asked, growing impatient with the interrogation. Victor exchanged a glance with Kia, just as worried as him, but they had no idea what else to ask. The Valkyries already gave the group a lot to think about.

"We honored our word," the Valkyries pointed their weapons at the duo, "Now it is your turn."

A part of the Vizier, the one that went to Scholomance and dealt with devils regularly, didn’t feel bound to honor an agreement with a group who tried to kill him. Now that they knew enough, he and Kia could probably slaughter this flock now and not have to fight them later.

On the other hand… something else came to mind, and if there was a single chance to pull it off…

"Well, Sigrun, I would have said we had fun," the Vizier told the soul in his scythe, "but that would be a lie."

"I hope Odieuse kills you," the ghostly Valkyrie replied, completely unrepentant. She made Victor miss Furibon even more than he already did.

"How kind, but she already did."

Using tricks learned at Scholomance, Victor let her soul go free, the ghostly shade escaping its prison as a tiny speck of light. Brynhildr immediately caught it in her free hand, appraising the [Reaper] in silence. "Surprised?" he asked her.

"A little," Brynhildr replied, keeping her sister’s soul within her tight fist. "But next time we meet, it shall not be as friends."

"Should we truly leave, Brynhildr?" one of the maidens asked her captain, considering going back on her words the same way Victor did. "He and his fellows can kill us permanently."

"About that ‘leave’ part of our bargain, I have a way to make you stick to it…" Victor cleared his throat and then shouted. "GORYNYCH!"

"Yes, master!" The zmey immediately rushed at the beach, Noirceur the horse struggling not to fall off his back; rainfall started right as he showed up, obscuring the sun much to Kia’s chagrin.

The three-headed dragon noticed the Valkyries, his tail instantly raising up like a dog having spotted a rabbit.

Victor pointed a finger at the horrified warrior maidens. "PRINCESSES!"

Facing an inbred, three-headed dragon rushing in their direction while throwing sand everywhere, even the fearless Valkyries backed down. "Retreat!" Brynhildr fled and her comrades fled while Gorynych opened his wings to pursue them, throwing Noirceur off his back in his hurry. "Retreat!"

Congratulations! For successfully exchanging non-violently with fomor thralls and learning valuable information, you earned +2 charisma points.

"So?" Victor asked, watching his mount chase after the Valkyries across the whiskey sea.

"This is bad," the [Paladin] replied. "This is really bad. Samhain is Halloween so we have… what, two months before the fomors attack Murmurin?"

"Unless we can catch Odieuse and strangle this new Century War in the crib," Victor said, Kia giving him a strange look, "Sorry, too much time spent among demons."

"Where should we start? We don’t know where she or Mag Mell will be outside of Prydain. As for that [Exp Farm], we could spend years exploring the Serica continent without locating it."

"Brynhildr mentioned yokai."

Kia considered his words, and then put a hand on her face. "I hate Japan."

36: Kaiju Day

After saving the dodos from extinction—so he could harvest their exp later—Vainqueur led his flying pack west, towards the Serica continent. His manling chief of staff had insisted on making a stop at the Teikoku Empire, an island located near its shores.

For some reason, he and Knight Kia often called it ‘Japan’ while discussing it together.

Vainqueur had expected a warm welcome, as befitting of his rank.

Instead, he found the island’s shores walled up, covered in cannons, and the nearest port city on fire. Flying ships similar to the Thaoten’s had crashed against pagoda-like houses, pillars of smoke turned the skies dark, and the dragon could barely hear himself think over cannon fire noise.

Vainqueur circled the skies to observe the ground below, watching manlings fight an army of goblins, orcs, beastkin, and horned ogres. All of them wielded arquebuses, swords, and spears, attacking the other side with fierce anger.

Yet, both sides froze in fear at the sight of a true dragon.

"Gojira!" The locals pointed fingers at Vainqueur in awe of his majesty. "Gojira!"

"GOJIRA!"

Vainqueur unleashed a mighty roar and a breath of flames at the skies, to get the point across. He then landed in the middle of a street, crushing houses below his feet.

Of course, killjoy that he was, the zmey tried to imitate him, one of his heads spitting acid, the other fire, and the last one cold. Instead of groveling before the beauty of Vainqueur, the locals screamed in terror at the knockoff. "Kingu Gidora! KINGU GIDORA!"

"You scare them, zmey!" Vainqueur lambasted his minion’s mount, who lowered all his heads in shame as he made a shy landing. "Turn around, nobody likes you!"

"Your Majesty, please stop bullying my zmey!" Manling Victor complained.

"Gorynych is sorry," the zmey apologized, retreating in a corner. The rain the inbred creature summoned wherever he went started extinguishing the fires. "No flying princesses make Gorynych sad..."

Seeing the zmey submit to Vainqueur calmed the locals, especially as they noticed Manling Victor petting the creature. Knight Kia joined him, almost no one paying attention to her and her silly griffin mount.

"Manling Victor, announce my presence to these peasants," Vainqueur ordered his herald, as he climbed down from his mount, Knight Kia imitating him.

The Vizier stepped towards the fearful locals, even as they pointed their weapons at him. Tasty Malfy had finally delivered the Vizier a new armor to wear, one better than the last; mostly because it used Vainqueur’s favorite golden and crimson colors alongside that bland black. The armor was leaner than Manling Victor’s previous one, mixing plate, chainmail, and crimson clothes covered in unholy symbols. Spikes formed a crown on the helmet.

The sight reminded Vainqueur of his loss, the dragon promising himself not to leave this land without a new crown of his own.

"Citizens of Teikoku! I am Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of the V&V Empire, Ishfania, and the Albain Mountains! His Majesty, the great dragon Vainqueur Goldbeard Knightsbane, Emperor of the Pirate Sea, Minion Liberator, Conquistadores of El Goldorado, and Savior of the Dodo Race, has come in peace!"

The locals exchanged worried, confused glances and answered in a strange tongue Vainqueur didn’t understand.

"Japanese," the Vizier said.

"I will cast a translation spell," Knight Kia declared.

"Wait!" Manling Victor stopped her. "Can… Can I talk to them without the auto-translation? Just once."

"You speak Japanese, Vic?" the [Paladin] asked, doubting his chief of staff.

"Oh no, not at all, but…" Vizier seemed embarrassed. "But… but when I lived on Earth… there was something I always wanted to do if I ever went to Japan."

The chief of staff approached the crowd, instantly commanding their attention. He inhaled, gathered his breath, and then spoke.

"Keikaku dohri!"

The locals seemed to both understand the words, and miss the meaning completely. Slightly bothered, the Vizier tried again with a longer sentence, pointing his scythe at them.

"Omae wa mou shindeiru!"

Many ran away screaming while Knight Kia put a hand on her face in annoyance; Manling Victor laughed wickedly, strangely blissful.

At least, until he was challenged.

"Ara Ara…"

Only a lone orc dared to stand up to the Vizier. Frail and lean for his green-skinned kind, he wore a ridiculous jacket and shirt with a badly painted planet symbol on it. He didn’t wear any weapons; he didn’t need them.

"Oh, you’re approaching me?" Victor asked in common, as the creature walked towards him with confidence.

"I can’t meme the shit out of you without getting closer," the orc replied in the same language.

"Can he speak common?" Kia almost took a step forward, but Vainqueur put a hand before her.

"Do not interrupt the ritual," the dragon ordered, as his chief of staff and the orc approached each other. "You could ruin it."

Soon, both his chief of staff and orc stood face to face with only a few inches of distance.

"Okay, I admit, I had a short phase when I was a teen," Victor said suddenly. "There is a part of me that I don’t want, that I hate whenever I see that Esoteric Order of Isekai. I just wanted to get it off my chest, bury it."

"Then you need to accept that part of yourself, before you can let it go," the orc declared with pride. "Mudkips is mai waifu."

"Is it OK to be gar for Archer?" Manling Victor replied, Vainqueur unable to make sense of the strange wordplay.

"Stupid sexy Lockon," the orc replied.

"Don’t..." the Vizier said, looking shy, before mustering all his courage and retaliating. "Don't believe in yourself! Believe in the me who believes in you!"

"You are a true man of culture, and you deserve my respect. Do you feel happier now?"

"Yes," Manling Victor said. "I think I can finally lay that childish phase to rest."

"It is okay to move on, but there was nothing shameful in the first place either." The chief of staff shook the orc’s hand in manly friendship. "Go, and weeb no more. You are born again, a new man."

"I don’t understand what I’m seeing," Knight Kia said.

"Because you lack the necessary genius," Vainqueur replied since she probably had only square root nine in intelligence. Apparently, from what the dragon understood, they belonged to the same ancient, secret brotherhood; and Manling Victor had officially left it through a primitive ritual.

Since the orc had fought on the side of the goblinoids, the manlings mistook the friendliness for an alliance and did the sensible thing; fleeing in all directions, with their enemies on their tail.

"Are you this rabble’s leader?" Vainqueur asked the orc, before glancing at his motley army.

"Oh no, I’m just the herald." The greenskin barked orders to goblins, who scampered away, "I called the boss. We were winning that battle anyway, and seeing a dragon buddy-buddy with us probably helped even more."

Vainqueur didn’t have to wait for long, until the vermin’s leader showed up, backed up by a cadre of armored ogre bodyguards.

Much to his surprise, the leader wasn’t an orc or a giant, but a tiny female goblin, wearing exquisite golden armor and a strange, half-gun half-sword weapon. An older goblin with a red cloak and iron teeth followed her, immediately hiding behind an ogre at the sight of Vainqueur.

"Vic?" the goblin leader asked, recognizing the Vizier.

"Goblina?"

"Vic!" The goblin immediately moved to hug Vainqueur’s chief of staff. "Good to see you! You traded your horse for a zmey? Nice!"

"I kept both," the Vizier replied, summoning his nightmare horse with a snap of his fingers. "Although she’s still as cranky as ever."

"About time you marked me," the horse grumbled.

"Vic, you know this goblin?" Kia asked, worried.

"Yeah, we went to school together! We were rivals in everything!" Manling Victor whistled at the goblin’s armies. "And you have your own army now!"

"I wanted to dominate the continent first, but then I remembered the lessons of the [World Conquest] course." Goblina pumped her chest. "Don’t conquer landlocked areas first, or the heroic nations will invade you! Start with isolated islands! One week later I raised an army and invaded these shores."

"So you’re going to take over with a horde of monsters?"

"Oh no, no, I will do it the Vizier way. March on the capital, seize the emperor ‘for his own protection’—and my legitimacy—then declare myself Shogun Regent. I will rule in his name through military force, claiming the credit for everything that goes well and blaming the emperor for what doesn’t."

"You were the most promising of all of us," Manling Victor said, a tear of pride in his eye.

"Vic, you always bested me at magic, but who aced the [World Conquest] classes? Uh?" The goblin pumped her tiny fist. "My friend, join me. Together, we can bring order to this lawless land. With your magic and my army, we will be unstoppable! I will give you riches, and all the emperor’s harem!"

"That’s…"

"No poaching my chief of staff!" Vainqueur defended his property.

"Then ally with me!" The goblin offered, speaking like a tiny dragon. "Help me conquer these lands, one overlord to another! One day our bloody alliance will rule the WORLD!"

Vainqueur barely paid attention, his attention captured by someone else.

His eyes had set on the older goblin, trying to hide from him behind a just as terrified horned red ogre. "Have we met?" Vainqueur asked, the critter too shy to answer. He looked familiar.

"It’s my Daddy and advisor," Goblina said. "He served a dragon like you!"

The cloaked old goblin looked incredibly uncomfortable at these words. Somehow Vainqueur knew he had seen him somewhere. He smelled familiar, but all goblins looked the same…

Skill check…

Failed!

"What? Revise your poor judgment!" Vainqueur insisted, but the screen disobeyed him.

"I’m sorry, Vainqueur had a terrible experience with goblins in the past," Manling Victor told Goblina.

"I swear, one day I will track the cowards who abandoned me in my sleep and eat them all," Vainqueur replied, the old goblin pissing on himself as if it concerned him. "Now, about this offer of alliance…"

"It’s very interesting, but we have a war of our own," Kia said hurriedly, ever the killjoy.

"Yes, we believe our enemies have started recruiting local fairies," Manling Victor told Goblina. "We came to investigate."

"The fairies?" The goblin cackled in laughter, before snapping her fingers. "Vic, don’t worry, we got that covered."

A group of orcs approached with a familiar bottle, showing it to Vainqueur’s group.

"Is that the bottle of Mot?" the dragon asked, letting smoke out of his nostrils as he recognized the cursed item.

"I got the idea when Vic told me about it!" Goblina declared, knocking on the bottle. "I had my mages replicate them, and we started using captured fairies to provide energy instead of powerstones."

"You keep tormented fairies as power batteries?" Manling Victor asked, highly impressed.

"We don’t ‘torment’ them. We just beat them half to death, then we catch them, and sometimes we make them fight. I cannot allow fairies to disturb my fair and benevolent iron rule. Two rulers cannot ta—" The goblin quickly caught herself as Vainqueur’s gaze turned sharper, sensing that she might utter a cursed word, "take tribute from the same peasant."

"I see that someone paid attention to [Peasant Mathematics]," Manling Victor said. "Could you give us a few of these bottles?"

"Sure. If you help me conquer the island. You don’t have to stay long; with you and your dragon master on our side, this war is as good as won. Just burn a few castles, raise the dead, and help me invade the capital with an army of fiends."

"We could do that." The Vizier turned to his master. "I mean, we already did it once with Port Vainqueur."

"You are seriously considering helping a goblin overlord take over a civilized nation," Kia noted disapprovingly at Vainqueur’s chief of staff.

"Paladin?" Goblina asked Victor with a voice full of disdain.

"She’s really nice when you get to know her."

"I don’t think that’s what Deathjester meant when he said ‘screw the law and paladins too.’"

"You cannot help a goblinoid army take over!" Kia insisted. "It is inhuman!"

"But not indragon," Vainqueur replied.

"They will enslave and exterminate all humans from the island for all we know!" The [Paladin] pleaded for her kind.

"Is that true?" Vainqueur asked the goblin. "Slaves are an insult to minionship."

"I vouch for Goblina’s honor," Manling Victor said. "She won’t enslave anyone. She will conscript all species as her minions equally."

"Like me?" Vainqueur asked, pleased that he had inspired imitators.

"Yes, but she will be more heavy-handed."

"I have a dream," the goblin conqueror spoke up. "Where all people of the world will be united under my rule. A world where goblins can have minions of their own too!"

"As long as you respect the dragon code of minion deontology, I see nothing wrong with it," Vainqueur declared.

"I will modernize this country," the goblin overlord said, putting hands behind her back in a strong pose. "We will build factories, educate the masses in a government-friendly way, and provide jobs to everyone so my war machine can remain fully functional."

"Yes, she’s just going to do what the local emperor already does, but better!" Victor argued to Kia.

"We do not have time and helping her will destroy your nation’s reputation with civilized ones," the knight said, running out of dragon arguments. "How do you think Gardemagne will answer when they learn a nation of monsters helped another topple an empire?"

"But if we form an alliance, we could gain her help against the fomors. Right, Goblina?" Victor asked the goblin overlord, who nodded furiously.

"You have both good arguments, but you forgot one key element," Vainqueur decided. He alone remembered the first reason for this world tour, and why he had started adventuring at all. "Goblin, I have one question alone."

He raised his hand and snapped two claws together.

"How much?"

The goblin warlord asked for a pen and a scroll, wrote down a number, then showed it to the dragon.

Three days later, they had conquered the country.

For a crown, and a mountain of coins.

37: The Mermaid's Revenge

"This is an indignity!" Vainqueur roared from atop a mountain of coins. "I will file a complaint!"

After conquering the capital city of the Teikoku Empire, Onogoro, Goblina the goblin had granted Vainqueur quarters in the palace’s rookery. Once used to welcome giant birds, the area was the only place capable of accommodating a dragon. Placed on a high pagoda, the group could oversee the entire city from here.

"What’s the matter?" Goblina the goblin was in an extraordinarily good mood, sipping a glass of red wine alongside Manling Victor. "We won! The Teikoku Empire is mine!"

"Yeah, and Your Majesty even got a crown out of it," the Vizier pointed a finger at Vainqueur’s new [Crown of the Conqueror], a black circlet surrounded by rubies and metal horns. It was much more intimidating than the previous one, and more powerful; providing +6 to Charisma, Luck, and Skill, alongside immunity to [Terror].

Vainqueur found that part redundant, but complained about something else.

"Minion, we conquered this entire country in three days, and I did not level up!" The riches they earned and his monthly stipend soothed his wrath, but not by much. "The zmey leveled up!"

"Well, yes, he was very low level, so it made sense he would get a few out of it," Manling Victor replied. "While we are both [Epic] level. This conquest was also a large effort, and Your Majesty and I only helped."

"Helped? We burnt every fortress between the goblin and this silly manling capital!" Vainqueur had empowered Manling Victor’s summoned armies with his Perks, such as [Pontifex Maximus] and [Master of Silence], before unleashing air bombardments with the zmey. The manlings put up a valiant effort, but nothing that could rival a dragon.

"Your Majesty, not all soldiers in a conflict gain levels because their army won a short-lived war. Although I do ponder what it means when conquering a country becomes banal…"

"Vic, you’re, what, seventy?" the goblin asked.

"Sixty-nine." The goblin looked up at the chief of staff with a strange look Vainqueur didn’t understand. "Don’t you dare."

"With your level, you need legendary feats to level up," the goblin replied. "Nothing short of world conquest will do."

"I already own it by right, but never pushed my claim," Vainqueur said, considering it. "Minion—"

"I suggest we start with Prydain and then see if we need to go further," Manling Victor replied hastily, bogged down by tiny administrative details. "We should focus on that first and foremost."

Vainqueur grumbled, before seeing the wisdom in it. "Oh, yes, they are probably worth more in experience and loot," the dragon reminded himself of what truly mattered. His bet with Icefang was still on, and he needed to accumulate a bigger hoard as soon as possible. Especially after Untasty Allison’s untimely death depleted his assets. "Where do we start?"

"The local fairies are called Yokai," Manling Victor explained. "They’re distant cousins of the fomors, like Asian dragons to Your Majesty. If Odieuse is truly recruiting, she will probably start with them."

Asian? What was that, some kind of food?

"Most of the surviving fairies make their lair in the mountain, at the island’s center." Goblina pointed a finger outside the rookery, Vainqueur peeking. "Mount Yagami."

Indeed, he had already noticed an enormous rock, almost as tall as the Albain Mountains, while rampaging through the countryside. Snow covered most of the summit, alongside cherry trees, while a strange, rainbowy-like light surrounded the summit. It reminded Vainqueur of a crown, one made of aurora.

The dragon was too good to ask why, so he glanced at his Vizier. "Why does it shine like that?" Manling Victor asked Goblina. By now, he could read his master’s mind without an exchange of words.

"Mount Yagami is the greatest powerstone deposit in the world; and houses multiple elemental strains at that. The stuff attracts monsters and fairies like a magnet, making the mountain exceptionally dangerous."

"Powerstones," Vainqueur repeated the word. "The unshiny stones Manling King Roland wanted for himself?"

"They’re stones infused with elemental magic," Manling Victor explained to his master. "The dwarves used it to power our moon landing rocket."

"A rocket?" The goblin jumped in place. "To the Moon? You never told me! HOW?!"

"Minion, you shall not mention that regrettable incident in front of foreign dignitaries!" Vainqueur interrupted before goblins got the idea to go there. "The planet Moon cannot sustain dragon life!"

"But I want to know! Is it true you can fly by yourself on the Moon?"

"Goblin, you cannot imagine the horrors making their nest there," Vainqueur replied, suddenly having terrible flashbacks of his experience. "There… it was there… everywhere… like a poison…"

The goblin looked up at the Vizier, who wisely refused to say anything. The empire’s honor was safe. "Anyway, that mountain was next on my conquest scheme," Goblina said, disappointed by the lack of explanation on the moon landing. "The empire sent adventurers and soldiers to gather powerstones for their flying ships, but the local fauna prevented long-term, large-scale exploitation. Once the island’s fully pacified in a few months, I intend to clean it up of monsters for good."

"We can't wait that long," Manling Victor said.

"I agree, my bet with Icefang is due on Samhain," Vainqueur said. "We shall destroy the fairies of this mountain, collect all their treasure, and then move on west."

"If you want to clean it up for me, that’s great!" Goblina immediately jumped on the occasion. "Just say the word and I will supply you with all you need!"

"Excellent choice," Vainqueur said, happy to be paid for something he would have done for free. "I want gems assorted to my [Psi-stone], to cover my scales with, a throne, and an army of carriers to lift me all the way to the summit. I am too important to walk, and I must preserve all my energy for the fairy hunt."

"A mountain dungeon crawl should motivate Kia to help," Manling Victor nodded.

"What about her?" Vainqueur asked, annoyed. "She did nothing to help with the conquest! She just sat and sulked!"

"I say you ditch her, Vic," Goblina said. "Remember our Vizier curriculum? Trying to corrupt a [Paladin] fails more often than not. It’s not worth the risk."

"Yes, you should breed with finer stock." Vainqueur nodded fiercely.

"It is Your Majesty who tried to set us in the first place!" the Vizier pointed out, confused.

"That was before she corrupted my niece." The dragon shuddered. "I will admit that she is a powerful minion, but she needs to correct her undragonly behavior."

"I’m sure she will get around it," Manling Victor said, too hopeful and innocent to give up on Knight Kia.

"Also, Vic, if you could save our wine cellar from her, that would be great."

Vainqueur dismissed his chief of staff. "Minion, I give you two days of holiday, until I have eaten my fair share of cattle and rested. Now, goblin, about this throne…"

Since he had some time off, Victor decided to pay a visit to Kia first, before exploring the city. Knowing her, he aimed immediately for the palace’s bar.

As he walked through the corridors among guards and oni soldiers, Victor thought that while he preferred the old armor’s design, [Moloch’s Hide] felt more comfortable, warm and light. He blamed the strength increase it provided, alongside its fire-based abilities. From what he had understood, the armor was a gift from Happyland’s board of directors, shaped from the corpse of the archdemon Moloch and empowered by runes from all its corporate overlords.

Thinking about it made him want to apologize to Miel all the more.

He finally found his way to his destination, a hall-sized bar in the most exquisite Japanese style. Orange pillars held the roof over a large, mahogany counter, while red lanterns provided elegant lighting; a noble statue of Seng occupied the middle of the room—one much more flattering than the actual goddess. Soldiers from all species, humans, goblins, beastkin, and horned oni, gathered around tables or sofas having a good time.

And of course, Kia remained at the counter, looking grumpy with three bottles of various alcoholic beverages within arm’s reach. Victor immediately noticed something wrong.

The bottles weren’t empty, and she didn’t look drunk.

Okay, something terrible had happened. He immediately sat next to her. "Kia, are you alright?"

"Of course not," she grumbled back while glaring at him.

Ah. "You’re still mad?"

"Why wouldn’t I?! I thought you were a good influence on Vainqueur, and then you convinced him to help that goblin!"

"But people love the new government! They call Vainqueur, Goblina, and I the Three Unifiers!"

"Because you shattered the country and then pieced it back together!"

"Kia, Goblina and I go seven years back," Victor defended his choice. "Isn’t it the [Paladin] way to help a true friend in need?"

"Not when it involves them conquering a country!" she protested. "And by the way, are you on a first-name basis with all the world’s dictators?"

Probably, Victor thought but wisely kept it for himself. "You say that like it’s a bad thing," he joked.

Her gaze became unbearable. "This is serious Vic. I’m starting to think that we may have… how to say it…" Kia cleared her throat, as a tentacled, beastkin barman provided her with a bottle of saké. "Irreconcilable karma differences."

"Hey, I’m not evil, just a loyal friend!"

"You wear demonic armor and summon fiends in battle, what more do you need?" Kia took the bottle, sipped its content, and then spat it back. "And why does every drink here taste like saltwater?!"

"What do you mean?" Victor frowned, examining the four bottles. It looked like alcohol alright.

"Try it," she said, giving him her saké. The Vizier grumbled, removing his helmet as the barman gave him a glass.

Ugh, he hated it the second it touched his tongue. Not his kind of drink.

"Tastes like saké to me," Victor said after sampling it, Kia immediately handing him a beer bottle. He sipped and found this beverage strangely tasty. "It’s… it’s…"

It was great!

By the gods, this flavor… this perfect mixture of fruitlessness and sugar, of milk and honey. It was the taste of a lost carefree childhood, of his first kiss, of his happiest days, all distilled into one unique sensation.

It felt like drinking divinity itself!

"Hey barman, what is this?" Victor asked, immediately addicted to the stuff. Not getting drunk no longer sounded like a punishment.

"Onigumo Beer, Victor-sama," the barman answered. "We milk giant spiders for their juice and then distill it with alcohol. I am pleased that you like it."

"When I drink it, it tastes like saltwater," Kia grumbled while looking at the other bottles, all of them local beverages. "All of them."

Could it be… "Barman, do you have foreign drinks?"

"Very few of them, Victor-sama. With the plague on the continent, the government closed the borders to avoid its spread. We can no longer import much." Still, the tentacled barman looked under the counter for another bottle. "However, for you Victor-sama, our secret stash will always remain open."

"Vic," Kia spoke up grimly, her hand tight around her bottle.

Ah, here it was. The reason why she had to get drunk in the first place. "What’s going on?"

"He is in town, Vic. He is in town."

Victor’s hold over his scythe tightened. "Mag Mell?"

"No. Worse."

Kia turned to face him, her eyes looking into his own like twin abysses capturing all light in the world. The eyes of a shell-shocked veteran of countless harassment attempts, door proselytism, and random stupidities.

"Orknoob."

Victor remained shell-shocked for several seconds, as his mind struggled to process the cursed word.

Orknoob. Orknoob in fantasy Japan.

"Oh, gods." Oh, gods, it made so much sense. "He is here? In the bar? Is he behind me?"

"I heard the guards talking. He is on a ‘holy pilgrimage,’ spreading his ideas to ‘waifus and husbandos’ to the capital."

"Oh, gods… oh, gods, this may be our only chance to get him." He had lost count of the number of times the Esoteric Order of Isekai harassed him or got on his nerves. "It has to stop, Kia. It has to stop. Someone has to make it stop!"

"Are we up for the task?" the [Paladin] asked, unsure of herself. "I can’t fathom the number of people who want that nuisance gone… and he’s still alive."

Victor grimly pondered the problem. "We may need to bring Vainqueur," he admitted. "Burn it from above. Don’t give him a chance to escape. Where is he?"

"The Waifu District."

"The Waifu… the red-light district?"

"That’s why I hate Japan."

The barman finally found what he was looking for, a foreign red wine bottle. Victor asked for two glasses, one for him, and the other for the [Paladin].

"Saltwater," Kia said, while Victor found the taste exquisite. She turned to the barman with an angry scowl. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Of course not, sinful apostate."

"Then could you please bring me another—" Kia demanded, before stopping mid-sentence. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Of course not, scumlike unbeliever."

The Paladin instantly unsheathed her sword, the guards turning at her while ready to intervene. "You poisoned my drinks!"

"Of course not, godless trash. This is divine punishment from the goddess."

Oh.

Oh...

How could he tell Kia without breaking her sanity?

"Vic, what’s going on?" the [Paladin] asked, immediately noticing his unease. "W-what’s happening?"

"Kia," Victor cleared his throat. "Promise me that you will remain calm."

"Why are you looking at me as if I got cancer?"

"There is no need to be kind to scum like her, honorable Victor-sama." The Vizier found it amazing how that barman could mix respectful politeness and passive-aggressiveness in a single sentence.

"What is happening to me?" The Paladin asked, losing her cool. "What’s happening?! I demand to know!"

Victor rehearsed his next words in his mind, trying to find a way to deliver the news softly and painlessly. "You remember the mermaid, at the whiskey sea?"

"The one pretending to be Seng?"

"Yeah, she… she wasn’t pretending, and she didn’t take it well."

And then Kia understood.

It was astonishing to somehow see her black, tanned skin turn white in an instant; her strong eyes betraying an expression of abject terror, as she glanced at the bottles with a look of pure, absolute despair.

And then the barman delivered the coup de grace.

"Yes apostate, for denying the goddess Seng’s divinity, all alcoholic drinks, from the poorest grog to the reddest wine, shall taste like saltwater to you!" the barman declared loudly. "No longer will you get drunk! The pleasures of taverns are forever barred to you!"

That day, Victor learned that in the world, there were sentences that could utterly destroy someone. Words carefully tailored to tear even the strong-willed to pieces.

At that very moment, something broke inside Kia and never came back. Victor hugged her, and let her cry on his shoulder for five hours straight.

For she would remain sober, in a world where Orknoob yet lived.

38: Orknoob Unchained

Welcome to Loli House.

Victor observed the building in front of him with a mix of astonishment and awe at the sheer audacity. Orknoob’s lair in the Waifu District looked like a giant pink and white dollhouse straight out of a Barbie commercial. He counted at least two floors, with the windows closed for privacy. It contrasted strikingly with the other buildings nearby, which were clearly brothels; if anything, it reinforced the uncanniness of the place.

How did they manage to make something so innocent look so shady?

"Oh, is this a dollhouse for Gorynych?" his zmey asked, hitting the ground with his back leg like a rabbit. "Gorynych loves elf dolls! They’re pretty!"

As he glanced at the wooden doors, Victor strongly considered calling Vainqueur and carpet bombing the place. He couldn’t be seen entering this establishment!

But for the sake of ending Orknoob’s reign of terror, all sacrifices were acceptable. The fomors only killed their victims; Orknoob made them live forever in stupidity.

"We have surrounded the building and cast all the spells you asked for, sir," a skeletal spellcaster, one of his newest recruits, told Victor.

"[Dimensional Ward]? [Anti-Teleportation]? [Non-Detection]? [Shroud of Misfortune]?"

"Yes, we checked your entire list, and then double-checked it," the creature somehow sighed, in spite of lacking lungs. "Isn’t it a bit excessive for a single orc?"

"This guy is a malicious Bugs Bunny," Victor replied. "Can you imagine the number of people who want him dead, and yet never got around to do it? So triple-check!"

The spellcaster rolled his bony shoulders and returned to his post, grumbling about paranoia. "Just stay outside and catch anyone who isn’t me," Victor told Gorynych. "Especially if it’s an orc!"

"Aw, Gorynych doesn’t like orc dolls! They smell worse than Gorynych’s home!"

Gathering all his courage, his scythe in hands, and his body protected by the best armor in all of Happyland, Victor opened the doors and stepped inside the dollhouse. At least Kia was too devastated by her curse to join and watch this fiasco.

The owners had gone so far as to perfume the entrance hall and paint its walls with flashy colors. Victor approached a desk right next to stairs towards the rooms above, finding a doppelganger behind it.

It wasn’t the first time he met one—having fought a few during the Nightblades’ attack on Murmurin—but this one was slightly different. His body was completely white and featureless, like a statue of white clay, safe for a tie and a red ribbon. The creature immediately waved a hand at him.

"Oh hi, honored guest!" the receptionist spoke, Victor immediately understanding it thanks to [Monster Kin]. "Welcome!"

"I’m just visiting," Victor said hastily.

"They all say that," the doppelganger replied with a laugh. "It is fine, client-sama. You are not going to go to jail."

The doppelganger sounded so nice and yet so sleazy, that it gave Victor shivers. "I’m, I’m just looking for one of your clients, an orc called Orknoob…"

"Mr. Orknoob? How nice! He is one of our best clients, I am so happy that he recommended our establishment to you. You can find him on the second floor, room eight. Do you want the threesome or the ‘Little Sister’ formula then?"

"No, I just want to talk to Orknoob." And probably kill him. "Then I will leave and never come back."

"Come on, don’t be shy! You risk nothing." The doppelganger raised a little bell, a door opening in the wall. Victor hadn’t even noticed it due to the paint work. A new doppelganger stepped into the hall, glancing at Victor, before instantly changing its shape.

"Onii-chan!"

Within seconds, Victor found himself staring at would have looked like his little sister, if he ever had one. A teenage or so tiny creature with long black hair, amber eyes, and a feminine version of the Vizier’s own face. She wore a cute little brown dress that made her even more adorable.

"Onii-chan!" The false little sister smirked at him with big fake eyes. "I love you, onii-chan!"

[Madness] negated by [Claimed by the Moon Man].

"What the Happyland is that thing?!" Victor protested.

"As you can see, all our lolis are adult, consenting doppelgangers," the receptionist said with a cheerful tone. "You can satisfy all your fetishes with a clean conscience, and without violating any law."

"No, seriously, I’m not interest—"

"Onii-chan!" The loli jumped at him like a lion on a zebra. "I’m a virgin!"

Victor quickly protected his purity by using his scythe as a pole, keeping the tiny monster away from him. "Don’t approach me!" The Vizier kept the creature at bay, the false little sister trying to find a way to get past the weapon. "I’m telling you if you don’t step back…"

"Girls, a client cannot overcome his psychological blocks." The receptionist cast a spell, its nice, beautiful voice echoing through the building. "Please come help him ease up with our Moe overload special!"

More hidden doors opened, and a pack of ravenous monsters surrounded Victor.

Dozens of fake, shapeshifting little girls with colored hair entered the hall, each of them catering to a different fetish. A pink-feathered magician girl; a blonde angel looking like a younger version of Miel; a tiny creature with tanuki ears; even a goth!

Victor immediately did the brave thing.

He fled through the nearest stairs, pursued by a pack of false, screaming little girls.

Faster than his pursuers, he reached the first floor of the hotel, long hallways with numbered doors. Some of them opened, doppelgangers trying to flank and jump at him. Using his wings, the Vizier flew over one, pushed another back with his scythe, and raced across the hallway while trying to locate the stairs to the second floor.

"I like mature women!" Victor shouted while dodging the doppelgangers, his training bearing fruits. Unfortunately, he quickly found himself surrounded in a T-shaped hallway.

"Onii-chan, I’m one hundred years old!" a girl with long green hair shouted, dressed like some ancient priestess. "That makes it okay!"

"[Ars Goetia: Happyland Battle Harem]!"

A group of mature succubi, marilith, and Malfy appeared to shield him from the enemy horde. "Sir, what—"

"No time, protect me!" Victor ordered one of the marilith, as one of the succubi was tackled to the ground by five doppelgangers. His summons immediately formed a defensive battle line, keeping the teenage-looking monsters at bay.

"Wow," said Malfy, as he glanced at the enemy and instantly put the two and two together. "Even we didn’t go this far! I am impressed!"

"Why are you even here?" Victor asked, trying to find an opening.

"You summoned me, Mr. Victor. When a hero calls, I answer."

Victor remembered Vainqueur boasting about a new Perk of his improving the summoning ability among his minions. Nice.

