Facing her mother's tense, eager expression, Hanni gave a small nod.
"I found out, and it's even bigger than we expected—honestly, ridiculously so." She said, "The Baenre family is attempting to defy all the gods. They're directly creating life—new species from thin air!"
Zora Harren was stunned, gritting her teeth and shivering: "What? Oh gods… I'd thought they were just sneaking around, making deals in secret… but they're actually trying something this forbidden?!"
Her voice trembled, part terror, part excitement: "That's… they're angering all the true gods at once! That woman—she's ready to drag all of Menzoberranzan down with her!"
She had every reason to fear. Even though it was the Baenre family carrying out this sacrilege and blasphemy, their actions reflected on all of Menzoberranzan—they were its leaders, after all. To outsiders, it could look like the whole city was defying the gods, maybe even trying to build an army—and that would mean the whole city might be wiped out in one fell swoop!
No way would the Harren matriarch accept that fate. The Baenre family's ambition had to be stopped.
Hanni nodded again, then pulled a Bag of Holding from her side, extracting some documents. Her crimson eyes gleamed with ambition. "I've already copied the Baenre family's evidence. All we need now is the right timing. Who knows—maybe someday our own family could rise up as one of the Eight Great Houses of the High Plateau…"
...
Willowwind Town.
When Charles led over a hundred girls in full plate armor and heavy weapons into town, it caused a huge commotion.
After all, full steel plate meant near-invulnerability on the battlefield—unless a dozen or more tough, seasoned warriors armed with blunt weapons ganged up on one, these girls were basically unstoppable!
And those powerful greatswords weren't something any regular soldier could handle; it meant these women were incredibly strong, had immense endurance, and real combat training. Conservatively, these one hundred fighters could match the combat power of a thousand infantry.
No wonder the residents of Willowwind Town—and especially the newly transferred Stonefist tribe half-orc warriors—shivered at the sight. A hundred elites like this could sweep the town clean and barely break a sweat.
The half-orc bouncers of the town didn't dare mess around. They quickly sent someone to fetch the local boss, Nidalee. Before the messenger was even halfway across town, the druid herself hurried over, face lit with anticipation.
She ignored the stares of everyone else, ran straight to the entrance, and, gazing at the impressive troop of armored warriors, called out, "Priest—!"
And, under the shocked gaze of half-orc warriors, Willowwind's true master—Priest of the Goddess of Life, Nigel Charles—stepped out from the back. "Nidalee, it's me. I'm back."
Without hesitation, Nidalee flung herself into his arms, hugging him tight. Charles gently patted her back, murmured, "It's all right, I'm back," then led the column down the town's main street, letting everyone see this formidable new force, to deter any would-be troublemakers.
Afterward, he brought everyone to the monastery, settling Malena and the hundred Dark Angels before shepherding Nidalee, Hattie, and others to her room.
It had been over a month since they'd last met, and Nidalee was clearly pent up. She didn't waste any time—she practically jumped him, and with the help of the other nuns and Hattie's tentacles, they had several wild rounds before she finally collapsed, blissed-out, into his arms.
Not that Charles minded—his current physical endurance was extraordinary, and with a bit of help from the witches, pleasing Nidalee was a walk in the park.
Even after they finished, his face was as bright as ever. He smiled gently at the girl in his arms. "Okay, let's talk about what's going on here, dear."
"If there's anything you can't handle, tell me now. As you can see, we have a lot of power on hand these days. There's basically nothing in these mountains that we can't deal with."
Nidalee's lips curled in a satisfied smile. "Actually, everything's been great. We've been able to handle all the issues ourselves."
She snuggled against him, whispering, "Weren't you supposed to go deal with that fallen angel and rescue Malena? How'd you end up with a hundred more veterans in full plate armor…?"
Charles sighed softly. "Honestly, this wasn't what I wanted to see. But, for better or worse, it's what happened…"
So, he told her in detail everything that had gone down in the Underdark—Sulpharlo's actions and all.
