Year 336 Post-Collision – Day 35 on Surface
The village council called an emergency meeting at dawn.
Sunny knew something was different when he saw the way Elena, Marcus, and Roland were standing—formal, arranged in a specific pattern, like they'd rehearsed. And there, laid out on the table in the communal hall, was a sword.
Not just any sword. The sword.
It was old. Ancient, maybe. The blade was darker than normal steel, etched with symbols Sunny couldn't read but his Archive immediately started cataloging. The crossguard was wrought in the shape of waves, and the pommel held a stone that seemed to contain depth—like looking into water that went down forever.
[ARCHIVE ANALYSIS]
[ARTIFACT DETECTED: FOUNDER'S BLADE]
[CLASSIFICATION: HEIRLOOM WEAPON / SYMBOLIC AUTHORITY]
[AGE: PRE-COLLISION (387+ YEARS)]
[ENCHANTMENTS: MINOR WATER AFFINITY, DURABILITY, LEGACY BINDING]
[CURRENT STATUS: INACTIVE (REQUIRES OATH-BEARER)]
[SIGNIFICANCE: HIGH]
"Sit," Elena said. Not a request.
Sunny sat. Burgundy was outside, but Sunny could feel his commander's intense attention through the bond.
"Thirty-five days," Marcus began. "Five weeks since you arrived. In that time, you've killed twenty-two rift spawn. You've created an integrated defense force. You've named forty-seven monsters and turned them into disciplined soldiers. You've fortified this village better than it's been in a decade." He paused. "And you've asked for nothing in return except food and a place to sleep."
"I was helping," Sunny said cautiously.
"You were leading," Roland corrected. "Whether you meant to or not."
Elena leaned forward. "Blackshore Village has existed for forty-three years. It was founded by refugees from the Collision—people who didn't fit anywhere else, who were running from the wars and the chaos. We've always been small. Vulnerable. At the mercy of rift spawns, dungeon overflow, and the indifference of the Djinn Lords who technically rule this territory but never actually protect us."
"We survive," Marcus continued, "but we don't thrive. We can't. We're too small, too isolated, too weak. But you changed something. These past weeks, we've gone from surviving to securing. From defending to planning. You did that."
"The ants did that," Sunny protested.
"The ants follow you," Roland said. "Without you, they're just monsters. With you, they're an army. That's power, boy. Real power. The kind that changes things."
Elena stood and placed her hand on the sword. "This is the Founder's Blade. The original leader of Blackshore—a man named Cassius Shore—carried this when he established the settlement. He swore an oath on it: to protect the people, to build a safe place, to never abandon those under his care. When he died, the sword was passed to his daughter. Then to the next leader. Then to me, fifteen years ago."
"You're the leader already," Sunny said.
"I'm the magistrate," Elena corrected. "I manage resources, mediate disputes, organize labor. But I'm not a ruler. I don't have the power to make Blackshore more than it is." She looked at the sword. "This blade represents something different. Legitimate authority. The right to claim territory, to establish law, to bind people through oath. In this world, sovereignty is real. It's not just political—it's metaphysical. And this sword is our key to it."
Sunny's heart was pounding. "What are you asking?"
"Kneel," Marcus said quietly. "Accept the sword. Become what you've already been acting as: Blackshore's Lord. Our protector. Our sovereign."
[ARCHIVE ALERT]
[THEY'RE OFFERING YOU KINGSHIP]
[ACTUAL, METAPHYSICAL SOVEREIGNTY]
[THIS WOULD MAKE YOU A DJINN LORD EQUIVALENT]
[WITHOUT NEEDING TO CONQUER A DUNGEON]
[SMALLER SCALE, BUT REAL]
[CONSEQUENCES: MASSIVE]
[BENEFITS: ALSO MASSIVE]
[YOUR CALL]
"I'm nine years old," Sunny said, his voice shaking slightly.
"You're a Claimed Demigod with an ant army and more combat effectiveness than most adventurers twice your age," Roland said bluntly. "Age is irrelevant. Power is what matters. And you have it."
"Lord Castor won't like this," Sunny said. "This is technically his territory."
"Lord Castor hasn't visited Blackshore in five years," Elena said. "He doesn't care about us. We're too remote, too poor, too much effort. He lets us exist because collecting taxes from us isn't worth the administrative cost." Her expression hardened. "But if we're going to stop being ignored and start being safe, we need legitimate authority. We need someone who can claim this land properly. Make it ours in a way the world recognizes."
"Why me?"
"Because you're already protecting us," Marcus said simply. "Because the ants follow you. Because you're strong enough to make it stick. And because—" He glanced at Elena. "—because you're an outsider. You don't have old grudges, local politics, family feuds. You're clean. New. That matters."