He remembered using [Black Horseman] to summon Noirceur the horse without an additional freerider though. Did it only work if he had another minion that fit the same category as the one called?

Also, why was Malfy summoned by a demon harem spell?

…

"Questions for later," Victor spoke out loud, locating the stairs to the second level, leaping over the battleline, and leaving his soldiers to contain the doppelgangers flood. He quickly found the door of room eight, opened it, closed it behind him, then barricaded it with his scythe without looking back. Furious tiny hands scratched on the other side, but couldn’t get in.

This place needed to be burnt to the ground.

"Hey, it’s a private gathering!"

Victor turned around, finally meeting Orknoob face to face.

He looked exactly as the Vizier had imagined; a skinny, green-skinned orc with short red hair, wearing the standard Japanese novel attire of pants and a sweatshirt. A silver-haired loli with crimson eyes had tied him to a chair, sitting on his lap like some twisted hostage interrogation scene.

"Onii-ch—"

"[Sleep]," the Vizier immediately cast a spell, the fake loli falling unconscious to the ground. Crisis averted. "[Chains of Misfortune]."

Fiery chains bound Orknoob, making the orc moan in a way that bothered Victor.

The Vizier quickly scanned the area with a glance, identifying it as an expensively decorated bedroom. Besides Orknoob and the unconscious doppelganger, a dashing rogue sat around a table in a corner, looking at the scene with apathy and a glass of wine in hand. A dandy with hair and a short beard dyed red, the man dressed in an outrageous, feathered costume that wouldn’t disgrace a peacock.

"What’s happening here?" Victor asked, asking the dandy for his angle.

"I don’t know," he replied while sipping his wine. "I’m hanging out with that trash because he paid me to."

"You aren’t going to interfere?"

"No."

Great.

On a closer look, it appeared that Orknoob and his host were busy reenacting a scene from some kind of manga or anime…

"After careful consideration, I don’t want to know," the Vizier said, moving in front of the captive orc.

"Oh, you’re approaching me?" Orknoob asked, immediately sending terrible alarm signals. He sounded awfully calm and confident for someone bound to a chair.

"So we finally meet, Orknoob," said Victor. "You can’t imagine how long I waited for this moment."

"You’re a fan? You know it isn’t the first time I get chained by an admirer, but you’re the first to look like Momon!"

Victor didn’t understand the reference and didn’t care. "A fan," the Vizier replied icily. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Well then, you got lucky! Since my powers are at their maximum on this waifu day, if you donate me three thousand gold coins, I can send you to America, where all women are cowgirls!"

Victor removed his gauntlet, revealing the Moon Man’s mark on his left arm.

"Oh," Orknoob said, realizing that Victor came from Earth too. "Oh… Sayonara then!"

You activated Orknoob’s [Spell Trap]!

Instant casting of the spells: [Accelerated Teleportation], [Help Signal], [Summon Planar Bodyguards].

Teleportation negated. Signal countered by [Non-Detection]. Summoning spell bounced back.

"Ah, I see you came prepared," Orknoob said with a cheeky smile, as he tried to free himself. "Nice try."

He struggled against the chains, expecting them to drop...

But they didn’t.

"Ugh!" Orknoob struggled against the chains. "Why? Why are they holding?"

"Paralysis from [Chains of Misfortune] cannot be negated by items nor Skill checks," the dandy observed lazily, while Victor moved behind the orc to remove all his magical gear. "You need to succeed on a Luck check."

"Damn!"

Thankfully, adventurers rarely buffed their Luck.

As Victor had expected, Orknoob had a wealth of magical items on himself. Two [Rings of Skill Boosting], one [Ring of Emergency Teleport], one [Brooch of Free Movement], [Hastened Shoes], a [Belt of Perfect Disguise], [Bracers of Improved Bluff], and a [Mini-Circlet against Greater Divinations]. A short magical examination also indicated a miniaturized [Magical Rope of the Escape Artist] hidden in his ass.

No wonder nobody else caught him before. Victor felt glad to have attended that [Ultimate Jail Security] seminar at Scholomance.

"What’s your name?" he asked the prisoner.

"Orknoob!"

"No. What’s your real name? Your Earth name?"

"... Timmy," he said, sounding ashamed.

"Why, Timmy?" Victor couldn’t help but ask. "Why, Orknoob?"

"Because you have to be gay to play with the Alliance!"

Victor slapped that homophobic Horde-scum right in the face.

"You hit me!" Orknoob complained, reciting a script. "Even my father never hit me!"

Victor slapped him again.

"Begone, thot!" Orknoob giggled as if he enjoyed it.

"Stop talking like that!" Victor snarled, slapping him for the third time while the nameless dandy watched on with mild curiosity. By the Dread Three, the orc was even worse in person than in the Vizier’s imagination! It felt dirty to touch him!

"Okay, okay, I’ll stop!" Orknoob pleaded as Victor prepared to hit him again, the Vizier holding his hand back at the last second. "Is this about the lolis?"

"I don’t give a damn about the lolis! Even if I’m burning this place to cinders when we’re done, and salt the earth afterward." Frankly, sleeping with demons probably trumped that particular fetish. Victor couldn’t really criticize Orknoob on that front. Everything else, however…

"What do you want then? A refund?"

"Let’s start with answers. Why did you spread all those stupid lies?"

"Man, you don’t get it! This world sucks!" Orknoob complained, the wording giving Victor flashbacks of his early years. "I was just living my life when that giant dice reincarnated me among the orc tribes! They were all stupid and insane!"

"So you invented a scam religion? Where is the logic in that?"

"It was an accident alright! I told them about Earth and they were stupid, so I figured I could make some money out of the donations and sleep with lots of gullible girls… All according to—"

"If you say ‘all according to Keikaku,’ I’ll strangle you with my bare hands." Indeed, as Victor suspected, it was all an ignominious scam. He didn’t even believe in his own farce, making Victor’s own insurance fraud look saintly in comparison. "Can you imagine the number of times your followers harassed me? You give every Claimed a bad name, and your scam defrauds innocent people!"

"Look, I, I died in the throes of a midlife crisis, it wasn’t my fault!" The wretch attempted to appeal to Victor’s sympathy, but it didn’t work. At all. And since neither magical escape nor sympathy could help, he moved right down to bribes. "I dodged taxes all my life, I can pay you a lot if you let me go!"

Victor just glared at this humongous pile of shit, before casting a quick [Silence] spell on him. He didn’t have ground to pass a moral judgment on that hateable orc, but getting rid of him would feel so good.

"What are you going to do with him?" the nameless dandy asked, as Orknoob kept begging silently.

"Shove him in a dwarf rocket and exile him to the Moon. Or maybe Mars."

The man raised an eyebrow, vaguely interested, before offering him a glass of his own. Victor politely declined. "Who are you anyway?" the Vizier asked.

"Ludvic Van."

The name jogged some memory, with Victor remembering Henry’s old advice about class specialization, an eon ago. "Wait, you’re the one who discovered the [Fiendish Rake] class?"

"Alongside [Red Mage], all the seduction-oriented Perks, and most diplomacy oriented classes. Orknoob hired me to coach him in persuasion and pick-up, although the current setup is entirely his idea; I hate this place as much as you do."

"You’re an expert on the [Seducer] Perk?" Victor asked, happy to have someone to discuss it with.

"[Seducer]?" the dandy chuckled. "That’s cute. In my life, I have slept with twenty thousand women, fifteen thousand men, and one thousand two hundred genderless creatures. I have bedded creatures from all species of Outremonde, visited all available planes of existence, tried everyone and everything. I even wore a [Belt of Gender Swapping] for five years, to experience love from both sides of the fence."

"You did… everyone?"

"Except the creatures of this house. Even I have standards, unlike the orc."

"Sorry, but you don’t seem that attractive to me."

Ludvic Van put his glass away, then showed a ruby necklace around his neck. "This is an [Amulet of Repulsiveness]," the dandy explained. "It reduces the wearer’s charisma by eighty percent."

He took it off.

Charisma check failed!

All went white.

It was as if a bomb had exploded right before Victor, blinding and deafening him for several seconds. When he returned to reality, the dandy had put the amulet back on, while Orknoob had started drooling, his pants soiled and a blissful smile on his face.

"You’re still standing?" Ludvic said, sounding impressed. "You must have an iron will."

"How… how many?" Victor asked, astonished.

"More than three hundred. I only took levels in classes with S in charisma, used stat boosters, collected every Perk available… Without that amulet, I can no longer function in society."

"Werewolves?"

"Their moon orgies got boring after the first. Also, they have fleas."

"Angels?"

He simply laughed.

"... dragons?"

His face clearly darkened. "I don’t recommend it. They’re only after your money."

"I feel like a naive young student meeting the master."

"You’re goddamn right."

"Why do you sound so… so bored then?" Victor asked, frowning. He had stated his incredible feats with complete emotionless detachment.

"I have nothing left to discover," he sighed. "That’s sad to say, but you get tired of everything. I yearn for new interesting challenges, wandering the world in case I missed something..."

"Like telepathic spiders?"

The dandy raised an eyebrow. "How many legs?"

"Ten."

He shifted on his chair. "I’m listening."

"Moonbeasts? Shantaks? Star Spawns of Cthulhu?"

"You had my interest... but now you have my arousal."

As Victor thought, he may have explored all of Outremonde and the planes, but not everything. And he had even fewer standards than the Vizier himself. "I can send you to the Moon. Not the Orknoob way. We have a portal there for guests, with a carpet."

"And what would I have to pay for this service?"

"You said you had visited the planes? Heaven?"

Ludvic nodded slowly, every movement suddenly oozing sex appeal. "Yes, you can easily planeshift with the [Fiendish Rake] class. That’s its purpose, to visit partners from all corners of the multiverse; one cannot limit their pleasure to three-dimensional existence. I can teach you that class if you wish, but I have to ask: for what purpose?"

"First, I need to go to Heaven. There’s an angel I need to apologize to, and I would like to do it in person. Second, I have died three times already, and I would like a way to talk my way out of confrontations. I figure increasing my charisma is the way to go."

The dandy played with his beard, considering his words. "Do you have fifty or more points in vitality, charisma, and agility?"

"Yes."

"Did you have ritual sex with a demon lord?"

"Only for better grades."

"Then you should have everything to gain a level in that class, but I must warn you… the way of the [Fiendish Rake] is long and arduous. You will need to go through deadly ordeals, and even with your current stats, there is no guarantee that you will survive. Is your quest truly worth the trouble?"

"It is." Victor knelt before this paragon of seduction, while Orknoob drooled and the loli knocked the door in the background. "Please teach me, master."

39: Last Minute Merchants

Silence ruled the mountain.

As he flew over the forests surrounding it, Vainqueur’s sharp senses failed to pick up any sound outside of the wind. The goblin had warned him of fairies making their lair around the area, but none had intercepted them so far. Birds and animals had also emptied the area for miles. He could smell warm, decomposing flesh on the ground, and listen to the sound of buzzing flies, but otherwise, the land seemed empty.

"Your Majesty!" Manling Victor called out from his zmey’s back, a depressed Knight Kia holding him by the waist. "Look!"

Vainqueur glanced down, noticing a trail of rotting plants starting in the middle of a forest and progressing all the way to the mountain’s shining crater. Grass had turned purple, trees had been uprooted, and the remains of deers, pigs, and fairy thralls paved this sinister road. The line was completely straight, unnatural and methodical.

Vainqueur briefly thought of his poisonous dragon cousins, who ruled the marshes and bogs of the world. Yet, if one had caused this disaster, he would have expected acid pools, random devastation, and vermin to settle in the area.

Instead, whatever creature did that made a beeline for the crater, killed everything in its path, and chased away all the locals for miles.

"This reeks of undeath and rot," Vainqueur hummed the air.

"Yeah, I can feel the necromantic energies from up here. No wonder normal wildlife ran away." Manling Victor turned to his fellow rider. "See, Kia? We may fight someone tough enough for you!"

"It’s all meaningless," she replied, her eyes wandering in the distance. "All meaningless."

Useless! Vainqueur knew she would prove unworthy of being in his party, and time proved him right! She didn’t even have the strength to ride on her own griffon, forcing Manling Victor to give her a lift on his zmey’s back!

The dragon said they should have left her behind, but Manling Victor, thinking only with his breeding sword, insisted on taking the knight along. He truly needed to push his minion into the arms of a tastier, better partner. Where was Batling Charlene when he needed her?

As they reached the frosty mountainside, Vainqueur smelled a familiar scent nearby, immediately diving instead of continuing the ascension. Within seconds, he found a fellow dragon eating roasted pigs, surrounded by a manling, a wyrmling, and a pile of items.

"Cousin Genialissime!" Vainqueur announced his presence from above.

"Cousin Vainqueur!" The other dragon abandoned his food to wave a hand at him, while his dragonling looked up at his father.

"Henry!" Friend Victor greeted his fellow manling. "Long time no see!"

"Gorynych says hello too!" the zmey said with much less gracefulness, landing nearby.

"A zmey." Genialissime looked at the creature with disgust, but unlike Vainqueur did not ignore its existence. Instead, he turned to his dragonling, to better warn him. "And that is why you cannot hump your sister!"

"Gorynych too young for that!" The zmey defended his nonexistent honor, while his rider climbed down from his back, Knight Kia remaining where she was, lost in her own mind.

"Is that the Shining Knight?" Manling Henry asked upon noticing Kia, completely mesmerized. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…"

"She’s had a tough day," Friend Victor replied. "She needs rest."

"Yes, forget her," Vainqueur replied, focusing on dragon matters. "What are you doing here cousin? Eating trolls and burning forests for money?"

"I am making money, but we have nothing to do with this slaughter."

Manling Henry glanced at a roasted pig. "Something killed it with an [Insta-death] effect, alongside scores of animals and plants. A very powerful [Lich], [Reaper], or more probably, a local Shinigami monster."

"And it left no loot behind," Genialissime complained.

"Whatever it was, it came only to kill," Manling Henry said grimly.

"Concerning," Vainqueur replied, but figured out he would kill whatever caused it when they raided the crater. His eyes settled on the pile of items nearby. "If it is not the loot left behind, then what is this?"

"Ah, but my newest stroke of genius!" Genialissime boasted. "You see, I was discussing with Henry the best way to make money as a dragon, and I realized something. You remember how many people asked me for help committing suicide in the past?"

"Sometimes, I wonder if the lesser races take our help for granted," Vainqueur nodded. "We do not have to help them die, but we do it for free. I say we should charge them for the privilege."

"My thoughts exactly. I always collected the things they left behind, swords, ringies… but they weren’t shiny enough for my hoard. So Henry suggested we sell them!"

"Like a merchant?" Vainqueur was appalled. "But that’s minion work!"

"Which is why Henry does the sale while I provide the unshinies and supervise," Genialissime replied with pride, having found the perfect loophole. "My chief of staff even oversaw a deal with this goddess of commerce, Shesha."

"That greedy snake?" Vainqueur breathed smoke. "She is treacherous and overpriced."

"I know how much she hurt you, Cousin Vainqueur, but Manling Henry managed to secure an advantageous deal." Genialissime showed them his hand and the golden, Ouroboros ring on it. "This tele-ring teleports us to the entrance of dungeons where adventurers are ready to pay extra for emergency supplies, and in exchange, we grant her a one one-tenth! Win-win!"

"Money!" the dragonling said.

"My son Courageux is helping us with the business," Genialissime said, proud of his runt. "I am teaching him how to negotiate, so that he can one day lead his own minion team."

"We also recover the stuff left behind by adventurers who do not survive the dungeons and sell it again," Manling Henry said. "It’s working very well so far."

"Ah, corpse looting," Friend Victor nodded. "The cornerstone of the adventurer economy."

"It pays well, at almost no risk to myself," Genialissime said, proud of his discovery.

"Interesting concept, but I leave it to you," Vainqueur told his cousin. The dragon preferred to earn his money the dragon way, through conquest and eating lesser creatures. "Still, it would be shameful of me not to help. Minion."

"Yes?" Manling Victor asked, immediately ready to serve.

"Buy an item for me, with your own money," Vainqueur asked. "I want a gift."

"This will be your first sale, my son!" Genialissime told his dragonling. "Go supervise Henry!"

The dragonling nodded, observing Manling Victor while the minion examined the stash of items. The Vizier immediately zeroed in on a white, translucent gem. "A [Psi-stone of Positive Energy]?" Henry said. "Great choice."

"Yeah, especially since it could help against whatever creature destroyed the countryside," Manling Victor said, turning to the dragonling. "I’m ready to give ten thousand for it."

"More!" the tiny dragon answered.

"Twenty thousand?"

"More!" the dragonling insisted, accepting nothing but the best. "Seventy thousand!"

"Seventy thousand?!" Manling Victor panicked in the face of such a ruthless negotiator. "That’s theft!"

"You too poor?" the dragonling asked. "You too poor!"

"I’m not paying that much!"

The dragonling pouted, looking up at his angry father with confused eyes. "Friend Victor," Vainqueur whispered to his minion. "Indulge my little cousin once removed."

"But Your Majesty, my [Claimed by Shesha] perk already offers a twenty percent reduction," the Vizier whispered back. "It’s that overpriced."

"Minion, if a wyrmling doesn’t understand that the world revolves around his whims, he will grow into a shy dragon. Like a manling! I will not allow this. A dragonling’s confidence and self-esteem must be constantly reinforced, so he grows bold and confident."

"I assume Your Majesty speaks from experience?"

"Of course. I mean, who else would the world revolve around? Knight Kia?" Vainqueur laughed at his cunning joke.

"I also suppose that Your Majesty won’t share this purchase’s cost?"

"Minion, do not be stupid. Do your duty."

The Vizier sighed, cast a spell, and summoned a bag of gold.

"Getting bullied by a dragon child..." Manling Victor grumbled, before offering the payment to the happy Courageux. "I wonder how long it will take for my checks to start bouncing now."

"Congratulations, Courageux!" Vainqueur acclaimed the dragonling, who raised his head with dragonly pride.

"You negotiated like a true dragon!" Genialissime added while patting his wyrmling’s head. "That’s how you do it my son! You show them how much you’re worth!"

Vainqueur immediately claimed his gift, the stone embedding itself in his spine, right behind his skull. It magically resonated with his own [Psi-stone of Mind-Shielding], creating a soothing sound before returning to dormancy.

You gained Resistance to [Necromancy] effects, and you gain twice as much HP from healing magic!

Your [Psi-stones] are resonating! You gain +2 to INT and +2 to LCK as long as you wear both!

"I recently recovered a few items, which may interest you," Manling Victor told Henry. "Especially a magical rope, but I wouldn’t touch it without gauntlets."

"No money!" the dragonling interrupted, showing himself a true dragon once more.

"Nah, I was looking towards trading it for [Potions of Increased Vitality] or [Elixirs against Fatigue], if you have any. I’ve found a teacher willing to introduce me to the [Fiendish Rake] class, but due to my extremely high level, he suggested a very dangerous, Cybele-sponsored ritual."

"A ritual for [Fiendish Rake]…" Manling Henry blinked. "The Kamacybele?"

"The Kamacybele."

"Can you give me an address? I will send you them in bulk. I still owe you one for putting Lavere six feet under; now I can finally show up in Haudemer without risking an assassination attempt."

"How is Lynette by the way?"

"She is... open-minded."

Leaving the manlings to discuss their breeding tactics, Vainqueur turned to his cousin. "Will you join us? We shall hunt our fairy quarry in the mountain’s crater."

"I will pass on this one," Genialissime replied. "My tele-ring is already tingling. However, I heard about you declaring war with the fomors. Is it true that they sent Dragonbane Wotan after you?"

"Yes, and I destroyed him."

Genialissime whistled, impressed. "Well, if they unleashed Dragonbane, then this is truly getting serious. If you ever need help burning the fairy’s nest in Prydain and put them back in their place, my mate and I will happily answer your call."

"Come to Murmurin on Samhain," Vainqueur advised. "I must settle a bet with Icefang on that day, and I will go on the warpath right after my inevitable victory."

"Ah, with pleasure! It would be great if Jolie and my wyrmlings could play together again."

"A party? Can Gorynych come?"

"No!" Vainqueur snarled, the zmey lowering all his heads.

The dragons exchanged farewells, Vainqueur returning to his ascent while his cousin and his retinue teleported away. Manling Victor and Knight Kia followed right after him.

As they approached the crater above, the energies from the mountain pushed back all clouds in the vicinity; even those summoned by the zmey’s mere presence. Vainqueur pierced through the aurora, sensing its power.

[Elemental] attacks will be greatly empowered while in the [Supercharged Powerstone Field].

As he flew over the crater’s edge to look within, Vainqueur found his suspicions confirmed.

The mountain had more powerstones than dirt. The inside of the crater wasn’t full of snow or lava, but a landscape of unshiny, rainbow-colored crystals. Crimson and blue stalactites rose amongst flat pink plates, next to countless mining pits. Someone had dug up tons of these crystals recently, turning the area into a radiating cheese.

And as he flew over the place, Vainqueur quickly noticed something within this alien place.

An enormous, reptilian creature was trapped within the crystals below, like a bug in amber. Vainqueur couldn’t properly see the entity beyond a vague, dark shape, but it was huge; even bigger than him!

A disgusting fairy and its minions had settled in the middle of the crater. Manlings wearing black robes with the symbol of that worm, Sablar, formed a circle right above the sealed creature’s head, chanting obscenities in the ancient fomor tongue.

As for the creature leading the congregation, Vainqueur immediately identified him; a monstrous vermin made of various bugs combined into the shape of a nightmare. The progenitor of the Mell clan, general of King Balaur, and foremost sorcerer among the fairies.

"Mag Mell." The sight of the creature awoke Knight Kia from her depressed trance, putting a nasty snarl on her face.

Still, he had changed a bit since the last time Vainqueur saw him. A monstrous amalgam of various insects, Mag Mell had kept his spidery lower half and his left centipede arm. But the rest of his body had evolved; a scarab-like exoskeleton covered most of his upper torso, while translucent, moth-like wings allowed it to fly. His eight-eyed head had grown longer and more fishlike, gaining a fleshy lure and gills. A shroud of flies, locusts, bees, and maggots crawled on his body like a living, ever-shifting armor.

And he noticed Vainqueur.

"Knightsbane," the fairy hissed, turning its horrible head to look at the two dragons looking down on him from above. "Bekele. You live."

Vainqueur did not hesitate, and neither did Knight Kia. Both unleashed fire and flames upon the group without warning; empowered by the area, they burnt twice more than usual.

"[Enhanced Beehive Barrier]." The bees from Mag Mell’s vermin shroud projected hexagons of green light, forming five layers of a thick shield. Knight Kia’s ray of light pierced two and Vainqueur’s flames four, but the protection held. "I sent King Wotan, and he failed. I sent Mell Lin, my own spawn, and he failed. I sent King Balaur, and he failed! Mag Mell is tired of being disappointed!"

"And you will die disappointed, fairy!" Vainqueur declared boldly, activating his [Spell Purge] and falling upon that insect like a falcon.

"[Swarmwalker]." Mag Mell’s whole body collapsed into a wide swarm of slithering insects, spreading across the crater like a flood and avoiding Vainqueur’s claws. His manling assistants weren’t so lucky though, the dragon crushing them under his feet.

"Damn, a freaking [Druid]!" Manling Victor spoke up, while his zmey circled above the crater. He and Knight Kia rained spells from above, but swats of the swarm already fled through the mining pits.

"You are late, Knightsbane, too late by half." A pile of maggots assembled into a facsimile of Mag Mell’s face. "We excavated the stones we need, and the great beast will wake up soon. My worm’s servants have already sung their song."

"You slaughtered your own thralls, warlock?" Kia taunted the fomor from above as she incinerated its head, only for another to spring up.

Much to Vainqueur’s surprise, the dragon could have sworn Mag Mell’s new swarm face briefly twisted into the briefest hint of regret. "I asked the lords of this land to join us, to share in our power and victories. They refused. So my daughter asked them herself, and when they would not be allies, she made them fuel for her ascension. I wished to create the ultimate weapon against the New Folk who spoil our world... and I succeeded."

He did not sound happy about it.

"Show yourself, coward!" Vainqueur ordered as he incinerated the swarm, hoping that he could somehow kill the fairy this way.

"This is useless, Knightsbane," the fairy hissed, the last of his swarm crawling away. "The Kaiju will wake up soon, to trample your city to dust. And Mag Mell will watch."

What was a Kaiju? Some kind of food?

The crystals below him began to shake, answering his question.

40: Kings of Monsters

Having witnessed an eruption once, when the mountain began to tremble, Victor did the responsible thing.

"RETREAT!"

Gorynych immediately flew away, Vainqueur wisely following right afterward. Within a minute, a resonance spread through the crater, its powerstones fracturing; within the blink of an eye, the crystal landscape shattered like glass.

Instead of an eruption or a fiery explosion, powerstone shards simply flew in all directions. A destructive rain of crystals fell upon the mountainside and the surrounding forest, although both dragons successfully navigated through them. The shards pierced the earth like arrows, becoming shining hills.

"Gorynych saved master from shiny stones!" his mount said with pride, as the stone rain quickly ended. "Gorynych is a good zmey! Oh yes!"

"Holy…" Kia pointed a finger at an enormous shape breaking through the crater.

Mag Mell’s monster had woken up and escaped.

The creature was a true titan, and a terror to behold; a gigantic, one hundred and thirty feet long dinosaur straight out of prehistoric times. The colossus had six limbs, four legs carrying it while two served as its arms. Meanwhile, the crimson beast’s horned head reminded Victor of a T-rex, albeit one with armored plates protecting most of its upper jaw. A spiky bone carapace covered its back like a turtle, and its long tail ended in a scorpion stinger.

The creature was twice as big as Vainqueur, and the dragon could already lift a horse with one hand!

Worse, it was fast. The last of the powerstones hadn’t even landed, and the creature had already climbed down the mountainside, trampling trees below its clawed feet.

"A Tarasque!" Kia immediately recognized the monster, even before Victor analyzed it with [Monster Insight].

Tarasque Emperor

Type: Reptile/Giant

Strong against: Debuffs, most magical attacks, Drain, Disease, Fire, Mind-affecting effects, Paralysis, Petrification, Poison, status ailments, Fairy.

Weak against: Acid, Cold, Giantslayer, Scaleslayer.

This progenitor of all lesser Tarasques is a prehistoric dinosaur which grew to gigantic size thanks to powerstones, and one of Outremonde’s superbosses. Magical attacks are reflected back at the sender by its carapace, and it can regenerate from almost anything. Programmed to destroy Murmurin by Mag Mell's [Worldshaker Ritual], it will move in a straight line towards it, trample half the world on its way there, and finally return home to sleep. Real estate crisis incoming!

Recommended party level: 75.

"It’s aiming for Murmurin, in a straight line!" Their empire was on the other side of the world, and even if it would take weeks for it to reach the capital, the creature would kill thousands on its way there. And while weaker than Akhenapep, it shouldn't be underestimated either.

"Onogoro is on its path!" Kia warned him, as the creature moved towards the Teikoku's imperial city at twenty-five miles per hour.

"Three hours," Victor calculated, using both the distance between the city and the creature’s rough speed as a metric. "Three hours before it reaches it."

"That creature will not get anywhere near my hoard!" Vainqueur declared, caring more about protecting his gold than the city. "I will take care of that animal myself. You, Friend Victor, find me that fairy! I have had enough of his constant meddling!"

The dragon immediately flew after the beast, leaving Mag Mell to his chief of staff. Victor hoped that he could handle the creature on his own. "He cannot have run far," the Vizier said. "Gorynych, can you survey the mountain?"

"No, Victor, you don’t know Mag Mell the way I do," Kia replied, having fought the fomor during the war with King Balaur. "He is a crafty coward, who fears anyone stronger than him; enough that he sends proxies after Vainqueur instead of risking a direct battle. He will only go after targets who can’t defend themselves against him. Now, knowing that his only goal is to kill as many mortals as possible, what is the most devastating move that he could make right now?"

"... prevent Onogoro city from evacuating, maximizing casualties when the Tarasque reaches it." With the bonus of luring them away from Vainqueur. "Gorynych, ignore the crater and return to the city."

"But it has a fence around it!" Gorynych said as if it was some sort of impossible obstacle.

"You can do it, Gorynych!" Victor encouraged the zmey. "I believe in you! You’re in-bred to win!"

[Rally Minion] activated! Your positive reinforcement increased all of Gorynych’s stats

"[Hasten]!" Kia cast the spell on the zmey, their ride moving so fast that it quickly outpaced both the Tarasque and Vainqueur, flying straight towards the capital city.

When the group reached Onogoro within less than an hour, they found out that Mag Mell had gotten there first.

Enormous vines had breached the outer walls, casting down pagodas and houses; everywhere, poisonous flowers released toxic pollen while animated trees, werebeasts, and giant worms fought soldiers in the streets. Victor noticed Goblina confronting a band of giant spiders and fairy hounds at the imperial palace’s gates, firing at them with her gunblade. And above, flying ships engaged giant birds in battle.

"How did he summon so many monsters so quickly?" Victor wondered. Everywhere, he could only see chaos. "It can’t all be his [Druid] levels."

"Mag Mell can create fairy rings, and teleported entire armies to our backyards during the Century War," Kia said, pointing a blade at the city’s port, where huge swarms of insects had gathered. "Look!"

Mag Mell had taken over the deck of a massive frigate, keeping a rift in space opened as monsters crawled through. His creatures swarmed the docks, fighting the surviving crews of nearby fishing ships or military vessels.

"Bekele!" Mag Mell’s voice echoed through his insect swarms as the zmey reached the port, his [Hasten] buff dissipating. "You ruined everything. If not for you, Balaur would have… if it hadn’t been for you…"

"You’re not running away this time?" Kia taunted the fomor while unsheathing her sword, "Did it take a soul to give you an ounce of courage?"

"For centuries, I empowered champions, and none succeeded. As you mortals say, if you want something done right, do it yourself. As for you," the insectoid warlock glared at Victor, "it is you, human vermin, who taught the dragons how to harness this cursed System."

"Hey, I taught one dragon, who told everyone else!" Victor protested, casting his buffs and activating [Monster Insight].

Mag Mell

Soulcrested Fomor (Fairy/Insect)

Level: 40 (Druid 20 (Entomancer)/Fisherman 20)

Strong against: all status ailments, Poison, Disease, Fairy, Water, Earth, Wind, Insta-death, Physical attacks.

Weak against: Fairyslayer, Bugslayer, Dragon, Fire, Starmetal, and insecticides.

The progenitor of the Mell fomor clan, and one hell of a giant dic—

"[Fisherman]!" Victor shouted before he could finish reading the rest.

"[Fisherman]?" Kia asked, panicked.

"[Fisherman]." Mag Mell raised his monstrous arms, before activating one of the most broken Perks ever designed. "[Primeval Abyss]!"

The fomor unleashed a wide, blue pulse across the port.

In the blink of an eye, all the fishing vessels erupted, their cargo growing to enormous size. Monstrous, serpentine fish the length and size of trucks emerged from the waters, spilling off the docks, and eating people whole.

Within a second, the docks were overflowing with an army of screaming sea serpents.

All fish within a mile have been transformed into [Lesser Leviathans].

Fairies. Always trying to imitate dragons, only to come up short.

While his minions left to pursue that cursed vermin Mag Mell, Vainqueur flew after his newest pet. The creature had scales, which were a marked improvement over fairy hounds, but otherwise proved lacking.

It didn’t even have wings!

Vainqueur decided to roast it with his breath and be done with this mess. From above, he unleashed a torrent of flames upon the creature’s back, already salivating at the idea of eating a roasted turtle.

His mighty dragonbreath hit the creature’s carapace and seared its scales...

The Tarasque did not slow down.

In fact, it didn’t even notice! It kept moving towards the city, Vainqueur’s flames failing to even affect it!

"[Charged Attack]!" Vainqueur empowered his breath with the mighty power of a [Kaiser], turning his flames into a fiery beam of light.

The light that scourged Lavere and that mummy Akhenapep hit the Tarasque head-on like a rain of destruction; it vaporized trees around the creature and scoured the land itself. Even if the creature was bigger than Vainqueur himself, the empowered, supercharged beam engulfed it entirely. Hitting the carapace first, the dragon flew lower than before, aiming at the right side of the creature.

This time, the beast’s scales melted under Vainqueur’s almighty power.

As the dragon emperor regained his breath, chunks of burnt flesh had fallen off the Tarasque’s right side, while the carapace had turned black. The arm, in particular, had lost so much meat that Vainqueur could see the bones below its festering veins. The dragon smiled to himself.

Yet, the creature did not stop.

It kept moving, and to the dragon’s astonishment, its cauterized flesh began to regenerate. A new layer of meat grew below the burnt parts, expelling them onto the ashen ground; the beast shed its skin like a snake, a new arm replacing the old.

Within a minute, the beast was as good as new, with only the ashes on its carapace as a reminder of Vainqueur's failed attack.

Worse, adding insult to injury, the monster hadn’t even peeked at Vainqueur.

"Look at me!" the dragon ordered, flying right in front of the creature’s head. "Look at me, turtle! [Shining Majesty]!"

His body radiated with the grandiosity of the most beautiful hoard of all. A vision of absolute beauty, that should move even that inbred reptile to tears!

Skill check failed!

BAM!

The beast headbutted Vainqueur out of its way and kept going.

The dragon crashed on the ashes created by his own Perk, only to instantly rise up with rage in his eyes.

This insult would not stand!

Vainqueur glanced at his surroundings, noticing the countless powerstones fragments which crashed through the land; most of them big enough to form makeshift pillars, or even hills.

An idea crossed his mind. "[Geomancy]!"

He commanded the earth to strike this beast down.

Field Type: Supercharged Powerstone Field.

Effect: [Greater Elemental Storm].

Dozens of stones resonated, shining brighter than the sun all at once.

Each unleashed a mighty elemental attack: some exploded into fiery tornadoes, others into icy storms; strong, searing winds swirled around the Tarasque, tearing apart whatever plants had survived Vainqueur’s own carpet-bombing attempt; the very ground opened, spewing spears of stones.

[Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh] reflexively cast [Protection from Elements]! You are immune to [Fire], [Earth], [Wind], and [Water] for twenty minutes.

Even Vainqueur struggled to maintain his balance, battered by the winds and the explosions. The forces he had summoned put his previous eruption and tsunami to shame: the fiery tornados reached up to the clouds, the icy shards could cleave a ship in half, and the stone fragments could easily devastate a manling’s house. Even the powerstones that summoned this effect cracked under the strain of the rampant wild magic.

The Tarasque suffered the brunt of it, flames and projectiles hammering it from all angles. Some of the spikes on its back fell off; a stone spear impaled one of its left feet; a cataclysmic explosion blew off half its face.

It kept going.

The chaos slowed it down, but it kept going.

