Chapter 39: Sorin The New City Lord

Words : 1033 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Misorn is no longer a human city. It is a city of monsters. Sorin quickly becomes its de facto ruler. She organizes supplies, designates districts for different species, and ensures that the monsters—many of whom are not used to living in such close quarters—do not turn on each other. The stronger tribes help build defenses, while the smaller ones contribute in whatever ways they can. Despite the chaotic nature of its inhabitants, the city of Misorn begins to thrive under Sorin's leadership. Some of the tribes migrate, bringing their customs, crafts, and even strange forms of magic. Roads are cleared, homes repaired, and walls fortified. What was once a ruined human city now becomes something new—something entirely monstrous. But with progress comes responsibility. Sorin slumps in her chair, staring at the thick ledger in front of her. With a sigh, she flips it open and runs a gloved hand over the first page. "His Majesty said that I need to make these monsters list their names to be able to live in the city," she mutters to herself. She exhales, rubbing her temples. This is going to be a long day. Before she can dwell on the seemingly endless task ahead, a small, familiar voice calls out. "Big sister!" Sorin lifts her head just as Naira bursts into the room, beaming. The sight of her younger sister instantly lifts the weight from her shoulders. "Naira," Sorin says, a rare softness in her tone. "What are you doing here?" Naira bounces up to her, unbothered by the piles of documents and scattered reports. "I brought you food!" She proudly holds up a wooden tray—though the food looks like it was thrown together in a hurry. "You always forget to eat when you're working." Sorin blinks, momentarily caught off guard. A small, amused smirk tugs at her lips. "I suppose I do," she admits, taking the tray. The meal is nothing fancy, but it's warm, and the effort alone makes it taste better than anything she's had in a long time. Naira watches her eagerly, then frowns. "You look tired, big sister." Sorin lets out a dry chuckle. "I am." "Why don't you take a break?" "I wish I could." She gestures at the endless paperwork. "If I stop now, it'll only pile up more." Naira puffs up her cheeks in frustration, then brightens as if she's just had an idea. "Then I'll help!" Sorin raises a brow. "Help?" Naira nods eagerly and pulls up a chair beside her. "I can read and write! You taught me, remember? Just tell me what to do." Sorin hesitates, then exhales. "Alright. But only the simple parts." With Naira beside her, the burden of responsibility feels a little lighter. Meanwhile, outside the city hall, life in Misorn continues to flourish. Thanks to Nyssara, Thurn, Veltha, and Gorth's subordinates, order is maintained. The once-scattered monster clans find their roles, filling the city's districts with trade, construction, and strange but effective governance. At Alix's command, a level 400 captain and five level 200-300 soldiers—has been stationed in the city. His orders are simple: defend the city at all costs. The warrior is an imposing figure, clad in dark armor that hums with restrained power. He remains silent most of the time, standing guard near Sorin's quarters. Though she initially finds his presence suffocating, she gradually accepts it as another part of her new reality. The city is alive, growing stronger by the day. And Sorin—once a lone shadow—now stands at the heart of it all. ---- The wheels of the luxurious carriage creak as it rolls along the uneven dirt road, the polished wood and golden accents standing in stark contrast to the rugged terrain. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and sweat. Vylan lounges lazily on the plush cushions, his obese frame spilling over the fine silk of his robe. His fingers, adorned with gaudy rings, drum impatiently against the armrest as his lips curl into a sneer. "Fuck those monsters," he spits, his voice dripping with irritation. "I should have never waited for the damn wedding to taste that little monster. What a waste." His trusted right-hand man, Garet, sits across from him, maintaining a carefully neutral expression. Outwardly, he remains composed, but inside, he wrestles with disbelief. His lord lost his entire city, and yet, all he cares about is that girl? Garet shifts slightly, clearing his throat. "My lord, if I may... Misorn has fallen to the monsters. Shouldn't we be discussing how to reclaim it?" Vylan's face contorts with annoyance. "Reclaim it? Why the fuck would I want that rotten city back now? Those filthy beasts have already tainted it. It's not worth the effort." He waves a pudgy hand dismissively. "Let the kingdom deal with it. They wanted that miserable city under control? Now they can have it back." Vylan leans back, a lazy grin stretching across his face. "Honestly, I've always wanted to get out of that place. A backwater dump, filled with dull, useless people. Now, I can finally return to the capital—where I belong." Garet forces himself not to sigh aloud. Vylan isn't just any noble—he is the younger brother of the queen. The only reason he was ever given control of Misorn was because of her influence. And despite his clear incompetence, the king had tolerated his rule, merely keeping a close eye on him. But Misorn had been prosperous before Vylan. A city known for its wealth, trade, and strategic position. Under his governance, it had slowly crumbled—mismanagement, excessive taxation, and Vylan's hedonistic indulgences turning it into a shadow of its former self. And now, it was completely lost. Garet watches his lord closely. There is no regret in his expression, no concern for the people who once served him, nor even the faintest sense of humiliation at losing everything. Just satisfaction at the idea of returning to luxury. Vylan chuckles, rubbing his thick fingers together. "Ahh, the capital. Fine wines, beautiful women, real entertainment. None of that dull, provincial nonsense." His grin widens.

Chapter 39: Sorin The New City Lord

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