The pale light of morning filtered through the high, arched windows of the castle lounge, casting long shadows across the obsidian floor.
Lucian sat upon a plush sofa, the velvet fabric a deep crimson that matched his eyes. What was once a place of leisure for a warlord had been reclaimed; it was now an office, the silent engine of a rising power.
Scattered across the low table before him was the truth of his conquest.
Selene had been thorough. The documents laid bare the skeletal remains of the territory Karn had spent years picking clean. It was a report written in the blood of the suppressed and the ink of an empire in decay.
The capital was a fortress rather than a city — thick walls, crude towers, and districts built to intimidate instead of function. Around it lay the wreckage of smaller settlements burned during years of internal suppression.
The infrastructure was broken. Roads were cracked or abandoned. Trade routes were unsafe, ruled by bandits who had turned bridges and crossings into toll points. Travel through the domain was a constant risk.
Yet the land itself still had value. Mines ran through the mountains. The forests were rich with game. A river cut through the territory, capable of sustaining trade. All of it was underused or drained inefficiently.
The defenses reflected Karn's rule. His fortress was strong but outdated, relying on fear rather than strategy. There were no supply lines, no layered fortifications, and no protection beyond the capital. Rogue bandits roamed freely.
The population endured rather than served. Brutal taxation, forced labor, slavery, and conscription had crushed loyalty. People stayed only because fleeing was worse.
Fragments of Karn's warbands still controlled some villages. Others had fallen to bandit groups he never managed to subdue.
The economy was hollow. Tribute and forced labor had replaced production. Agriculture, smithing, and trade barely functioned.
Mines still operated, but dangerously. Some were stripped beyond safety. Others were controlled by rogue groups who used them as private holdings.
Karn had no formal trade contracts. He sold to bandits and minor warlords at a loss, keeping the domain weak. His debt ensured it could never recover.
Coin was nearly gone. Bartering replaced currency, and debts were recorded in favors and obligations rather than ledgers.
Because money had no meaning, Mammon took payment in resources. His collectors seized crops, ore, and timber directly from villages and mines, leaving just enough behind to keep production going.
Those collectors were stationed throughout the territory, operating as a foreign authority embedded inside Lucian's land.
Culturally, the domain had no identity. It was simply Karn's land.
Strength meant violence. A ruler was someone who killed, not someone who built.
What Lucian had taken was not a functioning territory, but a fractured, indebted ruin — one waiting to be reshaped.
Lucian set the final document down. The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the faint crackle of the hearth. His face remained a mask of unreadable calm.
"It seems my newly acquired lands are in worse condition than I anticipated," he remarked softly, his voice echoing in the cold room. "Ah, well."
He turned his gaze toward Selene, who stood waiting like a silent wraith.
"Impressive, Selene. Completing a report of this quality in less than a day is beyond what I expected."
"It was nothing, my lord," she replied, her voice steady but her posture betrayed by the slightest tremor. "I merely carried out my duty."
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly, tracing the faint dark circles beneath her eyes. The weariness of her sleepless labor was written in the tilt of her head.
"You insist otherwise, yet your exhaustion is quite apparent."
His crimson eyes softened with a practiced, predatory gentleness. He leaned forward, catching her gaze with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. He could mimic the warmth of concern, cradle the fears of his subjects, and weave a tapestry of trust that felt indistinguishable from the real thing—but the core of him remained a cold, untouchable void.
"Did you sacrifice your rest for this? I would prefer you not strain yourself so recklessly."
Selene's eyes widened, a reflexive attempt to mask her fatigue. "I'm perfectly fine, Lord Lucian. There's no need for you to worry about me."
"I do worry, you know," Lucian countered, his tone dropping to a measured, melodic calm. "As a newborn demon, your growth is not yet complete. Proper rest is essential to ensure your development."
"If I were to sleep now," she whispered, her resolve flickering, "who would assist you in deciding what to do with the domain?"
"Do not concern yourself with that. I will manage just fine. In fact… I already have a few ideas."
Selene hesitated. For the first time in her life, a spark of genuine desire burned within her. Throughout her years serving under various warlords, she had been a tool—efficient, deadly, but hollow.
Now, standing before the man who had shattered her chains and redefined her very soul, she wanted more than to just obey. She wanted to be the pillar he leaned upon. She wanted to see his kingdom rise from the ash.
But the King had spoken.
She offered a quick, deep bow. "Very well, my lord. I shall obey. Please feel free to wake me whenever you require my assistance."
"Good. Get some rest—I will require you in peak condition."
As the twin doors groaned shut behind her, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Ryker, whose energy was a stark contrast to Selene's quietude, stepped forward.
"Master! Everyone's been talking about the battle," the boy exclaimed, his eyes alight with hero-worship. "How you crushed Karn without even breaking a sweat!"
Beside him, Reiner—the former prince reborn—watched with a hint of a smile.