The beast powered through the elemental storm like a proud bull through rain, weathering all attacks. When the storm of power died out and left the land in ruins, Vainqueur watched, amazed, as the creature continued its course. Its body repaired the damage done to it in mere seconds, even spewing out the stone spear embedded in its foot.

Nothing could stop this tarasque?

Only because it had never met Vainqueur before.

Running on all four, the dragon pursued that creature, refusing to give up.

[Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh] reflexively cast [Hasten]! You will move and react twice as fast as normal!

The world became a blur, as Vainqueur ran faster than the wind, catching up with the beast.

Extending his arms, the dragon caught the creature’s stinger tail and anchored himself to the ground with his legs. His feet buried themselves in the mud, carried forward by the Tarasque’s unrelenting momentum.

Strength check... failed!

Vainqueur tried to stop the creature from moving, but failed. The Tarasque lazily attempted to shake off the dragon from his tail by flailing it around, but the emperor held his prey with an iron grip.

"Stop ignoring me!" the dragon roared in defiance. "[Glitzy Theater]!"

Answering his call, his glorious arena appeared.

It was the first time Vainqueur witnessed it and had he been a soft-hearted manling, he would have been brought to tears. A massive, mile-wide dome of solid, golden light had formed around him, trapping both the dragon and his savage foe within. One could see through its walls, with beautiful pictures representing Vainqueur’s countless victories covering them.

That savage beast didn’t even look up.

Instead, it kept moving forward and hit the nearest wall with its stupid head. The whole dome shook…

And held.

The beast let out a snarl of annoyance, propelling the spikes from its back towards the wall. The bone projectiles bounced off the [Glitzy Theater], unable to pierce through it. The stupid animal hit the wall with its head, unable to figure out a better solution.

The Vainqueur let out a laugh of delight.

At least, until a screech echoed through the dome, as the walls began to move.

The Tarasque pushed the entire cage forward with its hands and head, albeit at a snail's pace.

"No, no, no!" Vainqueur anchored himself on the ground and pulled. With its momentum interrupted, the beast could no longer advance and entered a battle of strength with the dragon.

Strength check successful!

Splash!

Vainqueur fell on his back, the creature’s stinger still in his arms. The Tarasque let out a roar of pain as the dragon severed its tail.

Congratulations! You castrated the dinosaur!

That wasn’t very nice!

This time, the beast did stop: it stopped ignoring Vainqueur. It turned around as its stinger regenerated, staring down at his newfound master. The dragon rose back on his back legs and looked up.

And up.

While standing, Vainqueur probably reached fifty feet in height. He could crush a manling beneath his feet, and grab a cow with one hand.

He only reached up to the creature’s waist.

The Tarasque towered over the [Augustus], its yellowish eyes oozing animal rage. Vainqueur wasn’t impressed. "I will rip off your head the way I cut your tail," the dragon warned, tossing the stinger away and activating [Victory Fist].

Charisma check successful! You infuriated the [Tarasque Emperor]!

Emperor? "The only emperor is the one standing before you, you zmey!"

Insulted, the Tarasque raised a fist and attempted to squash the dragon like a child. While the beast had great strength, it lacked finesse or any technique whatsoever.

With pathetic ease, Vainqueur dodged the blow, jumped at the creature’s head, and poked him in both eyes!

"[Malleus Maleficarum]!" The dragon activated his new weapon, empowering it with a massive chunk of his SP reserve. A phantom, purple hammer of spiritual energy manifested above the blinded monster’s head and hit it.

The mighty blow sent the head back into its shell and caused the Tarasque to stumble. Exploiting the opening, Vainqueur landed on the ground and caught one of the beast’s forearms in a choke-hold.

For he was about to expose the turtle to its only weakness.

Strength check successful!

Using all of his limitless might, Vainqueur let out a fearsome roar as he turned the beast’s own weight against itself. The much smaller dragon flipped the Tarasque over him, and tossed it on its back!

The monster’s carapace hit the ground with a loud crack, blowing dirt in all directions and shaping a small crater. As the creature’s head emerged from its shell, its newly regenerated eyes marveled at its own helplessness. All it could do was thrash around, a turtle on its back.

Some would have said the impossible happened…

But impossible wasn’t dragon!

"What are you going to do now, turtle?" Vainqueur taunted the creature, preparing to take flight and roast it from above.

The Tarasque embedded its stinger into the ground and forcefully flipped itself over.

Vainqueur blinked at the surreal sight, for the dinosaur now stood back on its legs, its bestial face twisted into an expression of absolute, primal fury. The creature let out a roar that shook the very walls of the [Glitzy Theater], a crimson aura flaring around the ancient dinosaur.

You made the [Tarasque Emperor] go [Berserk]! It gained the benefit of the [Hasten] spell!

Vainqueur didn’t see the fist that hit him, even as it sent him flying through his [Glitzy Theater] and halfway across the countryside.

41: Pride and Prejudice

That BLEEPing class…

For the first nineteen levels, [Fishermen] were nothing to write about. Low growths, useless abilities like breathing twice longer underwater, a fish animal companion. And yet most civilized nations heavily regulated that class, often killing would be [Fishermen] on sight. Only a destructive maniac could want to max it out.

Because once they capped at level 20, [Fishermen] earned that broken Perk!

Victor could only marvel upon seeing it in action. He estimated Mag Mell had raised at least a thousand sea serpents; the scaled terrors swarming the port, its ships, and sometimes fleeing towards the open sea. The fomor had created an army from nothing.

[Lesser Leviathans] were roughly as strong as a level twenty warrior. Dangerous, but individually no match for Victor, Kia, or a Crested adventurer.

When facing thousands of them though…

Worse, while the transformation wouldn’t last forever, the Perk didn’t grant any control over the monsters. Mag Mell’s [Fisherman] Perk, [Fishfriend], protected him from attacks from most aquatic creatures, like Victor’s own protection against [Undead] and [Slime], but a swarm of sea serpents slaughtered his fairy hounds all the same. These things would eat everything in the city, leaving no survivors.

"Gorynych, transform your rain into a [Thunderstorm]," Victor said, extending his own wings to leap off his back. "Kia is in charge now."

"You want to fight the snakes on the ground?" the knight asked, while Mag Mell summoned insects swarms with magic, burying himself beneath a mountain of worms and maggots. "They’re too numerous!"

"I can handle them," he replied. "Just take care of Mag Mell."

The Vizier checked his items, including the stuff he stole from Orknoob and pouches of diamond dust hidden in his armor, then leaped off Gorynych’s back before Kia could protest.

Obeying his master’s command, the zmey altered the weather, changing the faint rain that usually followed him with a cackling, windy thunderstorm.

Gorynych’s [Storm Dragon] passive Perk changed the weather to [Thunderstorm]! [Lightning] and [Wind] attacks will be strengthened, [Fire] attacks will be weakened!

It was nowhere near as powerful as Wotan’s overwhelming tempest, but that would do, zmey. That would do.

Flying down towards the docks, Victor opened the hostilities by carpet bombing them with [Blackfyre], incinerating the walkway next to the water. Dozens of sea serpents had their scales seared to its very flesh, the winds only enhancing the fires' spread. Within seconds, a wall of flames stood between the port and the city itself.

The rampaging serpents answered by targeting him, leaping over the water to try and bring him down. Victor defended himself with his scythe, cutting the head of one creature. Instantly, the corpse crumbled to dust, the beast’s soul captured and its life energy drained.

Skill check successful! Critical hit!

As he landed amidst his own flames to fight on the ground, dozens of [Critical Hit] messages flooded Victor’s sight, every scythe swing landing a death blow. "[Pact with the Archfiends]," the Vizier cast, switching to his demonic form. His armor adapted to his new shape, transforming him into a mighty, armored juggernaut covered in unholy flames.

Unfortunately, the berserk creatures didn’t turn back to the sea. They kept coming in waves, forcing him to stay constantly on the offensive to avoid getting swarmed. His vision turned into a blurring image of fish being slaughtered; so much blood was shed, and so many ashes thrown around, that they threatened to extinguish the flames.

Meanwhile, Gorynych and his rider carpet-bombed Mag Mell’s vessel with fire and lightning; the fomor had transformed himself into a colossal monster, a hive of millions of maggots united into the shape of a human. The giant swarm attempted to crush the dragon within its hands, only for Kia to blast its ‘face’ off with a magical sun. The [Paladin] rode the Zmey with such skill, hastening him into a flying killing machine, that the sight made the Vizier jealous.

"[Contagious Lightning]," Victor cast one of those ‘critical’ spells Kia told him about, raising his scythe at the nearest sea serpent. A crimson lightning bolt came out of the blade, empowered by the thunderstorm, pierced the creature, and then jumped to its three closest fellows.

Critical hit!

Nice, but unreliable.

Unlike Vainqueur though, whose reserves were so huge he could afford to spam his best abilities, Victor had to pace himself. His scythe’s life-draining ability allowed him to ignore healing, but he ran the risk of burning through his SP if he only used offensive spells.

Still, he could finally let loose a bit.

"[Nightmare Realm]," Victor cast upon realizing that he had put enough distance between his allies and himself. "[Charon’s Grim Harvest]."

The combination of both attacks was something to behold.

Reality twisted around him, an alien, horror dimension overlapping with the port. A purple mist spread through the area, carrying screaming ghosts with it. Moaning hellmouths formed on the burning pavement, alongside yellow, phantom eyes and pillars of skulls.

Field changed to [Nightmare Realm].

At the same time, phantom sickles floated around Victor, shredding through sea serpents like butter. With their crap Charisma, the beasts couldn’t resist the field-effect either; suffering through worse and worse ailments.

[Lesser Leviathans] are being [Drained]; you are passively regaining HP and SP.

"Fun fact, if you are immune to your own area of effect’s damage, go wild!" Victor relished, as he cut through sea serpents left and right. With his SP being automatically refilled, he kept [Charon’s Grim Harvest] effect on, the spirit sickles growing more numerous and dangerous. The souls they reaped filled the Vizier’s scythe, suffusing their master with necromantic energies.

In fact, he recovered HP faster than the monsters could hurt him. Victor considered calling Noirceur and Chocolatine for help, but neither could survive the current battleground conditions. His demon summons would ignore the flames, but not the effects from [Nightmare Realm] nor the flying sickles.

All in all, he could manage on his own.

"[Piercing Blizzard]."

A howling blizzard hit Victor head-on, extinguishing his flames, smoldering his heated armor, and throwing him backward. The attack hit in spite of his weaker magical protections.

You took supereffective [Frost] damage! You lost half your HP!

[Troll Regeneration] activated!

Victor quickly regained his footing, looking at the source of the attack. One of the sea serpents, with scales of wood stronger than steel.

His [Monster Insight] identified the creature as a transformed Mag Mell.

Victor glanced at the worm titan fighting his allies. The bastard must have used a [Druid] spell like [Animal Transformation], leaving Kia and Gorynych to fight a decoy. "Even now, even after gaining forty levels and becoming just as overpowered as Vainqueur… you’re still afraid of her."

The remark hit the fomor right where it hurt. "Mag Mell fears no mortal!" the serpent hissed.

"You literally hide beneath a mountain of maggots rather than fight Kia!" Victor taunted him back, casting a spell on himself. "[Frost Immunity]."

You gained immunity to [Frost] for ten minutes.

"[Command Animals]," Mag Mell rasped. At these words, a red glint appeared in the eyes of the [Lesser Leviathans]. Instead of rampaging around like before, they all glared at Victor with unified intelligence.

I hate munchkins, Victor thought, realizing why the fairy had taken [Druid] levels.

"[Accelerated Tidal Wave]," the fomor quickly cast once more while still in serpent form, a wall of water surging from the docks to swallow the walkway whole. While the waters barreled against the Vizier, dragging him towards the city, the fomor changed his shape from a sea serpent to a massive shark.

Riding the wave, Mag Mell attempted to bite Victor in half, while backed by sea serpents. Instead of a thrashing mob, the beasts attacked the chief of staff like a coordinated unit, flanking him from all sides.

Thankfully, with the [Brooch of Free Movement] that Orknoob ‘gave’ him, the Vizier reacted faster. He swung his scythe and hit the transformed [Druid] in the head.

However, when he did, the scales unleashed a powerful sonic burst, expelling Victor from the waters and repelling Mag Mell’s own serpents.

Congratulations! You gained the [Sonic Scales] monster perk!

[Sonic Scales]: You can grow a layer of singing scales; when they are targeted by a physical attack, the scales resonate to unleash a powerful sonic burst; this is a [Wind] damage effect. You are not immune from [Sonic Scales] damage.

When Victor finally landed, it was in a flooded, devastated park near the port. The wave had uprooted cherry trees and formed ponds amidst the grass, transforming the area into a swamp. Thankfully though, the attack had done more damage to Mag Mell’s summons than Victor himself.

Mag Mell emerged from a pond, having regained his true form now that they had moved safely away from Kia’s own fight. "[Enhanced Disinte—"

"[Emergency Teleport]!" Victor activated another of Orknoob’s items before the lethal spell could hit him.

The item teleported him straight to his room in the palace, where Henry was busy placing the items Victor had ordered before today. He screamed upon seeing a giant demon teleporting right next to him, never having met the Vizier in this shape.

"Later, Henry!" Victor grabbed the potions, raised his helmet, and drank them in bulk in front of the terrified human.

You recovered all your HP and SP! Vitality increased by two stages for half an hour! You are no longer fatigued!

He then used the [Ring of Emergency Teleport] to return to the park, before his area of effect spells could take over the bedroom. His stolen item had a limited number of charges, but it would work well.

Victor appeared right behind a confused Mag Mell and raised his scythe for a killing blow. Maybe he would have, if a sea serpent hadn’t shrieked a warning, lunging at his face; another moved in front of the fomor, acting as a shield.

"[Magnetic Field: Repel]." An invisible force pushed Victor back, his armor and scythe repelled backward. The Vizier regained his footing, but found himself on the defensive,; cutting down the druid’s creatures took all his focus. The fomor then used the opportunity to buff himself further, adding another layer of thick wooden scales over his body. "[Ironwood Skin]."

Mag Mell’s triumph was short-lived, however, when a phantom sickle bypassed his protection and hit him in the chest. Following its caster, [Nightmare Realm] began to twist the battleground into its Field type, helping Victor deal with the enemy summons.

"[Spirit Ward]," Mag Mell buffed himself, the sickles bouncing back his skin, and then cast spells to increase the size and power of his serpents, "[Poison Fangs], [Monster Growth]."

The sea serpents grew twice larger than before, their sharp teeth growing purple and oozing acid. While Victor’s stellar speed and reflexes allowed him to keep dodging, he found himself overwhelmed; and every time he tried to target the fomor himself with a spell, one of the serpents moved between his scythe and its master.

"You are weak," Mag Mell rasped, commanding his monsters while remaining safely between an elite guard of them. "I studied you, Victor Dalton. You are the weak link, the keystone. The man behind the dragon, as I was the hand behind King Balaur. Your demise will cripple Vainqueur."

Victor would have answered with a clever retort, had he not been struggling against giant leviathans.

"You are strong, but we fomors are magic itself. We are power without a soul; power without growth, which can never evolve. You humans are growth without power, weak, but with limitless potential. And now, your potential will go unfulfilled. [Anti-Teleport]."

You can no longer teleport away!

"Wait, you are magic?" Something clicked in Victor’s head. "The powerstones…"

"The fossilized remains of my dead brethren," Mag Mell replied, relishing the spectacle of his summons ganging up on a lone target. "They are ours by right."

"I assume you aren’t going to tell me why you needed those?" Victor asked since the fomor loved to hear himself talk.

"My daughter needs them for her arrows." Mag Mell let out a grunt of disdain. "Her foolish belief in this ‘technology’ will be her undoing. Magic alone is supreme. This cursed System, this weapon against my kind which Dice foolishly tapped into, was the only thing that allowed you animals to challenge us. But now, I…"

Mag Mell cast a spell, doubling in size until he became as big as Vainqueur himself. This time, he decided to join the fray personally.

"I am a power that can grow without limits!"

Gaining classes had caused him to go on a power trip. Good. "I think you forgot something. Three things, actually."

"I forgot more than you will ever learn, mortal," the fomor replied with supreme arrogance, raising his centipede arm to strike. His blow missed the Vizier, and was never intended to land at all: the magnetic field surrounding the fomor instead propelled the Vizier into the waiting maws of the serpents. "You are slaves to this System; you react to it, while I direct it. I optimized it. I created the most powerful class combination in the world."

"Then here’s a lesson about tactics: first, never fight a necromancer by throwing more bodies at him. [Reanimator]." Victor activated his necromancy, exhausting his diamond dust reserve while using the souls trapped in his scythe as material.

Three colossal, ghostly hydras made of dozens of sea serpents’ spirits combined surrounded Victor, their spectral wail repelling their living relatives. The sea serpents attempted to crush and bite the undead, only to phase through.

Aha, he knew it! While powerful, the serpents had no magical attacks capable of hitting incorporeal targets! His [Ghost Hydras], though, tore the animals apart, pursuing them through the park and forcing them away from their master.

"Now it’s just you and me," Victor told the angry fomor, having pushed his summons away. The fairy attempted to crush the [Reaper] with a summoned boulder rain, but the chief of staff moved faster. "Well, mostly you and me. [Victor’s Skull Sentries]."

Five floating skulls appeared around Victor, firing beams of energy at the giant fomor. After only succeeding in turning the park into a ruin, Mag Mell responded by opening his mouth, unleashing a breath of noxious black slime at both Victor and his necromantic servants. Two melted, while the Vizier barely dodged. A splash of slime hit his armor, seeping through the crack and burning the skin below.

You took heavy [Poison] damage! Vitality check successful! You avoided being [Corroded]! You lost half your HP!

You earned the [Bad Breath] and [Corroding Poison] Monster Perks.

[Bad Breath]: 90 SP. You can breathe a cone of venomous slime inflicting heavy [Poison] on contact; all those who touch the noxious slime must succeed a hard Vitality check or be [Poisoned].

[Corroding Poison]: Passive. When you should inflict the [Poisoned] status on someone, you instead apply the [Corroded] ailment. [Corroded] functions as [Poisoned], but can affect even those with [Poison] Resistance and Immunity: Poison Immunity is treated as Poison Resistance, while standard Poison Resistance is ignored.

A perfect combination of classes, powerful natural abilities, a keen tactical mind, and survival instincts honed through centuries. Mag Mell was an ancient monster, and near-invulnerable. The more he thought about his foe, the more Victor knew that he would only drop his guard on one occasion.

The moment when he thinks he already won.

"[Darkest Fear]," the fomor cast the dreaded spell on Victor, probably hoping that his poison would instantly kill him once his HP plummeted to one. A lethal combo.

The Vizier felt the dark claws of the fomor’s magic sink into his soul, and collapsed into the mud. He made no sound, looking dead while dispelling his sickles and field effect.

"Learn your place, mortal," the fomor rejoiced, blinded by the idea of a flawless victory. "You [Claimed] have never been worthy."

Victor held his breath.

"Dispel [Magnetic Field]," Mag Mell said, committing a fatal mistake. His centipede arm approached Victor’s body, to finally claim his trophy. "And now, the things I will do with this half-dragon vessel…"

"[Hasten]."

You will move and react twice faster than normal.

Before Mag Mell could react, Victor cut off his centipede hand by surprise; the blade slashing through his reinforced skin.

The fomor let out a scream of pain, while the Vizier quickly got back on his feet before reactivating [Nightmare Realm] and [Charon's Grim Harvest]. "You should have gone to school," the Vizier said, covered by the fomor’s green, acidic blood. "Your lack of foresight is disarming."

"[Darkest Fear]!" Mag Mell tried his tried-and-true tactic again, perhaps having thought that he merely missed the first time.

The dark magic traveled through the divine connection between the deities that selected Victor and his own soul, to hit him hard. The perfect weapon against [Claimed], refined over centuries.

Using his connection with the [Black Grail], Victor redirected the attack to his artifact, the lethal magic skidding over his soul like water on a windshield.

"Impossible," Mag Mell rasped in pure shock, before letting out a hiss. The Vizier’s scythe had cut through his chest, but it appeared the fairy had no organ to speak of.

"Second." Victor raised his scythe at the fomor to strike again, now that his magnetic field no longer shielded him. "You would think someone might figure out a counter if you people keep spamming the same goddamn spell at him. I don’t know how long you designed that [Darkest Fear] spell, but it only took me seven bloody years to figure it out!"

"[Iron—"

"[Contagious Lightning]!"

His lightning hit the drenched fomor in the chest, spread to the three remaining floating skulls, and then converged back at the fairy. The sheer volume of electricity surging through the beast turned him into a living neon light.

Critical Hit!

"[Magn—argh!" Victor kept slashing at the fomor, never giving him any time to focus on his spell. He cut one insect leg, then another, moving too fast for the fairy to dodge or retaliate.

One of the things he had learned from Akhenapep. Never give a powerful spellcaster breathing room.

"You want to know why your kind keeps losing?" The Vizier cut one of Mag Mell’s wings as he tried to take flight, grounding him. "It’s not because of the System, because we have the best classes, or because you lacked a soul. It’s because you keep underestimating us, again, and again, and again!"

Covered in his own blood, Mag Mell imitated his piper son; he tried to run. "[Swarmwalker]," he rasped, instantly transforming into a hive of insects.

Victor would have none of this. "[Blackfyre]," he said, incinerating the swarm before it could spread and escape like at the crater. The flames spread through maggots and beetles, while [Nightmare Realm] leeched them off. Within seconds, the fairy was forced to reform, this time brought back to his normal height.

Now cornered, Mag Mell opened a portal and tried to crawl through, Victor rushing after him. The desperate fairy came within an inch of the gate...

"[Solar Judgment]."

A beam of light fell upon Mag Mell, incinerating the grass around him and making him collapse. Gorynych overshadowed the wounded fairy from above, its current knightly rider preparing another spell.

But this time, Victor would not let anyone else take the credit.

"And third," the Vizier raised his scythe, "having a soul isn’t always a boon!"

The fairy looked at the blade, finally realizing that all was lost. "It does not matter," he declared, arrogant to the end. "My work lives on."

And with these words, the [Reaper] claimed his due.

His scythe beheaded Mag Mell in one swing, the portal vanishing with his life.

As the blade fell, covered with the fomor’s thick green blood, a screaming, bloody shadow emerged from Mag Mell’s disintegrating corpse; an unnatural, Frankenstein's monster of a soul, a patchwork ghost. Victor couldn’t even properly describe it, as it moved inside his scythe.

With these new additions, the countless souls coalesced within the scythe, changing it. Its magic burnt in Victor’s hands, reshaping it. The rod changed into twisted black wood, covered in whispering faces, while the blade vanished, replaced with an ethereal, phantom edge.

Congratulations! By consuming Mag Mell’s artificial soul, your scythe has become the artifact [Harvest]!

For defeating the fomor Mag Mell in a magical duel and feasting on his soul, you earned three levels in [Weathermaker]! You earned the [Devil Archmage II] and [Apocalypse Storm] class perks!

+90 HP, +30 SP, +2 STR, +2 VIT, +3 SKI, +2 AGI, +6 INT, +3 CHA, +6 LCK.

[Devil Archmage II]: You can learn and cast spells two tiers above your current one. You can also learn and cast spells with the [Evil], [Fiend], and [Weather] traits, but only those equal or below your current tier access; if they belong to an exclusive school of magic, you count as if you met the other requirements. This replaces [Devil Archmage I].

[Apocalypse Storm]: When you try to alter the weather, such as with the [Control Weather] spell, add the following conditions to your options: [Blood Rain], [Slime Rain], [Acid Rain], [Fire Hail], [Ghost Storm], and [Plague Winds]. You are immune to the negative effects of these weather conditions, even if you did not summon them yourself.

Kia chanted his name above with her sword, making Victor feel warm inside.

Putting his scythe on his shoulder, Victor prepared to go help Vainqueur, when he noticed new winged forms in the sky. He at first thought about Wotan's Valkyries, especially when he noticed their feathered wings.

Unfortunately, they were far less pleasant to look at.

"Fraudster!" A host of thirty angels circled above him, all of them looking unhappy to be there. "We have answered your call for help, fiend!"

His call? Wait, were these the revived angels that he called more than a week ago? While still in cup form?

...

And they arrived now?

Victor facepalmed.

"Public service."

42: Minion Recipe

"Tonight, I dine on turtle soup!"

So vowed Vainqueur Knightsbane, as he rose up with a dizzy head and a heart full of wrath. Dirt and grass covered his beautiful scales, the trail his landing had caused going on for hundreds of meters.

The Tarasque’s blow had sent him flying for miles, his golden theater a distant glow collapsing on itself; which angered him even more. The dragon noticed a cloud of dust moving at full speed towards that goblin’s city, far away from Vainqueur himself. The beast would not take its mind off its target, leaving its enemy behind to return to its deadly course.

To a dragon, being ignored numbered among the greatest of insults; right behind having their hoard turned to lead.

Vainqueur almost took flight to chase after the giant in his fury, before stopping himself. Their last clash had shown the dragon that while stupid and lacking in finesse, the beast could match him in brute force. Even his mighty [Geomancy] and a [Charged Attack] could not put it down for long.

Vainqueur needed a strategy.

Should he recall Manling Victor and make use of his [Master’s Shield]? That dinosaur cheated with its regeneration, it would only be fair to return the favor. The idea was tempting, but the dragon quickly decided against it. Minions existed to make his triumph greater; to admit that he needed them to win his battles would be shameful. Also, the Vizier had already been given a mission, to find that cursed fairy Mag Mell and end his meddling once and for all.

Also, he would only receive a golden shower if he won a duel.

No. For the sake of his pride and income, Vainqueur would win this battle on his own.

What else could help? The Emperor oversaw the battlefield, noticing the fragments of powerstones left behind by the mountain’s destruction. These shards had empowered his breath and geomancy both; they even helped send a rocket to the cursed planet Moon!

A magnificent idea crossed Vainqueur’s mind.

Quickly, before the Tarasque had enough time to outpace him for good, the dragon flew and grabbed every crystal he could get his hands on. Vainqueur selected only two kinds, for he had standards: the red ones, as beautiful as his own scales; and the green ones, to complement the other color.

These ones glowed a little and made him a little sick, but certainly, they couldn’t damage his health. He was a dragon after all.

When he had his arms full, Vainqueur chased after the dinosaur. He waited for his ring to cast [Hasten]... but it never did.

"Ur-Ring, quicker!" the dragon ordered his trinket. Having hastened itself, the Tarasque now moved faster than Vainqueur could follow. "Quicker I said!"

[Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh] can only cast [Hasten] once per day.

Once per day? What kind of shoddy minion work was that?

Vainqueur strained against the wind, putting all his might into flying faster. His wings flapped so hard, that they raised clouds of dust and uprooted plants on the ground.

Tapping into energy reserves he always knew he had, the dragon flew faster than ever. Faster than the wind. Faster than—

Agility check successful!

BOOM!

Vainqueur caused a shockwave as the world became a blur, powerstones slipping from his claws. His crown almost fell off, and probably would have had it not been anchored to his horns; his vision turned into a tunnel, singularly focused on the distant Tarasque.

By now, the rampaging beast had reached the walls of the goblin city, threatening to punch his bloody way through.

Vainqueur couldn't care less about it, but the dragon had said that he would stop the beast beforehand. His honor as a dragon demanded that he triumph. "For my hoard!" the dragon roared, before swallowing his unshiny powerstones.

His stomach hurt, as his inner furnace struggled to incinerate the crystals.

Warning: You have taken [Fairy] and [Nuclear] damage!

What did fairies have to do with these stones? They always found a way to ruin his day.

In any case, Vainqueur finally reached the Tarasque and hit it from behind, preventing it from smashing through the walls.

Instead, the collision propelled both of them through!

Vainqueur tackled the surprised and much larger Tarasque, pinning it to the ground by slamming its head against the pavement. The beast was both bigger and stronger than the dragon, forcing him to use every ounce of strength to keep it down.

Just in time for his stomach pain to stop.

Congratulations! Through assimilating a heavy dose of [Fire] and [Nuclear] powerstones, your [Dragonbreath: Fire] has evolved into [Dragonbreath: Atomic Fire]!

It will now inflict an additional fifty percent [Nuclear] damage, and give cancer to the survivors!

Vainqueur opened his mouth and fired.

His mighty breath turned into blinding, white flames; the same that the Elder Wyrm used to craft the sun in ancient times. He unleashed it right on the Tarasque’s ugly face, melting its flesh away.

The beast let out a roar and freed itself, slamming Vainqueur against a pagoda with one hand. The tower collapsed behind the dragon, crushing a horde of goblins and fairy hounds beneath tons of stone.

"Gojira!" Vainqueur suddenly realized that the tiny people of this city were busy fighting monsters, running in fear of both the dragon and his current opponent. "GOJIRA!"

The Tarasque let out a fearsome roar and stopped trying to move through the city. Instead, it focused on the dragon, slamming him against the ground, and then throwing him against another building.

Activating [Victory Fist], Vainqueur engaged the beast in a brawl; or what could pass for one. Since the Tarasque was twice larger than the dragon, Murmurin’s Emperor must have looked like a child trying to beat up its parents.

The dragon waited for an opportunity and focused on defense, avoiding the monster’s fists as they pounded the pavement into craters, often decking his foe in the head whenever he could afford to. While he moved faster than his enemy could hit him, any punch from the dinosaur would be lethal, while Vainqueur’s own attacks felt no more inconvenient than slaps.

Just fighting in the city caused buildings to collapse around them, and houses to turn into paste.

Finally, the Tarasque briefly tripped on the debris of its own making, Vainqueur using the opportunity to grab it by the arm, turn its weight against it, and toss the monster to the side. The creature rolled on the ground and crashed against some kind of military garrison, stones falling on its back.

While the Tarasque was busy trying to get back on, Vainqueur prepared his trump card. "[Charged Attack]..."

The Tarasque emerged from the debris with a roar, just in time for Vainqueur to unleash his devastating breath. This time, his flames turned bright green; a blast so destructive that it devastated the entire district on impact, melting the ground below and vaporizing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. The holy fire turned stone to ashes, and flesh to steam.

The dinosaur walked through the breath, its flesh falling from its bones. It struggled to charge through the flames, slowly yet perilously coming closer. Yet Vainqueur held his ground, his blinding blast powerful enough to nearly toss him off his back.

The fateful blow never came.

When Vainqueur was finally out of breath, only the Tarasque’s charred skeleton stood before him amidst a sea of molten stone. All flesh, every organ had been stripped away by the dragon’s mighty flames, leaving only a towering mass of bones and an empty carapace behind.

"Victory!" Vainqueur raised his arms to the skies. "None can stand before me!"

Finally, he had won!

Once again, he had proved the innate superiority of dragons over all other reptiles. And it had only taken destroying half a city!

Vainqueur’s joy knew no bounds… until the skeleton twitched.

The dragon froze, astonished, as tendons, veins, and then flesh regrew over the bones. Layers upon layers of meat, and then scales, claws, and very angry eyes. Within seconds, the Tarasque had fully recovered.

Except now, it shone green.

Congratulations! The [Tarasque Emperor] is now [Radioactive]!

Vainqueur was too shocked to dodge the next blow.

The Tarasque headbutted the dragon so hard that he felt his ribs break for the first time in his long, long life. The blow propelled Vainqueur through a pagoda, then another, and finally against the walls of the imperial palace four streets away. The blow briefly knocked the dragon out, his vision blurring.

Warning: Critical Health! [Bravo Bull] activate—

As he regained consciousness, Vainqueur suddenly realized the absurd truth.

He had found the one creature in the world that he couldn’t defeat with force.

The Augustus took some solace in that the creature couldn’t defeat him either, locking them in an endless duel, but not much. Dragons were at the top of the food chain! They didn’t share that spot with some dumb dinosaur!

"I refuse to accept this!" Vainqueur said, vowing to defend the honor of his race. He regained his footing, absentmindedly crushing a giant spider and a goblin squad under his feet. His gaze noticed Goblina and her guard fighting nearby, but the dragon ignored them. He only had eyes for the giant reptile charging at him right now.

If brute force wouldn’t do… then Vainqueur he would use his brain! He, who started with the amazing root sixty-four Intelligence score before the System increased it tenfold, would find a solution!

"Menu!" Vainqueur quickly opened his stat screen, reviewing all the Perks he had accumulated over his glorious adventurer career. Maybe he had gained something which could give him the power to win.

His eyes quickly scanned his long, long list of abilities, including some he never used. [Hunter’s Resolve], [Imperial Authority]...

… [Monster Empathy]?

[Monster Empathy]: You can make a Charisma Check to improve the attitude of monsters toward you, making them friendlier. This ability works even on wild monsters such as Beast types. Monsters who hate you for a personal reason or mindless automatons such as golems will ignore the Perk.

The very first perk he earned from [Dungeon Breeder], and that he never found any use for. The dragon suddenly remembered what his minion had said, after the final battle against the Forgotten One.

"Your Majesty, this is going to sound very cliche… but don’t you defeat your enemy when you make peace with him?"

At long last, Vainqueur finally understood what Manling Victor had tried to convey.

The dragon had treated the reptile like an enemy when it should have been considered a potential minion! All he had to do was to show this beast reason and convert it to minionship!

"[Monster Empathy]!" he activated the [Dungeon Breeder] perk, just as the Tarasque lunged at him, claws first. Vainqueur extended his arms, channeling the spirit of dragon forgiveness upon this rueful heathen.

Charisma check with a -30 malus for castrating the [Tarasque Emperor] once…

-30? But it regenerated! Nothing personal!

Charisma check…

The Tarasque’s claws stopped within an inch of Vainqueur’s neck.

Successful!

The [Tarasque Emperor]’s attitude moved from hostile to neutral.

Floored by the dragon’s charisma, the Tarasque couldn’t bring itself to harm a true dragon anymore.

So, without skipping a beat, the creature immediately turned its back on Vainqueur and continued its course towards the hoard half a world away.

"Wait!" Vainqueur ordered, moving in front of the beast to make it stop. "How can you wish to destroy my hoard? My beautiful hoard? Why will you not turn the other coin, as I did?"

The creature looked at Vainqueur with its horrible eyes, and let out a series of grunts; [Monster Empathy] translating these signals into rough feelings. Pictures of Murmurin flashed in the dragon's mind, of his overflowing hoard.

"Destroy, destroy, destroy!"

Such was the looping thought implanted in the creature’s head, driving it insane with rage. A magical compulsion that forced it to move forward, to ignore the pain and the glory of a dragon.

"Thou are possessed by the lead spirit," Vainqueur said, putting his hands on the creature’s shoulder. "Accept the Elder Wyrm, of which I am the messenger, and you shall be freed from fairy sin! [Spell Purge]!"

Vainqueur bathed the Tarasque in his holy energies, expelling the darkness that took root in its heart. Through the power of his boundless charisma, the beast was soon purged of fairy sin.

