Chapter 69: Surprise(vs. Alyssa)

Chapter 69: Surprise(vs. Alyssa) "This is like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon," I announced to the empty Throne Room. Pixia, who had been alphabetizing a pile of newly acquired evil-looking scrolls, zipped over to my shoulder. "My statistical models project a 94.2% probability of victory if we maintain the current strategy, my Lord," she squeaked, her voice a beacon of obnoxious optimism. "The attrition is working." "The attrition is boring me to death, Pixia," I retorted, slumping deeper into my ridiculously uncomfortable throne. "And a bored Demon King is a Demon King who starts thinking about the gacha machine again. We can’t have that. It’s time to end this. It’s time for the final move." I stood up, my long, dark coat swishing around my ankles. I felt very dramatic. "She’s been reacting to our moves. Defending where we attack, pulling her forces back when we press too hard. She’s waiting for us to make a mistake." I began to pace, the cold stone floor a welcome feeling under my boots. "So, we’re not going to make a mistake. We’re going to make an opportunity. We’re going to give her exactly what she’s been waiting for. The perfect target." I opened a direct mental link to all my commanders, my voice a cold wave of absolute authority. "All units, listen up. The war of a thousand cuts is over. Prepare for the finishing blow." A chorus of mental "Ayes, my Lord" echoed back. "Isabelle, Chloe," I continued, my focus narrowing. "Your teams will launch a full-scale, coordinated assault on Sector 32. I want it to look like our final, desperate push. Be loud. Be flashy. Make a scene." I paused, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face. "And then, I want you to break. I want a full-scale, panicked, everything-is-on-fire retreat. I want you to run like your fur is on fire and you’re being chased by a slightly angrier version of yourselves." There was a moment of confused silence on the mental link. "My Lord," Isabelle’s voice was tight with confusion. "You want us to feign a rout?" "I want you to stage a tactical implosion," I clarified. "I want her to think she’s finally broken us. I want her to see her chance to wipe us out, once and for all. I want her to send every last soldier she has to chase you down and finish the job." The beautiful, terrible logic of the plan settled over them. "And when they pursue," I purred, "you will lead them right back to Sector 28. To our kill box. To the place where we have prepared their graves." The trap was set. Now, all we had to do was wait for the queen to move her pieces. An hour later, the attack began. Alyssa’s forces, seeing my two most powerful teams concentrating on a single sector, responded with overwhelming force. Her elite Dark Elf archers, her Crystal Golems, and her remaining Bloodkin commanders, the stoic Ice Golem and the grim-faced Elf Captain, all converged on Sector 32. The battle, as seen on my phone’s live feed, was a spectacular light show of explosions and magic. My teams fought with a beautiful, practiced desperation, slowly giving ground, making it look like they were being overwhelmed. After a grueling thirty minutes, Isabelle’s voice screamed through the comms. "We’re broken! Fall back! Retreat to Sector 28!" The rout was a masterpiece. My disciplined forces dissolved into a panicked, screaming mob, fleeing towards the designated Transfer Array. Alyssa’s army, seeing their chance, let out a unified, triumphant roar. They abandoned their defensive positions. They overextended. They charged, a wave of righteous fury and crystal, right into the jaws of my trap. They poured through the Transfer Array into Sector 28, the ugly, industrial cavern with its maze of catwalks and rusting pipes. They expected to find a scattered, broken enemy. Instead, they found silence. And then, from the shadows of every pipe, from behind every rusted generator, my reserve forces emerged. Hundreds of Orcs. Dozens of hulking Ogres. My entire legion of darkness, which I had held back for this single, perfect moment. "Surprise," I whispered to my phone screen. The enemy commanders froze, their triumphant expressions turning to ones of pure, dawning horror. They were trapped. "Now," I commanded, and the slaughter began. What followed was not a battle. It was an extermination. My fresh, furious army crashed into their exhausted, overextended forces. BOOM! CRACK! BOOM! The cavern became a percussive nightmare of sonic booms and shockwaves as my Orcs and Ogres unleashed their pent-up fury. Isabelle’s and Chloe’s teams, their feigned retreat finished, turned and slammed into the enemy’s rear, a hammer meeting an anvil. The Ice Golem, a being of immense power, found himself surrounded by Fenris and Reina. BOOM! Fenris became a blur of black fur, his claws tearing chunks of ice from the Golem’s body. The wind shrieked with every swipe. BOOM! Reina’s fist, glowing with crimson energy, connected with the Golem’s chest. The impact was a focused detonation. A visible shockwave of force ripped through the Golem’s crystalline form, and cracks spiderwebbed across its entire body. CRACK! With a final, explosive cry, the Ice Golem shattered into a million glittering shards. The Dark Elf Captain, seeing her last escape route cut off, let out a final, desperate shriek and was engulfed by a tide of snarling kobolds, led by a particularly gleeful Grunt. It was over in minutes. Every last soldier. Every last commander. Every last Bloodkin. Annihilated. Her entire invading army was gone. I leaned back on my throne, a deep, profound satisfaction settling in my cold, vampiric heart. "Alright, ladies," I said, opening the comms to my two commanders, who now stood in a silent, corpse-strewn cavern. "Phase one is complete. Take a five-minute break. Get a drink of water. And then, I want you to march into her now-defenseless kingdom and burn it to the ground." The hunt was over. The conquest was about to begin.