"But his reputation on the forums is… formidable. He is the ruler of the Takayama Prefecture. His domain is a massive, nigh-impenetrable fortress of living metal and stone. He is considered one of the 'Three Great Crafters' of Japan, a master of Alchemy and Creation. He is… a titan of industry. And he has just claimed the single greatest artisan in the country as his own."

I stood up from the bed, the last vestiges of my earlier pleasure gone, replaced by the cold, hard reality of high-stakes demonic politics.

The easy, straightforward path to acquiring my new quartermaster had just been closed.

The front door was now guarded by a very large, very angry golem.

"So, a direct invasion is off the table," I mused aloud.

"For now."

"Indeed, my Lord," Pixia squeaked.

"To challenge a Demon King of the Golem-Master's stature directly would be… unwise."

I looked at Chloe, who was now dressing with a silent, deadly efficiency, her earlier passion replaced by a cold, murderous focus.

Her Lord had been thwarted.

Her Lord was displeased.

Someone would have to pay.

"This changes things," I said, a slow, predatory smile touching my lips.

"The Golem-Master wants to play politics. He wants to build alliances, to form a power bloc. He thinks he can hide behind his walls and his proclamations."

I began to laugh, a low, cold sound that echoed in the crystal chamber.

"He's playing checkers," I purred.

"And I'm about to flip the whole damn board over."

The hunt for the Dwarf was not over.

It had just become a covert operation.

A mission of espionage, of sabotage, of a single, perfect, and utterly deniable assassination.

I looked at Chloe, my beautiful, fanatical shadow.

Her amethyst eyes met mine, a silent, deadly promise passing between us.

The Golem-Master had just made a very powerful, very public statement.

And I was about to send him a very quiet, very personal reply.

One written in blood and shadow.

One that would remind him, and every other player on that damn website, that the Tyrant of Aethelburg did not respect other people's property.

He took what he wanted.

And he wanted that Dwarf.

The game was afoot.

-------------------------------

The world seemed to stop.

The wind, which had been howling through the mountain pass, fell silent.

The low, rumbling snores from one of my napping Ogres ceased.

The only sound was the frantic, panicked thumping of my own, currently non-beating, heart.

The Dwarf Queen, Akira, stood there, her small, grease-stained finger pointed directly at Isabelle.

"Her," she repeated, her voice a clear, childish bell that rang with the finality of a death sentence.

"The Saint. She will be your guarantee."

The air in the cavern, which had been thick with the tension of an impending battle, now crackled with a new, far more dangerous energy.

It was the energy of a simmering, psychosexual cold war that was about to go nuclear.

And my dick was ground zero.

Chloe, who had been a silent, perfect shadow at my side, was a shadow no more.

She took a single, almost imperceptible step forward.

The air around her grew cold.

Her hand rested on the hilt of one of her dark daggers, her knuckles bone-white.

I could feel her thoughts through our Bloodkin bond.

They were a beautiful, terrifying, and deeply problematic stream of fanatical devotion.

The Dwarf is clever. A trick. The human is a liability. A weakness. She will fail you. She will betray you. Let me wear the collar. Let me prove my devotion. Let me cut the little Dwarf's throat for her insolence.

Sarah, my other former-queen subordinate, let out a soft, amused laugh, a sound like the tinkling of poisoned glass.

"Oh, this is delicious," she purred, her eyes dancing with a malicious glee.

"A loyalty test. How delightfully dramatic. Do choose carefully, my Lord. It seems your entire harem is watching."

Grak the Unbreakable, who had been quietly trying to eat a rock, looked up, his brutish face a mask of profound confusion.

"WHY COLLAR ON SMALL WOMAN?" he roared, his voice shaking the very mountain.

"COLLAR SHOULD GO ON STRONGEST! I AM STRONGEST! PUT COLLAR ON GRAK!"

And then, of course, there was Kevin.

My chuunibyou intern, my newly evolved Vampire Noble, saw his moment.

He strode forward, his cape swishing with a flair that was frankly offensive.

He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart in a gesture of profound, theatrical sacrifice.

"My Lord!" he declared, his voice ringing with a sincerity that was almost painful to witness.

"Let me bear this burden! It is the duty of your most loyal, most trusted aide to be your shield! My life is yours to spend! Let this collar be the symbol of our unbreakable bond! Our… stuff!"

I stared at the scene before me.

A seething, jealous elf.

A bored, sadistic queen.

A confused, angry beast.

A suicidal, dramatic idiot.

And a twelve-year-old Dwarf who had just, with a single, simple demand, thrown my entire command structure into chaos.

I was a degenerate circus clown, performing a high-wire act over a pit of very angry, very pointy monsters.

My mind raced.

This was a test.

A brilliant, vicious, and exquisitely cruel test.

If I chose Isabelle, I would be publicly declaring her as my most trusted, my most beloved.

I would be confirming Chloe's deepest, most paranoid fears.

The quiet cold war between them would become a very loud, very hot war.

And my private chambers would likely become a beautifully decorated, blood-soaked warzone.

If I chose Chloe, I would be insulting Isabelle, my decorated commander, my First Sword, the woman who had just achieved a divine evolution.

I would be telling her that a created monster, a subordinate born of my own power, was more important to me than she was.

I couldn't win.

It was a perfect, beautiful, and utterly inescapable trap.

Unless…

Unless I didn't play the game at all.

Unless I flipped the whole damn board over.

I looked at Kevin, who was still kneeling, his eyes shining with a terrifying, cult-like devotion.

He was an idiot.

An embarrassing, cape-wearing, monologue-loving idiot.

He was also the perfect solution.

"You are right, Saburo," I said, using his real name for the first time.

The name that was, to my eternal shame, my handle on {Laplace}.

The effect was instantaneous.

Kevin's eyes widened, a look of pure, ecstatic shock on his face.

He had been seen.

He had been acknowledged.

"My Lord?" he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Your loyalty is… commendable," I said, choosing my words with the care of a bomb disposal expert.

"Your devotion is a shining example to us all. You are, without a doubt, my most… treasured… aide."

The words felt like ash in my mouth.

"It is you," I declared, my voice booming with a false sincerity that deserved an award, "who shall bear the honor of this pledge!"

I turned to the Dwarf Queen, my expression a mask of kingly authority.

"My most trusted advisor will wear the collar. These are my terms."

The chaos subsided.

Chloe looked momentarily confused, then relieved.

The threat of the human had been neutralized, replaced by an idiot she could easily manipulate.

Isabelle looked… disappointed, but also understanding.

It was a political move.

A compromise.

She was a commander; she understood the necessity of sacrifice.

Even if the sacrifice was someone else's dignity.

Akira, the Dwarf Queen, looked at Kevin, then at me, then back at Kevin.

A flicker of grudging respect entered her golden eyes.

She had set a trap, and I had wriggled out of it in the most ridiculous, unexpected way possible.

"Fine," she grumbled.