Sunny looked at the sword. Felt the weight of what they were offering.
Sovereignty. Actual metaphysical rulership. The ability to write laws that reality enforced. Territory that was his to command, protect, develop.
He thought about the Leviathan. About being claimed. About learning that claiming was contagious.
Is this what you wanted? he thought toward the distant presence in the deep ocean. For me to start claiming things myself?
A pulse of acknowledgment came back. No words. Just: Yes. This is correct. Claim. Build. Become.
"If I do this," Sunny said slowly, "Blackshore stops being a village. We become a kingdom. That brings attention. From Lord Castor, from the Grail powers, from everyone. It makes us a target."
"We're already a target," Elena said. "Rift spawns don't care about politics. But if we're a kingdom—even a small one—we have rights. Protection under MMO contract law. Recognition. The ability to negotiate treaties, establish trade, defend ourselves legally instead of just physically."
"And you'll need to grow," Roland added. "Can't be a kingdom of fifty people. You'll need to recruit. Expand. Bring in refugees, adventurers, people looking for a place to belong. Make Blackshore into something that matters."
Sunny looked at each of them. Elena, determined. Marcus, supportive. Roland, knowing.
This was real. They meant it.
"What do I have to do?" Sunny asked.
Elena picked up the sword. "Kneel. Place your hand on the blade. Swear the oath. Accept the responsibility."
Sunny stood, walked to the center of the hall, and knelt.
Elena held the sword horizontally, blade resting across her palms. "Do you, Sunny—" She paused. "We need your full name. The real one. For the oath to bind properly."
Fuck.
[ARCHIVE ALERT]
[THEY NEED YOUR TRUE NAME]
[OATHS REQUIRE IT]
[BUT GIVING YOUR NAME GRANTS POWER OVER YOU]
[DILEMMA: TRUST OR SAFETY?]
Sunny looked at Elena. At Marcus. At Roland.
They'd fed him. Sheltered him. Trained him. Trusted him with their lives. Let him build an ant army. Integrated him into their community.
They'd shown him trust.
Now they needed his.
"Rajah," Sunny said quietly. "My true name is Rajah. It means king."
Elena's eyes widened slightly. Roland chuckled. Marcus just nodded like it explained everything.
"Of course it does," Elena said. She adjusted her grip on the sword. "Do you, Rajah, called Sunny, Claimed of the Abyss, Commander of the Named Ants, accept the responsibility of Blackshore? Do you swear to protect its people, defend its borders, and lead it toward prosperity? Do you accept the burden of sovereignty?"
Sunny placed his hand on the blade. It was cold. Heavy. Real.
"I do."
"Do you swear by your name, your claim, and your power that you will not abandon those who follow you? That you will build rather than destroy? That you will be worthy of the authority you accept?"
"I swear."
"Then by the Founder's right, by the accumulated will of Blackshore, and by the laws that govern this broken world—" Elena lifted the sword and placed it in Sunny's hands. "—I name you Lord of Blackshore. First of your line. Sovereign of this claimed land."
The sword ignited.
Not with fire. With presence. The symbols on the blade lit up with deep blue light, and Sunny felt something snap into place. A connection. A binding. The land itself acknowledging him.
[OATH BINDING SUCCESSFUL]
[SOVEREIGNTY ESTABLISHED]
[TERRITORY CLAIMED: BLACKSHORE AND SURROUNDING 3.7 SQUARE MILES]
[TITLE ACQUIRED: LORD OF BLACKSHORE]
[AUTHORITIES GRANTED:]
[- LAW DECLARATION (MINOR)]
[- TERRITORY SENSE (3.7 MILE RADIUS)]
[- OATH BINDING CAPABILITY]
[- DIPLOMATIC RECOGNITION]
[- TAX/RESOURCE AUTHORITY]
[RESPONSIBILITIES ACQUIRED:]
[- POPULATION: 49 (37 HUMAN, 12 NON-HUMAN)]
[- NAMED SERVANTS: 47 (ANTS)]
[- DEFENSIVE OBLIGATIONS: ABSOLUTE]
[- ADMINISTRATIVE REQUIREMENTS: SIGNIFICANT]
[STATUS CHANGE: VILLAGE → KINGDOM (NASCENT)]
[CONTINUITY DEBT INCREASE: +2.3%]
[NEW TOTAL: 38.9%]
[CONSEQUENCE: YOU'RE A KING NOW]
[CONGRATULATIONS?]
Sunny stood, holding the Founder's Blade, and felt everything.
He could sense the village borders. Every building, every person, every ant. The rifts at the edges of his territory. The dungeon fifteen miles away. The weight of responsibility settling on him like pressure—familiar, crushing, right.
"How do you feel?" Marcus asked.
