CHAPTER 149: A KING’S RANSOM

The silence that fell over the plaza was heavier than any scream. The last of Ragnar’s vanquished army vanished over the hill, leaving behind a field of their dead and wounded. Nox’s own fledgling army, the collection of players who had sworn him fealty out of fear, just stared from behind their makeshift barricades. Their terror hadn’t vanished, but now it was mixed with something else, something potent: awe.

Elisa stomped back into the plaza, her warhammer dripping with gore, a savage grin plastered on her face. "Now that was a proper fight! Those northern boys hit hard, but they break easy." She looked around at the carnage. "So, do we chase them down? Finish them off?"

"No," Nox said, his voice quiet but carrying across the silent plaza. "Let them run. Let them spread the word." He turned to face his followers. "Let them tell everyone what happens when you challenge the authority of Portentia."

He walked over to where Ragnar lay in a crumpled, unconscious heap. The hulking berserker was still breathing, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Nox nudged him with the toe of his boot.

"He is still alive," Serian said, walking up beside him. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear and steady. "What are you going to do with him?"

’Kill him,’ the old Nox would have thought. ’He’s a rival. A threat. Eliminate him.’ But the new Nox, the one with Liona’s cool logic humming in his mind, saw a different path.

[Analysis: The entity ’Ragnar’ is a high-value asset,] Liona stated. [His elimination would provide a significant EXP and Flag reward. However, his capture offers a greater strategic advantage. He is a respected leader among the northern clans. His subjugation could be used to absorb his remaining forces.]

’Subjugation,’ Nox thought, a slow, cold smile touching his lips. ’I like that word.’

"Take him prisoner," Nox commanded, gesturing to a few of the braver players who were now cautiously emerging from behind the barricades. "Strip him of his weapons and armor. Lock him in the courthouse basement." He looked down at Ragnar’s Royal Flag, which lay on the ground beside him. He picked it up.

[Royal Flag of the Wolf-Kin acquired.]

[Absorb? Y/N]

He didn’t absorb it. He just held it in his hand.

Vexia and Mela joined them, their own faces a mixture of exhaustion and grudging respect. "Your strategy was... effective," Vexia admitted, her analytical gaze sweeping over the battlefield. "You used our strengths to their maximum potential and shattered the enemy’s morale in a single, decisive engagement."

"Yeah, I’m a tactical genius," Nox said with a wave. "Now, what’s our status? Any other big, angry armies heading our way?"

Vexia shook her head. "Not at the moment. The other major Candidates in the region appear to be... reassessing their positions. The beacon on you is no longer just a target; it’s a warning."

"Good," Nox said. He looked at the players who were now hesitantly starting to clean up the battlefield, their eyes constantly darting toward him. "We have a few hours of peace. Let’s use it."

He turned and walked back toward the courthouse, the Royal Flag of the Wolf-Kin dragging in the dust behind him.

---

An hour later, they were gathered in the courthouse’s main chamber, which had been hastily converted into a throne room. Nox sat on the judge’s high-backed chair, his own black Flag and Ragnar’s bloody one draped over the back. Vexia, Serian, Elisa, and Mela stood before him like a royal council.

"Okay," Nox began, leaning forward. "We won the first round. But they’ll be back. And they’ll be stronger. We need a real army, not just a bunch of scared players with pointy sticks."

"Our forces are limited," Vexia stated. "We have the twenty Sun Elf warriors of the Sanctuary, and the two hundred or so players who have sworn fealty to you. Most are low-level. They are not a match for a real, organized force."

"Then we make them a match," Nox said. "We have loot. All the weapons and armor from Ragnar’s army. Elisa, you’re in charge of distribution. Gear up our people. Turn them into soldiers."

Elisa’s eyes lit up. "An armory to play with? Don’t have to tell me twice."

"Serian," Nox continued. "You’re the face. Our people are scared. They need a leader they can believe in, not just one they fear. Go talk to them. Inspire them. Turn them from prisoners into followers."

Serian nodded, a quiet determination on her face. "I will do my best."

"Mela. You’re my spymaster. I want eyes and ears everywhere. I want to know what the other clans are doing, what the other Candidates are planning. I want to know who is coming for us long before they get here."

Mela gave a stiff nod, a flicker of something that might have been pride in her eyes. "It will be done."

"And you, Vexia," Nox said, his gaze settling on the scholar-mage. "You’re my strategist. I want a real fortress. I want traps, wards, kill zones. I want this plaza to be a place that our enemies enter, but never leave."

Vexia allowed herself a small, cold smile. "That, I can provide."

They all left to carry out their new orders, leaving Nox alone in his impromptu throne room.

’Liona, open the shop.’

He now had over three hundred Flags. He wasn’t just a customer anymore; he was a whale. He ignored the consumables and the skills. He went straight to the [Equipment] tab and started scrolling.

He wasn’t shopping for himself.

He bought a dozen sets of high-grade, lightweight mithril armor for Mela’s new spy network. He bought enchanted shields and heavy plate for Elisa’s front-line bruisers. He bought mana-channeling staves and protective amulets for Vexia’s combat mages.

He spent nearly two hundred Flags without a second thought, equipping his new army with the best gear a king’s ransom could buy.

’Now,’ he thought, ’for me.’

He looked at his new status.

[Designation: Nox]

[Level: 35]

[Unallocated Stat Points: 170]

’One hundred and seventy points. Time to stop messing around.’

He dumped a full hundred points into Strength, pushing it to an absurd new level. Fifty went into Endurance, making him even tougher. The final twenty went into Perception.

He felt the power settle into his bones, a deep, satisfying hum.

He then pulled up his inventory and looked at the Armor of the Abyssal Monarch. He had the full set now, but he had never equipped it all at once.

’Liona, equip the full set. And show me what it can really do.’

[Acknowledged.]

The void answered his call. It was not the simple, jagged armor from before. This was different. Sleek, interlocking plates of black, star-flecked metal grew from his skin, covering him from head to toe. A long, tattered black cape, the edges of which seemed to dissolve into smoke, settled over his shoulders. A full helm, shaped like the snarling visage of some abyssal beast, formed over his head, the eye sockets burning with a cold, purple light.

He was no longer a boy in a torn shirt. He was a monarch, clad in the armor of a fallen god.

A new screen appeared in his vision, detailing the full set bonus.

[Infernal Monarch Armor - Full Set Bonus]

[Monarch’s Authority (Passive): You exude an aura of absolute command. Weaker-willed enemies may be paralyzed by fear. Allies within your presence feel a surge of confidence and loyalty.]

[Monarch’s Dominion (Upgraded): The size and duration of your Dominion are increased by 50%. You may now selectively exclude allies from its reality-erasing effect.]

[Monarch’s Edict (Active): Issue a single, binding command to any being within your Dominion. The target must obey, unless their willpower is greater than your own. One use per scenario.]

He stood up from his throne, the new armor moving with a silent, deadly grace. He walked to the window of the courthouse and looked out at his fledgling kingdom. He could feel the fear and awe of his subjects, the loyalty of his companions, the distant, burning hatred of his enemies.

This was the weight of the crown. And it felt good.

The first day of the King-Maker scenario was over. Two days remained. And the game was about to get a whole lot bloodier.