CHAPTER 121: THE WHISPERS FROM KOIJI BEACH

The peace was starting to get on my nerves.

It was a deep, profound, and soul-crushingly boring peace.

My kingdom was a well-oiled machine, a beautiful engine of conquest humming with the quiet, efficient thrum of impending world domination.

And I, Ragnar Vhagar, its magnificent, all-powerful, and increasingly restless king, was starting to go existentially insane.

"This is unacceptable," I announced to the quiet of the Crystal Spire’s throne room.

My voice, now a smooth baritone that was excellent for brooding monologues, echoed pleasingly off the walls.

"My bloodlust has dwindled to a mild sanguinary curiosity."

"I almost complemented a goblin on his choice of skull-based centerpiece yesterday."

"This cannot stand."

Pixia, my tiny, flying spreadsheet of a pixie, zipped over to my shoulder. She had been diligently cataloging the different resonant frequencies of the throne room’s crystals, a task she seemed to find immensely satisfying.

"My Lord, my statistical models indicate that this period of consolidation is critical for long-term strategic stability," she squeaked, her voice far too cheerful for my grim mood. "The probability of a successful northern campaign increases by 7.4% for every week we spend reinforcing our supply lines."

"Pixia," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "If I have to look at another supply line manifest, I am going to have Grak the Unbreakable punch a hole in reality just to see if anything interesting comes out."

I pushed myself up from my crystal throne, my long, dark coat swishing dramatically around my ankles. I was getting very, very good at the swish. It was all in the hips.

The truth was, the arms race was on.

I spent at least an hour a day lurking on {Laplace}, my eyes scanning the Upper-Class Lounge under the deeply humiliating handle of ’Saburo.’

The other sharks were circling.

’Golem-Master’ had just posted a blurry picture of a new, A-Rank Siege Golem he had just finished building.

’Oni-Hime’ was bragging about conquering a new territory and absorbing a Demon King who specialized in poison magic.

They were getting stronger. They were expanding.

And I was sitting here, organizing goblin patrol routes.

The quiet pressure was immense. In this game, if you weren’t growing, you were dying. You were a target.

My gaze drifted across my own sprawling empire on the holographic map. One hundred and eighty-four sectors. I was a titan. A true power in this new world. It had been one hundred and fifty days since my victory over Sarah. One hundred and fifty days of slow, methodical, and mind-numbing progress. My level had crept up to seventeen. It felt like an eternity.

The time for quiet consolidation was over.

The time for glorious, beautiful, and profoundly stupid violence was long overdue.

I needed a target. I needed a new project.

And then, as if summoned by the sheer, unadulterated force of my own boredom, the universe delivered.

A frantic, high-pitched shriek echoed from the main entrance of the throne room.

It was Zix.

My most reliable, battle-hardened, and currently terrified Goblin Sniper.

He stumbled into the room, his usual cunning expression replaced by a mask of pure, goblin terror. His dark-wood bow was clutched in a white-knuckled grip, and he was covered in what looked suspiciously like mud and seagull droppings.

"My Lord!" he gasped, falling to one knee in a clumsy, undignified heap. "A report! From the north! From... from Koiji Beach!"

I sat up straight, my lazy posture vanishing. Koiji Beach was the next territory on my list, a small, insignificant domain I had planned to absorb as a light snack before the main course of Suzu.

"Report, Zix," I commanded, my voice sharp. "What did you find? Another chuunibyou with a velvet cape? A Demon King made of angry seaweed?"

"Worse, my Lord," Zix whispered, his voice trembling. "Far worse."

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"He is... scary."

I raised a single, perfect eyebrow. "Scary? Zix, you have personally seen Chloe Vhagar disembowel an Ogre with a teaspoon for looking at me the wrong way. Your definition of ’scary’ is, shall we say, a bit skewed. Be more specific."

"It is not his strength, my Lord!" Zix stammered, his beady eyes wide with a fear I had not seen in him since the day he faced Grak. "It is... everything else! His eyes... they were empty, my Lord! But also... happy? And his words... he spoke of ’punishment’ and ’pleasure’ in the same sentence! And his clothes... my Lord, he was wearing a business suit!"

A Demon King in a business suit.

This was new. This was interesting.

"He is a monster, my Lord," Zix continued, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "But he is not like our monsters. He is... wrong."

I leaned back in my throne, a slow, predatory smile touching my lips.

A mystery. A puzzle. A weird, scary, suit-wearing Demon King who had managed to terrify a goblin who regularly ate breakfast next to a ten-foot-tall beast that used boulders as stress balls.

"Pixia," I commanded. "Cross-reference all known data on the Demon King of Koiji Beach. Give me everything you have."

"Running analysis now, my Lord," she squeaked, her tiny holographic console flickering with data. "Domain name: ’The Forest of Trials.’ Ruler: unknown. Primary subordinate type: mixed, low-level beasts. Threat level... previously estimated at D-Rank. It appears we have... incomplete data."

"Incomplete data is a fancy way of saying we’re walking in blind," I mused aloud. "And I do so love a blind date with destiny."

I stood up, the last vestiges of my boredom gone, replaced by the familiar, cold thrill of the hunt.

"Assemble the team," I commanded, my voice echoing with a newfound purpose. "Chloe. Isabelle. We’re going on a little trip to the seaside."

I needed a tank for my ’Troublemaker Party.’ A solid, unbreakable wall to stand in front of my more... eccentric... commanders.

This weird, scary, suit-wearing enigma might just be the perfect candidate.

If he was strong enough.

And if he was weird enough to fit in with my collection of magnificent, monstrous, and profoundly dysfunctional children.

I grinned.

The peace was over. The game was afoot.

And I had a terrible, wonderful feeling that this was going to be a very, very strange day.