Charisma check successful! You lifted the [Mag Mell's Geas] from the [Tarasque Emperor].

And lo and behold, Vainqueur won.

Instead of a bloodthirsty, rampaging beast, without Mag Mell’s ritual driving it mad, the Tarasque immediately became placid. No longer did the fairy’s curse force it to chase after the sacred hoard. It had seen the light of Vainqueur's words, and accepted his message of minion peace.

Instead, the Tarasque conveyed a single intent through the empathy bond.

Hungry.

"We shall feast upon cattle, as master and minion," Vainqueur declared, patting the creature’s carapace. "Serve me and you will never be hungry again; and never shall I! For you shall be my minion, now and forever."

Minion food?

"Only in emergencies," Vainqueur reassured the beast. "Only in emergencies."

The creature seemed to lack the intellect needed to understand the concept, but the promise of free food pacified it.

"Did you... did you befriend that?" Vainqueur glanced down, noticing Goblina nearby. The goblin and her forces had slaughtered the fairy thralls, her tiny armor plastered with blood. Clearly, she had been left floored by Vainqueur’s evangelization power.

"I tamed that," the dragon corrected. "The Tarasque embraced the light of Hoardism and shall henceforth be my minion."

"Well I guess we won, even if you caused more damage than the invading army," the tiny goblin said, looking at the trail of destruction the two reptiles left behind. "Hey, who attacked us in the first place?"

Vainqueur extended his arms again, expecting a golden shower for his victory. After all, he had won this battle alone.

But after a minute of waiting, the dragon realized that his minion had been mistaken.

Making peace with your enemies did not count as defeating them!

Congratulations! For befriending and taming the [Tarasque Emperor], you earned three levels in [Dungeon Breeder]. You earned the [Alpha Magnetism (Scales)] class Perk!

+60 HP, +30 SP, +1 STR, +3 SKI, +2 AGI, +3 INT, +2 CHA, +2 LCK.

[Alpha Magnetism (Scales)]: Lesser reptilian creatures see you as an alpha worth following. When interacting with [Reptile], [Aquatic], and [Amphibian] creatures, they must succeed on a Charisma check or prostrate themselves in submission; this is a [Mind-affecting effect].

The Tarasque fell before Vainqueur and raised its stinger, a new thought competing with its hunger in this hour of peace.

Breed?

"Not with me," Vainqueur replied, before pointing his left index claw at his new minion. "But I have the perfect island for you!"

Two species saved from extinction.

Vainqueur couldn’t wait to brag about it.

43: The Heaven Talk

Victor Dalton, Grand Vizier of the V&V Empire, thought he had developed tinnitus for a minute. The world had gone completely silent after he heard Vainqueur’s latest words.

"I’m, I’m sorry, what did Your Majesty just say?" the Vizier asked as he regained his hearing, the demolished imperial palace standing to his left as a ruined testament to today’s chaos.

"Manling Victor, meet my new minion." The dragon patted the Tarasque’s carapace, as the glowing, giant monster feasted on sea serpents. After the battle, Goblina had wisely ordered all the dead [Lesser Leviathans] piled up next to the imperial palace, before the two giant creatures could turn their hunger on the citizens. Even now, goblin and oni guards kept all but throwing food at the reptiles. "It shall breed with my dodos, to father a new generation of emergency rations."

Yeah, Victor still didn’t understand. Or rather, he didn’t want to understand.

How the Happyland did Vainqueur even manage to tame that thing? "Sir, it’s… it’s a Tarasque."

"Yes, minion, you have a gift for stating the obvious."

"Gorynych thinks that it is cute!" Victor’s mount said, having been granted fish of his own. The Tarasque looked at the creature’s three heads, letting out a moan of happiness while the zmey wagged its tail in response. "Gorynych has a friend!"

"Your Majesty, these monsters are said to eat entire countries!" Victor protested. "Where will we find the meat needed to sustain it?"

Also, the Tarasque glowed green now. Nothing suspicious there.

"Minion, you do not see as far as I do," Vainqueur replied. "This creature can regenerate from anything. Anything. So we will rip out its entrails, feed them to cattle, and then my new servant shall feast on the cows! The perfect solution to dragon world hunger!"

"How are we even going to transport this thing around?! It’s too big to fit in a portal!"

"Minion, simply mark it with your summoning Perk and stop spoiling my good mood with unimportant details," Vainqueur dismissed his concerns cheerfully. "For today is a great day! That vexing fairy Mag Mell is, at long last, dead!"

True, and Victor had a new scythe to show for it, but the problem of the Tarasque remained. The Vizier thought about it, figuring out that he could mark the beast with [Black Horseman] while summoning Gorynych with [Zmey Rider]. The [Chaos Rider] imagined himself mounting the Tarasque, a creature greater than even Vainqueur, becoming an almighty lord of destruction that would make Sablar blush.

"Oh…" His vision went white for a second. "Oh…"

On second thought, maybe he could get used to this new monster.

Leaving the reptiles to their victory feast, Victor walked towards the palace’s gate, where Goblina had a drink with her generals and Ludvic Van. Meanwhile, Kia was praying to Mithras in a corner alongside the Arisen angels, doing their best to ignore everyone else with one exception.

She always kept a bound and gagged Orknoob within arm’s reach.

"Nice new scythe, Vic!" Goblina raised a goblet of wine in his direction, imitated by her men. "A great weapon, worthy of today's hero!"

"I still haven’t checked what it does," the Vizier said, examining it more closely.

Harvest

Quality: S- (Minor Sentient Artifact)

Purpose: Gather as many souls and knowledge as possible.

Material: Fomorian wood.

Endurance: ∞/∞

Weight: 4,5 kgs.

Bonus: +10 SKI damage, +30 critical, bypass non-magical protections. Inflicts a STR/VIT debuff on successful hits. Wielder can cast [Darkest Fear] at will and inflicts [Insta-death] on a critical hit. [Reaper] only.

A scythe created from the remains of Mag Mell, Harvest is still animated by the fomor lord’s lust for knowledge. Instead of existing independently, souls reaped by Harvest become part of a hive-mind devoted to its wielder, sharing their knowledge truthfully. In addition, Harvest’s edge does not cut through flesh, but souls; as such, while it bypasses all physical protections and damages incorporeal targets, it cannot harm a soulless creature.

"Neat!" Goblina said, having looked at the stats with one of her own Perks. "The more people you kill with it, the smarter you will get!"

"Let’s not go down that road," Victor said, although he vowed to interrogate Mag Mell’s spirit as soon as more urgent matters were dealt with. "You’re surprisingly chill about this disaster."

"I cannot believe that the resistance sank as low as to ally with the fomors to stage a terrorist attack," Goblina said while offering him a goblet, which he politely declined. "Fomors! I will have to double the number of guards to better protect our citizens against their treacherous attacks."

"The resistance… ah, the [Propaganda Machine] course!" Victor remembered that one; it was one of the few courses that he didn’t ace. "And don’t forget that your army managed to fight back the fairy armies, while we cleaned up Mount Yagami on your orders!"

"Exactly! Finally, the citizens of the Teikoku Empire know that their Shogun can protect them from anything. Especially from themselves!"

"I must say this was an interesting turn of events," Ludvic Van told Victor. "But it distracted us from what truly matters. The sooner we finish your training, the sooner you can live up to your end of our delicious bargain."

"I spent all the potions I intended to use for the ritual," Victor admitted sheepishly. "And it will take a few more days to set up a portal and gather the reinforcements needed. Can we put it back to a few days?"

"If we must… then I encourage you to take a few days to indulge yourself, make peace with your family, you know. Even with all the preparations, your chances of survival are slim."

"Hey, Vic, what did you get into this time?" Goblina asked, confused.

"I’m going to attempt the Kamacybele," Victor explained, the goblin’s face turning white, "to level up in a prestigious class."

"Vic, don’t do it!" the conqueror all but begged her former academic rival. "It’s suicide! You know what happens at the end!"

"I have to try," the Vizier said, having made peace with the risks. "I must."

"You aren’t going to survive it on your own!" Goblina insisted, but the Vizier remained firm in his decision. "Fine, I’ll help then!"

"No, no," Victor protested, trying to let her down gently while Ludvic raised an eyebrow. He must have found his student a bit disappointing. "I’m sorry, but you can’t. You just can’t."

"Nonsense! I have the best spellcasters on hand, I will figure something out. I’m not leaving you to die… not like this. Not like this."

"It’s fine, Goblina," Victor hugged her as if they were meeting for the last time. "It’s the thought that counts."

Kia chose that moment to end her meditation, moving towards the group with a scroll in hand. "Vic," she said, blatantly ignoring the goblin conqueror. "We need to address a crucial matter."

"Orknoob," Victor said, glancing at the captured orc.

"Orknoob," Kia nodded grimly. "What are we going to do with him?"

"I asked Marbré through [Scarlet Study] to prepare a Moon rocket with his name on it, but Thul-Gathar put his veto on it. He said that criminals and exiles are welcome, but sending that orc will be interpreted as an act of war."

"How far can your rockets go?"

"In the dwarfs’ words, as far as needed," Victor replied firmly. "Mars, maybe this dimension’s equivalent of Pluto."

"Make it Pluto. The farther, the better."

"I will have the launch ready for Samhain," Victor decided, while the captive orc silently protested. "May the gods forgive us."

Now that the fate of the villainous orc was decided, Victor turned to the other problem: the flock of winged insurance salesmen glaring at him. "Fraudster," one of the angels said, as Kia and the Vizier approached his group.

"Scammer," Victor replied calmly, the angel immediately reaching for a flaming sword in fury. The securities the Vizier had put in the [Arisen] revival process prevented the bird from striking, much to his frustration. "What do you want from me?"

"Send us back to Heaven, you thief of souls," another angel all but ordered. "We came to your help in your hour of need. Reward us appropriately."

"You came to my hour of need fifteen minutes late!" Victor replied, astonished by their entitlement. "I owe you nothing!"

"You cast us down to Hell, heathen!"

"No, I didn’t! I sent you to Happyland, and you earned your stay there!"

"Heaven will not take you back," Kia said. "I asked my patron, Mithras, and he said that you need to ‘repent for your deceitful ways’ first."

"Repent?" one of the angels laughed with contempt. "What, like mortals?"

"We are angels, we are good by definition," another replied.

"And that mindset is the root of your problem," Kia replied firmly, raising her arms. "Look, neither Vic nor I make the rules. Stick to them or go back downstairs."

The angels exchanged glances. The Vizier suddenly realized that after living off the souls of mortals for so long, they had lost all understanding of ethics beyond vague concepts.

"Look," Victor pointed his scythe at the devastated city, "if you want to make up for your afterlife scam, start by helping the living. The capital is in ruins, thousands are homeless, and there’s a plague sweeping the continent outside this island. If you aren’t all talk, then act now."

The flock grumbled, but saw the wisdom in his words and took flight, to help rebuild. "It’s not going to help," Kia pointed out once they were out of earshot. "They still haven’t admitted that they did anything wrong."

"Shouldn’t good actions matter, even if the intent behind is selfish?" Victor asked, more for himself than the angels. The [Paladin] shrugged her shoulders, having no answer to this. "What about your drinking problem? Can you celebrate Mag Mell’s death with us?"

"Mithras told me that he couldn’t lift another deity’s curse, but that he would try to talk to Seng," Kia said, her neutral face slowly turning into a gloomy expression. "Which means that, when the adrenaline and dopamine from our recent fight leave my body, I will have to face the meaninglessness of existence without booze."

She looked devastated, and the Vizier hated to see her like this. It reminded him of his early days as Vainqueur’s sidekick. "Maybe you can transfer your alcohol addiction to something healthier?" Victor suggested.

"Like what, cigarettes? I don’t think Outremonde even has tobacco."

"I was going to suggest sarcasm or sex since they are my own coping mechanisms. I know that your [Full Heal] spell will cure your lungs, but I can’t recommend smoking."

Kia scowled. "Why is this happening to me?" she asked out loud, sounding well and truly angry. "I saved the world and I feel miserable, while you conquer countries on a whim and get rewarded for it! Major villains run away screaming when they see me, while they keep throwing themselves at you, even if we are evenly matched in levels!"

"Why, yes," Victor replied, letting her blow off steam. "If you’re the strongest [Paladin] in the world, of course every sane villain will flee. While if you’re painful annoyances like Vainqueur and I, everyone wants you dead, angels, and tyrants alike."

The [Paladin] looked at him with a strange look.

Charisma check successful!

Huh?

"Mithras warned me that if I keep associating with you, the only direction is down," Kia said suddenly.

Victor put his scythe on his shoulder. "That’s a bit harsh. I do admit I may have been a bad influence on Miel, but I’ll make up for it."

"About that…" Kia made a face, before handing him the scroll she carried. "I asked Mithras about your intent to go to Heaven, and he teleported this to my hand. It’s her writing."

"She’s doing okay?" Victor asked, immediately grabbing the message.

"Apparently, she managed to turn her resignation into some kind of political protest and established her independent afterlife agency. She’s fine."

Victor understood the message.

Miel could have met him directly, but chose not to.

The Vizier opened the scroll with his free hand and quickly recognized Miel’s writing. The more he read though, the more his mood soured.

"Vic?" The Vizier was thankful the concerned [Paladin] couldn’t see his crushed face beneath his helmet. "Vic, you’re alright?"

"No," he said, closing the scroll and extending his wings. "I’ll join the feast later."

"Vic, you let me cry on your shoulder for five hours, you can do the same with mine if you need it."

"Thank you, but I would rather be alone for a while," the Vizier replied, flying away much to the [Paladin]’s consternation.

Victor moved above the devastated city, watching angels grudgingly helping the locals clean up debris; he briefly stopped by the carpet-bombed ruins of the Loli House, before wandering off aimlessly. He thought moving and stretching his wings would clear out his mind, and it helped, but only a little.

Eventually, he sat on the city’s outer wall, as far away from people as he could. He removed his helmet, put it next to him alongside his scythe and the scroll, and then watched the sunset in silence.

He had no idea how long he waited there, watching the sun slowly vanish beyond the ocean while Vainqueur and everybody else feasted to their heart's content. But eventually, he sensed a presence manifest next to him, a superb lady manifesting from nothing.

"Greetings Victor." The goddess Camilla had traded her usual dress for a fancy purple yukata with white flower symbols. Her Claimed smelled a sweet, honeyed perfume coming from her. "I am sorry I could not come to you beforehand; as the goddess of plagues, I have been very busy lately."

"I see."

"I wish I had been there when you unlocked the eighth tier of spellcasting; at this point, the balance completely breaks down and the real fun for magicians begins! I have so much to teach you, especially with that new scythe of yours."

Victor said nothing.

The goddess winced at his depressed mood, before sitting next to him. She quickly noticed the scroll he was carrying. "What is this?"

"A letter of resignation, a restraining order, and the lifelike picture of a ship sinking."

"From the angel girl?" Camilla shook her head. "It could not end otherwise, Victor, and you knew it."

"I try to do good deeds, but I don’t find them enjoyable or they backfire; I don’t have the stomach to go full Akhenapep either," the Vizier complained. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Of course not, Victor," she said, her soft hand moving to his armored shoulder. "You are just bi-neutral."

"Bi-neutral?"

"You are attracted to both good and evil. You’re young, so you’re still exploring your karmic identity. It’s fine. I have bi-neutral tendencies too!"

Victor looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "You do?"

"Yes, there was that dashing paladin my adventurer party kept fighting..." Camilla sighed as if reminiscing about shameful days. "Victor, it is time I give you the talk."

"The talk about what?"

"About where falls and redemption come from. You see, when a [Paladin] and a [Necromancer] get close enough, sometimes, they start having unprotected charisma checks. It’s fun, very fun, but eight months later, it results in a redemption or a fall. It’s a really messy process."

"Are we talking about sex or [Paladins]?" Victor blurted out.

"About [Paladins]," Camilla clarified her intent. "There was a knight my party had a feud with when we were both mortals. He had a high charisma stat, me too, we kept having close encounters... you can see where it led. We never went beyond kissing and making out, but it was passionate. I even left my party and necromancy behind for a time; Jesty tried everything to make me reconsider, shouting that I was making a mistake. He was right, but I was curious, and smitten."

It didn’t take a genius for Victor to figure out who was the [Paladin] in question. "The scriptures never mentioned that part."

"Because it ended poorly, for both of us. I was making efforts to mend our alignment differences, but he wanted more than I was willing to give. He asked me to have a redemption, while I didn’t want that kind of commitment; I was ready to make a compromise, stop necromancy if I could keep a harem on the side, but he wanted it all. So-called good guys think they mean well, but in the end, all they want is to control you. Reshape you in their image, make you conform. Very narcissistic when you think about it."

He could practically taste the bitterness in her voice. Of course, while the Vizier kept it for himself, he knew that she was probably biased; he only had one side of the story to listen to.

"We had fights, and I returned to my necromancy to blow off steam. Eventually, he tried to lock me up after I woke up an ancient Cyclops [Lich] to get his [Wand of Mass Destruction]; I felt so betrayed, that I invented vampirism to spit on that sun my white knight loved so much. Nasty breakup, I hope that you never experience one like it. But you know who stood by me when the dust settled? My party. They always had my back, even after I blew them off."

Victor thought about Vainqueur, Jules, and the other people who had stuck with him one disaster after another.

Camilla must have read his mind. "Karma, lovers, and [Paladins] come and go Victor, but friends like your dragon? They remain."

"Is that the moral of the story?"

"No, the moral is, do not have unprotected charisma checks with Kia Bekele. Use [Protection from Good], maybe [Protection from Order] if you feel paranoid."

The Vizier felt a strong urge to facepalm. "Okay, but it doesn’t apply to my situation. Miel was a friend that I manipulated for my personal gain."

"Which fits my point," Camilla replied. "Friends are special people that you must always treat with respect, because they will stand by you when you make a mistake. Everyone else is expendable, but you must never take a friendship for granted. Do not abuse their trust or goodwill, lest they run out of it. Now, why did you want to get into that dreary Heaven?"

"Because I liked Miel, I thought that she was bi-neutral too and that I could get into a good afterlife by paying for it."

As he spoke, he suddenly understood the hidden question. No, he hadn’t tried to get to Heaven on merit; his own scam proved it. Neither did the good, unforeseen consequences of his own fraud make up for the selfish intent behind it.

While it hurt, Miel was within her right to ghost him. She had genuinely tried to help him, and he repaid her trust with lies because deep down he had been unwilling to fully commit to her program. Camilla was right; if he had respected Miel he should have been honest with her from day one.

Maybe he should start with being honest with himself. Accept that he had made bad choices and live with the consequences.

"I’m fine with a balanced life," Victor realized. "I'm fine with not living up to Heaven's standards nor going all the way down like Goblina did; I should just do what I feel is right and make me happy."

"Exactly, and there is nothing wrong with being neither an angel nor a fiend," Camilla gave him a supportive nod. "You can be both."

"I’m bi-neutral and proud of it!" the Vizier declared. "And who cares if I can’t get into Heaven anymore? I’m still going to get that [Fiendish Rake] class!"

"And I would be very glad to help with that," his patron goddess said. "I did promise you a gift if you managed to revive yourself on your own…"

"About that, I have a friend in trouble with Seng," Victor said. "Can you help with that instead? As you said, I have to stick to my party."

Camilla looked extremely disappointed.

44: Interlude: The Princess Documentary

"Far away, in the depths of Castle Gardemagne," the dragon said, as a beautiful keep with shining white halls appeared on the reflective surface, "lives a deadly predator; the remnant of a bygone age where manling kings numbered in the thousand, fighting both themselves and the wild.

His trusty [Scrying Crystal Ball] zoomed in on the castle, onto a bedroom located at a tower’s top.

"An insidious, cunning beast, whose beauty is only matched by its cruelty. The most dangerous game of all."

A fair, human maiden with long green hair peeked out the window, looking down with envy at the castle’s gardens. Her beautiful skin turned red with envy, as she noticed a blonde, busty woman talking with a dashing prince near a patch of flowers; her eyes were set on the competitor's pendant and jewels.

"The Manling Princess."

The maiden left with a hiss, to protect her territory against the intruder. As the apex predator of decadent manling courts, this savage conflict could only end in two ways.

She would kill, or be killed.

"Princesses are smart," the dragon said, leaving his den and crystal ball behind, his princess bag in hand. "They need to, to become queens. They kill for many reasons: to mate, for status, for pleasure. But out of all the beasts populating the animal kingdom, only the Manling Princess will kill for money; for humans are born greedy. That makes her the most dangerous princess of all; the dragonliest princess."

The dragon flew over the ruins of the city, and the pens outside its confines. His apprentice’s minions had built large, district-wide walled areas, one for each feral princess. The wyrm had taken exquisite care in their development, recreating the natural environment of each princess within; an arid sandcastle for the Elf Princess, a small plain for Centaur Princess, a fungi garden for Mushroom Princess...

"I am Grandrake, and I have been a Princess Hunter all my life; long before the dragon-made system recognized it officially." The wyrm looked down on Mushroom Princess’ pen, watching her have tea with Allison the Dryad. She was the closest to being released back to the wild. "Princesses and dragons are not meant to coexist for long. But most of the princesses here, at my new Wildlife Reserve in El Goldorado, had to be removed from the wild. They turned feral, dangerous to each other… and to themselves."

All because of this forgetful curse’s fault!

Grandrake had felt great guilt at having left these poor princesses to fend for themselves; he would not rest until they could regain their true nobility. Thanks to a dwarf-made portal, the dragon empire of V&V had allocated resources and staff to the project, making the wildlife reserve fully functional. Kobolds watched from above the walls, careful that the princesses didn’t escape, nor that outsiders disturbed the experiment.

Grandrake approached Elf Princess’ pen, finding her lording over a group of succubi from the ruins of her sandcastle. When the dragon landed near her den, the posse instantly turned tense. He opened the bag and grabbed a cake.

"Elf Princesses are very territorial; when interacting with them, you must play by their rules." Grandrake left the royal strawberry cake at the periphery of the princess’ vision, showing deference. "When you feed them, you must do it subtly, presenting it as a gift; or else they may refuse your food out of pride. Some are even ready to starve themselves to death; for no cost is too high, to psychologically dominate the dragon."

"Is he talking to himself?" a succubus said, rich enough for Grandrake to hear her. She must have been upper middle-class, maybe an office worker.

"Always," the Elf Princess said with an unhappy face.

"Having fed on princess flesh for decades, she must get used to her natural diet," Grandrake said. "Chocolate, truffles, brioche, oysters… do not ever give these beautiful creatures bread though. If a Princess is fed commoner food, then in time, she becomes half a peasant herself. Let them eat cake."

The dragon discreetly left the pen, watching from above until the princess accepted the gift. Happy, Grandrake left to continue his feeding tour, checking out how all of the captives handled their newfound courts. No fair maiden shared their pen with another.

"Princesses are pack animals, but they cannot stand each others’ company for long except in extreme circumstances," Grandrake explained. "For when they do, jealousy sets in, and they fight to become queens. Instead, their natural pack is a girl posse; a Princess dominates lesser female nobles as the alpha and then bullies commoners. During the mating season, males flock to them, fighting for the princess’ favor; sometimes, even dueling to the death."

But it was too early to introduce fair maidens to male partners yet. After years of princess cannibalism, these maidens had lost their kind’s normal social behavior. They had forgotten the habits needed to thrive in the wider world.

Due to a lack of elves, the empire had instead sent what could pass for noble ladies: female vampires and succubi. The dragon had introduced groups of them to the captive princesses, so they could form posses.

"It is not an optimal solution, but the only one we have for now. It will take years before we can return most of these princesses to the wild." Grandrake shook his head sorrowfully, as he watched Centaur Princess run around her pen in frustration. "Princesses aren’t meant to be herded. To flourish, princessness needs to be atop a social hierarchy; if a dragon looms over it, it cannot express itself. These flowers need light to bloom."

However, with the number of princesses decreasing, many dragons had tried to preserve the species however they could. Some even tried to raise them in captivity, but desperate measures can never result in anything beautiful.

"Once, princesses were common across the land, but my kind overhunted them for their princessness. So princesses adapted, rearing a male subspecies called knights to defend themselves; the rarity and danger only made them more desirable."

The rediscovery of the dragon-made system, though, could change everything. Grandrake had heard that Blightswamp had managed to turn her daughters into princesses; if true, then it could be the greatest breakthrough in Princessology since the invention of the [Virgin Princess Radar].

After touring the pen, Grandrake flew to the dense jungle.

"My assistants informed me that a knight was sighted nearby," he said, looking at the trees for any sign of movement. "Knights are dangerous, both to princesses and to Princess Hunters themselves. I like to think that my lessons about how to treat their metal sword bites saved many young, inexperienced dragons from death. Yes, I am an explorer and collector first, but education will always be important to me."

For the elder dragon wasn’t stupid. He knew that he lived a dangerous lifestyle and that one day, a fomor knight might get lucky and end his life; his near-death experience from the Curse of Greed had taught him well. His mind might get duller, his body slower from wounds garnered in dangerous hunts. He could not let his knowledge die with him.

"If a knight captures a princess, it will attempt to breed with her by guile or force. If the knight is a prince or a noble, then the result of coupling will be a trueborn princess." Grandrake shook his head. "But this one is another kind entirely; an invasive species."

A commoner.

"If allowed to mate, the commoner will pass on inferior bastard genes onto the progeny," Grandrake explained the danger. "Which disrupts the entire princess social hierarchy. It often takes generations for a princess lineage to recover from bastardry, and with their current, dwindling population, this cannot be allowed."

Grandrake looked at the horizon with sorrowful eyes, at the distant bright sun.

"Dwarf princesses have become extinct because we…" He stopped. "Because I wasn’t vigilant enough."

He couldn't allow elf and manling princesses to vanish too.

"An operation like this needs teamwork." The dragon reached a clearing, where an armored red dragon and her scaled minions had gathered. "This is where my new apprentice Jolie comes in, alongside our Kobold Ranger assistants."

"Your Majesty, who are you talking to?" Red Ranger asked. Since he was a true minion, Grandrake managed to hear his words, even though he lacked the net worth needed to break past the wealth sound barrier.

"To myself. I simply love the sound of my own voice, it makes for exquisite conversation."

"So wyrmlike," young Jolie said in adoration.

"It will come with age," Grandrake told his apprentice. "Practice every day. Even when others ignore you, you must keep going. A true discussion is never about them; it is all about you."

The younger wyrm nodded ferociously, flying after the older dragon as they patrolled the jungle, both humming the air. The kobold rangers formed a circle, to force the knight into action.

The creature was cunning, scouting the pens from afar and then retreating in the wilderness. In time, he may slip inside a princess’ lair and then lay his eggs where he shouldn’t.

Grandrake couldn’t leave this operation to chance, so he had hired a specialist. The lycan known as Chocolatine scoured the forest in wolf form, sniffing the ground. While no refined werewolf princess, this professional minion could smell prey from miles away.

It didn’t take her long to locate the intruder. "Over there!" she shouted, Grandrake noticing movement in the thick, high grass.

There! Under the shadow of a tree!

A manling knight, with steel armor painted green! The perfect disguise in this thick, dangerous forest.

The knight’s mouth moved in silence, threatening the dragon with his tiny weapon, an icy halberd. Clearly this one had come prepared, ready to fight a dragon by exploiting their common weakness to frost.

Yet, he had made an error, mistaking the Princess Hunter for a fire dragon, instead of a lightning wyrm.

"I cannot understand his barking," Grandrake noted. "Which means that he must live in a barn. This one looks young, inexperienced, but I cannot take any risks. I must shoot it with my breath quickly and decisively. Thankfully, a lightning dragon like myself is a knight’s natural predator."

The ancient wyrm opened his mouth, crackling electricity building up in his stomach. Grandrake opened his mouth, unleashing a mighty blue bolt at the creature. Covered in steel as he was, the knight became a living lightning rod; he was fried on the spot and collapsed.

"Then, I crush the body under my claw," Grandrake explained, landing on the animal. "You see, while noble knights are eager to kill themselves, commoners have a strong survival instinct. They play dead. As a Princess Hunter, I must eat them whenever I can, poor taste be damned."

Which the dragon did.

"When I was young, a commoner knight tricked me this way, impregnating my freshly caught Werewolf Princess with a bastard litter." So said Grandrake, as he swallowed the knight whole, sword first. "I only learned the truth after finding his half-eaten bones in a hole, the pelvis missing."

"Teacher, teacher!" Jolie called, as she landed next to him. "Who is the most beautiful princess of all? Should a dragon limit themselves to certain species?"

"In the eyes of a true hunter, all princesses are beautiful, Young Jolie," Grandrake taught her. "A true dragon does not discriminate!"

Jolie listened religiously. Grandrake knew that he had found a worthy apprentice; eager to learn, confident enough to ask, to question.

"Our task is not yet done, Young Jolie," the older dragon declared, examining the spot where the manling intruder hid. "For knights always travel in groups of two. The master and the squire."

Which of them did they hunt? The master… or the squire?

"It must be the squire," said Young Jolie. "I know because I am one too! I always charged first while Kia lagged behind!"

"A dragon can become a squire?" Grandrake asked, astonished.

"Yes, thanks to the System!" Jolie said proudly. "And one day I will become a true knight too!"

This… this challenged many of his beliefs. But a true Princess Hunter had to be willing to learn. He had to assume that the master was out there, waiting for his moment.

"Young Jolie’s insight gives me hope. That a new generation of dragons will rise, empowered by this System, and more mindful of the environment than their elders. The heroes that could save princesses from extinction." Grandrake looked at the horizon as if he could glimpse the trials to come. "Only time will tell."

How long would they have to keep these princesses captive? To shield them against armored poachers?

Could he even release some of them? Mushroom nobles were long gone, and elves were extremely rare. For some princesses, finding purebred partners to continue their lineage would be difficult; sometimes, near-impossible.

Young Vainqueur had suggested breeding them with his chief of staff, arguing about the quality of his genes, but Grandrake was skeptical. While he might count as a noble prince of the V&V Empire, the child wouldn’t be purebred; and he worried about long-term inbreeding. Still, he couldn’t let these proud creatures become extinct.

There was no easy solution to this problem.

"The life of a Princess Hunter is full of hard choices, and tough compromises," Grandrake said, knowing that today’s monologue would soon come to an end. "As dragons explore the world in search of levels, we must learn to give these fair maidens their space. Only then, will we be able to coexist in peace."

For a true Princess Hunter’s job was never fully done.

45: Baths and Munchkins

What a wonderful looking place.

Vainqueur glanced at the enormous, steamy bath in front of him, bordered by natural stone walls and wooden pipes. The pagoda-like inn that oversaw the area overshadowed it from a hill above, blocking out half of the sun.

"You could fit an army inside!" His chief of staff observed, wearing only a toga fitting his wings and tail as he walked on the stone pathway. "It's as large as a lake!"

"Minion, what do they call it again?" the dragon asked, touching the water with his claw and finding it to be just the right temperature. The locals had wisely left the place, offering it for dragon use alone.

"Onsen, Your Majesty."

"Could they not call it a bath?" Vainqueur said as he slipped inside the hot, steamy waters, letting out a moan of pleasure. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but it felt like lava. His mighty body caused the water level to rise up, swallowing stones and bonsai. "Perfect."

You have entered the [Onsen] Field.

Your status ailments will be cured, and you will recover HP and SP at an accelerated pace.

After saving the world from hunger with his new Tarasque feeding plan, Vainqueur had decided to take a short break on his trip across Outremonde. Since they had around forty days left before Samhain, he thought he could afford some leisure time.

"Minion, what are you waiting for?" Vainqueur asked, as his Manling didn’t join him in the bath. "It is not lava by any means, but it should do."

"Later, Your Majesty," the minion said, ever dutiful. "I still have stuff to do before I can relax; reforge my Perks, extract information from Mag Mell’s soul, check up on Kia…"

"What has that poor excuse of a [Paladin] done this time?"

"She’s having withdrawal symptoms. Allison had to lock her in her bedroom to avoid a scene."

Vainqueur sighed. After having opened a new portal between Murmurin and this country's capital, his chief of staff had summoned key minions to handle administrative matters. "That was inevitable. Spending weeks in my naked presence has made her addicted to me. It happens to my minions all the time."

His chief of staff said nothing; he alone had the strength of will to resist his Vainqueur addiction, and even then never for long. "Your Majesty, I still think we should use this break to train a little. With Mag Mell’s soul on hands, I have been able to locate the fomors’ exp farm, and in all likelihood, we will face heavy opposition there."

"Minion, I am considering why we should even make a stop there."

"But that’s the place where they level up!" his minion protested.

"And instead of growing as it should have, my wealth has been slowly depleted!" Vainqueur said, vowing to remind Indebted Allison of how much she cost him. The money they received from conquering the country had barely returned his hoard to its pre-Akhenapep size. "Hunting fairies is good, but it makes us lose sight of this trip’s true goal: gathering enough money to shame Icefang on Samhain! The few time we fought fomors, they did not drop any gold at all!"

"I’m sure the locals will pay a heavy price to get rid of them—"

"If they do, yes, I shall deign to burn that farm to the ground," Vainqueur interrupted. "But I want you to focus on money-making quests first. Like my dodo trade plan."

"I admit selling homegrown male dodos to exp-starved nations while maintaining a monopoly on the females should prove lucrative," Manling Victor said as if it wasn’t obvious. "But it will take months to breed a sufficient population; same as with opening our portal network to foreign trade and global tourism. Samhain will pass by in either case."

"Friend Victor, you do not see that we can leverage one of the most powerful forces in the world," Vainqueur said. "Dwarf addiction."

His chief of staff raised an eyebrow. "Dwarf addiction?"

"We have access to a Whiskey Sea, which from what I understand your species use as a substitute to dwarf consumption," Vainqueur said. "I will have minions pump it dry, then sell bottles to your kindred. The Agarthans will be so glad that we spared them from dwarf addicts' depredations, that they will pay me a greater tribute."

"That’s… that’s actually very smart," Manling Victor said, considering the matter. "We could quickly pump the whiskey sea and sell cheap drinks to Gardemagne and Barin."

"I order you not to overdwarf on our own product though. One time was one too many. "

"That’s still going to take time to set up," his Vizier said, always a pessimist. "And I doubt we can sell enough bottles to grow Your Majesty’s hoard in forty days."

"What about conquering a new country?" Vainqueur suggested. "It has worked wonders for me so far."

"There is a southern landmass which has yet to be settled at all, and which should be rich in natural resources, in particular gold…" Vainqueur’s head raised above the waters with interest, making the minion cough. "But it’s Hell on Earth in my homeworld. I cannot imagine how bad it must be in Outremonde."

"I shall conquer Prydain in due time," Vainqueur said, unafraid. "I welcome the practice run. For the greater hoard, no sacrifice is too low."