"It sounded incredible. I really wish I could've seen it myself."
"If you had been there, Karn would likely have made you his target," Lucian said dryly.
The spark in Reiner's eyes dimmed, replaced by the cold, grounding weight of reality. He looked at his hands, then back at Lucian with a set jaw.
"Yeah… if I'd been there, I probably would've been in the way. That's why I have to become stronger, Lord Lucian. So next time, I can stand and fight beside you."
"Same here, Master!" Ryker added, punching a fist into his palm. "I want to crush my opponents as effortlessly as you do."
A rare, quiet flicker of approval crossed Lucian's features. It was a brief, purposeful display of warmth.
"Good… that is precisely what I expect to hear from my soldiers. We must all grow strong if we are to achieve our goal."
The resolve in the room was palpable, a shared heartbeat of ambition. It was interrupted by a sharp knock.
"Enter," Lucian commanded.
Sienna stepped into the lounge, a sealed letter held in her hand. Her steps were measured as she approached the sofa.
"Lord Lucian, you've received a letter."
Lucian's eyes sharpened. "Is this from Mammon?"
"No, my lord. It is from a neighboring warlord. Her name is Liora."
*So, the Lawless Continent has already taken notice of me,* Lucian mused, the thought swirling with dark amusement. *And some have begun to make their moves.*
"Oh? How curious… I wonder what this is about."
He had just broken the seal when the doors were thrown open with a violent bang. Talen, the coachman from the village, stood there huffing, his face pale and slick with sweat.
"Lord Lucian… sir," he stammered, trembling so violently his teeth nearly rattled. "Someone is downstairs. He... he works for Mammon."
"Excellent," Lucian said, sliding Liora's letter into his pocket with a fluid motion. "Have him come up to me."
Talen blinked, paralyzed for a second by Lucian's lack of fear. He remembered Karn—a giant of a man—shaking like a leaf at the mere mention of the White Stone Group.
This boy, however, looked as though he had just been told his favorite vintage of wine had arrived.
"Very well, everyone," Lucian announced, standing up. "We will discuss our plans another time. For now… I have an important guest to attend to."
As the others filed out, a faint, dangerous smirk tugged at the corners of Lucian's lips. The arrival of the creditor did not unnerve him; it was a catalyst, a fresh variable to be manipulated.
Moments later, a man stepped into the office.
He was the image of corporate lethality. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he bore bone-white plates set into the fabric along his shoulders and forearms—subtle, organic-looking armor that suggested the suit was less a garment and more an extension of his body. His black hair was interrupted by a single, sharp streak of white, and his grey eyes were cold enough to freeze the air in the room.
He didn't walk like a diplomat. He walked like an executioner.
*A child?* Dante thought, his gaze narrowing as Lucian stood to greet him. *Could this boy truly have felled Karn? He looks untouched, yet the slaughter was only yesterday.*
*You've been dying to face an Advanced Aura user,* Malphas's voice crackled within Lucian's mind. *Well, here is one standing before you. Try not to play with your food too much.*
"Hello," Lucian said, his voice a smooth, welcoming velvet. "I'm pleased you came. Please… have a seat." He gestured toward the sofa opposite him.
"No, thank you," Dante replied, his tone level and absolute. "I do not plan to linger beyond what is necessary."
Lucian's expression didn't flicker. He simply filed the rejection away. "Very well. Yet before we commence, I wish to know your name. I presume you are aware of mine."
"Yes, Lucian. I am Dante—one of Mammon's directors."
*As in... a board of directors?* Lucian's mental gears turned. *Now the debt becomes clearer. The White Stone Group is far more than a mere army. Fascinating.*
"Let's get this over with," Dante said, placing a sleek briefcase on the table. He clicked it open and handed a single sheet of paper to Lucian.
Lucian scanned the document. It was a meticulous accounting of Karn's failures. His eyes locked onto the final figure.
100 million Marks.
The silence stretched thin. Dante broke it first. "Is something wrong?"
Lucian looked up, his eyes meeting the Director's. "I do not intend to provoke… but yes."
A shadow of frustration crossed Dante's features, gone as quickly as it appeared.
"I fail to understand why I am being forced to bear a debt that is not mine," Lucian continued.
"This is the Lawless Continent for a reason," Dante said coldly. "The man who was meant to pay is dead because of you. Therefore, the burden is yours."
"Fair enough. However, I am not suggesting that I should evade payment. But before we proceed, I have a question—if you would permit me."
"What do you want to know?"
"Karn was far too irresponsible to ever repay this debt. Tell me… why did you not seize his territory instead?"
Dante stared at him, trying to gauge the boy's intent. "Why do you ask?"
"I initially believed you were acting with goodwill," Lucian said, his voice dripping with feigned naivety. "But your earlier remark—that this is the Lawless Continent—gives me reason to question that."
