Chapter 116: A Most Profitable Bug

Words : 1053 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

Chapter 116: A Most Profitable Bug Then, a new notification, written in angry, red, and deeply insulting letters, filled my vision. [ERROR: Activation Failed. Mutual Domain Interference Detected. Please move to a location at least 3km from any existing allied territory before attempting to use this ability.] [P.S. Please read the fucking manual.] The room was silent for a long, painful moment. I stared at the error message. I stared at Pixia, who was trying very, very hard to look at a particularly interesting cloud. "Well," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It seems the universe has a very passive-aggressive customer support department." We marched for another twenty minutes in a grim, awkward silence. Once we were a suitable distance away, I tried again. "[Reign]," I commanded, my voice now laced with a weary resignation. This time, it worked. The world seemed to lurch. A vast, invisible dome of power, three kilometers in radius, erupted from me, washing over the town below. I felt my feet become rooted to the spot, my body now an anchor for this new, temporary territory. The map in my mind solidified. I saw hundreds of small, white dots—the neutral civilians. A handful of blue dots—my own forces. And a smattering of angry, red dots—the hostiles. A timer appeared in the corner of my vision: 180:00. Three hours to eliminate every last red dot. "Excellent," I purred. "Now for the fun part." I turned to my new Head of Defense and Trap Design, Old Man Yori. "The device, if you please." Yori, his eyes gleaming with the manic pride of a true craftsman, shuffled forward and presented it to me. It was a masterpiece. A megaphone, yes, but a megaphone forged by the Dwarf Queen Akira herself. It was a conical horn of gleaming, rune-etched steel, with a grip of polished obsidian. It was a tool of communication that looked like it could double as a weapon of mass destruction. I took it. It was surprisingly light, humming with a barely contained power. I raised it to my lips. My voice, amplified by dwarven craftsmanship and demonic magic, boomed across the valley, a sound like the voice of a very angry, very well-spoken god. "GREETINGS, MORTALS!" I began, savoring the sheer, glorious absurdity of the moment. "I AM YOUR NEW GOD. LORD RAGNAR VHAGAR. THE TYRANT OF AETHELBURG. AND I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY." I could see the white dots on my map begin to scatter, a beautiful, chaotic display of panic. "YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO DECIDE YOUR FATE!" I continued, my voice shaking the very windows of the houses below. "CHOICE A: YOU CAN SUBMIT. BEND THE KNEE. SWEAR YOUR UNDYING LOYALTY TO ME. IN RETURN, YOU WILL BE GRANTED MY PROTECTION. YOU WILL HAVE FOOD. YOU WILL HAVE SHELTER. YOU WILL BECOME PRODUCTIVE, TAX-PAYING CITIZENS OF MY NEW AND GLORIOUS EMPIRE." I paused for dramatic effect. "CHOICE B: YOU CAN RESIST. YOU CAN HIDE. YOU CAN CLUTCH YOUR POINTLESS WEAPONS AND YOUR EVEN MORE POINTLESS IDEALS. AND I WILL UNLEASH MY ARMY UPON YOU." My smile was a sharp, fanged thing. "I WILL TURN YOUR HOMES INTO ASH, YOUR FARMS INTO A SEA OF MUD, AND YOUR BODIES INTO A THIN, RED PASTE THAT I WILL USE TO FERTILIZE MY NEW DEMONIC VEGETABLE GARDEN!" "THE CHOICE IS YOURS! CHOOSE WISELY! THE CLOCK IS TICKING!" I lowered the megaphone. The silence that followed was a beautiful, terrified thing. "A bit much, my Lord?" Isabelle asked, a faint, amused smile on her lips. "Nonsense," I replied. "A little theatricality is good for morale. Mostly mine." We waited. The ten minutes crawled by. On my map, I watched the drama unfold. Some white dots vanished from the edge of the map as people fled into the wilderness. Fools. They would starve. Then, a beautiful thing happened. One by one, clusters of white dots began to change color. They turned a soft, hopeful yellow. Submission. They had made the smart choice. The timer hit zero. The map updated one last time. The final tally: seventy-eight red dots remained. The stubborn. The brave. The stupid. They were clustered in three main locations: the town hall, the local police station, and what looked like an elementary school. "Alright, commanders," I said, my voice now a cold, efficient blade. "The time for talking is over. It’s time for a very loud, very violent series of negotiations." I looked at my assembled Bloodkin. At the simmering, silent rivalry between my two top commanders. And I had a terrible, brilliant, and probably very stupid idea. "Isabelle, Chloe," I commanded. "You two will work together. You will take the town hall. Show them what true, coordinated power looks like." The look they gave each other was a masterpiece of silent, homicidal tension. This was either going to be a brilliant team-building exercise, or a spectacular, bloody failure. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "The rest of you," I said, gesturing to my "Troublemaker Party." "Split up. Take the other two locations. I want this cleaned up in an hour. No survivors among the hostiles. And try not to break anything expensive." My commanders nodded, their faces grim and determined. They moved out, a wave of dark, hungry ambition washing over the peaceful valley. The hunt had begun. The world held its breath. The timer, a ghostly set of numbers hanging in my vision, ticked down its final, agonizing second. Three. Two. One. Zero. The vast, swirling vortex of black and red energy that had enveloped the town collapsed in on itself with a sound like the universe taking a sharp, final gasp. It imploded into a single, brilliant point of silver light that pulsed once, then solidified. A new True Core. My new True Core. It hung in the air for a moment, a testament to my victory, before sinking into the earth, anchoring my reign over this new patch of dirt. My phone, my one true friend in this chaotic, beautiful nightmare, chimed with the sweet, sweet music of success. [Reign Protocol Successful!] [New Sector Acquired: Northern Farmlands (28 km2)] [Maximum CP has increased by +50!] [Maximum DP has increased by +50!] [New Population Acquired: 89 Human Residents.] "Residents?" I murmured, the word tasting strange.

Chapter 116: A Most Profitable Bug

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