"Alternatively, we could go to Nagastan or the Jade Empire," Manling Victor said. "They’re the richest countries in the world, and Nagastan, in particular, pays well for quests. As a Claimed of Shesha, I could get us deals there."

"Yes, yes, I trust you to map out our destinations," Vainqueur replied dismissively. "But I will accept no less than a million coins per task. I am a star, minion, and you know it. We must increase our wealth standards."

Manling Victor excused himself to prepare the trip, leaving Vainqueur alone. The dragon quickly rested against the stones like a crocodile on a riverbank; the experience couldn’t match resting on his hoard, but it helped ease the pain from his wounds. The Tarasque’s minion conversion had left bruises.

The dragon closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth, his mind slipping into thoughts about the future. While he had sacrificed short-term wealth to revive his minions, such was the duty of an Emperor to reward those who died for him.

The dragon suddenly wondered what would happen to his empire once he reached godhood. While the place only served to fuel his hoard first and foremost, he had grown to enjoy ruling it. Could he keep doing so after passing the Valhalla trials?

He was three-quarters of the way through after all.

"It burns."

Vainqueur’s eyes snapped open, as he recognized the voice.

A dragon’s voice.

"I warned you, you should have leveled up in [Paladin] of Mithras instead of [Pyromancer]," someone else commented. "You would have gotten a [Fire] immunity Perk by now, instead of a mere Resistance."

"And Skill is one of your dump stats," a third, female creature said. "[Paladin] would have boosted your Strength and Charisma."

Vainqueur immediately pinpointed the source of the noise as behind the nearest stone wall. He immediately looked above and at the large bath beyond it.

Three smaller dragons occupied a steamy lake there, one black, one green, and the last one...

"ICEFANG!" Vainqueur roared, bringing the three dragons’ attention upon him.

"VAINQUEUR!" his white-scaled rival roared back, extending his wings in defiance and throwing water all around.

"Oh, Vainqueur!" the green dragon waved a hand at the Emperor. Vainqueur identified him as Magnifique, one of the guests at his latest Bragging Day and an adventurer he met while hunting the Blue Rose Legion. "Great to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Vainqueur glared at Icefang. "You have come to sabotage me again?"

"I am a [Ninja]!" Icefang hissed in response. "I train in this city!"

"Suboptimally," said the third member of the dragon trio, a black wyrm with two long horns. Suffisante, Vainqueur remembered, her name is Suffisante. "Why he chose a puny class with such a high Skill threshold I will never understand."

"This ‘puny class’ allowed me to dominate Vainqueur in our last spare!" Icefang lied through his teeth.

"That is not how I remember it!" Vainqueur replied angrily, now mostly out of the water with his two hands on the wall. To think that his rival would ruin his vacation by showing up unannounced! "My minion had to beg me to spare your life!"

"You will be the one begging on Samhain when my hoard humiliates yours whole in its shininess!" Icefang showed his fangs. "How is yours, by the way? Smaller than a hill I imagine!"

"Bigger than a mountain!" Vainqueur lied, refusing to lose face.

"Boys, can you tone it down?" Suffisante asked, as the noise caused birds to fly away. "You’re making the minions flee!"

"What are you doing with this silver-lover?" Vainqueur glared at her and Magnifique.

"We joined his guild a while ago," Magnifique said. "The Silver Dragon Adventurer Company."

"We cooperate for quests and share the loot." Suffisante nodded. "Money without risks!"

"And no minion kickbacks!"

"I thought you had better tastes," Vainqueur grumbled. How could any dragon worth their weight in gold join this second-rate Frost Dragon?

"Speak for yourself, you lost the Goldslayer," Icefang taunted his rival. "How much gold did he pay you for it? Or maybe… or maybe he paid you in lead?"

The Emperor’s eyes saw red. "You take that back!"

"Come on, we are dragons, we are better than this," Magnifique said, cheerful. "You can fight on Samhain."

"Indeed, my net worth will speak for itself," Vainqueur replied haughtily, refusing to sink to Icefang’s level of pettiness. "The hoard that made even Furibon repent from his evil ways."

"Mmm," Icefang replied dismissively, smirking arrogantly. "Haven’t you heard, Knightsbane? I have become the richest dragon in the world! And I would have become even richer were it not for that goblin…"

"The previous Daimyo hired us to save his empire from some goblin warlord, but when we arrived, he had already been eaten and replaced," Suffisante explained the situation to Vainqueur. "We complained to the new goblin minion administration, who reimbursed our travel costs and offered us free vacations as apologies."

"Ah!" Vainqueur mocked Icefang, rejoicing at having taken a quest right under his nose.

"I swear, when I find my [Heroic Crest], I will make you choke on your arrogance," the frost dragon hissed.

"A [Heroic Crest] like the one I received from Wotan Dragonbane?" Vainqueur raised his head with pride, as the other dragons looked at him as if he had grown more heads than a Zmey.

"You defeated Dragonbane?" Magnifique had stars in his eyes.

"You can get a [Heroic Crest] from defeating a fomor?" Suffisante asked, only interested in growing stronger.

"Even if you had the Perks needed to see them, the sight of my," Vainqueur took a deep breath, "seventy-five levels would have left you blind!"

"Lies!" Icefang complained.

"Let me check…" Suffisante’s eyes widened. "[Augustus] thirty, [Witchfinder General] fourteen, [Kaiser] seventeen, [Dungeon Breeder] ten, and [Geomancer] four! Seventy-five!"

Vainqueur pumped up his chest, happy to receive the spotlight he deserved.

"What kind of subpar build is that?" Suffisante said, half-amazed, half-mockingly.

"Yes, Vainqueur, how do you get anything done?" Magnifique replied, astonished.

The Emperor frowned, astonished by the reaction. "Excuse you?"

"I know you are a pioneer in the dragon System, but your classes are all over the place!" Suffisante said. "You do not even try to optimize!"

"Why should I optimize perfection?" Vainqueur pointed out the obvious. "Your argument is illogical."

"Dragon perfection can always be built upon," Suffisante replied.

"I still think it is better to cover our natural weaknesses than increase our strength," Icefang argued, seemingly almost as annoyed by the other dragon’s arrogance as Vainqueur himself. "I solved my Skill weakness and [Fire] vulnerability! Soon, I will become immune even to [Fairy]!"

"You can become immune to fairies?" Vainqueur asked, his contempt for his rival overcome by curiosity. After all, fairies and dragons had warred for so long that they had become vulnerable to one another; if Wotan Dragonbane could overcome this problem, so could Vainqueur.

"I have, by becoming a [Priest]," Magnifique boasted. "One of the manling gods provides [Fairy] resistance at level seventeen, which can be increased to immunity with the right magical item!"

"A [Priest]?" Vainqueur was aghast. "You became the minion of a manling?"

"Far from that. I made the goddess Leone my minion, and now she gives me beautiful spells whenever I order her too!" The green dragon proudly showed a small pendant around his neck, representing a shield and a pen joined together. "Alongside [Fairy] resistance, as the goddess of might, she can provide a Strength bonus equal to my [Priest] level, on top of magical buffs!"

"We calculated that he could deal thousands of damage with swords if he gains Perfect Proficiency in them," Suffisante added, losing Vainqueur’s interest with her technicalities. "Hence why he took levels in [Paladin] too!"

"I have to follow a code of minion deontology, help manlings solve their problems, but this is just a technicality," Magnifique said dismissively. "I hope that they solve this design flaw soon."

"I agree, why should dragon class features require that you help lesser beings?" Suffisante shook her head. "At least you have it easy. I have to garden and tend to forests to keep my [Vestal] of Cybele perks active."

"Stop complaining, you have S in HP growth and you can use it as your main stat for spellcasting instead of that useless Intelligence… or Skill!"

"Skill is not useless!" Icefang snarled. "You have seen the [Jutsu] I can use with it!"

"Yes, yes, we know, you always land critical hits," Suffisante replied dismissively. "But once I get Crested, I will be the one capable of turning the raw forces of nature into my minions!"

"I wonder if [Witch] wouldn’t be better as your new class after getting past level thirty," Magnifique pondered. "[Chronomancer] is very powerful, but difficult to level-up in and runs on Intelligence, while [Witch] uses Charisma and meshes better with [Vestal]."

"She should get [Bard] to buff herself up!" Icefang said. "Like a [Ninja]!"

"I still do not understand why these deities refuse to claim us," Magnifique whined. "Imagine the stats we could have if we were claimed by all twelve. Yet not one of them accepted!"

Vainqueur watched the trio argue about numbers, stats, and values, clearly having lost sight of what truly mattered.

"My fellow wyrms," he spoke up, "have you forgotten that all classes are good, so long as you are an invincible dragon?"

"Yes, obviously," Magnifique admitted, "But some classes are classier than others."

"Your [Dungeon Breeder] has zero fighting applications," Suffisante added.

"Because you lack imagination!" Vainqueur defended his hard-won levels. "I tamed the strongest minion in the world, and soon I shall breed an army of them!"

"I can easily [Enthrall] any animal with the right [Prayer], and I can create powerful minions from seeds," Suffisante said. "Seeds!"

"They are not as powerful as a [Fisherman]’s minions though," Magnifique added.

"That Perk, no matter how powerful, does not make up for the nineteen useless levels that come before it."

"Are they always like this?" Vainqueur asked Icefang as they continued arguing, his rival seeming to share his frustration.

"Sadly," the frost dragon replied. "I fear that once they get past level thirty, they will become unbearable."

"You can still arrange things a little, Vainqueur," Suffisante said, after realizing that the bigger dragon had lost interest in the conversation. "While it is true that you can never achieve our power once we reach your level—"

"If you reach my level," Vainqueur pointed out. Considering their lack of dragon common sense, he did not believe it likely.

"But if you take levels in [Crusader] now—"

"Classes and Perks matter, but not as much as how they are used, and by whom," Vainqueur replied. "Look at me. I am me. Why should I gain new classes when those I have already allowed me to prevail time and time again?"

Magnifique and Suffisante exchanged a glance. "I do not get it," said the former. "Do you mean that you can gain powerful personal Perks when using suboptimal classes?"

Vainqueur shook his head, annoyed at his dragon brethren. Couldn’t they understand that the only classes that mattered, were those making them richer and more glamorous? Who cared who had the highest statistical score, when they already had the perfect measure of one’s worth in a hoard?

Such were the woes of a visionary. His impact on dragon society had unforeseen side-effects.

"Anyway, my wealth will prove that my path is the best," Vainqueur declared proudly, preparing to return to his bath.

"Leaving so soon, Vainqueur?" Icefang hissed. "Have we touched a nerve? Are you afraid that your class combination pales before mine?"

"Even the best classes in the world cannot turn silver to gold," Vainqueur taunted him.

"But the worst of them can turn gold to lead!"

The red dragon turned around, glaring at his rival. "Careful. You sound suicidal."

"You could not beat me in combat, and I am sure you could not beat the Goldslayer either!" Icefang persisted in his madness. "Even with fewer levels, I am better optimized. I can take you anytime."

"Hey, stop!" Magnifique interrupted both before they could come to blows. "There are more civilized ways to settle your feud! Like a minion battle!"

"That will not do," Icefang replied, lightning cackling between his eyes and that of his nemesis.

"What about a quest then?" Suffisante said. "We pick a quest, and we see who can solve it the fastest!"

Vainqueur considered the proposal, an idea coming to mind. "If you insist," he said. "There is this fairy farm I have been meaning to burn…"

46: A Slice of Cat

My name is Victor Dalton, and if you read this, then it means that I am dead. Again.

As he wrote down his will, the Vizier realized that this line had lost its impact.

In his will, the Vizier distributed his belongings between his friends. Chocolatine had the lion’s share with ownership of his manor, but he also rewarded Malfy, Jules, Isabelle, and Charlene with his magical items. Allison would get custody of Vainqueur Junior; Kia, of Gorynych and his horse. He also donated all his undead servants to Camilla’s church, as thanks for training him personally.

He knew that he had done everything he could to achieve immortality, with enough back-up plans to recover from his potential fourth death. But he remembered vividly how Mell Odieuse murdered him before she earned any levels.

One day, Victor’s luck might run out, or he could confront something capable of stealing his soul the [Reaper] way. He had followed enough Evil Overlord seminars to know that no one was invincible and to prepare for the worst.

After writing down everything, Victor put the scroll near his desk, then moved to the window. He had rented the local inn’s biggest bedroom, a condo decorated in an elegant, minimalist, Japanese style. Vainqueur was arguing with the other dragons in the private baths, which should leave the Vizier with a day off to do as he wished.

[Skeleton Key] activated!

Huh? Odd.

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," the Vizier asked, Jules and Malfy stepping inside. The necromancer carried a scroll in hands, and the fiend a pile of papers.

"Sir," the necromancer bowed respectfully, before examining his scroll. "Every hour of your day off is booked. You start with a training breakfast with Kia Bekele, a morning walk with your pets, the Infercorp shareholder assembly, blood tea time with Charlene after sundown, a dinner with miss Chocolatine, and then your suicide."

"You don’t think I will make it?" Victor asked.

"Sir, only one out of twenty people have survived the Kamacybele, and the ones who do often lose their souls," Jules replied calmly. "Statistically speaking, while you possess exceptional abilities, I must assume the worst. Thankfully, in your case death will be the metamorphosis into the undead you were always meant to be."

"And your soul will reincarnate as a demon afterward," Malfy nodded. "This is the very definition of a zero-soul emission scenario."

"Please don’t make my corpse a zombie though," Victor pleaded, suddenly wondering if leaving his remains for Jules to manage was a good idea. "A handsome skeleton or vampire I can handle, but no zombies."

"Sir, you need to be alive for vampirism to take root, and your disease resistance makes that a moot point."

Victor realized that the necromancer hadn’t promised anything. "What about Allison? Isabelle?"

"Miss Chocolatine invited Allison to the dinner, so I booked both at the same time," Jules replied. "As for Isabelle Maure, she had a medical rendezvous and couldn’t make it."

What was up with her lately? Victor promised himself to investigate later. "Since I’m having Chocolatine sleep over tonight—"

"Miss Allison set the protection spells in the building," Malfy said. "Also, you should be happy to learn that I commissioned the ‘Close Team Building’ special for your shareholder assembly. All your succubi associates will attend, alongside our horizontal office interns."

Did the demons even know to have an assembly without drugs and whores? Still, since the fiend had stuck with the Vizier through almost everything, being nothing but loyal and supportive, Victor overlooked it.

"Malfy, I know you wish to be [Mook Promoted], but my perk won’t let me and I don’t understand why," Victor said. "I mean, you helped us with Akhenapep! What more should you need?"

"I have figured it out," Malfy explained. "It appears that my superior’s continued existence prevents social mobility. He is expected to have his Chocolatine severance package soon."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No." The fiend shook his head. "Although, if I could ask a favor…"

"Anything for a friend," Victor said.

"Then here is the bill to legalize hellhound fights." Malfy handed him a paper. "Which should prove a trendy alternative to all those underground hobo arenas."

"You sponsor hellhound fights?" Jules asked.

"No, but my nephew opened a start-up in that field. He is family, and as a member of the government, it would be rude not to give him a state monopoly."

The breakfast with Kia was… awkward.

She had eaten her eggs and bacon, but she hadn’t touched her coffee, milk, or orange juice. She stared at the liquids like a zombie at a brain.

"So, uh… you’re doing alright?" Victor asked, having traded his armor for casual clothes to put her at ease. Clearly it hadn’t worked.

"I’m managing," she lied.

It was even worse than he thought. "I know you are feeling vulnerable, and that you may have some dark ideas in mind," he said, trying to preempt an accident. "You should consider using [Protection from Chaos] or [Protection from Evil] when we interact."

"Mithras gave me the talk about unprotected charisma checks."

Wow, did the entire pantheon refuse to have them interact? "Then you safely confide in me," the Vizier said, having taken Camilla’s advice about friendship seriously. "Your mood is getting worse and worse. It cannot just be about alcohol."

"No, it isn’t," she admitted. "Everything tastes like saltwater."

Victor frowned. "Wait, even coffee?"

"Coffee, and milk, and juices." Kia's eyes darknened. "The bartender was wrong. She didn't stop at alcoholic beverages."

"Tea too?"

"Everything but unsalted water tastes like saltwater!" She had tears in her eyes. "Even potions!"

It would have been kinder for Seng to sink her country, as she had threatened. "Kia I promise I will do everything to solve this," he swore. "I have called upon my godly patrons. Just be patient."

"Thanks, but I just want to think of something else right now," she grumbled. "When are we hitting the road again?"

"In a few days. Thanks to [Harvest], I have found the location of the fomors’ Exp Farm, but I will need a bit more time to gather every piece of information available."

"You have all of Mag Mell’s knowledge kept within it; it will probably take months to get everything," she said, sighing. "Maybe we can train then? I want to focus on something, anything!"

"I have some time." Victor nodded. "I thought I could finally get around to using [Perk Forge] and fuse the unnecessary Perks."

"Leave it to me," she said, latching on the first opportunity to focus on martial matters. "We’ll review your monster perks and find the best combinations in no time."

Choice registered. You combined [Blood Fountain], [Sonic Scales], and [Vampire Kiss] into [Blood Pulse].

[Blood Pulse]: Technique, Sound effect, 80 SP. You can emit a sonic pulse causing the blood of every creature within three hundred and fifty meters to boil, causing massive [Blood] damage and death on a failed [Vitality] check. A successful [Vitality] check avoids death but causes a [Strength]/[Vitality] debuff.

Choice registered. You combined [Blackfyre], [Bad Breath], and [Corroding Poison] into [Noxious Fire].

[Noxious Fire]: Technique, 1 SP per second. You can unleash purple, poisonous flames from your hands, feet, or mouth; half the damage is [Dragon] type, the other [Unholy]. Contact with the flames and the smoke will inflict the [Corroding Poison] ailment on victims, bypassing Poison Resistance and downgrading Immunity.

"Babies?" Junior asked, upon looking at Gorynych. Out of the entire menagerie, Victor only kept these two monsters leashed as they toured the city’s outskirts

Unfortunately, he had been forced to leave the Tarasque behind to avoid a mess. That creature just never stopped eating stuff, to the point that Goblina had even not-so-subtly encouraged him to take it away as soon as feasibly possible.

"No, Gorynych has no sister-wife yet," the zmey replied, somehow being able to understand the mimic. Their tamer was happy to see them get along. "But Gorynych will hump anything! Like horses!"

"Sorry, but no," Noirceur said, Buzz Jelly leaping off from its back to Dodolion’s, and back again. "Being a single mother mare is a pain, thank you."

"Can you actually…" Victor asked, but didn’t dare finish it.

"Dragons can breed with anything," the horse replied, shuddering. "Anything. Where do you think my ancestors got their cool flaming hooves?"

Charlene was radiant tonight, dressed all in white and pampered like a princess.

Victor, not so much. He struggled to focus as he brought his tea to his lips, the world dark beyond the windows; from the noise, Vainqueur was still arguing with his fellow dragons. "Victor, you look terrible," the vampire said, noticing his exhaustion. She hesitated between the Dwarf Blood Whiskey and the Goblin Blood Beer, before settling on the Sparkling Elf Vodka.

"I had an intense demon shareholder assembly," he said, drinking a [Healing Potion], "and I am spent."

And he hadn't even touched any cocaine.

"What are you doing right now?"

"We have multiplied the Nightblades’ profits by three," Charlene said with pride. "I am proud that we moved their core business away from murder and theft to what a criminal syndicate should truly be about: blackmail, extortion, and money laundering. Fewer risks, more profits; that is my motto."

"That’s great, but I was asking about more casual activities."

Gods, it sounded even more awkward than in his mind. Even Charlene seemed confused… and a tiny bit ashamed. "I’ve been reading novels."

"Oh," he said. After trying to find a subject of conversation other than Murmurin’ management, he decided to cut to the heart of the matter. "Usually we only meet to talk about work or sleep together. I suddenly don’t get the feeling we know each other very well."

"I am a workaholic, so I love talking about work," Charlene replied. "As for knowing each other, we are colleagues with benefits. Nothing more."

"I lost a friend recently, and I realized that I took most people for granted," Victor replied. "Like you, Charlene. I mean, you have done a wonderful job setting up the V&V Empire as the semi-stable nation that it is today, and I never asked what you liked outside of work."

"Semi-stable?" She smiled, revealing her vampire fangs. "You are so cute, Vic. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t take you for granted too."

"Oh?" Victor quickly caught himself. "Don’t take me wrong, I’m glad, but I’m surprised. We didn’t start off on the best terms."

"I thought you could be replaced, but Murmurin almost collapsed in days when you took a break," she replied, sounding still distressed over it. "And no offense, you were an immature screw-up the first time we met, and not that handsome either. You’ve changed for the better, physically, and mentally."

Victor crossed his arms at the ‘not so handsome part,’ but tried to take it in strides. At least it was proof of his improved Charisma. "I appreciate the attention though," Charlene said, relaxing while sipping her blood drink. "The last person who tried to know me better did it to fatten me up for food."

"Maybe we start with exchanging book recommendations," Victor said.

She made a terrible face. "You promise you won’t judge?"

"Why would I?" Victor asked, surprised, as Charlene put a red book on the table. The Vizier took it, reading the title on the cover.

"‘The Breeding Frenzy, by Anonymous Super Bard,’" Victor said while flipping the page. "Chapter one, summary: the Dragon gets his minion at last."

As he started reading the first lines though, he felt an invisible, overwhelming pressure take over the room. A malevolent shadow crawling on his back, death itself moving its icy hands on his shoulders.

"It’s bad, I admit it," Charlene said, while a supernatural power compelled Victor to keep reading the hellish, poorly written script. "But it gets so bad, it becomes entertaining."

"‘Minion, you have failed to breed on your own too many times,’ said the dragon as he put his mighty claw onto his manling’s legs." Victor kept reading, finding the anonymous dragon and his trusty Vizier disturbingly similar to Vainqueur and himself. "‘Now, it is time for me to take matters into my own hands. To put my eggs in you!’"

Then came the details, and the icy hands moved to his neck—

[Insta-death] negated!

Victor managed to close the book, the wail of a thousand screaming souls silenced in the background. He panted heavily, having barely survived. "Who wrote that?" he asked Charlene. "So I can strangle them?"

"Vic, is something the matter?" Chocolatine asked as she served the main course of the meal.

"Nothing," he replied, scratching his shoulders. "I still feel the icy hands…"

"You have read one of Pink’s novels," Allison said, sitting on his left while Chocolatine moved on his right; she placed a bonsai tree near the dinner table, apparently having bonded with it to move around better. "I heard they get worse. I don’t know how, but they get worse."

"Pink?" Victor almost choked. "She wrote this crap? Why? Why would anyone?"

If the perfect argument against freedom of speech existed, it was that book!

"You are always with Vainqueur, and you became half-dragon…"

"Shush, Allison, he needs the right recipe to take his mind off those silly books!" Chocolatine said with pride, presenting her masterpiece: a stuffed pig missing its head, with vegetables for Allison. "And the right people."

"Indeed," he said, putting his hand on her own. "Thanks for setting this up, Choc. We’re definitely going on a culinary tour if I survive the Kamacybele."

"Of course you will!" she laughed. "You have [Monster Rider]! You are overprepared!"

"I’m not so sure," Allison replied, less enthusiastic. "Even experienced Cybele priests never dare to undertake it. I still don’t know what to make of this [Fiendish Rake] class."

"You are a priestess of the goddess of pleasure," Victor pointed out. "Your job is to oversee orgies!"

"She is the goddess of forests, pleasure and knowledge," Allison turned defensive. "It is different. We have primal wisdom wild orgies, not frivolous ones."

Yeah, right. "You’re just jealous you can’t bear witness."

"A bit." Although it was for her own protection; and unlike Victor, she wasn’t eager to die again. "Shouldn’t a simple orgy be enough to access [Fiendish Rake]?"

"According to Ludvic Van, my level is so high that nothing short of the Kamacybele will get me into the class," Victor replied, as he cut the pig and vegetables, before serving everyone. "I still want to get it, mostly for the Charisma and diplomatic applications."

"Please tell me that you don’t intend to make a truce with the fomors by sleeping with them," the dryad giggled. "Not that I wouldn’t mind a peaceful solution."

"Vainqueur managed to talk a Tarasque into submission, I figure I can do the same." He tasted the stuffed pig, and found it perfect. "Choc, I love it."

"You better appreciate it, he took a long time to fatten," she replied happily. "But don’t eat too much. I want to finish what we started in the Thaoten Empire, and I have the sacrificial altar ready downstairs."

Victor sighed, but accepted the sacrifice. "As you wish," he replied, briefly kissing her on the lips, while Allison watched with a strange expression. "You won’t mind, Al?"

"I am worried about you," the dryad said. "You should be training instead."

"Goblina proposed something like that, alongside buttering me up with all protective spells known to her mages," Victor replied. "But with the hopefully final battle with the fomors approaching, I figured I should focus on making time for my loved ones. You included."

The dryad smiled sheepishly. "Thanks Vic," she said, "And that reminds me I have yet to pay you back for convincing Vainqueur to raise me up."

"Just drink for both of us, since I am now immune to alcohol."

Allison shook her head, as if he had said something stupid, before exchanging glances with Chocolatine. "What?" Victor asked.

"It’s a secret," Allison replied.

"As long as it doesn’t involve that insufferable cat," the [Reaper] replied.

"It’s fine, Felix lives on in both of us now," Chocolatine replied cheerfully.

Victor looked at the meat on his plate.

On a closer look, it didn’t look like a pig all that much...

…

"Choc?"

"Yes, Vic?"

"Can I take another bite?"

Finally, the time had come.

Victor had prepared extensively, wearing his full plate armor, having drank his fill of potions, and cast twenty-five buff spells he knew. And he still felt naked before the storm to come.

"Are you ready yet?" Victor asked as Ludvic Van started drawing a summoning circle around his bed, the moon now high in the night sky. "My buffs will expire at this rate."

"I found myself distracted by the most entertaining book I found in your trashcan," Ludvic replied.

"And you… you survived it?"

"I wish I could meet the author," Ludvic Van replied, "I have so many tales worth committing to paper."

"That’s a great idea!" That Victor would make sure never became reality.

"Anyway, I finished preparing the beacon," the dandy said as he completed the circle, taking a few steps back, "Now she must accept the invitation, but since I sent it myself as her chosen, she has no reason to refuse."

"And I am ready."

"Your armor won’t protect you from this," Ludvic said bluntly. "Either you survive, or you don’t."

"It’s too late to go back." Victor shook his head. "Will there be pain?"

"If you fail, you will be vaporized in the blink of an eye, with no check allowed."

"No checks allowed?"

"No checks allowed. Do not touch her, or your soul will explode from ecstasy with no check allowed either. You just pray, and watch."

And so Victor fell to his knees, praying to Camilla. Out of all the deities that claimed him, she was the one who helped him the most. He did place a little prayer to Deathjester and Shesha though. He knew it probably wouldn’t help, but prayer was a man’s last refuge.

"I’m ready," he said, rising up. "I prepared my whole stay in Outremonde for this moment."

"Then step into the circle. Once I cast the spell though, I will have to teleport out and lock the room behind. I survived the sight once, but I am not tempting my luck. May the goddess smile on you."

Victor took a long, hard breath, and then stepped inside the circle.

The second he did, a green barrier of light formed behind him, trapping the Vizier within his own bedroom. Ludvic Van popped away, abandoning him to his fate.

Victor remained silent and still for a minute, the bedroom deserted.

"Victor Dalton." The voice was like music, as she appeared on the bedside. A hooded woman covered with a dress of moss, with only her green hands remained visible. "I have received your invitation."

"Lady Cybele," Victor said respectfully, a chill down his spine. The tone was warm, affectionate, but he couldn’t glimpse at what was under the hood for the life of him. "You know me?"

"Of course. You served me well in destroying Sablar’s wicked city, and making the desert of Ishfania green again." She put a hand on the sheet. "Lay on the bed, and relax. You are among friends."

He obeyed, tense as Happyland, and careful not to touch her.

"I have been observing you for a while, ever since Deathjester messed with my relationship table," Cybele explained with kindness, although the Vizier didn’t understand half of it. "And you are indeed as easy as they said. It pleases me."

Victor probably should have taken it badly, but she made it sound like praise. "Uh… thanks."

"While I am most certain that you will never be claimed by Mithras for your promiscuity, you have earned my favor. Few men have proven themselves worthy, but you did. I shall reward your dedication to hedonism and nature appropriately."

Victor felt something burn on his left ass cheek.

You earned the [Claimed by Cybele] personal perk!

[Claimed by Cybele]: When you level up, you have an additional 10 percent chance to gain an HP or SP boost. You are immune to [Enthrall], [Charmed], and STDs.

"Now, I know that you have called me for a purpose," she said, putting her hands on her hood. "You want a level in the [Fiendish Rake] class."

"Could I get it without the dangerous part?"

"Unfortunately not," the goddess shook her head. "But you only need to see my face for a second. If you survive this harrowing experience and remain sane, your hand must immediately reach for the potions."

"Will it be like Ludvic?"

"I roughly had the same Charisma stat as Ludvic when I ascended. Since my Perks have been upgraded to a divine level, now my face as goddess of pleasure is a weapon of mass destruction. The last mortal to see it turned into a pillar of salt, and even my fellow gods cannot help but pleasure themselves in my presence."

"That sounds… inconvenient."

"It is," she said with a heavy sigh. "Since this feature destroyed my dating life, I entertain myself by setting up other couples instead. Like yours. I lost track of how many times Isengrim petitioned me to set you up with his priestess."

"Well it worked out," Victor replied. "I still don’t understand why, but it worked out."

"It did," she said, sounding as if she knew something that he didn’t. "Now, are you ready?"

"Yes."

She removed her hood, and the room exploded in a flash of fire.

47: Looking for a Farm

It had to happen one day.

Vainqueur had pushed his minion to breed, something which he had proven surprisingly terrible at. No matter the setbacks, his chief of staff had persevered, trying to do his duty and satisfy his master.

And he had overbred.

"Minion!" Vainqueur barked. "Minion!"

His chief of staff didn’t respond, laying on the drenched inn’s courtyard with his armor on. The warm, steely plates looked as if they had been hit by King Wotan’s lightning, and his manling inside was half-dead. Even his tail had gone limp!

They had found him like this, among the wreckage of his bedroom. And he hadn’t woken up hours later.

"I told him not to do it," Goblina lamented with a sorrowful look, while Chocolatine held the unconscious chief of staff in her arms. Vainqueur’s minions had gathered in a circle around Manling Victor, alongside a few faces the dragon didn’t recognize; all the magic-users present kept casting spells on the Vizier, to no avail. "I warned him! I warned him!"

"It seems the shock was too much." Corpseling Jules shook his head. "It is a miracle he didn't die on the spot. If he hadn’t reached for his potions before falling unconscious, he would have left us..."

"You, healers." Vainqueur turned to Untasty Allison. "Wake him up!"

"We’re trying, Your Majesty!" the dryad said, Knight Kia casting [Full Heal] on the dragon’s friend. "His body functions are normal, but his soul…"

"His soul almost reached enlightenment," some redheaded manling explained. "He has experienced a bliss so great, that his soul is afraid to return to its mortal coil and find everything else disappointing. Until Victor realizes that this universe still has pleasures to offer, othan what he saw, he will not wake up."

"What greater pleasure could there be than serving me?" Vainqueur replied, looking down on his chief of staff. "Minion! Minion! I have a challenge to win! MINION!"

His friend’s body didn’t even twitch.

"I should not have pushed him," Vainqueur realized, his heart full of regret. "If his boundless love for me is not enough to wake him up…"

"He is still alive," the redhead said and shrugged. "So he is still bound to this world. Just give him time to recover from his divine vision."

"How long will it take?" Allison asked the redhead.

"It depends. It took me a full week of mind fantasies to work myself back to the waking world."

"A week?" Vainqueur frowned. "My fairy hunt challenge is due to begin in a few days! I cannot wait for a week!"

"Fairy hunt?" Kia asked, looking up at the dragon with raw desire.

"Will there be princesses?" Gorynych asked, salivating.

"You are not invited!" Vainqueur lambasted both of them, before turning to his other minions. "No matter. I will carry him in my hand."

"No, Your Majesty, don’t!" Allison pleaded. "He is completely helpless in this state, and he needs medical attention."

"There is no place safer than my side," Vainqueur insisted. "You can heal him on the way to the fairy farm."

"Your Majesty intends to attack it while carrying Victor in their palm?" Knight Kia asked. "It’s too dangerous to take him there. A random spell and he would die for good."

The dragon grumbled but considered her words. His minion may indeed be too vulnerable, and the dragon lacked the funds to raise him again for now… "Dragonly goblin."

"Yes," Goblina asked, her face the very picture of worry.

"As befitting of our alliance, I shall leave my chief of staff in your lands, until my minions nurse him back to health and I can summon him back to my side," Vainqueur said. "If anything happens to him while I am away, I will burn this island to cinders. Am I clear?"

The goblin reeled a bit at the threat but nodded. "I have the best minions in the world," she said. "A week? We will have him wake up in three days flat! But what about the Tarasque?"

"Obviously, you feed him while I am absent. Minions, I expect you to prove yourself better than her servants," Vainqueur told his own lackeys. A little minion competition could only increase their productivity. "I must leave and put Icefang in his place by burning the fairy farm first."

"I’m coming with you then," Knight Kia said.

Vainqueur looked at the uppity manling. She must have had a square root nine intelligence score not to understand that he didn’t want her around. "No."

"Can you take me, please?" the [Paladin] all but begged him, joining her hands. "Please, I need action!"

"How much then?"

Knight Kia froze. "How much what?"

"How much will you pay me for the privilege?"

Since he knew Grandrake couldn’t hear her, the dragon took the knight’s silence for an admission of poverty. When she mustered the courage to speak up, it was to haggle. "You want me to pay you for working?"

"I do not want, I require to be paid to overlook your uselessness," Vainqueur explained in terms that she would understand. "Being on an exclusive adventure with the best dragon in the world is an honor, of which you are unworthy. Without proper tribute, I cannot look the other way."

Now that he thought of it, he could make an income out of it.

"That’s—" Knight Kia stopped herself from trying to overstep her minion station, and instead let out a long sigh. "You will need someone to talk with the locals. I can fill in for Vic."

"As you filled in as my niece’s minion?" Vainqueur replied with contempt. "And I assure you that the locals will beg for the privilege of granting me guidance."

"They won’t if they can’t understand you," the [Paladin] replied. "Victor wrote down the farm’s location near Nagastan, and they don’t speak common or dragon there."

Vainqueur opened his mouth to mock her further. "Ah, I will have a minion cast a translation spell on me before I leave! Your logic is flawed!"

"The spell will wear off by the time you reach the country. I can cast it at will."