"Heavy," Sunny said. Then: "But good. Like... like this is what I was supposed to do."
Elena smiled. "Welcome to leadership, my Lord."
"Don't call me that. It's weird."
"You're a king now," Roland said. "Weird is mandatory."
The Proclamation
They held the announcement at noon. Every villager gathered in the square while Sunny stood on a platform with the Founder's Blade, flanked by Elena, Marcus, and a very proud-looking Burgundy.
Elena spoke first, explaining the decision. The need for legitimate authority. The opportunity to transform from village to kingdom. The choice of Sunny as Lord.
There was muttering. Questions. Concern.
Then Marcus spoke about the integrated defense force. The rift spawn kills. The fortifications. The safety they'd gained in five weeks.
The muttering shifted. Acknowledgment. Acceptance.
Finally, Sunny spoke. He kept it simple:
"I didn't come here planning to lead anything. I came here lost, alone, and just trying to survive. You gave me shelter. Food. Training. Purpose. You accepted me when you didn't have to." He paused. "Now I'm accepting responsibility in return. Blackshore is mine to protect. But it's also yours to build. I'm not taking over. I'm... standing at the front. And if you'll stand with me, we'll make this place into something worth defending."
Silence.
Then someone shouted: "Long live Lord Sunny!"
Others joined. Not everyone—Sunny could see skeptical faces, worried expressions. But enough. More than half.
It would have to be enough.
That Evening – Archive Research
Sunny sat in what was now being called "the Lord's Hall" (formerly the common house, but Elena insisted on proper titles), surrounded by books, holding the Founder's Blade, and thinking about power.
He'd gained sovereignty. Real, metaphysical authority. But he was still weak compared to the true powers of this world. Six entries. 38.9% Continuity Debt. Moderate combat capability.
If he was going to be a king—even of a tiny kingdom—he needed to be stronger.
Archive, he thought. I need to grow. Fast. Show me options.
[ANALYZING REQUEST]
[USER WANTS: ACCELERATED POWER DEVELOPMENT]
[CURRENT LIMITATIONS:]
[- MAGICULE CAPACITY: 847 (LOW)]
[- SYNTHESIS SUCCESS RATE: 67%]
[- ENTRY COUNT: 6/12 (TARGET)]
[- MANUAL SYNTHESIS: SLOW, DANGEROUS]
[POTENTIAL SOLUTIONS:]
[INCREASE MAGICULE CAPACITY]
[IMPROVE SYNTHESIS EFFICIENCY]
[AUTOMATE ANALYSIS PROCESS]
[CREATE SYNTHESIS ASSISTANCE SYSTEM]
Show me how to increase magicule capacity.
[MAGICULE GROWTH METHODS:]
[OPTION 1: TRAINING]
[- CONSISTENT MEDITATION]
[- GRADUAL ABSORPTION]
[- ESTIMATED GROWTH: 10-15 Units/Month]
[- TIME TO DOUBLE: 5-6 Years]
[TOO SLOW]
[OPTION 2: CONSUMING RESOURCES]
[- MAGIC STONES]
[- DUNGEON CORES]
[- HIGH-MAGICULE CREATURES]
[- GROWTH: VARIABLE, POTENTIALLY FAST]
[- AVAILABILITY: LOW IN BLACKSHORE]
[OPTION 3: SYNTHESIS-BASED GROWTH]
[- CREATE ENTRY THAT ENHANCES MAGICULE CAPACITY]
[- LIKE RIMURU'S STOMACH/CORE UPGRADES]
[- GROWTH: POTENTIALLY EXPONENTIAL]
[- DIFFICULTY: HIGH]
[- BUT YOU LOVE HIGH-DIFFICULTY SYNTHESIS]
Sunny leaned forward. Synthesis-based growth. What would I need?
[SEARCHING MEDIA CATALOG...]
[RELEVANT CONCEPTS:]
[1. "SLIME ABSORPTION" (THAT TIME I GOT REINCARNATED AS A SLIME)]
[- CONCEPT: CONSUMING THINGS INCREASES CAPACITY]
[- COMPATIBILITY: 67%]
[2. "MAGICAL CORE" (GENERIC CULTIVATION)]
[- CONCEPT: DEDICATED ENERGY STORAGE ORGAN]
[- COMPATIBILITY: 71%]
[3. "SKILL ACQUISITION THROUGH CONSUMPTION" (VARIOUS)]
[- CONCEPT: EATING = LEARNING]
[- COMPATIBILITY: 63%]
[4. "ARCHIVE EVOLUTION" (CONCEPTUAL)]
[- CONCEPT: YOUR ARCHIVE GROWS MORE EFFICIENT]
[- COMPATIBILITY: 89%]
[RECOMMENDATION: COMBINE OPTION 2 AND 4]
[CREATE: ENHANCED MAGICAL CORE + ARCHIVE AUTO-ANALYZER]
Sunny's mind raced. An enhanced core to store more magicules. An auto-analyzer to process synthesis possibilities faster, more efficiently.