Nidalee listened quietly, her heart pounding stronger the more she heard. By the end, she couldn't help exclaiming, "That's got to be the most blasphemous thing I've ever heard!"
Charles nodded in deep agreement. "That's why, out of sympathy, I brought them to the surface world."
He paused, then continued, "About their arrangement—Nidalee, you see they're all basically identical, so it's not easy to keep them together in one place."
"I want to let them stay in Willowwind Town. They could handle security, and since the population's low, it'd be easier to keep things discreet."
"Would you be able to handle that? Oh, and by the way, they really have no common knowledge, so you'd also need someone to teach them basic stuff…"
As he explained, Nidalee's expression started to darken. After a moment's thought, she looked up, met his gaze, and shook her head with resolve. "Sorry, Master, Willowwind Town just can't handle that."
Charles blinked, surprised by her refusal. "Huh?"
Nidalee made a sour face. "We don't have the budget to support another hundred non-working mouths. Security-wise, we've already hired the Stonefist tribe half-orcs—we can't just break those deals now…"
"Funds are tight; we barely have enough for housing expansions. Even if we saved up for teachers, no one would take the job just to tutor them. Most travelers through here are just adventurers hunting demons in the mountains…"
She sighed. "And even if we did get teachers, the news would leak. Sure, we're deep in the mountains, but there's plenty of traffic, and adventurers talk more and faster than anyone—word travels."
"Honestly, Master, they'd be safer staying at your monastery in the South Harbor District. You have way more pull there, don't you?"
Charles stroked his chin—her reasoning was solid. "Hmm… yeah, you're right. Okay, let's keep them here for now, then transfer them back to the monastery in batches."
"I just don't want to bring everyone at once and attract too much attention. This way, we can use Willowwind as a buffer, and gradually bring them back."
Nidalee nodded. "That's fine. I can watch them for a few days, but I can't keep them for long."
Charles nodded as well, then grinned. "Oh, and how did things go with the Highmountain tribes?"
Nidalee's eyes lit up, and she pressed her chest against his, gleeful. "All taken care of, Master. You wouldn't believe how pragmatic those minotaurs are."
"I used your name, reached out to Garon Highmountain, and told him, in honor of his elder brother, Priest Charles was willing to provide weapons and food at a low price as support—for him to distribute as he wished."
"And before I even delivered on those promises, the news spread, and tons of members from other heirs started flocking to his side!"
She laughed, full of mischief. "They're such opportunists. Now the other heirs are scrambling to form alliances to fight him!"
"Heh, I can't wait to see their faces if that support dries up. It'd be priceless!"
You could tell she took wicked amusement in plotting against the minotaurs, letting them betray one another while she reaped the rewards.
Charles nodded, pleased. "Perfect—that's exactly the effect we want. Don't stop—step up the support, and right when Garon's about to win the chieftain seat, find an excuse to cut him off."
His eyes flashed cold. "Let's keep this little power struggle going as long as possible—the longer, the better. Otherwise, it would get boring far too soon…"
With the Willowwind Town details settled, Charles wasted no more time. He left ninety girls there, took ten with him, and headed back to the monastery in the South Harbor District.
After years of acquisitions, the monastery now controlled over two hundred thousand square meters. With a few new buildings, they could easily house all the girls, with more than enough space for activity, training, and entertainment.
Malena made it home safely too—her pregnancy didn't slow her down, protected as she was by magic. The journey home was easier than her usual post-meal stroll.
When she arrived, her daughter Lisa, who'd spent the whole month cooped up—nervous, memorizing scriptures or practicing magic, never venturing out—finally broke down. She flung herself into her mother's arms, sobbing for a long while until the last of her worry was gone.
Afterward, Lisa, curiosity bubbling, started caring for her mother, running to and fro like a little steward, seeing to her every need.
Shapiro wanted to stay and help his sister, but soon realized that while he was a skilled killer, when it came to caretaking, he was probably useless—even Lisa was better than him. His bloody aura clashed too much with the peaceful atmosphere of the monastery.