Vainqueur was about to deny her anyway until he realized that without [Master’s Shield], he would have no way to heal himself in a pinch. The [Paladin] may be a subpar minion, she could help him recover from wounds…

"Fine," Vainqueur said. "But you shall ride the zmey. My hand is too good for you."

He could already imagine the moment when his chief of staff would sweep that inbred dragon right from under the knight’s nose...

Leaving the island of Teikoku behind, Vainqueur flew in a straight line towards his destination, flying across the sea and then reaching the massive mainland. Knight Kia told him that they would cross the Jade Empire first, the name stimulating a memory. Something about a dragon helping the local manlings "cultivate."

Vainqueur would have loved to boast back and forth with this mighty kindred, but he was short on time. Icefang and his party had already left, and he needed to meet them at the farm not to default on the challenge.

The wyrm flew over the mainland for a full day, through the night and onto the next sundown while Gorynych struggled to follow. They crossed verdant forests, rice fields, and mountains; yet the manling cities they passed through seemed mostly deserted.

Their journey led them to dry lands between the ocean and an enormous chain of mountains which made the Albain Mountains look like hills. Vainqueur smelled the scent of scaled beastkin, from serpentine nagas to lizardmen, on the ground.

The dragon decided to stop at a large city on the way, a hive of round terracotta houses near a local forest. Unlike the manling stone and wooden hives to which Vainqueur had grown accustomed to, this place had been built mostly with red clay and bricks. Architects had focused on columns, pillars, and rounded roofs, while the dragon noticed the presence of tigers and elephants in vast pens nearby.

Like all the other cities they had flown over, this one seemed deserted; yet Vainqueur’s sharp senses noticed people inside the houses, too shy to face him.

"We arrived sooner than I thought!" Vainqueur rejoiced, as he landed in the empty plaza. "We may have time for a quick quest."

"A quick quest?" Kia asked, leaping off Gorynych’s back as the zmey collapsed in exhaustion.

"Gorynych is thirsty…" the zmey said. "Gorynych needs mother’s milk…"

"I must train in my classes, and fill my hoard with new gold," Vainqueur reminded Knight Kia of the purpose of life. "Now, announce my presence."

"Like what, a herald?" Knight Kia asked, showing her lack of minionship.

"My chief of staff always announces my great and magnanimous presence to primitive natives," Vainqueur told the uncultured biped, already regretting taking her on this trip. "Tell them that I bring them dragon civilization."

"Ah, alright," the knight said, quickly casting the translation spell on both herself and the best dragon of all. "Oyé Oyé, brave citizens, we come to help!"

"For money!" Vainqueur reminded her, the manling making a face. "And tell them to bring me their cattle!"

The door of the rounded houses opened, a manling-sized black cobra slithering out. Vainqueur recognized it as a serpent beastkin, or naga; one wearing a red scarf around his mouth. "What is all this racket?" the naga hissed, before noticing Vainqueur and the paralyzed Gorynych. "Oh, another dragon adventurer party. Great. Look, if you come for cows, I will have to politely ask you to leave and never return."

[Alpha Magnetism (Scales)] negated by [REDACTED].

"Is this the village of Dhanyakuria?" Knight Kia asked, having been in charge of mapping out the trip; the naga nodded, quickly as eager to be done with her as Vainqueur himself. "We are looking for a fomor stronghold in the area. Did you see any sign of fairy activity recently?"

"No, because everyone stays at home," the naga replied. "We haven’t heard anything from nearby villages for a while, but I can’t tell if this is a fairy’s or the plague’s doing."

"Can you give us the direction of these villages—"

"Minion Kia, you are losing sight of what truly matters," Vainqueur walked towards the naga, getting exhausted at the knight’s incompetence. "I have time for a short quest."

"Quests? Nobody is questing with this bloody plague! All the adventurer guilds are closed and our economy is ruined!" the naga hissed while wagging its tail. "And respect my safety space!"

"You have nothing to fear," Kia said. "I have immunity to [Disease], and as a [Paladin], I can cure it at will."

"A [Paladin]?" The naga instantly turned towards Kia, observing her with such intensity that it made the manling uneasy. "Which deity?"

"Mithras," she replied, the naga wagging his tail in excitement.

"That changes everything! Yes, I may have a quest for you!" The naga cleared his throat. "Our architect guild is running its yearly building competition. A team must visit and rate our designs, but they need to include a [Paladin] of Mithras or Leone. With all healers mobilized to deal with the [Fairy Plague] and the social distancing, we can’t find anyone fitting our criteria."

"Why would you need a [Paladin] for an architecture competition?" Kia asked with a frown.

"Because [Paladins] of these gods are compelled to say the truth and to act with chivalry," the beastkin replied. "So we can trust them to give their honest opinion. Since we can’t restrict the competition to only one class, their partners can be anyone or anything."

"How much and how long?" the dragon asked the hard questions. "I am the best adventurer in the world with the highest rates, and we are short on time."

"One million gold if you win the competition," Vainqueur salivated, only for the next words to crush his hopes, "But it may take a few days."

Argh, too long! "You will have to wait until after I burn the fairy farm for your winner."

"And I won’t take that quest," Knight Kia said, whose lack of greed marked her as unworthy of minionship. "I have no need for gold."

"Winners also receive a powerful magical item from our guild’s divine patron," the Naga said, "Some even received a [Heroic Crest]."

"Why would someone receive a [Heroic Crest] for an architecture competition—"

"Less questions, more gold," Vainqueur interrupted, finding her lack of enthusiasm for hoarding aggravating. What did Manling Victor see in her? She lacked any true dragon value!

"Don’t you see this quest is fishy, Your Majesty?" Knight Kia asked. "When someone offers a quest with a reward that high, he is either mistaken or treacherous."

"If you doubt my words, then simply cast magic on me," the naga said. "I have nothing to hide."

"I said I would stop profiling, but I will make an exception then; [Enhanced Karma Scan]," Kia cast a spell, reading the Naga’s karma. A smile quickly spread on her face. "Moderately good and orderly… that’s refreshing after almost so long in Murmurin, I had forgotten people like that existed."

"Where can I find the gold when I have the time to claim it?" Vainqueur asked, now that this part was settled.

"First, vow to participate and give it your all first," the snake insisted. "Our divine patron really insists on that part."

"Certainly, I swear to win," Vainqueur shrugged.

"I swear on my honor," Kia replied, "if Shesha needs reassurance."

"Oh, my guild doesn’t worship Shesha," the naga replied. "She tolerates us because of the business opportunities our dungeons provide, but our adventurer death ratio is a bit too high for her taste."

The [Paladin] blinked. "Did you say dungeons?"

"Yes, dungeons. I am a [Dungeon Architect] and [Trap Master]. What, you thought trapped tombs grow on trees? Who do you think designs all those snake pits and secret passages? Nobody ever respects our hard work."

"Do not remind me," Vainqueur said. "When I order them to build arenas and more towers for my castle, it is a constant struggle to direct my minions. Alas, their minds cannot grasp my peerless, visionary design."

"So the contest would be a… a dungeon architecture competition?" Knight Kia drew her sword. "Wait, which deity would sponsor a guild like that?"

The naga looked at her strangely. "I find your attempts to have me confess my faith an attack on my religious freedom."

"But you just asked which god I served—"

"Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you. What if I worshiped Seng? Would you treat me differently?"

"Yes," Knight Kia replied ominously.

"My point exactly."

"I care not which ‘deity’ you became the minion of," Vainqueur said. "Where is the gold?"

"Do you have a map and a feather?" Knight Kia reluctantly handed the naga one, the serpent struggling to scribble a small cross on it. "Damn twolegs, can’t make a map adapted to armless people… now if you excuse me, I have to flee from the germs."

"Your Majesty, are we really going to do this?" Knight Kia asked, glaring at the snake as he returned home.

"Yes, but after I burn the fairy farm first," Vainqueur replied. One million gold coins would more than help crush Icefang’s delusions of wealth.

Speaking of Icefang… the dragon hummed the wind to pick up his rival’s smell, in case he had managed to sneak up ahead of him.

Skill check successful.

Vainqueur froze.

"What?" Knight Kia asked.

"I smell…" Vainqueur couldn’t believe it. "Dragon blood?"

48: Item Farming

The fairy's nest stank for miles!

The longer he observed it from above, hidden amidst the clouds and positioned against the wind, the angrier Vainqueur grew. This… this insult to the dragon way of life would not survive the day.

It had taken him hours to locate it, due to powerful illusions shrouding the area from sight; phantasms that his [Hunter’s Resolve] Perk and magical items had easily negated. And when they had finally found the farm in the midst of a forest, Vainqueur had to struggle not to attack it on sight.

For the fairies had copied his Dodocare design, to make a mockery of it!

Instead of breeding birds for their own protection, the fairies had captured large groups of malnourished manlings, beastkin, kobolds, and other intelligent species in large cages, with twenty of them sharing a six square meters space. The prisons were arranged in rows, overseen by a black wood fort and a pack of fairy hounds.

In short, this was a slave breeding ground.

Vainqueur would have been appalled at how the fairies treated their minions on principle, but something else infuriated him. The stench of dragon blood that pervaded this insult to dungeon breeding.

"Gorynych doesn’t like this place," the zmey said, Knight Kia on his back. "Can Gorynych go back to master?"

"Not yet," Kia said, glaring at the pens. "Not yet."

"I want this place burnt to the ground," Vainqueur said. "This insult to the dragon way of life shall not stand."

"Your Majesty, we may prevail if we attack head on, but we also risk harming the prisoners," Knight Kia said, speaking like Manling Victor. "They may have more in the fort. We need a plan. I suggest you distract them while I free the captives."

As she spoke, three figures walked out of the wooden fort and moved towards the pens. The dragon and his substitute minion observed them more closely.

Vainqueur recognized one of them as Mell Lin the piper, Mag Mell’s cowardly spawn, who assisted nuisances like adventurers and Batling Lavere. This time though, he had abandoned his manling disguise to reveal his true shape, that of an emaciated, ghoulish figure with bark skin. Some kind of armored orc taller than average with that worm Sablar's symbol painted on his chest followed him, alongside a humanoid black tiger.

"Frank the Anark," Knight Kia recognized the orc. "A Sablar follower that I ‘fought’ with Jolie. The other must be a rakshasa. They use illusions—"

"Quiet," Vainqueur replied, as serious as he had ever been. "I am trying to listen."

Focusing on his sharp dragon hearing, capable of distinguishing the M from the m, the wyrm attempted to hear their conversation even with the great distance separating them.

Skill check successful.

"... interesting," the tiger spoke. "What about elves?"

"Elves, being a rarer species, tend to drop better items when killed by an [Old Money] user," the orc replied. "The target’s level does affect the quality, but the species matters more. The more powerful and rare the base creature, the greater the reward for killing it."

"And of course, humans have the lowest yield, while dragons provide the highest," Mell Lin stated the obvious. "What about [Crests]? Any new discoveries on that front?"

"Adult dragons almost always drop one, and someone of Knightsbane’s caliber is probably worth a [Heroic Crest]."

"I meant, for creatures other than dragons," Mell Lin replied icily, examining caged kobolds.

The tiger shook his head. "No matter our efforts, we haven’t found a way to make the lesser races drop [Crests] when they die."

The orc made a strange hand gesture at the rakshasa, raising his third finger. Maybe they were exchanging hand signs as part of a code? "The System encourages the weak to fight the strong, so we ‘lesser races’ can reach ever greater heights. You need heroic feats to prove yourself worthy of a [Crest]. Trying to ‘cultivate’ them like fruit is pointless."

"And I say that if Lord Mag Mell could create [Black Crests] imitations, then we can breed manlings capable of dropping [Crests] in a few generations."

"They won’t have generations," Mell Lin replied. "My sister wants them all exterminated within two years, if bombing them back to the stone age won’t finish the job. We need more [Crests] now, and [Heroic Crests] even more. The longer my sister stays level 60, the more impatient she becomes."

The orc and the rakshasa exchanged a worried glance. "Maybe other planes?" the former proposed. "The enemies there are stronger on average than Outremonde’s. You could start with the angels."

"They will yield more experience?" the tiger asked.

"No, but nobody will miss them. Destroying the world is one thing, but afterlife insurance scams? That’s just low."

Mell Lin shrugged in response. "In any case, prepare to pack your things when my sister returns from her ‘harvest.’ Our dear father bit off more than he could chew, and while she can’t scry on Knightsbane due to his Perks, my sister believes that he will be on his way to this location soon."

"What do we do with the captives then?" the tiger asked.

"Use [Black Crests] on the toughest of them, to bolster our ranks with more fairy beasts. The rest, round them up for target practice." Mell Lin chuckled to himself. "Now, orc, as my class planner, should I kill them with spells or music?"

"You would be better served with more [Bard] levels, to expand the reach of your melodies."

"Music then."

The group reached a suspiciously empty cage, whose soil was red with blood. Vainqueur suddenly realized that this spot, in particular, reeked of fresh dragon blood.

"Where is my wyrm pet?" Mell Lin asked the tiger, causing the Emperor above to ready his claws.

"Lord Ravana accidentally got carried away while he practiced his [Rune Knight] class, and killed him with a spell-boosted hit." Vainqueur saw red, trembling with rage. "We harvested the blood and bones for your sister’s use though."

"My, and I had grown attached to him." the piper shook his head, before scolding his acolytes. "You should have been more careful. While dragons yield less exp when beaten within an inch of their life than killed, this blunder cost us a renewable source of easy levels. Adult wyrms are difficult to capture alive."

"Well, the good news is, he got a [Dragonslayer] level out of it," Frank the orc said, the fairy chuckling in response.

Intelligence check successful! [Berserk] negated!

Vainqueur had heard enough.

"Do we attack?" Knight Kia asked, having heard nothing, but saw Vainqueur’s furious expression.

"Yes!" the dragon snarled, gathering his breath for an attack. "Let no fairy escape!"

"Gorynych, at my signal, you dive down while I create a barrier between these monsters and the captives’ pens," Knight Kia said, raising her blade. "Our priority is to protect the slaves first. Your Majesty, can I leave the fomor to you?"

Indeed. Time to emancipate these minions.

"[Charged Attack]..." Vainqueur prepared to blast the damn piper all the way to planet Moon, although he was very careful to aim his attack so there would be no minion casualties.

With the benefit of surprise on the dragon’s side, the piper would never escape—

"ICEFANG FOREVER!"

Screaming his name, Icefang dived from a cloud, trying to steal Vainqueur’s kills right before his nose.

The sudden noise caused Mell Lin to raise his head and notice the dragons above him. Realizing the surprise was lost, Vainqueur hurriedly launched a beam of light at the piper, although wary not to hit the caged minions.

Reacting far quicker, the fomor opened a fairy ring and leapt through it, the orc managing to jump in right afterward. The rakshasa, not so lucky, was instantly vaporized by Vainqueur’s focused nuclear light, the soil turning to molten glass.

Icefang, meanwhile, stomped a fairy beast upon landing, roared to announce his presence, and then unleashed his breath. A cold, icy blizzard came out of his mouth, freezing the fairy hounds that dared to challenge him and the slaves unfortunate enough to get caught in the way. Dozens of manlings were transformed into ice statues, while Manling Kia screamed at the dragon to stop.

Knight Kia and Gorynych hurried to rescue the captive minions, raising a wall of flames between Icefang and the pens to shield them from his breath. The farm erupted into such chaos that Vainqueur no longer knew where to begin. When fairy hounds almost trampled the pen while fleeing Icefang's rampage, the Emperor moved to protect the slaves, punching a hole through a monster’s chest, and then sending a second flying towards the forest.

"Ah!" Icefang taunted his rival, who had only killed a few fairy thralls. Icefang’s compatriots, Magnifique and Suffisante, descended from the clouds, to tally the dead. "You have already given up?"

"You silver-loving idiot!" Vainqueur hissed, as the last of the fairy servants escaped to the forest. The Emperor took the time to launch a fireball in their direction, blasting trees apart, and then focused back on his ‘rival.’ "You let the piper escape!"

"As if I would let you claim the lead!"

"Well, at this rate, we can already declare Icefang the winner," Magnifique said, landing with his colleague among the crater left by Vainqueur’s blast. His eyes settled on the caged manlings. "Free minions!"

"I want the elves," Suffisante insisted, noticing a tiny, leaf-eared child among the captives. "Look at this one! She is so adorable!"

"What were you thinking?!" Knight Kia snarled at the trio, as she cast healing spells on the slaves Icefang had turned to ice. "You harmed them!"

"Vainqueur, your minion is talking back," Icefang complained. "Teach her the food chain or I will do it myself."

"Is that a zmey?" Suffisante reeled at the sight of Gorynych, who had the decency to lower his head and tail in submission. "Vainqueur, you travel with a zmey?"

"Is that your long lost cousin?" Icefang mocked him. "That explains a lot! He has your eyes!"

"He is the minion of my minion!" Vainqueur defended himself.

"You think this is a game?" Knight Kia ignored the minion's way of speaking, but since she did it to Icefang this time, Vainqueur let it slide. "These captives are barely clinging to life, you could have killed them with your stupid stunt!"

Suffisante laughed. "Manling, they are not people. They are minions!"

"Yes, they are like goblins," Magnifique added. "You leave a cave empty for a month, and before you know it a new population has resapa—reasa..."

"Respawned," Suffisante said. "The proper, System-approved term is respawned."

"Respawned, yes. Minions are renewable, the dragon-made universe provides them to us on command. Lose some, win some."

Knight Kia remained speechless for a second. "This isn’t sarcasm," she said. "You truly believe everything you said."

"What is sarcasm, some kind of food?" Magnifique asked.

"Minions are not renewable!" Vainqueur hit the ground with his fist, making the other, smaller dragons shake in surprise. "They cost a fortune to raise, and can be made near-extinct! And these creatures are slaves, a fairy mockery of the proud minion institution!"

"They’re minions," Icefang replied, too dim to understand the profound nuances of the dragon way of life. "They’re food. That’s why they’re minions."

"They are emergency food," Vainqueur reminded him. "They have feelings, and their loyalty must be earned. No true dragon disposes of them for no good reason!"

"Vainqueur, you have been talking to your breakfast for too long," Icefang rasped in disgust. "You sound like your niece!"

"I turned a city into a buffet!" Vainqueur defended his regime.

"I can attest to it," Knight Kia spoke up.

"Guys, don’t get worked up over how to treat minions." Suffisante rolled her eyes while ignoring the [Paladin]. "Can we just agree that dealing with individual minions should be left to their dragon master’s judgment?"

"Yes, we came here to see which one of you could kill the most fairies, and the only fomor in sight has escaped," Magnifique pointed out. "He cannot have gone far."

"There is something more important at hand here!" Vainqueur roared, pointing a claw at the empty cage, "A dragon died in this place!"

"Oh, that smell?" Suffisante hummed the wind. "Indeed, that is worrying."

"Pff, who will mourn a handicapped dragon?" Icefang shrugged. "Although this insult to dragonkind shall not stand, I agree with you. The fairy’s days are numbered."

"Death…" Vainqueur caught himself but realized he could no longer keep this secret. "Death is not a birth defect. Every dragon can die."

For a moment, the three dragons said nothing, exchanging glances among each other.

Then they burst out laughing.

"This is the truth," Vainqueur insisted, remaining a dignified visionary even when faced with mockery. "Every dragon can die, and if you keep laughing, you will discover it yourself. Even I can die."

The trio immediately stopped laughing, although they remained blind to their own ignorance. "Vainqueur, I was once proud to be your rival, but clearly you have gone soft and mad," Icefang said after he calmed himself. "No true dragon can die!"

"True dragons do not believe themselves immortal." Vainqueur remained firm. "To be a dragon is to look at Death, and burn its sorry face!"

"Say what you want, I have a fairy head trophy to claim." The frost dragon extended his wings, to go after Mell Lin. "I will leave you with the zmeys and food you prefer over your own kind."

"At least they make better conversation than you!" Vainqueur roared back, as the frost dragon flew away.

"Vainqueur, you truly need to form a dragon adventurer party," Magnifique said, as he and Suffisante followed after Icefang. "Don’t lose your way!"

The Great Calamity of this Age sneered at these children, only to notice Knight Kia and Gorynych giving him strange looks. "What?"

"You and Victor are definitely not heroes, but…" Kia scratched the back of her head, "You aren’t without your good sides either."

"Big V defended Gorynych!" The zmey wagged his tail in happiness.

Vainqueur ignored him, focusing on the disgusting smell pervading this place. Following it towards the wooden fort, the dragon punched his way through the wall; the sight welcoming him made him freeze.

Bones.

The bones of a dragon hung from the ceiling above pools full of its distilled blood. Some strange machinery pumped the golden, tarnished fluid into a half-made crest of solid darkness.

Vainqueur remembered the dragons he and Manling Victor had rescued in the Winter Kingdoms. About how happy the Emperor had felt, how bothered he had been over Furibon’s escape, and how he had thought the matter settled. It had never occurred to him that the fairies could have hunted other members of his kind elsewhere.

He had been wrong.

They didn’t save them all.

In the end, Vainqueur had used his [Golden Road] to evacuate his new minions to Murmurin. Since they had been abducted by fairies, most of them choose to live under the fair, iron hand of a dragon, rather than risk capture again. They had taken the bones of his kindred through, so he could be buried in a dragon’s empire rather than fairy-tainted soil.

Finally, he had burnt the fairy farm to the ground, the wooden fort first. He remained there watching the bonfire for a good hour, Gorynych resting nearby.

"For all of what it is worth, I think you were in the right," Manling Kia said, trying to comfort him as a true minion should.

"Of course I am right. But such is the burden of the visionary, to swim against the current of their own kind." He had thought himself invincible too, before discovering the TRUTH!

"Yeah… being good sometimes means going unrecognized, or not being rewarded at all," Knight Kia said. "But someone has to do it."

"Not being rewarded?" Vainqueur asked. "Of course I have been rewarded. I gained hundreds of new minions for remaining true to the dragon way of life."

"Yes, but… you know what, forget what I said. You still did good. I just wish we could do more slave liberations than conquering countries."

Truth to be told, Vainqueur was tired of both. "Time to return home," the dragon decided. "This trip was entertaining while it lasted, but I miss the warmth of my hoard. We move west, do a few more quests to fill my wallet, and then we put this behind me."

"Doesn’t Your Majesty want to attack the local fomors?" Knight Kia suggested. "They must be hiding somewhere."

Vainqueur froze, as he suddenly remembered something.

"Mell Lin said that his sister would return from harvest," the dragon noted out loud, looking at the direction where Icefang and his group went flying.

Mmm… should he even bother? If Icefang and his group won, it was one less problem for him to deal with; if they died, well, they had mocked him and it was not his problem.

…

No.

Species first.

"Minion, to arms."

Knight Kia beamed and immediately jumped on Gorynych’s back.

Vainqueur extended his wings and flew after his foolish rival.

Vainqueur had gone soft.

Even if he loathed that arrogant, self-proclaimed ‘Great Calamity of this Age,’ Icefang couldn’t believe that any dragon worth their salt would act as he did. Preserve the life of minions? Dragons not being immortal? What next, the Moooooon was made of lead? He had already doubted Vainqueur's sanity when he had sacrificed his hoard to revive his chief of staff, but his mental state had clearly worsened since.

The title of greatest dragon in the world needed a new holder, and fast. Someone who deserved it. All his kind would see it on Samhain.

Skill check successful!

In any case, it didn’t take Icefang long to locate the fomor; he could have tracked his smell halfway across the planet with his awesome [Ninja] skills. The piper and his orc lackey had retreated to a naga village, meeting up with a female fairy witch with crimson eyes. She was listening to her fellow fairy's hasty words with a cold expression, surrounded by corpses.

The local nagas had dropped dead. There was no hint of battle, no scorch mark, no destroyed houses. They must have been instantly slain by the fairy’s magic.

Icefang didn’t care. More fairies meant more glory and more rewards. The dragon announced his presence with a roar, circling the village before making a dramatic landing right in front of them. His mighty body blew dust in all directions and collapsed the nearest house.

While the piper and the orc shielded their faces from the dust with their arms, the third member of the trio didn’t even flinch. The female fairy simply looked at Icefang with crimson eyes, her purple hair falling upon her shoulders. "A new volunteer."

Icefang answered by unleashing an icy breath at the fomors. The female fairy casually conjured a spherical, purple barrier around her group, shielding them from the attack. "Return to Prydain, Lin," she ordered the piper, her protection vanishing. "Leave them to me."

"Do you need golem reinforcements?"

"No."

The lesser fomor didn’t even question the order, opening a fairy gate and vanishing through with the orc.

"Leave them to me, she said," Magnifique chuckled, as he and Suffisante landed right behind Icefang. "Since she asked so nicely, maybe we could share?"

"If you dare steal my kill, I am cutting your share of the next quest," Icefang told the others. This fairy was clearly stronger than the piper, and as such worth much more. Maybe she would drop an [Heroic Crest]?

"Aw, but we only get levels if we intervene!" Suffisante protested. "You already all but won the contest with Vainqueur! You can at least share this one!"

"Knightsbane is nearby?" The fairy raised her head, a glimpse of satisfaction in her eyes. "Good."

The fact that she cared more about that sorry excuse for a red dragon rather than him infuriated Icefang. "You should fear me instead of Knightsbane! You face the leader of the Silver Dragon Adventurer Company, the great Ice—"

"I do not care for your name," the fairy brazenly cut him off. "I will not remember it."

"Bold words for a nameless fairy," the frost dragon hissed back.

"The three of you are already dead. Tell me where Knightsbane is and I will make it painless."

"You face the most powerful dragon party in the world," Suffisante taunted her back. "A [Paladin] [Priest], a [Vestal] [Druid], and... a [Ninja] [Pyromancer]."

"It is a perfectly valid combination!" Icefang snarled.

"All that I face is three walking corpses," the fairy said, a purple aura flaring around her. "Dragon blood is a source of power, but the one coursing through my veins only served to bolster my divine fomor nature."

Icefang would have taunted her, had the air not suddenly gotten heavier.

An invisible, overwhelming pressure overtaking the atmosphere, crushing him beneath its weight.

"Although, I would not have been able to access this class without it."

The fairy’s body exploded into a shroud of purple darkness, a monstrous, titanic shape erupting from it; an oh-so-familiar shape, that made the three dragons step back in shock.

Icefang didn’t know what he felt at this moment, but it itched.

[Dragon Arrogance] overcome by [Terror].

Icefang and his party members prepared to fight for their lives, as the abomination before them let out a soul-rending wail.

49: TPW

Icefang had caught up to the fairy first, and lost.

As Vainqueur reached a destroyed village, he found Magnifique and Suffisante motionless on the ground amidst the corpses of a dozen nagas. Houses had been pounded into dust, while ice shuriken and laceration marks scarred the landscape.

A good mile away, he noticed a swirling tornado of icy winds and miasma devastating all in its path, uprooting the entire forest. Icefang and whichever fairy had trounced his party were still fighting bitterly.

"Magnifique, Suffisante!" Vainqueur called, as he landed next to his fellow dragons with Gorynych in tow. "Wake up!"

No response, even though none of them looked wounded. They must have been beaten into unconsciousness or fallen asleep due to a spell.

"All these people…" Knight Kia said while riding Gorynych’s back, the zmey too intimidated to speak. "An [Instadeath] area of effect?"

"You, minion!" Vainqueur pointed a claw at his fellow dragons. "Heal them!"

Knight Kia remained silent for a moment, before shaking her head. "I can’t."

"What do you mean, you cannot? I knew you were useless!"

"I can’t cure death."

Vainqueur paused.

Cure death? But they didn’t have any wounds!

Vainqueur glanced at the two dragons in disbelief and gave them a closer look; he noticed the white blank in their eyes, the pallidness of their scales, the complete lack of warmth. The truth hit him like his own magical hammer.

Vitality check successful. Shock negated.

Vainqueur stared at their faces, frozen in terror.

They died of fright?

"This is not [Instadeath]..." Knight Kia said, analyzing the corpses with magic. "Their souls have been extracted while they were still alive."

Vainqueur ignored her, his furious eyes settling on the icy cyclone. He expanded his wings and flew towards it with revenge on his mind, while Knight Kia and Gorynych quickly followed.

The dragon activated [Fire Crown] and [Victory Fist] as he entered the vortex. Ice shards melted before they could touch his scales, and he braved the battering winds to reach the center.

You are taking heavy [Wind] damage! Necromantic damage reduced by [Psi-stone of Positive Energy]!

[Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh] cast [Protection from Elements]!

With his trinkets shielding him from the storm, Vainqueur entered the eye of the cyclone, where two dragons were dueling to the death.

Icefang was fighting a beast as big as Vainqueur himself and losing badly. Blood flowed from his scales and horns, his right eye had closed forever due to a wound, and someone had dug a hole where most of his ribs should have been. The larger wyrm savagely strangled Vainqueur’s rival, its bony claws tightening around his windpipe while smashing him against the ground.

No.

Not a dragon.

The monstrous creature that fought Icefang had the shape of a dragon. It had the wings, the neck, the tail, the fangs, and the claws. It breathed purple flames and roared its dominance for all to hear.

But that thing was no dragon. It was an abomination of white bones and putrescent moss, a corpse animated by ghostly purple flames and reeking of foul fomor magic. Two bright crimson stars shone in its empty eye sockets, and a spherical core of suffused energy radiated within its ribs. Its ragged wings had holes everywhere, reminding Vainqueur of an ancient bat rather than a majestic wyrm. A magical, prismatic layer of light covered its body, providing magical protection.

This creature was an unliving insult to dragonkind!

As Vainqueur charged to face it, he sensed something foul in the air. An invisible, sinister pull drawing him towards the monster.

You have entered [Dracolich] Mell Odieuse’s [Voracious Syphon]!

If you die within its area of effect, your soul will be devoured!

[Terrifying Aura] negated by [Crown of the Conqueror].

The undead dragon heard Vainqueur arrive and reacted by casting multiple spells at once. "[Death X], [Accelerated Hellzone]."

Level high enough! [Instadeath] negated!

[Hellzone] negated by [Immovable]!

Vainqueur tackled the fairy monster with his hands, forcing it to relinquish Icefang. The half-dead Frost Dragon collapsed to the ground, profusely bleeding golden blood.

"Knightsbane," the undead creature muttered, recognizing her superior. Albeit twisted by a whispering echo, Vainqueur immediately identified the voice, and the smell. The fairy that murdered his chief of staff, stole his items, and cost him a fortune! "Is your manling with you?"

"He has better to do than clean up fairy trash!" Vainqueur snarled, shining with the bright, golden light of his hoard. "Like breeding new minions!"

[Shining Majesty] couldn’t affect [Prismatic One] Mell Odieuse!

"A pity. I relished the thought of killing him again." The false wyrm let out a screeching wail and opened her mouth, unleashing purple, ghostly flames at Vainqueur. The attack didn’t damage his scales but sapped his very will, his soul.

Massive [Spirit] damage!

[Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh] reflexively cast [Hasten]

Moving at an incredible speed, Vainqueur powered through the attack and pummeled the fairy with a dozen punches, faster than she could defend herself against. The creature fought back with vicious ferocity, but she had neither the Tarasque’s strength nor Wotan’s awe-inspiring skill.

"How many?" the [Augustus] snarled. "How many dragons?!"

"Not enough." The monster vanished, transformed into a ray of light, only to reappear a hundred meters away from Vainqueur. Ten tiny flying black prisms materialized around her. "[Prismatic Shards]."

The tiny prisms fired a potent laser, each a different color, and all aimed at Vainqueur. The dragon moved around the battlefield to dodge them, while Mell Odieuse used his distraction to cast another spell. "[Magical Suppression]."

The effects of your magical items will be suppressed for five minutes!

Charisma check successful! You ignored [Terrifying Aura]!

Vainqueur felt his body slow down, and rays of light hitting his scales; he considered using his [Geomancy], but relented out of fear of harming Icefang.

Thankfully, minion reinforcements chose this time to cross the cyclone.

"Leave… leave Big V alone!" Gorynych opened his mouths to attack Odieuse but froze at the mere sight of her. Unlike Vainqueur or his own rider, the zmey became paralyzed by terror.

"What is this thing?" Knight Kia shouted in disgust, before casting a spell on the monster; information appeared over Odieuse’s head, revealing her true nature.

Mell Odieuse the Overlord

Type: Soulcrested Dragonblooded Fomor (Fairy/Dragon; also count as Undead whenever beneficial)

Level: 60 (Dracolich 10/Prismatic One 10/Tyrant 10/Deathlord 30)

HP: ???/5280

Weak to Starmetal and Cold Iron.

"I am an existence that transcends fomors and dragons," Mell Odieuse lied proudly, as she began assisting her prisms into attacking Vainqueur, firing ghostly fireball after ghostly fireball. The dragon retaliated with his own flames, but the fairy teleported out of the way like the annoying Furibon. "The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither."

"Yeah, I heard that one before," Knight Kia shrugged off, before raising her sword and calling upon her [Solar Judgment].

[Solar Judgment] canceled by Mell Odieuse’s [Anathematic Horror].

No light fell from the heavens to smite the fairy. "Your gods will not save you from my jaws, Bekele," the Fomor mocked the paladin.

"No, but my sword will!" Knight Kia countered, wreathing her blade with wind and light. Unfortunately for her, the zmey refused to budge, paralyzed by his overwhelming fear of the false wyrm.

"[Gorgon Gaze]," Mell Odieuse whispered while glaring at the zmey and his rider. The three-headed reptile immediately turned to cold hard stone, falling on the ground. Meanwhile, Knight Kia ignored the spell and jumped off her mount’s back and towards the fairy. The [Paladin]’s blade cut through bones and carrion like butter.

"Why?" Knight Kia snarled as she landed on the ground, leaping to avoid being trampled by the larger creature. "Why kill these people? You shouldn’t gain any exp from them, so why you sick—"

"I believe you mortals call it happiness."

The fairy’s body radiated an otherworldly, unnatural light as she expanded her wings, becoming a mockery of Vainqueur’s own [Shining Majesty].

All of Mell Odieuse’s stats have been raised by one stage, and her [Light] attacks will inflict twenty percent more damage!

"This feeling I experience whenever I extinguish a life; this rapturous sensation that fills me with such bliss; this pleasurable heat that warms my innards whenever I devour a soul. I am drunk on this feeling. This is the purpose of my existence."

The expression on her rotting, shining face made even Vainqueur pause.

For it was one of pure, adulterated bliss.

"To be happy."

The abomination let out a wail while her starry eyes brightened, unleashing a potent curse on everyone present. An invisible pressure crushed both Vainqueur and Knight Kia, weakening them.

Mell Odieuse’s [Evil Eye] decreased all your stats by two stages!

Charisma check failed! You have been affected by [Terrifying Aura]! [Terror] ailment!