A flash of genuine amusement flickered in Dante's grey eyes. He let out a quiet, reluctant chuckle. "I would not normally dignify that with an answer. However, your inaccurate assumption compels me to correct you."
Lucian felt a surge of cold satisfaction. Dante had taken the bait. He now viewed Lucian as a naive prodigy, a child playing at kingship.
"Listen," Dante leaned in slightly. "Out here, kindness doesn't exist. We left Karn in power because it was more profitable to bleed him slowly than to take his land outright. Managing territory is a headache; collecting tribute is a luxury. Don't mistake that for mercy."
*Exactly as I thought,* Lucian mused. *They are not conquerors; they are parasites.*
"Should I take it, then, that you intend to make me your new source of revenue?"
"If you don't like it, then pay it off and walk free—just like the paper says. Now, stop wasting time."
"As I mentioned before, I will honor the debt. What I seek, however, is the chance to negotiate a new arrangement."
"A new deal?" Dante arched an eyebrow. "You have quite the courage."
"I promise… you will find it most pleasing."
"Say it, then. Just don't expect me to agree."
Lucian stood taller, his aura beginning to simmer just beneath the surface, a subtle pressure that filled the room.
"Given the current conditions, this debt is impossible to repay. I promise to settle it in full by year's end if only two terms are altered. First, the debt must cease its growth. Second, I regain full authority over my domain—including all revenue and complete freedom from White Stone interference. Should I fail… I accept becoming a permanent tributary state."
Dante's face remained a mask of stone. "An enticing deal, yes—but not quite complete. Let's change one of the conditions."
"Which one?"
"Payment is due by the end of Quintara."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. The calendar was clear—the year had ten months, and Quintara was the fifth.
"Quintara? That is less than half a year… it cannot be done."
"The year has only just begun," Dante countered, his voice like grinding flint. "Giving you until the end would be a free pass. In the Lawless Continent, word spreads fast—I need the White Stone Group to be spoken of with respect, not as a charity."
"It is already the end of Monarion… leaving me only four months. Perhaps we—"
"Enough," Dante cut him off. "Accept these conditions, or we revert to the original deal. You are a 'King' now, are you not? Prove it."
Lucian paused, letting a heavy silence hang between them. Internally, a dark flame flickered. The disrespect was palpable, a human daring to dictate terms to a scion of the Abyss. But he suppressed it, wrapping his fury in a layer of cold calculation.
"Very well," he said, his expression becoming unreadable. "The debt shall be repaid by the end of Quintara."
"Good." Dante snapped his briefcase shut. "Before I depart, I am adding two final conditions. Ironshore Harbor will remain under White Stone's control—it is excluded from this agreement. Furthermore, ten percent of the total must be paid by the end of Bireth. Failure to comply nullifies the deal. Any objections?"
"No."
"I will return on the thirty-sixth of Bireth. Ensure that the ten million is ready."
"I will do my utmost."
Dante turned to the door, but stopped halfway. He looked back at Lucian, his gaze piercing.
"Child, a warning before I leave: curb your arrogance. Countless so-called geniuses and prodigies have come here thinking they could carve out glory in the Lawless Continent. They all shared your confidence—and they all failed."
He left without waiting for a response.
Lucian watched the door close, the faint smirk returning to his lips. Dante believed he had set an impossible trap. Lucian knew he had just bought his freedom to execute the first phase of his grand design.
As the silence of the lounge returned, Malphas materialized on his shoulder, his golden eyes glowing with a predatory light. "So, word of Karn's death has already gotten around."
Lucian pulled Liora's letter from his pocket. "Ah… this is the sort of thing you enjoy, isn't it?"
"Just concentrate on making things interesting," the spirit muttered. "I was hoping a fight would erupt. You were unusually quiet."
"Violence is not always the answer, my friend. But… you are the 'Conqueror Spirit,' so perhaps it is only natural you hunger for it."
Sienna and the others returned, their faces anxious. "Lord Lucian," Sienna asked, "how did everything go?"
"Everything turned out as intended."
The relief in the room was visible. They didn't need the details; the absolute confidence in Lucian's tone was more than enough to bolster their faith.
"So, Sienna," Lucian said, unfolding the letter. "Where is the one who handed you this? The letter states they await a reply."
"She is downstairs, my Lord."
"Please… summon her."
A few minutes later, Sienna returned with a petite woman in tow. She had short, pink hair that framed a face that seemed remarkably kind for such a brutal land. Her warm pink eyes and simple, earth-toned clothing gave her an air of quiet, unassuming authority.
"Hello, Mr. Lucian," she said, her voice soft and soothing, like a cool breeze over a desert. "I'm Tessa. Sienna said you wanted to see me."
"Apologies for keeping you waiting."
"No need to worry. I didn't mind waiting."
"Alright, Tessa. Your master's letter says she wishes to meet me as soon as possible." Lucian's eyes glinted with a dark, strategic hunger. "Fortune favors her—I am available immediately."