So in the end, he bid Charles farewell, choosing instead to wander the city alone—lost, confused, but resolute as ever in his quest for vengeance.
Charles had hoped to keep him around, at least to teach the Dark Angels some anti-fraud techniques, but Shapiro flatly refused. The sight of all those clones just made his heart ache.
So Charles kept those feelings to himself, simply wishing Shapiro well and praying he'd avoid any more tragedies.
With that, things finally settled down. Charles's life seemed to be getting back to normal—but honestly, the real work had just begun.
He'd spent over a month in the Underdark. Responsibilities had piled up like mountains—many decisions could only be made by him, personally.
Thankfully, Sephera had sorted everything while he'd been away. As soon as he was briefed, he could make decisions.
For instance, the shipyard project in West Harbor District he'd co-invested in with Bernard.
During his absence from the Underdark, the blue dragon, Bernard, and Sephera (who stayed home) handled all the logistics—delegating staff, funds, equipment—staying busy for weeks to keep his efforts from going to waste.
Finally, with everything nearly done, only a few crucial calls remained—choices only he could make.
One such matter: convincing the Amazon buyers to purchase their new ships.
Charles looked for Porter directly but came up empty—she'd vanished as if into thin air.
Fortunately, he still knew plenty of Amazons, people of rank who trusted him, so the deal went smoothly.
Negotiations went well—the Amazons had long wanted new ships but lacked the right seller. Charles's offer sealed the deal right away.
Afterward, he couldn't help but ask, "I haven't seen Ms. Porter for a while. Did she get a promotion or something?"
When the South Harbor flooded, he'd promised Porter he'd help her get elected as a lawmaker. Now that he was powerful, helping her should have been easy—he wanted to deliver on that promise before circumstances changed.
But unexpectedly, the Amazon sitting with him—a woman who'd been amiable all negotiation—suddenly changed her expression.
Charles had never seen an Amazon look at him like that—with caution and even a hint of hostility. But the look vanished instantly, and she shook her head. "Ah, you didn't hear—that's normal."
She pressed a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture. "No matter how close you are with the Amazons, this concerns a tradition as old as our people. Mr. Charles, even you can't ask casually."
"You just need to wait at the monastery for news. If certain things happen, a little angel will be delivered to your doorway."
Charles blanked out for a moment, then suddenly understood exactly what was happening with Porter.
She was pregnant—with his child.
So she'd returned to the Amazon Isles, settling down to await the birth. If it was a boy, he'd be left at the monastery for Charles. If it was a girl, she would be raised as a classic Amazon warrior—or perhaps a priestess. But with his lineage so mixed and the oracle declaring the chances of a warlock awakening as low, his daughter was likely to be a warrior.
At this, Charles found himself filled with conflicting emotions.
He knew the Amazon Kingdom was affluent now, and its brutal training—with better nutrition—rarely resulted in casualties anymore. But still, the thought of a daughter suffering through that tough regime left him uneasy.
Too bad he just wasn't quite strong enough yet.
He closed his eyes and muttered to himself.
No matter. At his current pace, in four or five years—maybe six or seven, tops—he'd have the power to force the Amazon Kingdom to change its traditions.
And if, before then, something major happened in the deep sea—a Great Old One awakening, plunging the kingdom into crisis—he'd have to act even sooner!
But for any of that, he'd need power.
Both raw force to take on superhuman fighters, and armies strong enough for any regular battle—he'd need it all.
He clenched his fist. He needed to level up faster.
First, let the shipyard finish a new ship for testing. Then, master the "Eldritch Smite" invocation. And once the next Night of the Witches comes…
He'd take the nuns and lay waste to the undead of Garbage Island—purifying them all!
That Death Knight was powerful, but at best on par with Montport—only level twenty-one.
And with infinite mana on the Night of the Witches, Charles just might be able to take him down!
~~~
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