The world turned darker, and for the first time in the entire fight, the crushing reality of the power difference dawned upon Vainqueur. The creature before him had been created to kill his own kind, and that for all of his might, he couldn’t defeat it.

His limbs shook in dread, as the prisms kept hitting him with beams of light.

Heavy [Light] damage! You have lost a quarter of your HP!

"There is no future for your kind, Knightsbane," the abomination whispered, approaching the emperor of Murmurin while the prisms kept firing. "I shall rain arrows of searing light, so bright that all will burn. Poisonous smoke will reach so high in the skies, that it will choke the very gods of Valhalla. But for you, there will be no light; only the darkness of my gullet. All will go pitch black, as your soul is digested and your blood dries on my kingdom’s soil. You shall become dust as I ascend, the thirteenth and last goddess of Outremonde."

Her claws tightened around his neck, ignoring [Fire Crown]. He felt the chill from her fingers, his soul forcefully pulled away from his mortal coil.

The monster’s rib cage opened, revealing her core in its full, sinister glory; hundreds of thousands of souls swirled within this prison sphere, wailing and begging for release. Among them, Vainqueur glimpsed Magnifique and Suffisante.

"Once I have purified Outremonde of the vermin that infest it, I shall cleanse the Earth, and then the world afterward. For all life I extinguish, from the smallest vermin to the greatest dragon, grants me equal satisfaction... and I shall never stop pursuing happiness."

Vainqueur just had to close his eyes, and it would be over. His soul would be drawn into the vortex, and darkness would claim him forever.

She was death.

And there was only one way a true dragon could answer it.

Charisma check successful! [Terrifying Aura] negated by [Dragon Arrogance]!

Vainqueur opened his mouth, and blasted the fomor right in her ugly face!

Mell Odieuse screamed in pain and surprise, as the [Augustus] kept incinerating her rotting carcass; the agony too great for her to focus on teleporting away. The prisms once again attempted to hit him with lasers, but the wyrm increased his fiery output and melted them in atomic flames.

Then Mell Odieuse poked him in the right eye with her sharp claw, and Vainqueur screamed.

Half his vision turned bloody red.

Warning! You have been [Blinded] in one eye! You will take a penalty to all visual percep—

Vainqueur punched Mell Odieuse in the chest, her ribs closing to protect her magical core. The undead dragon teleported again out of sight, the Calamity of the Age guessing that she would strike from his blinded side. He turned his head around, noticing the undead false wyrm unleashing a volley of icy shards at him.

[Mirror Scales] activated!

His protection caused the spells to bounce back at the sender, hitting Mell Odieuse by surprise. Vainqueur countered with one of his new abilities and pumped as many SP in it as he could afford. "[Malleus Maleficarum]."

A spiritual hammer hit Mell Odieuse right in the head, fracturing her skull and dispelling the otherworldly light empowering her.

All of Mell Odieuse’s spell protections have been dispelled!

You have lost half your SP.

"I can’t believe it…" Minion Kia muttered to herself, as she managed to shake off the [Terror] effect. Icefang himself rose back to his feet, albeit struggling against his wounds. "Your Majesty’s build is the perfect counter to this abomination!"

"I am the counter to everything!" Vainqueur boasted, unleashing a volley of fireballs at his fairy rival. The creature dodged by teleporting around, but couldn’t find any opening to retaliate.

"Get back, Vainqueur!" Icefang shouted, channeling ice in one hand and fire in the other. "She is mine!"

"You cannot handle her alone," Vainqueur replied, but this only infuriated the frost dragon.

"I do not need your help!" Icefang snarled while charging, Knight Kia after him. "I have enough! I have enough of you being better, bigger, more loved than me while you do nothing to earn it! I will live in your shadow no longer!"

That idiot! "Time to perish like your fellow Mag Mell, fairy," Vainqueur snarled, trying to draw the enemy’s attention on him.

[Taunt] unsuccessful.

"My father’s only worthwhile action was to create me," Mell Odieuse whispered with cruel disdain, before opening her rib cage again, "[Soul Slaver]."

Two clouds of smoke escaped from the magical core, then quickly morphed into ghostly dragons.

Vainqueur froze, as savage, shadowy copies of Magnifique and Suffisante appeared to protect the false wyrm. The first immediately lunged at him, forcing the red wyrm to defend himself in close combat, while the latter engaged Manling Kia in battle.

Icefang, meanwhile, slipped past both shadows and attacked Mell Odieuse, hitting her with his elemental claws. He handled himself well for a second-stringer, fighting with savagery even with his heavy wounds.

For a moment, Vainqueur was almost proud to have him as a rival.

"Be still, weakling," the fairy hissed angrily. Her core pulsated with energy, repairing her skull and healing the damage inflicted faster than her rival could damage her.

"Never!" Icefang snarled back with draconic pride. "A true dragon does not surrender!"

"Then die."

Icefang opened his mouth to unleash his breath, only for Mell Odieuse to grab his maw with both hands and keep it shut. The frost dragon fruitlessly attempted to free himself, but the fairy kept him down before widening her own jaws.

Vainqueur attempted to rush to his fellow dragon’s rescue, but Magnifique’s enslaved shadow tackled him aside.

And the inevitable happened. Mell Odieuse unleashed her purple breath at Icefang.

Purple flames came out of the magical core, traveled through the throat, and came out as a torrent of destruction from the fairy’s maw. Icefang let out a final roar as the ghostly power washed over his scales, his own soul becoming visible to the naked eye. The unnatural breath's power separated the frost dragon’s spirit from his body, the ghost instantly drawn into the fairy’s gullet.

Icefang’s body went limp, and a ray of light shone from the skies; a rainbowy crest descending from the heavens.

"Icefang!" Vainqueur snarled as the fairy tossed his rival’s corpse aside, punching Magnifique’s shadow through the chest. The apparition collapsed, its smoky substance returning to the false wyrm’s core.

"At last," Mell Odieuse whispered, swiftly grabbing the crest and opening a fairy ring portal her size, "I have what I stayed for."

"A [Heroic Crest]!" Knight Kia shouted while beheading Suffisante’s shadow, whose smoke-like substance returned to Mell Odieuse. "Vainqueur, don’t let her—"

"[Charged Attack]!" Vainqueur gathered all his energy for a final attack, to finish the fairy off once and for all.

Without turning around, Mell Odieuse casually pointed her free hand at the petrified Gorynych and fired a shadowy sphere at him.

His body moving on its own, Vainqueur leapt into the attack’s path, tanking it.

Heavy [Darkness] damage! You have lost half your HP!

Why? Why?

Vainqueur couldn’t believe that he did that for a zmey, even a minion!

Knight Kia hastened herself and rushed after Mell Odieuse with her blade raised, closing the gap in seconds. While she did so, Vainqueur attempted to quickly summon his arena and trap the fairy. "[Glitzy Theat—"

Too late.

The fairy crossed the portal and closed it behind her, Knight Kia’s blade hitting only air.

When the cyclone collapsed into a harmless breeze, Vainqueur could only stare at his brethren’s corpse, a freezing chill filling his chest.

His old rival had died for nothing, and his killer lived on.

50: Sleep Disorders

All was as dark as the blackest abyss.

It was far from silent though. And it smelled of honeyed cake.

"Is he waking up?" Chocolatine asked, having been at Victor's side since he fell into a coma. "Is my delicious cake working?"

"No," Allison said. "No sign of recovery."

"Can I take a slice?" Goblina asked, followed by some noise. "Ouch, the cake bit me!"

"That happens at random with Choc’s [Monster Patissier] class," Allison said. "Ludvic, is there no way to hasten the recovery?"

"Tempt him back to the physical world, with the promise of greater pleasures."

"I made the smelliest cake ever! If only Felix was alive, I could have cooked him… he seemed to really like my Stuffed Garfield recipe."

"Choc, maybe we should tell him?" Allison suggested.

"But I wanted it to be a surprise!" Silence. They must have all been staring at her. "Vic, you know that sacrificial altar I keep pestering you about? The one with the goat?"

"Since Choc is meeting both of us, and you saved my life… I thought I could replace the goat."

...

"Choc, is it working?"

"Just a twitch."

"Damn, I was certain it would wake him up," Allison sighed, "I am sorry, but I have run out of ideas."

"Not me," Goblina said, followed by a loud sound. "Oh, look at that. A million gold coin purse slipped from my pocket and fell on the ground! Enough to buy lots of stat-boosters! My, what would happen if someone were to pick it up before me?"

"His fingers moved, but only a tiny bit," Chocolatine said.

"Enough with the carrot," he heard a new voice. Charlene’s. "Time to try the stick."

"That’s… Charlene, you’re not considering reading him that book? It almost killed him the first time!"

"Exactly. Reading the ‘Breeding Frenzy’ out loud will force him to wake up or die!"

… no.

"He’s twitching!" Charlene rejoiced. "I am opening the book! I am about to read it!"

No, no, no!

"Wait, you’re killing him!" More noises to his right, as if they were fighting. "Give me that!"

"That’s enough!" Allison’s voice echoed. "Out, everyone! Out, out, out, we let him rest!"

"But—"

"No Pink literature!"

Charlene grumbled, he felt soft hands briefly hold his own, and then the sound of a door closing.

Phew. He wouldn’t have survived past the first chapter.

How long would he have to stay this way though? It must have been days at least.

"Slimy one." His totem animal’s voice echoed in the darkness, a call to action. "Slimy one, you must wake up."

‘I’m trying!’ he complained, unable to articulate his words. He lacked the strength to even open his eyelids, let alone return to his [Black Grail]!

"Your dragon is in danger and needs your stickiness. The Hateful One is growing stronger. You must focus on your glue. Use the glue, Slimy One!"

Use the glue? Like what, his bonds?

Alright, focus on Vainqueur. Focus on your friends, focus on the mess that Murmurin will become once you’re gone.

…

Nope. Nothing. He should have known it only worked in movies.

"Oooo…."

Was that Felix’s voice?

Wait, what was that warm burden on his lap?

"Ooooo!" Felix’s voice hissed. "I’m haunting you! For the sin of eating me, I will haunt your lap, minion!"

In retrospect, he should perhaps remain asleep and stop dealing with this nonsense.

"And now I shall make a litter out of your body!"

Victor’s eyes snapped open.

Felix the cat hissed in surprise, while the Vizier’s hand lunged at him like a snake. The cat attempted to leap away from the bed, but Victor caught him by the neck.

"You feel very solid for a ghost, Felix." The [Reaper] narrowed his eyes at the overfed cat, a screen suddenly appearing.

Congratulations! For meeting its requirements and witnessing the goddess of pleasure’s true face, you earned a level in the prestigious [Fiendish Rake] class! You earned the [Planeloved] class perk!

+30 HP, +1 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 AGI, +2 CHA, +1 LCK.

[Planeloved]: You can teleport to a different plane of existence of your choice on a successful Charisma check, except Earth; the more familiar you are with the target location, the more precise the transportation. Additionally, you gain a permanent Charisma bonus equal to half your total level rounded down (currently +36).

Was this class worth it? Was it worth the pain of having his soul torn from his body from the mere sight of Cybele’s beautiful face? Was it worth spending days trapped in his own body, unable to move a muscle?

Yes. Yes, it was.

The bedroom’s door opened, Allison, Chocolatine, and Ludvic rushing in. "Vic!" the dryad called, beaming in happiness like the werewolf. "You’re awake!"

"I told you he simply needed time," Ludvic said with a shrug. "The multiverse has so much to offer."

"Felix!" Chocolatine focused on the feline with primal hunger. "You are alive?"

"Begone, cateater!" The feline struggled, but couldn’t escape Victor’s hand. "You cost me a life out of nine!"

"Felix, this is wonderful!"

Chocolatine grabbed the cat from Victor’s hands and held him against her chest.

"I can cook you more than once!"

The cat screamed in fear, but much like Victor before him, he couldn’t escape the iron pull of Chocolatine’s bosom.

"I am so glad you made it, Vic," Allison said, helping him stand out of bed. The Vizier stretched, noticing his scythe next to the nearest wall. "I thought you wouldn’t make it."

"Yeah, I guess I built up a tolerance to gods after being claimed by half the pantheon." At this rate, he might try to collect them all. "She was really nice though. If Camilla hadn’t come up first, I might have prayed to her more often."

"How did she look?" Allison asked, stars in her eyes. "Cybele? How did she really look?"

"She was… have you ever watched a good Death Note movie?"

"I can only imagine it."

"Exactly," Victor replied, snatching his scythe and feeling complete once more. "Also, about that goat bit..."

"You heard everything?" Allison seemed a bit embarrassed, putting a hand in her hair. "After you recover, handsome."

"Aw," Chocolatine pouted in disappointment. "Can I get the chain and the knife out of storage early?"

The things he did for lust.

Ludvic put his hands on both Allison's and Chocolatine’s shoulders. "Since he is awake, I need to have a talk with him. Could you give us five minutes alone?"

"You aren’t going to lead him to his near-death again?" Allison frowned. "I can’t handle another extended vacation."

"It’s fine," Victor said, before joking. "It’s a matter of state diplomacy."

The dryad struggled to believe him, but did so anyway; she took Chocolatine and the doomed Felix with her, before closing the door behind.

"Have you taken a level in [Fiendish Rake], my apprentice?" Ludvic asked after Victor cast a [Lock] spell on the door, his protegee nodding. "How much charisma with the bonus?"

"One hundred fifteen. One hundred thirty-five with [Monster Kin] active, and five to ten more with [Seducer]."

"Good, you should be able to talk your way out of anything short of a dragon’s jaw. Be very wary when you reach the one hundred fifty thresholds, because you will be on every stalker’s radar. A three-digit Charisma stat is a double-edged sword that must be handled with care. With great persuasion, comes great responsibilities."

Yeah, Ludvic could probably talk his way to world domination with a Charisma stat as high as his own. "You think I could talk down a fomor?" That was one of the main reasons he had taken this class, alongside improving his dating life.

"It is worth a shot, but speaking from experience, I strongly suggest you keep a hidden fortune to get an emergency revival," Ludvic said, before handing him a bag. "Here are a few items that I wished I had when I was your age: a [Ring of Friends] to buff your Charisma in a pinch, an [Amulet of Repulsiveness] like mine, and a [Belt of Genderbending], which inverts the sex of anyone wearing it."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." The Vizier bowed in thanks. "But I’m not sure I will have any use for the belt."

"You told me that you could cast tier VIII spells. One of them, [Fetch], allows you to create temporary duplicates of yourself."

Victor blinked, upon realizing what was implied. "Isn’t that a bit narcissistic?"

"When you want something done right, sometimes you must do it to yourself."

"I feel like you operate on a higher level of existence that I can scarcely understand," the Vizier admitted. "I will take the belt just in case it can be useful, but I doubt I will ever go that far."

"It will come with age," the dandy replied, before clearing his throat. "Victor, your dwarf friend has arranged for my trip to the Moooooon; by now you should have everything to shine on the road to pleasure. But before I leave this planet in search of new sensations, I have a few words of advice I must impart onto you."

"Please teach me, senpai."

"Use your [Planeloved] perk and an eighth-tier spell to create your own private corner of the multiverse, then furnish it as the most expensive resort possible. Opportunities never come twice, so always be ready to teleport your date there; but never reveal its location to anyone else, and always stash it with weapons, potions, and emergency rations."

"I was already planning to do that," Victor admitted. "Mostly as a private sanctuary."

"Good." Ludvic patted him on the back and looked at him straight in the eyes. "Next, there will come a day, which I feel will be very soon in your case, when you have an accident. You think the protection ward worked, but it didn’t; that well-endowed troll matron will say your two species can’t reproduce, but they can; or that eight-legged telepathic spider is a deranged stalker who will do anything to keep you in her web. Do you follow me so far?"

"... yes?" Victor said, a bit uncomfortable with the subject.

"When that happens, I want you to look at the sun." Ludvic turned him towards the windows, pointing at the skies. "You look at that bright guiding star."

"And then?"

"And then you run. You run as fast as you can. They will shout your name, try to hold you back, but you don’t listen. You run, you run and you keep running until your legs can’t carry you anymore. And then you use your wings and you fly away some more."

"That’s a bit cowardly and irresponsible, now?"

"When you have a spawn in every web, you will understand. Next, the most important advice I can impart. No matter how cute she looks, no matter how much you pity her or how tempting, do not ever, and I mean ever, touch—"

"MINION!"

Victor left his bedroom for a devastated wasteland and exchanged the best mentor ever for a giant red dragon.

"Minion, you are awake." Victor froze, for Vainqueur sounded more solemn than he had ever been. His right eye also had a new, thin claw scar, as if someone had just recently applied a healing spell to it. "Good. I have a question of the utmost importance."

"Uh, yes?"

"Where do dragons go when they die?"

Victor frowned, and then looked around. Kia was casting spells on a Gorynych statue among upturned houses, near a pile of reptile corpses. The Vizier recognized Icefang and two dragons among them.

It didn’t take him long to guess what happened. And he didn’t know what to say.

So he simply put his hand on his grieving friend’s leg. "Your Majesty, why are you asking me?"

"Because I do not know myself," Vainqueur replied grimly. "I never asked before."

The whole misadventure had left a bitter taste in Vainqueur’s mouth, and not because he hadn’t even gained a level out of it. His right eye still itched a bit, even after Knight Kia healed it.

He should have been happy for Icefang’s demise; he had even considered doing the deed himself in the past.

But for all their faults and foolishness, Icefang and his party were dragons. They deserved better than this.

"Big V took a hit for Gorynych," the healed zmey said, as Vainqueur oversaw Manling Victor reanimating the nagas as undead while Knight Kia prayed in a corner. Even on a hard day like this one, the minion labor division would remain absolute. "Gorynych is sorry…"

"You are a poor, inbred excuse of a minion," Vainqueur said, Gorynych making three sad faces. The emperor remained silent for a few seconds, before adding with more warmth. "But you are still my minion."

The zmey raised all of his heads, wagging his tail. "Big V cares for Gorynych!"

"I do not!" Vainqueur turned his back on the zmey and ignored him. "Report, minions."

"I can only revive them as mindless undead," Manling Victor said. "The souls cannot be returned to their bodies so long as Mell Odieuse holds them. Or if they can, none of my spells are powerful enough to."

"Maybe draining them is what allowed her to reach level sixty in such a short time," Knight Kia wondered, after ending her prayer. "She did mention digesting them."

"You can eat souls for easy levels?" Knight Kia glared at Manling Victor. "I mean, it’s interesting academically speaking. I would never do something that vile."

Since he lacked the funds to raise one dragon, let alone three, Vainqueur decided to give Icefang’s party a worthy funeral. The thought of being reanimated by a minion would be unbearable to their living selves, and the emperor owed them that much respect.

He gathered his breath, and then unleashed a holy nuclear fireball at the three dragon corpses, setting them on fire.

Vainqueur thought he should add a few words, as the corpses burned bright before the group’s eyes. "I met Icefang while capturing one of my first northern princesses," the wyrm declared, "I was young, and he was smaller. I introduced myself as the Great Calamity of the Age, with a hoard full of gold. He answered that his hoard of silver was equally valuable."

Manling Victor remained silent as if expecting more. "Wait, that’s it?"

"To deny the supremacy of gold was a crime I could never forget," Vainqueur confirmed. "He had been my self-proclaimed rival ever since. He was never successful, but he managed to become the leader of a dragon group and push me a little. A good dragon needs a rival to keep them sharp. What is gold without silver to compare its shininess to?"

But now he and his fellows were gone, and they would not be forgotten like Furibon.

"The fairy will pay for her crimes against dragonkind and minions both," Vainqueur declared. "She may be half-dragon, half-Furibon, but I will destroy her all the same."

"She cancelled my [Prayer] spells and my [Solar Judgment]," Knight Kia said as if anybody cared about her. "It never happened before. I asked Mithras, and he answered that one of her [Dracolich] Perks negates most of my [Paladin] abilities."

"It would make sense that she took levels in a class that can counter the person who killed her predecessor," Manling Victor pointed out. "And with a [Heroic Crest], she will keep growing stronger."

The [Paladin] shook her head. "I just wasn’t good enough."

"You were not," Vainqueur agreed. "But I do shoulder some of the blame. I thought my breath would have been enough to finish that abomination when I should have trapped her in my beautiful theater first."

"That’s why Kevin always insisted we have a well-oiled strategy before confronting high-level opponents," Knight Kia said, fired up. "We need better plans, and I need new classes."

"We need a Tarasque," Manling Victor added.

"Yes," Knight Kia said. "She can’t be allowed to win. No matter what."

"Odieuse won’t become a goddess, Kia," Manling Victor nodded. "I swear."

"No, she won’t, because we will beat her to it, minion," Vainqueur declared. "When we return to Murmurin, instead of celebrating my victory over Icefang, I will call upon a Dragon Conclave to deal with the fairies."

"A Conclave?" His doer of the thing asked.

"A great gathering of dragons never seen since we won the first fairy war," the wyrm explained. "Bragging Days are for bragging; Conclaves are for war."

His two manlings exchanged glances. "How many dragons will attend?"

"If I have my way, and I always do," Vainqueur looked at the burning pyre, "All of them."

51: Home Again

"Finally!" Vainqueur rejoiced upon reaching the coast and seeing the ocean. "At long last!"

After days of flying nonstop through the desert, the sight of clear water filled him with boundless joy. Watching the sun setting on the water had never felt so pleasurable.

"This is the inner sea east of the V&V Empire," Manling Victor said, riding Gorynych with Knight Kia behind his back. "We’re almost home."

"Is Your Majesty sure they do not want to tackle that dungeon quest yet?" Knight Kia asked, a bit disappointed. "While definitively fishy, we need more levels and magic items."

"My hoard calls me," Vainqueur said. This journey had exhausted him, especially the last stretch. "I may be a tireless, beautiful dragon, but I need to feel the warmth of my gold under my claws."

Also, the hoards of Icefang and his crew were left unattended. If they had no next of kin to claim them, then he would recover them himself. A rival’s memory should never get in the way of profit.

"I say we should do as many difficult quests as possible," Knight Kia argued. "Maybe look for artifacts like the legendary [Plot Armor]. Wouldn’t that help against Odieuse?"

"You are surprisingly enthusiastic today," Manling Victor said. "You’re usually more… I dunno, nonchalant?"

"Remember what I told you in Daltonia?" Knight Kia asked, the chief of staff nodding. "I finally have a purpose again, and I’ve never felt more pumped. I could clear dungeons all by myself!"

"Well, since I can cast eighth-tier spells now, I can finally learn decent teleportation spells," Manling Victor said. "We can easily do this quest after putting our more important affairs in order."

"Indeed, since a Dragon Conclave’s buffet is the organizer’s responsibility," Vainqueur explained, Manling Victor’s skin turning white. "Minion, you fed everyone in time for my Bragging Day while I ruled a desert, instead of the verdant minion utopia it is today. You can manage."

"I think Your Majesty is a bit optimistic, but… well, we have a teleportation network and a Tarasque food supply now. I’ve also received a [Scarlet Study] report telling me that the Agarthans successfully transported the beast to the Dodocare."

Knight Kia made a strange face. "Can a Tarasque reproduce with dodos?"

"Yes!" Vainqueur nodded.

"No," Manling Victor replied, ever pessimistic. "Or at least, if they can, I pray that I never see the deed in action."

Speaking of a buffet made Vainqueur even hungrier. "I demand a feast of cattle!"

"Gorynych hungry too," the zmey complained. "Gorynych hungry enough to eat himself!"

"There’s a Nagastan trading post nearby," Manling Victor said, pointing west. "We can resupply there."

"They have colonies that far west?" Knight Kia asked, crossing her arms. "I would have thought that Barin would have assimilated the area already."

"Nagastan managed to establish a trading route through the dusted remnants of the Sablaris Empire," Manling Victor said. "From what I understood, it causes tensions with the local powers like the Eversun Empire, who interpret these trading posts as prelude to military expansion. I suppose the plague probably delayed a full-out conflict in the region."

Vainqueur cared nothing for manlings' squabbling, and neither did his stomach. "Friend Victor, find me a cow soon or we shall call upon Knight Kia’s service."

"Me?"

"I don’t think she can summon any food," his chief of staff said.

"She is a minion," Vainqueur reminded Manling Victor of the food chain. "If we do not find food soon, we will have to make a sacrifice to avoid starvation." Since she was the least valuable minion of the group, he would rather start with her than with Gorynych.

"What does that mean?" Knight Kia asked, oblivious to her duty. "Victor, what does he mean?"

"Oh, nothing!" Manling Victor replied hastily. "Let’s just find that trading post!"

Thankfully for the [Paladin], it didn’t take long to locate it. The owners had built a large brick house on a cliff, near a sandy road and a pen full of goats. The place could probably welcome dozens of manlings, but lacked any dragon accommodations.

Was it too much to ask for a lava bath?

After everyone landed, startling the goats, his minions climbed down from Gorynych before knocking on the door. A decomposing ghoul with a rounded hat opened the door, immediately noticing Vainqueur. "Oh, two dragons at once!" he said with a gruff voice. "That’s a first."

"Where is the other?" Vainqueur glanced around, ignoring Gorynych.

"Have you come for healing?" the innkeeper asked. "If so, please fill out your afflictions in our document."

"Wait, I recognize this voice," Knight Kia muttered, "Nestor?"

The ghoul squinted, before quickly recognizing the [Paladin]. "Lady Kia? Is that you?"

"Nestor, you crusty old ghoul, it’s been years!" Knight Kia smiled at the undead. "How have you been?"

"You know him?" Manling Victor asked,

"He was a crusader back when I fought during the Century War," Kia said. "Best archer I ever knew!"

"That feels like a lifetime ago," the ghoul said, before whistling at Vainqueur. "Then, you must be part of the famous V&V Adventurer Company!"

"Certainly, the words of my deeds pale before my magnificence!" the emperor boasted proudly.

"Well, either they say you’re heroic champions of freedom, or a greedy warlord bent on conquering countries for a nickel. It’s odd, it’s always one extreme or another. Sorry I didn’t welcome you properly, the place is a mess."

"What are you doing here in the middle of the desert?" Knight Kia asked him, perhaps hoping to get a discount. "I haven't seen you since the last battle with King Balaur."

"I retired from adventuring, and Nagastan’s naga lords pay me a small fortune to maintain this trading post," the undead replied. "I mostly serve the few adventurers or merchants brave enough to cross the desert."

"Wait, you’re a ghoul, a carrion eater," Manling Victor stated the obvious. "How do you feed in the middle of nowhere?"

"Let’s just say I don’t accept tabs," the ghoul replied with a crooked smile. "In your case though, since you got Lady Kia on your side, your stay is free. There are sick people in most of my beds though; infected merchants I’m trying to keep alive."

"You are a healer?" Manling Victor asked.

"I am a capped [Innkeeper]. Thanks to my class and personal Perks, my inn can heal almost anything. HP, SP, status effects, petrification, mutilations..."

"Wait, how does that work?" Manling Victor pushed. "We pay for a bed and we grow back arms?"

"You need to pay for a bed and have eight hours of sleep in it, and you’re healed at the end of the stay," the ghoul explained. "With the plague going on, I have become the de facto hospital."

"Can you cure dwarf addiction?" Vainqueur’s head perked up. "Asking for a minion."

The ghoul made a strange noise, before disappointing the dragon. "I can’t cure either addictions nor the rare [Stockholm Syndrome] disease. I can heal [Enthrall] though."

"You can cure total mind-control, but not alcoholism?" Knight Kia squinted.

"I don’t make the rules, Lady Kia. Anyway, that nasty plague resists magical healing, even my own perks. But since I can refresh everybody’s HP every eight hours, at least I can keep the sick alive until we find a cure."

"I will cast [Full Heal] on them," the [Paladin] offered, but much to Vainqueur’s confusion didn’t ask for a fee first.

"That would help a lot, but please be wary of them, milady," the innkeeper replied. "The infected look normal for days, and then they start spraying infected blood everywhere."

"Oh, is that how diseases work?" Vainqueur pondered curiously. He had always wondered how that mammal birth defect happened. "Sometimes, I wonder how you minion species managed to survive."

"Come to think of it, dragons are immune to diseases, and I developed a resistance to them when I leveled up in [Monster Knight]," Manling Victor said. "Maybe there’s something to explore there."

"So far, even experienced alchemists and healers have yet to find a remedy," the innkeeper shrugged.

"I have trained under Camilla herself," Manling Victor replied, the ghoul sneering. "Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t boast about it in the current circumstances, but if anyone can find a cure, it would be me."

Vainqueur immediately understood his chief of staff’s plan. "And then we sell it for a high price," the dragon rejoiced. "Brilliant!"

"You want to profit from the misery of the sick?" Knight Kia argued angrily, failing to see the big picture.

"Look at me, manling," Vainqueur said, staring into the [Paladin]’s eyes. "What would minions say if I, the richest dragon in the world, provided them with a cheap remedy?"

"That you are kind and magnanimous?"

"No, that the remedy is worth nothing!" Vainqueur replied. "Have you even considered the cost? Time Manling Victor spends on it, is time he does not spend attending to my every whim!"

"This discussion can wait until after we find a vaccine," Manling Victor said, while the innkeeper somehow rolled his rotting eyes.

"I will settle on sleeping in the sand, but I demand a tribute of cows in return," Vainqueur insisted. "Goats will not do."

"I'll check if I have beef left in the pantry."

"Also, Nestor, we’re close to the Tower of Sablar, right?" Knight Kia asked, "I’ve been considering hitting that place up on our way back."

"The Pyramid," Vainqueur corrected, still remembering the genie disaster that started there. "I am not sullying my claws there again."

"You’re a bit late for that," the ghoul said. "Place was emptied two weeks ago. Apparently, it still had a crazy mummy and an army of undead at its bottom, but they all left."

Vainqueur suddenly remembered that his minion once told him that the mummy Akhenapep made his lair at the bottom. "Explain," the dragon ordered.

"The mummy called upon all the damned Sablar worshipers across the desert to join him. Some stuff about the ‘end is nigh,’ the usual. He even had golems with signboards."

"Their end is nigh," Vainqueur said. "That mummy owes me millions."

"Any idea where they went?" Manling Victor asked, eager to avenge his master’s lost wealth.

"I dunno," the [Innkeeper] shrugged. "From what I heard they opened magical portals and vanished through. Still, almost every crusader I’m still in contact with moved back to Gardemagne soon afterward. I dunno what’s happening, but I heard the fomors in Prydain are acting up."

And they should. For their days were numbered.

"Since you’re here, can I get an autograph?" the ghoul asked the group. "I get the feeling that it will cost a fortune in a century."

"Do not worry about that," Vainqueur reassured him. "It costs a fortune now."

Two more days of flying with a full belly, and Vainqueur’s group returned home.

Murmurin had grown even larger since they had left it, mostly thanks to the dwarf portals opened all around the city. Countless new faces had poured into the capital, whether they be goblins from the Teikoku Empire or manling traders from Port Vainqueur. The desert had been pushed further back, golems and sorcerers tending to verdant fields.

Vainqueur let out a roar to announce his triumphant return, the citizens raising their eyes to the skies in response. Cheers and clapping soon echoed across the streets, his minions welcoming their beloved ruler back the proper way.

The dragon moved towards his castle, which had remained unchanged since his departure and first conflict with King Wotan, before making his way into his vault and to his one true love.

"Good to be home," Vainqueur said, upon resting on his hoard.

His gold reserve had recovered from Untasty Allison’s revival, but it hadn’t grown either. The dragon took solace in the fact that his new colonies would eventually increase its size tenfold; he simply had to wait for the gold to flow.

Congratulations! For completing the first world tour of Outremonde, you and your trusty chief of staff earned the [Magellan] Personal Perk!

[Magellan]: You can teleport to any city or dungeon that you have already visited at will.

Manling Victor, Knight Kia, Corpseling Jules, Tasty Malfy, Marbré the Dwarf, and other minion dignitaries joined him in his vault. "Minions," Vainqueur cleared his throat. "May the empire sing my name in joy, for I return victorious!"

"Indeed," Corpseling Jules said, examining a pile of papers. "With the new conquests, our resources have increased dramatically. We have already started exploiting Port Vainqueur’s remaining naval infrastructures, extracting the whiskey sea, and established trade treaties with foreign nations. Our monopoly on the first worldwide teleportation network is expected to double our national revenue for the next year."

"You will be happy to know that your army is prepared, and armed with the safest equipment ever designed," Marbré added happily.

"What about the Piggybank II?" Vainqueur asked, having mourned the loss of the first to Wotan’s lightning. Never again would he fly across half the world by himself again. The dragon had lost so much fat that he could see his ribs!

"Almost finished," the dwarf promised.

"And the Orknoob rocket?" Manling Victor asked, much to Vainqueur’s confusion.

"Ready to launch on Samhain," Corpseling Jules replied. "We are keeping the surprise until the key moment, to avoid a riot from his followers."

"Wonderful," Knight Kia said. "Can I oversee the preparations? It’s not very [Paladin], but it has to be done."

"With pleasure," Tasty Marbré said. "And you will be happy to know that our guiding system and passenger safety protocols have been tested, tested, tested."

"There are a few negative points to address though," Corpseling Jules said. "Namely Heaven. The angels drastically cut down their investments in the empire, and while they still maintain hospitals and schools, Miel's departure is a blow to our administration."

"Happyland is more than happy to compensate the Empire for this loss," Malfy said hastily while glancing at Manling Victor. "For we do not forget our heroes."

Knight Kia made a face but focused on the real threat. "Are we ready to attack Prydain?"

"We can organize a landing on their coasts after Samhain," Corpseling Jules nodded.

"Then Minions, I have a mission for you," Vainqueur said while enforcing silence. "You shall spread across all corners of the world, meet with every chief of staff, and have them transmit a message to their dragon masters."

All his minions readied himself, waiting for him to enlighten them.

"The fairies violated the ancient truce that bound our species; they abducted helpless wyrms to harvest their blood, and escalated to stealing their souls! This cannot stand!"

[El Presidente] activated!

"I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, have already declared war on Prydain, but this is no longer about me!" The dragon raised a fist. "The fomors must be taught a lesson, and for that, in the name of the Elder Wyrm, I call upon the first Dragon Conclave since the end of the first Fomor-Dragon war! And there shall not be a third!"

Most of his servants raised their fists, ready to conquer Prydain in dragonkind’s name. "For the Revolution!" the dwarves in attendance shouted.

"Free real estate!" said Malfy.

"And new undead!" Corpseling Jules added.

"For the world!" Knight Kia raised her blade.

Manling Victor clapped and smiled, although he looked strangely bothered.

"And now..." Vainqueur trailed, his minions all waiting for his final words.

The dragon nested on his treasure.

"And now I take a nap."

52: Prophecy Fulfilled

What a bright sunny day. What could go wrong?

So Victor asked himself, as he flew over Isabelle Maure’s corner of the V&V Empire. Tonight was Samhain, the Outremonde equivalent to Halloween. A time when undead and monsters acted up, like the ones making up his entire nation.

