Alix doesn't look away. His gaze remains fixed, cold, steady, absolute. "You said it yourself, you have no choice. The humans take from you, threaten you, and offer nothing in return." He leans forward slightly, his tone unyielding. "I'm offering you something better. Protection. Strength. Freedom from fear."

Vordon's eyes tremble. He feels it—the power behind those calm words. A force that could crush a city without lifting a finger.

Vordon takes a deep, shaking breath, the floor still cold against his forehead. Slowly, he lifts his head just enough to speak.

"My lord… I want to confirm something first."

Alix's eyes narrow slightly. "What is it?"

Vordon meets his gaze with a mixture of awe and fear. "Are you… a Tier 7?"

The question hangs heavy in the air.

Alix doesn't answer immediately. Tier 6—that much is true. But his strength has already stepped past the boundary, capable of clashing with a true Tier 7. He has grasped the power of law, even if the constraints of his current tier prevent him from wielding it fully.

So instead of words… he shows the truth.

Alix raises his hand slowly—palm upward.

A flicker of crimson light spirals above his skin. Tiny motes of fire swirl tighter, condensing into a miniature star. A Law—not just fire, but the origin of fire—radiates from the tiny sphere.

The temperature spikes instantly.

The chandeliers overhead creak as the metal begins to soften. The air distorts, wavering like ripples over molten lava. The wine in the goblets begins to steam.

Even Vordon, a powerful peak tier 6, breaks into a cold sweat—fear and instinct screaming at him to run.

For a moment, it feels as if a second sun has been born inside the hall.

Then—

fwip.

Alix snaps his fingers and the glowing sphere collapses into nothingness. The heat vanishes as if it was never there.

Silence crashes down in its place.

The maids slump slightly, coughing weakly, relief flooding their bodies. Vordon's fur is slick with sweat, his heart pounding so hard it hurts.

Alix lowers his hand, his expression calm—almost bored. "If I continued," he says quietly, "these women would have turned to ash."

He looks at Vordon, not with arrogance… but with chilling certainty.

"Does that answer your question?"

Vordon swallows hard. His throat feels scorched. His voice comes out rough, trembling with reverence and fear.

"Yes… my lord."

He presses his forehead to the floor again—this time not out of formality, but submission.

"To follow someone like you… is not shame. It is fortune."

Mero snickers above, whispering with smug pride, "He finally gets it."

Alix leans back in his chair, his gaze cold and authoritative once more.

"As I said," he reminds, "from this day forward, Sona City is part of my kingdom."

Vordon's voice shakes, but it carries pure devotion.

"Then my life—my city—belongs to you, Lord Alix."

The moment Vordon finishes speaking, a familiar chime rings in Alix's ears.

Ding!

A transparent screen pops into existence before him—only he can see it.

Notification

Sona City has submitted allegiance.

Territory added: Sona City

Erevaris Kingdom expansion successful.

Alix's lips curl into a small, satisfied smile.

"Good," he says, his tone smoother—clearly in a better mood. "Now, Vordon. Your military."

Vordon straightens up quickly, trying to regain composure though sweat still beads along his fur.

"Yes, my lord. Currently, Sona City has around twenty thousand trained soldiers." He hesitates before adding, voice low, "As for high-level powerhouses… we only possess five Tier 6 combatants."

He raises five fingers slowly.

"Two low-level. Two mid-level. And… one high-level." Shame flickers in his eyes. "I once had ten. But the dungeon incident… cost us five of them."

Alix taps the armrest of his chair lightly. "Hmm."

Alix continues, calm and sharp, "Now. Tell me about the nearest human kingdom."

Vordon takes a deep breath and bows again.

"The Kingdom of Alnera, they field roughly three hundred thousand soldiers—well equipped, well trained."

Alix raises an eyebrow. "Quite the numbers."

"There's more," Vordon adds quietly. "Their greatest threat lies in their leadership." He clenches a fist. "The three grand marshals—each peak Tier 6—are fighting among themselves for control of the kingdom."