Could I combine those? Make a unified system?
[THEORETICAL SYNTHESIS:]
[ENTRY NAME: SOVEREIGN'S ARCHIVE CORE]
[COMPONENTS:]
[- ABYSSAL SOVEREIGNTY (E+) - BASE]
[- MAGICAL CORE CONCEPT (F-) - MEDIA CATALOG]
[- AUTO-ANALYSIS SYSTEM (F-) - MEDIA CATALOG]
[- SKILL ACQUISITION FRAMEWORK (F-) - MEDIA CATALOG]
[ESTIMATED RESULT:]
[- MAGICULE CAPACITY: +300-500 UNITS]
[- PASSIVE GROWTH: +50 UNITS/MONTH]
[- SYNTHESIS AUTO-ANALYSIS: ENABLED]
[- SUCCESS RATE INCREASE: +15-25%]
[- ABILITY TO "CONSUME" DEFEATED ENEMIES FOR POWER FRAGMENTS]
[DIFFICULTY: EXTREME]
[CONTINUITY DEBT COST: 7-12%]
[SURVIVAL RATE: 54%]
[THIS IS INSANE]
[YOU'RE GOING TO DO IT ANYWAY, AREN'T YOU?]
Sunny looked at the numbers. 54% survival rate. Potential 12% debt increase that would push him to 50.9%—well past any safe threshold.
But if it worked, he'd have a system that could grow automatically. Analyze syntheses in the background. Turn combat into progression.
He'd become something that learned from existing.
Like Rimuru, Sunny thought. Every fight makes him stronger. Every enemy consumed becomes power.
I could do that. Make a version of it that works with my Archive.
[ARCHIVE WARNING]
[THIS WILL BE THE MOST DANGEROUS THING YOU'VE ATTEMPTED]
[WORSE THAN THE DEMIGOD PHYSIQUE SYNTHESIS]
[YOU'RE TRYING TO UPGRADE YOUR CORE EXISTENCE]
[FAILURE MEANS DEATH]
[OR WORSE: ARCHIVE CORRUPTION]
[ARE YOU SURE?]
Sunny thought about being a king. About having forty-seven named ants, forty-nine people, and 3.7 square miles of territory depending on him.
About having five weeks to prepare before Lord Castor noticed what they'd done.
About needing to be strong enough to matter in a world of Demon Lords and Servants and Djinn Kings.
How long to prepare for this synthesis?
[RECOMMENDED PREPARATION: 2-3 WEEKS]
[- GATHER RESOURCES (MAGIC STONES, CATALYSTS)]
[- STABILIZE CURRENT ENTRIES]
[- INFORM LEVIATHAN (SHE'LL WANT TO WATCH)]
[- WRITE A WILL (JUST IN CASE)]
[- PRAY (YOUR CHOICE OF DEITY)]
Two weeks, Sunny decided. I'll spend two weeks preparing. Then I attempt the Sovereign's Archive Core synthesis.
Either I'll come out of it with exponential growth potential, or I'll die.
But I'll be trying something impossible.
And that's what I do.
[ACKNOWLEDGED]
[ADDING TO SCHEDULE:]
[DAY 35-49: PREPARATION]
[DAY 50: SOVEREIGN'S ARCHIVE CORE SYNTHESIS]
[DAY 51: EITHER CELEBRATION OR FUNERAL]
[GOOD LUCK]
[YOU'RE GOING TO NEED IT]
Outside his window, Burgundy was organizing night patrols. The village—no, the kingdom—was settling into sleep, secure behind ant-built walls.
Sunny looked at the Founder's Blade, glowing faintly with his claim.
He was Lord of Blackshore now.
Which meant he couldn't afford to stay weak.
Time to do something impossible.
Again.
[END CHAPTER 14]
[DAYS ON SURFACE: 35]
[STATUS: KING OF BLACKSHORE]
[TERRITORY: 3.7 SQUARE MILES]
[POPULATION: 49 + 47 ANTS]
[TRUE NAME: REVEALED (TO TRUSTED FEW)]
[CONTINUITY DEBT: 38.9%]
[PLANNED SYNTHESIS: SOVEREIGN'S ARCHIVE CORE]
[ESTIMATED COMPLETION: DAY 50]
[SURVIVAL ODDS: 54%]
[BURGUNDY'S CONCERN LEVEL: RISING]
[NEXT CHAPTER: PREPARATION AND CONSEQUENCES]