And they had failed to kill Odieuse before this date.

Which meant that she would get her hands on those ‘arrows of light’ he had been forewarned about. Between the missing Apple of Knowledge, Brandon Maure’s Wind Spears, and the Fomors’ access to Earth technology, Victor had a pretty good idea of those weapons’ true nature.

The future looks dire, but not all is lost, the Vizier told himself. They had magic, allies, levels, and resources aplenty. They defeated Maure, the Nightblades, Wotan, Akhenapep, and even recruited a goddamn Tarasque. They would soon face their most dangerous enemy yet, but there was hope. With [Harvest], he could focus on extracting every information Mag Mell had accumulated on Prydain, and prepare for the coming war.

Still, Victor would need a pocket dimension sanctuary as soon as he could manufacture it.

He finally reached the settlement that the Archdevil had established, a fortified town in the middle of the desert. Unlike the semi-anarchic Murmurin, the governor ruled her patch of Maureland with an iron fist; almost all of the settlers were bug-like fiends, and Victor noticed an armored hellknight at every street corner. Workers built new houses and fortifications everywhere, while sorcerers were busy growing plants on the dry soil.

He quickly located Isabelle managing a group of fiends establishing the foundations of a new watchtower. The archdevil oversaw the construction with a pleased gaze.

"Isa?" Victor called her as he landed. "How is my favorite private teacher?"

"Darling, you are back!" she said, smiling at his arrival. In fact, she looked much happier than he had ever seen her before; she had taken some weight though, especially at the hips and the belly.

"I see that you have adapted to your new role well," he replied, removing his helmet.

"As you did to your new armor," she said, appreciating it. "You feel different. Did you earn new levels?"

"And a huge charisma increase."

"I can definitely see that," she said, looking at him like an appetizing dinner. "Maybe we should put it to the test?"

"Actually, I can cast Tier VIII spells now," Victor said, taking her in his arms, "I thought I could fashion my own private dimension."

"Mmm, I have scrolls for spells that you could learn," she replied, pushing him a bit. "I will be more than happy to teach you that trick if I am allowed to furnish the place. I have high standards for private leisure sanctuaries."

Truth to be told, if he could do it, Victor wanted to build more than one sanctuary. To have back-up escape sanctuaries for Murmurin’s citizens, planar hidden caches, maybe intermediary checkpoints between the colonies. But that was long term planning.

"I would be very glad to resume your magical studies, especially in [Diabolism]," Isabelle said. "That will take my mind off this urban development project. The raw fabric of Happyland will bow to our will."

They would certainly need it. "I’m always up for a private lesson, but you also wanted to tell me something important, no?"

"You are looking at it," she replied, a hand on her stomach, "Or rather, at her."

"Oh, that you have gotten ffffffffffffffffffffffffff—"

Victor’s brain stopped working, as the truth hit him like a truck on a highway.

His mind rewinded several memories in quick succession, linking them all together into a simple, terrifying picture.

"I have something to tell you on your return." "She couldn’t make it in time." "A medical examination…"

"BLEEP."

"It is a girl!" the archdevil rejoiced, "I hoped for a Braniño II at first, to replace the old one, but this is even better. Braniña will grow into a marvelous CEO warlord, cruel and beautiful. I even asked Fiendo Bugcci to design all of her wardrobe until she reaches eighteen."

Victor wanted someone to pinch his arm and wake him up. But nobody did. "This is serious? This is not a joke?"

"I am serious. I know I spoiled Brandon rotten, but none of my children will dress like a blue-collar worker."

"No, I meant, how can this be happening?!" Victor freaked out.

"Darling, we have been seeing each other for days… years…" The archdevil hesitated, before settling on a time period. "Years. It was bound to happen."

"But, but, but—"

"I know," Isabelle replied. "After the first dozen tries, I thought this could never work between us, but it simply took a few hundred more! My healers told me that she would be a [Demon/Humanoid] instead of the [Bug/Dragon] I hoped for, but she will inherit excellent genes from us both. She will have twice Braniño’s starting stats and unique Perks!"

Victor listened, but he could only focus on one thing. "A daughter."

"Our daughter."

Thanks for reminding me. "C-can we discuss it more in length?"

She stroked his face. "You are afraid?"

"Of course I am!" That’s completely unexpected! "We aren’t even married!"

"Darling, I am a demon," she replied, offended, "I would never marry you. This is against my principles."

"I, I meant that we aren’t even exclusive!" Or at least he wasn’t, and he made that clear from day one. "And I never wanted to!"

"Darling, I am still fine with you keeping mistresses on the side," she replied softly, apparently unable to understand his problem. "However, as my consort, I insist that you recognize Braniña as your true-born daughter. This is very important, since as the hero of Happyland, this may make her eventual ascension to Corporate Overlord much easier. Maybe she will become Outremonde’s very first [Demon Queen]! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?"

Frankly, Victor didn’t know what to answer. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation at all.

"I know this is a very big change in our lives," the archdevil conceded. "But, as a Grand Vizier, you need an heir. Maybe even a few spares. We could create a dynasty that will one day rule all of Outremonde."

Wow, she was skipping a lot of steps there!

"I need a moment to process this," the Vizier admitted, his breathing short.

"It is fine, Darling, but do not process too long. If she is anything like her half-brother, she will start clawing her way out in a couple of months once I use elixirs to hasten the process. I cannot afford to take parental leave in these troubled economic times, you understand."

A couple of months? That wasn’t nearly enough time! A couple of years wouldn’t be enough!

"I… I will come back later," Victor said, having too much on his plate right now to react with a cool head.

"Take your time, Darling," she replied happily, before immediately barking orders to her workers. "More to the left, the new watchtower!"

Victor walked away towards the desert, before using his newly earned [Magellan] perk to teleport back to his mansion for some alone time. He needed to breathe, to return to his place, see his lawyers, do something, anything!

Except he found Allison and Chocolatine waiting at the door.

While the dryad seemed only concerned, the werewolf looked outright devastated. Had something happened to her brother on the Moon? Unfortunately, he could do without more shenanigans right now.

"Ah, good morning girls." Victor saluted them, doing his best to look cheery and not anxious. "If this is about the cat, I heard very shocking news and I’m not in the mood. Can this wait?"

"No, Victor, it cannot," Allison replied, while Chocolatine anxiously bit her lower lip. "This is urgent. Very urgent."

Victor was almost ready to brush them off, until a second look at the werewolf’s distraught face. His empathy kicked in. "What happened?" he asked, worried.

"It is about Choc," the dryad explained, putting a hand on her female friend’s shoulder in support, "She learned something very important from her god during her morning prayers, and Cybele confirmed it to me. I believe that you should hear it as soon as possible."

The werewolf didn’t look ready to say anything until Allison whispered encouragement in her ear. The Vizier braced himself for what he sensed would be more devastating news.

"Vic…" Chocolatine looked at him with terrified eyes. "Vic, you promise you won’t get mad?"

"Yes?" Victor tried to project a comforting smile, sensing a disaster coming. "No?"

"Vic, if you…" Chocolatine gulped. "If you… if we accidentally… if the protection ward didn’t work on me, and… you know..."

The Vizier kept smiling, even if he was screaming internally.

"Vic?" Allison asked him. "Vic, I think your face broke."

Sitting on a chair inside a Nethermart lawyer’s office, Victor’s mind blanked out. The light from outside the window burned on his white, sweating skin.

"Sir?" one of his lawyers asked him, a pile of files on their mahogany desk.

"Can you..." the Vizier struggled to find his words. "Can you repeat?"

"You are being sued with a class-action lawsuit by the Happyland Battle Harem, for ‘unlawful impregnation of horizontal angels during work,’" the lawyer said. "You risk eight child support condemnations, as per the ‘Sugar Daddy’ jurisprudence."

"Since you are the hero of Happyland, and the judge is my cousin, we are confident that we can handle the matter quietly," the other lawyer added, before browsing through files. "However, we anticipate new cases in the near future. There is the matter of Miss Chocolatine, a paternity test demand from a certain Lynette from Haudemer, that Scholomance intern..."

"Thankfully, we have covered up Head of State/intern affairs since the dawn of democracy. We call this an ‘oval office cleanup.’"

"How did this happen?" the Vizier asked while tightening his fists.

"Well, sir, with all due respect, you are a whore."

"I always use protections, including magical wards, and I shouldn’t even be able to breed with half of them!" Victor argued angrily. "What, next you will say that Charlene is on the list? That an undead vampire and a half-dragon can procreate?!"

"Well, while Miss Ennuie is not among your confirmed cases, according to modern vampire literature—"

"That’s not how DNA works!" Victor protested.

"It appears His Majesty’s new Perk allows for minion interbreeding according to our research, no matter how unlikely anatomically," the lawyer replied. "Which would explain all the post-Perk interactions like Miss Chocolatine. As for the protections falling, both magical and otherwise, we have no clue. It is as if you ignored them entirely."

Intelligence check successful.

"[Skeleton Key]," Victor realized, his eyes widening in realization.

"Excuse us, sir?"

"One of my [Reaper] Perks causes me to count as ‘invited’ in any location magically protected and unlocks any lock on a successful [Skill] check," Victor said. "If it applies to any part of me, and has a broad understanding of locks..."

That was why the Perk had activated at the inn last time! He hadn’t considered the implications, but now he could only curse his naivete!

"Oh gods, this is really happening," the [Reaper] panicked. "I’m going to have kids."

"Babies?" Victor almost jumped out of his chair, as he heard Vainqueur Junior scratching at the office’s door. "Babies?!"

How did it even get there? "Not yours," the Vizier replied with a haunted voice. "Mine."

"Babies, Vic?" he heard Buzz Jelly ask from behind the door.

"Babies?!" Vainqueur Junior responded, clearly more happy for his master than Victor himself. "Babies!"

"Don’t worry, sir," the lawyers tried to reassure their client, in a way only fiends could. "We will make sure you get away with everything and do not pay a cent to your, sorry for the politically incorrect term, many bastards."

"Wait, how many?" Victor asked the lawyers, his gaze empty. "How many?"

The fiends exchanged glances in awkward silence. "Well, if we believe our projections, the confirmed cases, and the propensity of werewolves to have litters between four and six, a conservative estimate might indicate-"

"How many?!" Victor snapped impatiently.

"Sixteen."

Vitality and Charisma checks successful! [Paralysis] and [Terror] negated!

"SIXTEEN?!" Victor choked.

"Maybe only fifteen, Sir!"

He wasn’t ready to have one, let alone SIXTEEN! How was that even possible?!

Intelligence check successful!

"Congratulations for your thirty-two new eyes," Victor muttered, remembering the Moon Man’s words during his bad trip. He glanced through the window, at the moon half-hidden by clouds in the skies. "That godly bastard!"

"Sir?"

"He knew! That squid knew and foreshadowed it!"

The fiends looked at him as if he had gone mad, before awkwardly straightening their ties.

"This is karma, isn’t it?" Victor asked. "This is karma punishing me for my lustful lifestyle."

"Sir, I understand that the situation may feel hopeless, but we are your lawyers. You pay us to protect you from karma, and this is nothing we haven’t faced before. We have solutions."

"Like what?" Victor almost begged for an easy escape.

"We can make the problems go away, away." One of the two demons mimicked a beheading with his hand. "Or we falsify all the paternity tests. Maybe even threaten the offenders with lawsuits, if you prefer a non-violent solution?"

"Threaten is a strong word," his colleague replied. "I suggest a slander campaign, followed by an insulting settlement offer."

"Yes, that is more civilized. Good call."

The Vizier ignored them debating amoral solutions, from putting the children in a rocket for the moon, to faking his death so he could legally avoid paying child support. For Victor, who had done everything to avoid any kind of serious romantic entanglement, this was a nightmare made real.

He turned to the window and looked at the sun. That bright, brilliant guiding star that Mithras had claimed as his own. He remembered Ludvic’s word and realized that events had probably played out the same for his mentor.

If he followed his example, opened the windows, and ran, he could escape. Even with Vainqueur, he had grown powerful enough that he could easily vanish after dealing with the fomors. It would be cowardly and irresponsible, but he would remain without responsibilities. He could become a free spirit like Ludvic, roaming the world as he wished. He could even skip Outremonde outright and move to the other planes.

But that meant abandoning Vainqueur, his people, his children, and all the people who had grown to depend on him. That would probably be the most selfish thing Victor could ever do.

He immediately decided against it.

No running away. He had built a life there, and he couldn’t throw it away.

What about the other solution? Isabelle would keep her daughter, he knew that for sure, and for the others… Chocolatine had said that she didn’t want to settle down either, but she was just as confused as Victor himself right now. While the Vizier did have a say, he wasn’t the only one making that decision.

He still had no idea what to do. What did he learn in Scholomance? What parental wisdom did he learn from Akhenapep?

Vizier Stratagem Eighteen: The law of no sons, because they are would-be usurpers and distractions.

Okay, what about daughters? Vizier Stratagem Nineteen: The law of no daughters, because they are one check away from being turned around by a handsome [Paladin].

Achieve immortality instead, because you are the only one right for the job.

… that didn’t help! That didn’t help at all!

College didn’t prepare him for parenthood!

Should he ask the gods for guidance? He had been claimed by half the pantheon, someone should at least answer his prayers. Maybe Camilla?

"No."

"Sir?"

"No, not them," Victor replied, more to himself than to the lawyers. "There’s only one friend that I need to consult."

The person that knew him most.

53: The End is Nigh

Of course, the one time Victor came to Vainqueur for advice, the dragon was asleep on his hoard, belly exposed. "Your Majesty?" Victor asked, the dragon softly snoring like a cat. Vainqueur had remained like that for the past week, even as his Vizier prepared the country for war and Samhain. When would he wake up?

Wait, hadn’t the dragon’s last nap lasted fifty years?

…

"Your Majesty!" Victor panicked, shouting into the wyrm’s ear. "Your Majesty!"

"What, minion?" Vainqueur grumbled while waking up.

The Vizier breathed in relief. "Oh thank the gods, you weren’t going to sleep for decades!"

"I was taking a power nap," Vainqueur replied, stretching his neck. "Also, do not thank your paltry gods. Thank me."

"Thank Your Majesty for his kindness." Victor meant for it to come across as sarcasm, but couldn’t help but crack a genuine smile. After so long putting up with Vainqueur’s insane ego, he had grown somewhat amused by it.

"Now, minion, why did you wake me up early? Are the fairies attacking? Have the dodos gone extinct again?"

"Not yet," the Vizier replied, although he heard disturbing news about a high rate of ‘unexplained’ mutation in the Dodocare. Goblina had also informed him of an abnormal rate of cancer in the Teikoku Empire after their last battle there. "I need to talk to Your Majesty. I need advice, and… well, you’re my friend and the one I trust the most."

"Of course I am." The wyrm observed him in silence for a moment, before making a decision. "We will go to the roof."

"For privacy?"

"That, and to watch the fireworks in my honor." The dragon marked a short pause. "Because there are fireworks in my honor, am I right?"

"Yes."

Victor knew his dragon all too well.

This should be a joyous day. She had made the best sweets in the city and even brought her Red Riding Hood costume out of storage.

Yet Chocolatine de Gevaudan didn’t feel happy at all.

Everybody enjoyed themselves outside, knocking on doors asking for sweets; the werewolf had done the same in the previous Samhain, although there was much less diversity back then. But she wasn’t in the mood to participate.

"I’m sorry, Al," Chocolatine said, stepping away from her home’s windows to sit around her dinner table, "I think I’m staying home tonight."

"It’s fine." Her friend, who wore a black cloak and fake vampire fangs, tried to comfort her. The dryad had planned to disguise herself as a mummy, but dropped it after it reminded her of the fiasco with that nasty Akhenapep. "I will stay with you. We can even play the new Boards & Conquests game I bought."

"The one with the trolls and werebeasts nations?"

"That one."

"Thanks," Chocolatine replied, reviewing the pie and sweets that she had cooked for tonight. She had prepared a few for her brother and Savoureuse, intending to visit them tomorrow on the Moooooon.

"We can use a spell if you do not want them," Allison said suddenly. "Personally, if I were in your situation, I would cast it."

"I don’t know, Al," Chocolatine replied. She did intend to have children one day, and had even fantasized about Vic impregnating her. But not now, not even in years.

Chocolatine knew a few people thought her crazy for her eccentricities. But she knew she would be a good mom if she wanted to! She would show her kids how to hunt demons for sustenance, and all the skills needed to survive in the wild! Vic wouldn’t bail out on her, so she could raise them with him too!

But Chocolatine was still young and cute. She could do without the eight months and all the hassle that would follow afterward.

She simply couldn’t make a decision yet.

Someone knocked on the door, probably her first visitor. "Coming!" Chocolatine welcomed the distraction, moving to open the door.

The creature at the threshold was a tall, willowy humanoid as thin as a noodle. His body was that of a wooden scarecrow, except for a pumpkin head lit by unnatural flames. The figure wore a cloak on his back, a peasant hat on his head, and a blue lantern around his belt. He smelled of forests, ashes, and sweets.

"Trick," the monster extended a hissing bag full of screaming faces, "or treat?"

"Sure, I have cake!" Chocolatine smiled, giving a slice of pie to the visitor. "Here, I hope you like it."

The strange creature looked at the piece, took it in one hand, and tasted a bite. "So sweet," he said before swallowing the slice whole. "Jack O’Lantern thanks you."

"Are you new?" Chocolatine asked with a smile. "I don’t think we’ve met!"

"Jack only goes out once a year on Samhain. Jack doesn’t like mortals, but he loves the taste of their sweets. Jack will return next year for a full cake."

"You can eat it with us now," Chocolatine replied kindly. "I love having new friends for dinner, and the cat is still in the oven."

"Jack allowed in?" The creature sounded surprised as if it was the first time someone ever invited him for dinner.

"Sure. You don’t mind ghouls and vampires? My friends, Jules and Charlene will be joining us, but they’re very nice." Rolo had declined, still too busy with farming.

"It is fine. Jack loves the taste of manlings too."

"Then you will get along perfectly! Just don’t ask Charlene about book recommendations."

Kia looked at the moon rocket with great satisfaction.

More specifically, at Orknoob being forced to board it at crossbow point by Kobolds. Buzz Jelly followed them, looking at the rocket with a mix of awe and nostalgia.

"Today," she began addressing a crowd of monsters and Isekai followers that came to witness the launch, "we are gathered to celebrate the departure of Orknoob, Founder of the Esoteric Order of the Isekai, as he was 'persuaded' to leave the planet forever."

"Yeah!" one of the Isekai worshipers acclaimed. "Time to bring the word of Japan to the stars!"

"Go get the green-skinned waifus!"

Executing him might have made him a martyr, and no attempt to expose his shady ways had worked. It was strange; the more proof they gave that Orknoob was a scam, the more his followers believed in him.

So instead, they would make this pest go away.

"Just so we can confirm," Kia asked the dwarf engineer overseeing the launch, having insisted on giving the order herself. "You will send him to a planet at the frontier of our solar system?"

"Yes, as far as the rocket can carry him. Which is the safest, most tested rocket we have ever designed."

"And he has no way of coming back?"

"No."

"I will return!" Orknoob shouted in response. "I will gather a harem of alien waifus, and then build an army—"

Buzz Jelly leaped forward and hit the orc in the face. "Board!" it ordered while bouncing back. "Get sword rocket!"

"But—"

"Get sword! For country!"

The wounded scammer looked ready to argue, but the tiny slime intimidated him into silence. Orknoob climbed into the rocket, the metal door closing behind him.

"I love how even our prophet needs coaching sometimes," an orc said. "This reminds me of the time Oji had doubts about letting the carriage run him over."

"Yeah, everyone has doubts about going to Japan. He’s showing us that it’s okay."

Kia kept her mouth shut, rejoicing at finally being rid of this idiocy. These cultists had harassed her about her ‘Isekai levels’ since she had first arrived in Outremonde; with Orknoob off the planet, she hoped that this scam religion would die out in a few generations.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking, but hope kept her alive. Even her patron Mithras hadn’t managed to lift her curse yet, and she needed whatever pleasure she could find.

"Three…" Kia counted down, with a happy smile. "Two, one… ZERO!"

With a catastrophic sound, the rocket flew upward, blowing dust everywhere. Kia put a hand on her visage to protect herself from the smoke, everyone watching the carrier go up and up. Buzz Jelly, in particular, looked mesmerized by the spectacle.

The rocket reached the clouds, ready to pierce them and continue its path beyond the atmosphere. Kia breathed in relief, finally freed from that odious annoy—

BOOM!

The rocket exploded into a thousand pieces in the middle of the ascent.

The [Paladin] froze in shocked silence, as she watched the debris go down in flames around the launch site. "Sabotage!" Buzz Jelly shouted. "Sword broken!"

"Invisible fairy bourgeois sabotaged the rocket!" shouted the dwarf engineer, but the crowd wasn’t panicking nor rioting.

In fact, Murmurin’s citizens looked more curious than anything. "Do you think we can go to Japan by getting blown up by rockets?" one orc asked another.

"I’m not sure… we should try and check."

Kia looked at the smoke above her, and while she knew she should have felt somewhat regretful, Orknoob's sudden death made her happier. It wasn't very [Paladin], but after being forced to drink saltwater for the rest of her life and agreeing to fight a new Century War, she deserved it.

…

"I need a hobby," she told herself, once the dopamine wore off.

Maybe she should try Monster Poker?

While sitting atop his castle’s highest tower, his minion resting on his back next to him, Vainqueur observed his city at night. As usual, at this time of the year, Samhain had caused spirits to act up; ghosts swirled in the skies; flocks of bats gathered around buildings; werewolves, vampires, and other creatures paraded in the streets.

It felt like a lifetime ago when this place was nothing but a dirty farm.

"We are late!" Vainqueur complained as they watched a rocket explode above the ground.

"No, that’s just a test run," Manling Victor said, although he sounded unbelievably pleased with himself. "Very nice view though."

"It did not spray the sky with colors," Vainqueur pointed out. "I want to turn all this black into gold and red."

"Just five more minutes, Your Majesty."

Vainqueur grumbled impatiently, as he realized that he could have napped longer. "What did you want to tell me, Manling Victor?"

"That I am going to have kids."

The dragon instantly turned his head away from the rocket and towards his chief of staff. "About time!" Vainqueur rejoiced. "Minion, at this rate, I thought I would have to breed you myself at breathpoint!"

"I am thankful that Your Majesty trusted me to do it on my own."

"How many?" the dragon asked for more details. "You did not breed with Knight Kia, I hope? You are too good for her."

"No, I didn’t breed with her," Manling Victor replied, before adding with surprising concern. "But I apparently have at least sixteen babies coming."

Sixteen? "That is all?"

His minion didn’t understand. "That is all?"

"You must make more," Vainqueur ordered his prized lackey. "We are at war, my chief of staff. My army needs at least three hundred more quality minions. Get back to work."

"Your Majesty, I…" his minion struggled to find his next words, "I’m not comfortable with these ones, let alone having more."

"Why so?" Vainqueur asked, puzzled. Was not breeding his second reason for existing, after being the dragon’s chief of staff? Then why did he sound so… vulnerable?

"I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father," Manling Victor explained.

"Minion, I somewhat understand that this may feel a daunting task considering your obligations to me. While many wealthy wyrms have tried to court me, I was never interested in having spawns myself. They are a bottomless money-sink. But you are my Grand Vizier, your brood will always be properly cared for."

As in, they would always get food and a minion job.

"I’ve got assets, connections, and plenty of magic," Manling Victor replied. "While Your Majesty only allows me to keep one one-tenth of what I earn, I know I can provide for them. But I don’t want to be just a breathing purse, yet..."

"Friend Victor," Vainqueur interrupted him. "How do you feel about this?"

His Vizier remained silent, trying to figure himself out.

"I’m afraid," Manling Victor admitted. "I’m afraid because I know myself. I’m no father of the year material. I am bi-neutral, always on the move, and completely unable to stay faithful to one woman. It’s like getting a job I know I’m unsuited for, but that I must do anyway! I’m afraid because I never planned for this, and it fell on my lap without warning!"

Vainqueur turned away from his friend and pointed at Murmurin. "Minion, look at this. Look at this place that we made."

His minion did so, although his master’s point escaped him.

"Now, do you remember why I came here in the first place?" Vainqueur asked.

"Your Majesty wanted a bigger cave to stash his gold."

"Exactly. I never planned to rule an empire on which the sun never sets, but here it is. None of this was intended, but I have grown to love ruling this beautiful minion utopia all the same."

"Your Majesty implies that I will grow to love my children, even if I never planned to have them?"

"I do, minion," Vainqueur nodded.

His manling didn’t seem convinced, so the dragon further elaborated. "Minion, children are like the gems of your hoard. You may have started gathering a treasure for the love of gold, but you have a duty to care for and protect your personal wealth in all of its forms. Sometimes you will feel that a treasure that a suicidal manling delivered is not up to your standards, or you do not know how to clean that platinum statue, but you have to take care of them anyway."

"Your Majesty lost me a bit with the analogy, but I think I understand the lesson," Manling Victor replied. "I have a duty to take care of my kids, and that even if I may not be the father they need, I should at least try my best? And that I may grow to like it?"

Vainqueur nodded. "Take care of your hoard, all of it."

Manling Victor’s sad face turned into a smile. "That is deep."

"I know. I rarely share my dragon wisdom with you, because you are almost the perfect minion already."

"And Your Majesty is the best friend a manling like me could ask for."

"Who else?" Vainqueur asked rhetorically. "Now stop worrying about the future, and enjoy the moment."

For his minions had finally decided to launch the fireworks. Both V&V members looked up at the skies, as exploding rockets sprayed the darkness with colorful smoke and lights. Vainqueur and Victor spent the evening watching the celebration in a happy kind of silence, until the dragon broke it.

"Not even the fairies will take this place from me, Friend Victor."

"About that, Your Majesty," Manling Victor trailed sorrowfully. "Do we really have to kill them all?"

"What do you mean, minion?"

"If they have souls and feelings now… is endless war the only way anymore?"

On a distant island, near the New World’s coasts, a group of winged women labored on an ash-filled ground.

They had worked for weeks, months, to dig out their buried master. Never once did they waver in their determination, especially after recovering their missing member. A woman named Sigrun gave orders, as they hit the volcanic stone with their spears and commanded ghosts to remove debris.

Finally, the earth trembled, and they formed a circle.

A mighty hand emerged in their midst, wielding a lightning spear.

And thunder echoed across the sea.

●                       Earth, Baltic Sea.

There was blood in the water tonight, and it brought a smile to his face.

The world of men was such a dreadful place for a fomor like Mell Lin. He could feel the magic that fueled him slip away, and even the System didn’t work on this side. The Pied Piper remained strong, but some of his Perks refused to activate. How odd.

It doesn’t matter, he thought, as he glanced at the human corpses carried by the waves. The golems that had carried out the massacre stood over the bridge of a metal vehicle, floating on the water; a great whale of steel, used by the apes to spy and exterminate one another.

The rift in space that they had used to cross the border between worlds remained wide open, large enough to make an army pass through. His sister Odieuse awaited on the other side, using ancient fairy magic to keep it open for the next few hours. Long enough to move this whale to Outremonde.

What did the monkeys call it again?

A Typhoon-class nuclear submarine.

"Fascinating." The mummy Akhenapep, Sablar’s envoy to his Fomor ‘allies,’ examined holes in the metal whale's hide. "Beautiful."

"Indeed," Mell Lin said, peeking inside the holes to look at the giant arrows kept within. "To think that they keep them in storage to gather dust."

Well, if the apes didn’t want to use their own weapons, the fomors would gladly requisition them. With the Apple of Knowledge to understand how to operate these arrows, they could equip his sister’s Crom Cruach and burn all their enemies away.

With the dragon’s farm first in line.

"Lord Sablar demands retribution," Akhenapep said. "But this is the moment I have been waiting for."

"Mmm?" Lin asked, somewhat curious.

"I said I wouldn’t wake up until Doomsday O’Clock... but I like to be early."

V&V will return in the fourth and final volume…

For their Last Adventure!

Closing Words and Thanks

And that’s the end of the volume! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this volume of Vainqueur the Dragon. Next one (“The Last Adventure”) will be the final one and conclude the saga.

As I said in the previous volume, each book of Vainqueur is themed after a classic RPG class. Volume 1 was the “Fighter” volume, and Volume 2 the “Rogue” one. This volume was the “Spellcaster” themed adventure. Besides the obvious Harry Potter parody, the volume focused on V&V’s growing magical might, and that of their competition, the fairy lords of the Fomors. My intent was always for the saga to build up to a final conflict between dragons and their rivals, which will be the focus of the last volume. Mell Odieuse, in particular, finally established herself as the main villain in the most brutal way possible.

As for the storyline, I wanted to develop the two lead characters. Vainqueur, after considering himself invincible and all-powerful, is now confronted with human conflicts like dealing with his mortality, developing compassion for other beings, making peace with old enemies, and learning to lead rather than rule through force. He truly grows wiser and smarter as he slowly transforms into the dragon emperor he is destined to become.

As for Victor, his theme for the volume was karma catching up to him; from his lies destroying his budding friendship with Miel, to his careless pursuit of women leaving him with offsprings to take care of. My intent in the web novel was to parody/criticise the Isekai Harem genre, but it seems a few readers thought I was playing it straight; I hope you will understand it as the parody that it is.

In any case, if you enjoyed reading this book, I would be thankful if you could leave a comment or review on Amazon. That helps.

See you soon for the final volume.

Special thanks to my proofreader and first reader, Daniel Zogbi, and my cover artist Vitaly S. Alexius.

Finally, special thanks to my Patrons on Patreon, who support my writing: Nicholas Johnson, Dargon, David Burchfield, Julien Fellegara, Kayden, thkiw, Andriette Brittz, redslash5, FiveHands, B. 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V&V stats

Vainqueur "Best Dragon" Knightsbane

Level: 75 (Augustus 30/Witchfinder General 14/Kaiser 17/Dungeon Breeder 10/Geomancer 4)

Type: Dragon.

Party: V&V.

Health Points: 6,965

Special Points: 1810

Strength: 162

Vitality: 121

Skill: 66 (+6)

Agility: 89

Intelligence: 53 (+2)

Charisma: 138 (+6)

Luck: 85 (+18)

Personal Perks

●     Atomic Dragonfire Breath

●     Fire Immunity

●     Red Dragon Lifeforce

●     Dragon Arrogance

●     Wyrm Dragonscale

●     Super Senses

●     Virgin Princess Radar

●     Lesser Poison Resistance

●     Deadfriend

●     Lesser Magic Resistance

●     Taunt

●     Epic

●     El Presidente

●     Magellan

Class Perks

●     Born in the Purple

●     For the Emperor

●     King of Games

●     Dynasty

●     Crowd Favorite

●     Supercrit

●     Spell Purge

●     Witch Burning

●     Exorcism I

●     Hunter's Resolve

●     Stipend

●     Dungeon Owner (Castle of Murmurin)

●     Victory Fist

●     Summon Herald (Victor Dalton)

●     Imperial Authority

●     Malefic Secrecy

●     Monster Empathy

●     Charged Attack (Dragon Breath)

●     Victory Roar

●     Mirror Scale

●     Fire Crown

●     Immovable

●     Show-off

●     Gold Shower

●     Shining Majesty

●     Golden Road

●     Geomancy

●     Monster Husbandry

●     Terraform: Landmass

●     Pontifex Maximus

●     Malleus Maleficarum

●     Incinerator

●     Master of Silence

●     Glitzy Theater

●     Improved Hybridization

●     Rabbit Plague

●     Alpha Magnetism (Scales)

Inventory:

●     [Ring of the Dragon Ur-Pharaoh]: minor artifact. +10 to Luck; immunity to hostile [Earth] effects; reflexively cast [Hasten], [Protection from Elements], [Greater Dispel Magic], or [Cure Any Ailment] on the wearer once per day, depending on the situation. Cannot be worn by non-[Dragon] types.

●     [Crown of the Conqueror]: +6 to Charisma, Luck, and Skill; immunity to [Terror]. 

●     [Psi-Stone of Mind-Shielding]: Immunity to Mind-Affecting Effects.

●     [Psi-Stone of Positive Energy]: Resistance to [Necromancy] effects: regain twice as much HP from healing magic; +2 to INT and +2 to LCK if worn with another Psi-Stone!

Victor "Slimy One" Dalton

Level: 73 (Monster Knight: Red Dragon 20/Reaper 30/Moriarty 11/Chaos Rider 4/Weathermaker 7/Fiendish Rake 1)

Type: Slime/Dragon

Party: V&V

Health Points 1605

Special Points 510

Strength 45 (+6)

Vitality 53 (+6)

Skill 76 (+8)

Agility 61

Intelligence 82

Charisma 79 (+36; +6 when lying)

Luck 71

Personal Perks

●     Claimed by Dice

●     Observer

●     Deadfriend

●     Seducer

●     Claimed by the Moon Man

●     Black Curse

●     Noxious Fire

●     Claimed by Shesha

●     Epic

●     Vizier Education

●     Troll Regeneration

●     Perk Forge

●     Darwinist

●     Blood Pulse

●     Claimed by Deathjester

●     Claimed by Camilla

●     Exhibitionist

●     Slime Totem

●     Bloodborn

●     Claimed by Cybele

●     Magellan

Class Perks

●     Skeleton Key

●     Eye for Treasure

●     Scythe Lord

●     Monster Kin

●     Minion Trainer

●     Monster Student

●     Rally Minion

●     Monster Lifeforce (Red Dragon)

●     Monster Rider

●     Monster Insight

●     Reanimator

●     Soulmaster VI

●     Helheim

●     Steal Life

●     Mook Promotion

●     Slayer of Men

●     Scarlet Study

●     Master's Shield

●     Fright Knight

●     Lethal

●     Hades Blast

●     Final Problem

●     Black Horseman

●     Diabolical Mastermind

●     Envious

●     Nightmare Lord

●     Vicious Ankou

●     Devil Archmage II

●     Charon’s Grim Harvest

●     Asteroid Dynamics

●     Zmey Rider

●     White Rider

●     Apocalypse Storm

●     Planeloved

Inventory:

●     [Moloch’s Hide]: (Minor Artifact)

●     [Harvest] (Minor artifact)

●     [Brooch of Free Movement]: the wearer can move normally no matter the terrain.

●     [Ring of Emergency Teleport]: 20 charges. Allow the caster to use [Emergency Teleport] to quickly teleport within a five kilometers area.

●     [Rings of Skill Boosting] x 2: +4 SKI (total +8)

●     [Belt of Perfect Disguise]: can magically polymorph into a humanoid of the same size.

●     [Bracers of Improved Bluff]: +6 on Charisma when lying.

●     [Mini-Circlet against Greater Divinations]: immune to scrying/magical location effect.