Alix's eyes gleam with interest. "And the royal family?"

"Losing power," Vordon says with a shake of his head. "Barely holding authority. The marshals influence most of the military now."

The maids keep silent, eyes lowered, though tension swirls around them like a storm. Alix listens, expression unreadable—calculating.

"So," he says after a moment, voice cool, "the humans are distracted by their own greed."

He leans forward, silver eyes gleaming like steel.

"That means now is the perfect time…"

Vordon's heart skips.

"…for Erevaris to swallow them."

A chill of awe surges through the room.

Alix sets the wine glass down, the faint clink echoing like a final decree.

"Summon your five Tier 6 subordinates," he orders calmly. "I should meet the pillars of my new city."

Vordon doesn't hesitate—not anymore. "At once, my lord."

He steps aside and signals a guard, who rushes out of the hall. Within minutes, heavy footsteps approach. The grand doors open, revealing five figures—each radiating a distinct presence.

Two of them look younger, rough and inexperienced—clearly low-level Tier Sixes. The other three are familiar. Varon, and the two middle-level Tier 6 who accompanied him.

They walk forward, stop a few paces away, and kneel as one.

Vordon's five Tier 6 subordinates kneel, fists pressed to the floor. None of them dare raise their heads.

Vordon speaks firmly, voice echoing through the grand hall.

"These five are the strongest warriors Sona has left. From this moment onward…" His eyes flick to Alix with absolute certainty. "…we serve Lord Alix."

A slight tremor goes through the group, but still—none speak. None protest.

They have eyes. They felt the pressure earlier. They know better.

Alix rests one hand against his cheek, looking at them with cool disinterest. "Raise your heads."

They obey instantly. Nervous eyes peek up to meet a presence that makes their blood run cold.

A young monster, yet his aura could crush them with the slightest whim.

Alix nods once. "Prove worthy of the trust your City Lord has placed in you. Do that, and your strength will not be limited here."

The subordinates slam their fists to the floor again.

"Yes, Lord Alix!"

Vordon dismisses them with a gesture, and they file out quickly—like soldiers freed from the edge of execution.

The doors close behind them with a soft thud.

Alix stands, his cloak shifting like flowing smoke.

"Now, tell me everything you know about Alnera," he reminds.

"Yes." Vordon quickly leads him to a side room—a strategy chamber decorated with battle maps and wooden counters.

There, he explains in full.

Alnera's internal conflict.

The three marshals each commanding segments of the army.

A royal family clinging to dying authority

Nam City acting independently under a greedy lord.

Their focus entirely on internal power struggles.

When the last detail is spoken, Alix simply turns.

"I've heard enough."

Vordon nods quickly and gestures toward the exit. "Then please, allow me to show you to your quarters."

They walk deeper into the mansion, the noise of servants fading behind them. Guards step aside swiftly, bowing as they pass.

Vordon stops before a tall blackwood door inlaid with silver patterns. He opens it himself—no servants present.

"My lord, this is the most private chamber in Sona Manor. No one will disturb you here."

Alix steps inside.

The room is spacious—high windows veiled by thick curtains, a king-sized bed draped in dark silk, shelves of old tomes lining the walls, and a balcony overlooking the entire city.

Dim lanterns cast warm light… but the air feels secure, isolated.

Vordon remains near the doorway, head lowered.

"If you require anything, just tell me, my lord."

Alix doesn't look back—he simply nods once.

"That will do. You can leave now."

"Yes!" Vordon bows deeply and retreats, closing the door gently behind him.

Alix is left alone with his companions, silence settling like a comfortable cloak.

Mero lazily spins in the air. "Wow master, you are very good at scamming people."

Alix gives Mero a flat stare. "Scamming? I offered him exactly what he needed."

Zevran, who has been silent up until now, steps forward.

"Master," he asks, tail flicking with curiosity, "do you really have a kingdom?"

Alix sits on the edge of the bed, one arm resting on his knee. His voice is calm—matter-of-fact.

"I have. It's in the Low-Class Continent."