CHAPTER 99: ARCANE DIVISION

I then looked at Chloe, who was standing so still in the shadows she might have been a statue carved from night itself.

"The Second Corps, the ’Shadow Strikers,’ remains under your command, Chloe. You are my assassins. My spies. My ghosts. Your job is to slip in through the back window and poison the king’s wine."

Finally, I looked at Sarah. Her arms were crossed, her expression a mask of cold, regal indifference. But I could feel the burning humiliation and rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"And you, Sarah," I said, a slow, dangerous smile on my face, "will command the Third Corps. The ’Arcane Division.’ Your Dark Elves and your remaining magical constructs will form the core of our new magic-focused unit. Your job is to be my artillery. My orbital death laser. You will rain down hell from a distance."

The new structure was clean. It was logical. It was perfect.

Each of my top commanders now had a clear role, a defined purpose.

It also had the added benefit of keeping my two main lovers, and their new, powerful rival, in separate operational theaters.

My kingdom was a fortress. My army was a well-oiled machine.

But as I looked at the map, at the vast, unconquered territories to the south, at the thirty-seven other sharks circling in the dark waters of {Laplace}, I knew it wasn’t enough.

We were strong. But we were not invincible.

There was a piece missing from the puzzle.

"Yori," I said, turning to the old man. "You have been a Demon King longer than I have. You have seen the game from a different perspective. What are we lacking?"

Yori was silent for a long moment, his old eyes looking at the map, at the faces of my powerful, monstrous commanders.

"We have the sword, my Lord," he said finally, his voice a quiet, reedy whisper. "We have the dagger. We have the cannon."

He looked up at me, a flicker of profound, ancient wisdom in his gaze.

"But a kingdom cannot be built on weapons alone," he said. "To truly conquer this world, to build an empire that will last, you need more than just soldiers."

"You need builders. You need craftsmen. You need... a shield."

He was right.

My entire strategy, my entire existence, was built on aggression. On conquest. On taking.

But a true empire, a lasting one, also needed to build. To create.

To defend.

I looked at the map, at the vast, empty sectors of my kingdom, at the long, vulnerable borders.

My eyes drifted north, to the mountains of Hakui, to the rumor I had read on a forum of lies.

A Dwarf Demon King. A master craftsman.

The ultimate shield. The ultimate builder.

"We have our next target," I whispered, a new, all-consuming ambition taking root in my soul.

We were no longer just building an army.

We were building a nation.

And I knew exactly who our first new citizen was going to be.

Whether he liked it or not.

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

The plan was set.

My new grand strategy, a glorious pivot from mindless conquest to slightly more mindful, nation-building conquest, was in motion.

The hunt for the Dwarf King of Hakui was on.

But first, there were... administrative matters to attend to.

My kingdom was a well-oiled machine of death and destruction, but even the most efficient machines required maintenance.

And my own, personal machine required a very specific, very enjoyable kind of stress relief.

The Crystal Spire’s private chambers were a significant upgrade from my old, musty stone bedroom in the original dungeon.

The walls were carved from a single, continuous piece of smoky quartz, and the bed was a massive, circular affair with sheets made of what felt like woven moonlight.

It was a proper king’s bed.

And I was making proper use of it.

Chloe, my beautiful, fanatical shadow, was a storm of silent, passionate intensity.

Her twilight-hued skin was slick with a fine sheen of sweat, her silver hair a wild tangle across the dark sheets.

Her amethyst eyes, usually so cool and composed, were wide with a raw, desperate pleasure that was for me, and me alone.

This was the real prize of being a king.

Not the power. Not the territory.

But this.

This quiet, stolen moment of absolute, soul-crushing pleasure with a woman who would die for me, kill for me, and suck my demonic cock like it held the secrets to the universe.

"My Lord," she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper against my skin. "I... I am yours. Completely."

"I know," I replied, my voice a low, satisfied growl.

I was about to lead her to another, even more spectacular climax, to make her scream my name in a way that would probably crack the very crystals of the spire, when it happened.

A frantic, high-pitched buzzing sound echoed from the corner of the room.

My concentration shattered.

The perfect, beautiful moment of demonic coitus was ruined.

"What in the nine hells is that?" I snarled, my good mood evaporating like a puddle in a heatwave.

Chloe froze, a look of pure, murderous rage flashing in her eyes.

Someone had dared to interrupt her time with her Lord.

Someone was about to have a very, very bad day.

The buzzing continued, insistent and deeply, profoundly annoying.

It was coming from a small, crystal comms device on the nightstand.

A direct, emergency line to Pixia.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"This had better be important," I growled, disentangling myself from Chloe’s very disappointed limbs. "If this is about the goblins unionizing again, I’m going to turn our entire library into toilet paper."

I snatched the device.

"What?!" I barked into it.

"My Lord!" Pixia’s voice, a frantic, high-pitched squeak of pure panic, erupted from the speaker. "An urgent intelligence update! A critical development in the Dwarf King situation!"

I sat up, my post-coital languor vanishing in an instant. "Report."

"I have been monitoring the {Laplace} forums, as you commanded," she stammered. "A new thread has just appeared in the Upper-Class Lounge. It is... alarming."

I gestured for her to continue, my mind already racing.

"It is a post from a user named ’Golem-Master’," she explained. "He has issued a... a ’Proclamation of Protection’ over the Dwarf King of Hakui."

I stared at the comms device.

"A what?"

"A Proclamation of Protection, my Lord! It is a high-level System function, a formal declaration that one Demon King is taking another under their wing! It is a public statement to all other members of {Laplace} that the Dwarf King is now a vassal of the Golem-Master! To attack him would be to declare war on them both!"

A cold, furious anger began to bubble in my chest.

I had been outmaneuvered.

Someone else, one of the other thirty-seven sharks in the dark water, had gotten to him first.

"This ’Golem-Master’," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Who is he?"

"His real name is unknown, my Lord," Pixia replied. "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.