Chapter 25: I am Pixia

Chapter 25: I am Pixia The single word ’Yes’ glowed on Ragnar’s phone screen. He pressed it. For a moment, nothing happened. The Throne Room remained silent, the only sound the nervous breathing of Gob-bo, the little goblin emissary who had just delivered his master’s soul into Ragnar’s hands. Then, the world broke. BOOM! It was not a sound, but a feeling. A deep, foundational tremor ripped through the very fabric of the dungeon. The stone floor beneath Ragnar’s feet didn’t just shake; it buckled and warped as if it were liquid. The air itself screamed, a high-pitched shriek of reality being torn apart and stitched back together. A violent shockwave of pure, untamed energy blasted outwards from the center of the room, a swirling vortex of his dungeon’s gloomy purple and the newcomer’s soft green. His obsidian throne groaned under the strain, and the dust of ages was blasted from the high, cavernous ceiling. Ragnar watched, his new vampire senses overwhelmed, as the impossible happened. The far wall of his Throne Room dissolved into a mist of flowing data, and through it, he saw another place. Rows upon rows of towering wooden bookshelves, filled with ancient, leather-bound tomes, flickered in and out of existence. The scent of old paper and dust mingled with the smell of damp stone and ozone. His grim, functional fortress was merging with a cozy, academic library. It was the most jarring architectural fusion he had ever witnessed. "This is going to be a nightmare for interior design," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the roaring chaos. On his phone, the dungeon map was a glitching mess. He watched as a dozen blue dots - the invading hero party, the Liberators...were caught in the merger. Their icons flickered violently. Then, with a soft pop sound effect that was almost comical in its understatement, they vanished. A system message appeared. [Domain Unification in progress. All foreign entities have been purged. Error Code: 404 Hero Not Found.] "Kicked from the server," Ragnar said with a grim chuckle. He imagined Isabelle Thorne and her team of shining heroes suddenly finding themselves standing confusedly in a random alleyway, miles from his dungeon, with no idea how they got there. The thought was deeply satisfying. The violent shaking subsided, and the screaming air fell silent. His dungeon was... bigger. The Throne Room was now twice its original size, and one of the new walls was lined with elegant, dark-wood bookshelves that looked completely out of place against the rough-hewn stone. It was like a brutalist death metal castle had swallowed a university library. All eyes turned to the small, green True Core that Gob-bo had placed on the floor. It began to pulse with a bright, steady light. The light intensified, growing until it was a blinding column of soft, grassy green. From within the column of light, a figure slowly took shape. It was small, no taller than Ragnar’s hip. Delicate, translucent wings, like those of a dragonfly, shimmered with a rainbow sheen. She wore a simple brown dress and a pair of spectacles so large they seemed to take up half of her face. Her hair was a mousy brown, tied back in a messy bun. She looked less like a fearsome Demon King and more like a librarian who had gotten lost on her way back from the fantasy section. The light faded, leaving the tiny pixie floating a few inches off the ground. She blinked, looking around at the grim, stone-faced Orcs, the snarling kobolds, and the towering vampire Demon King on his spiky obsidian throne. Gob-bo let out a tearful shriek of joy. "Master Pixia! You are safe!" He scrambled forward and hugged her leg, sobbing with relief. Pixia, the Demon King of the library, patted his head gently, a small, relieved smile on her face. Then, she turned her gaze to Ragnar, her expression turning serious. She flew forward, her wings buzzing quietly, and bowed deeply in mid-air. "Great Demon King of Sector 7," she said, her voice soft but clear. "I am Pixia. As per our agreement, my Domain, my knowledge, and my life are yours to command." Ragnar leaned forward, his new, sharp-fanged smile feeling predatory. "Welcome to the company, Pixia. I trust your transition was... smooth." He felt a surge of triumph. He had just acquired an entire new territory, a new True Core that he could feel humming in tandem with his own, and a new, unique subordinate. But his mind, ever the pragmatist, was already working. Her letter said she had poured all her points into the Knowledge stat. He had seen the rank on her surrendered status page: a magnificent B-Rank. An ability he had left at a pathetic E. He had to have it. "Chloe," he said, his voice low. His Dark Elf Bloodkin stepped silently from the shadows beside his throne. "I need to perform a test. Stand ready." He then turned to Pixia. "Pixia, as your new lord, I have a request. It is vital for our future strategy. I need a single drop of your blood." Pixia’s eyes widened behind her large glasses. "My... my blood, my Lord?" "A formality," Ragnar said smoothly, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "A way to seal our pact. It is the custom of my Domain." She hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Of course, my Lord. If it is your will." She held out a tiny, delicate finger. Ragnar leaned down. This was it. The key to understanding this entire twisted game. He would absorb her B-Rank knowledge, see the world through the system’s eyes, and become unstoppable. He gently took her finger and touched the tip with one of his fangs, drawing a minuscule drop of blood. It tasted like sweet tea and old books. He braced himself for the flood of information. And then... nothing happened. There was no rush of knowledge, no blueprint of the universe downloading into his brain. There was just a faint, static-like buzz, and then a cold, robotic message from the system in his mind. [Error. Target’s ability [Knowledge] is a base stat. It cannot be acquired through the [Absorb] skill. [Absorb] can only replicate active skills, learned abilities, or racial traits.] Ragnar stood up straight, his mind reeling. He stared at his phone, then back at the small, floating pixie, who was looking at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. He couldn’t copy it. He couldn’t steal it. He couldn’t just download her life’s work into his brain like a piece of software. The system, for the first time, had a hard counter to his most versatile ability. For a moment, a wave of bitter disappointment washed over him. The ultimate shortcut had been closed to him. But then, as he looked at the small, intelligent, and utterly loyal Demon King floating before him, a new, far more profound realization dawned. He couldn’t become a living supercomputer. But he had just acquired one. A slow, wicked grin spread across his pale face. The rules of the game had just changed, and he had the only copy of the instruction manual Updated from freewebnovel(.)com