Chapter 78: The Burdens of an Empire

Chapter 78: The Burdens of an Empire "I’m bored," I announced to the quiet Throne Room. My voice, now a smooth baritone thanks to my Vampire Lord evolution, echoed pleasingly off the crystal walls. "This is it, isn’t it? The post-game. I’ve finished the main quest, and now I’m left with resource management and collecting all the pointless little collectibles. I’m going to have to start a new game plus just to feel something again." Pixia, who had been diligently cataloging the different resonant frequencies of the crystals in the throne room, zipped over to my shoulder. "My Lord, may I humbly suggest that this period of peace is a critical opportunity for infrastructure development and strategic consolidation? Our borders are vast and our internal logistics are... suboptimal." "Suboptimal?" I scoffed. "Pixia, our kingdom is a logistical nightmare. It’s a patchwork of a brutalist stone dungeon, a cozy university library, and a gaudy, half-looted shopping mall, all stitched together with magic and desperation. It’s less of a cohesive empire and more of a geopolitical migraine. It’s like my old video game inventory after a three-day raid: a chaotic mess of useful stuff, vendor trash, and things I’m pretty sure are cursed." This was the new, unglamorous reality of being a king. Spreadsheets. Supply lines. Defensive perimeters. I summoned Isabelle and Chloe for a proper strategy meeting. They appeared moments later, Isabelle in her dark, practical armor, and Chloe melting out of a shadow in the corner, a silent, deadly promise of efficiency. "Commanders," I began, gesturing to the massive holographic map projected over a crystal table. "We have a problem. We’re big. Too big. We need a plan." Isabelle, my First Sword and the only one here with any formal military training, stepped forward. Her eyes, once filled with the fire of a hero, now held the cold, clear light of a battlefield commander. "Our territory is a crescent, my Lord. It gives us a long, indefensible border. Any of the remaining Demon Kings to the south could launch an attack on our softer, less-developed sectors while our main forces are occupied elsewhere." "She is correct," Pixia chimed in, projecting her own series of color-coded threat-assessment charts over the main map. "The sectors acquired from the late Demon King Gorgon are particularly vulnerable. They are primarily commercial zones with poor natural choke points. I project a 73.4% probability of a successful incursion if a B-Rank ’Brute’ type were to launch a concentrated assault." "So, we need walls," I said. "Metaphorical and, in some cases, literal. We need to fortify." We spent the next hour carving up my new empire. The plan was simple, born from years of playing tower defense games. "The old dungeon, my original home," I said, pointing to the cluster of sectors at the heart of our territory, "will remain the ’Student Farm.’ We’ll keep it low-level, a place for aspiring heroes to come and get a participation trophy and a single, ugly D-Rank sword. It’s a good source of passive income, and it keeps them from poking around our more important facilities." Isabelle nodded. "A sound strategy. It directs the weakest of the enemy’s forces into a controlled environment." "Gorgon’s old mall and its surrounding sectors," I continued, tracing a line on the map, "will become our new ’Hero Farm.’ A mid-level grinding zone. We’ll stock it with our newly acquired Orcs and Ogres. Strong enough to provide a challenge for the more ambitious hero parties, but not so strong that they’ll draw the attention of the real heavy hitters. It’s a buffer zone. A big, ugly, Orc-filled shock absorber." "And the Crystal Spire sectors?" Chloe asked, her voice a soft, deadly whisper. "That," I said with a grin, "is our fortress. Our ’Hardcore’ defensive line. We will reinforce these borders with everything we have. Traps, elite patrols, and our best commanders. Anyone who tries to attack us from the south will break themselves against these walls of glittering, pointy justice." The plan was solid. It was a classic, layered defense. But it was still reactive. I was a king now, not just a survivor cowering in my basement. Defense wasn’t enough. "This is good," I said, looking at my two commanders. "But it’s not enough. We’re sitting here, waiting for the next wave. I’m tired of waiting. It’s time we went on the offensive. It’s time we started knocking on some other doors." I zoomed the map out, revealing the wider prefecture. A dozen smaller, isolated red dots, the domains of my remaining rivals, were scattered across the landscape. "Our next objective," I declared, my voice echoing with a newfound authority, "is the conquest of the northern territories. The Noto Peninsula. It’s sparsely populated with weaker Demon Kings. A perfect place to expand, to gather more resources, more True Cores, and to build our strength before the real powers in the other prefectures start to notice us." The room was silent for a moment as the weight of my ambition settled over them. We were no longer just defending. We were invading. We were becoming the threat that other Demon Kings would have sleepless nights over. Isabelle was the first to speak. "A sound long-term strategy, my Lord. It will secure our flank and provide us with the resources needed for the inevitable, larger wars to come. But who will lead the invasion? My Wrecking Crew is needed to fortify the southern border." She was right. I needed a new team. A new commander. A new tool for my conquest. And I had a very specific idea of what I was looking for. The decision to expand northward had energized the Throne Room. The tedious, soul-crushing work of organizing patrol routes and supply lines was replaced by the exciting, glorious work of planning someone else’s demise. It was a welcome change of pace. "Alright," I said, leaning over the holographic map, which now focused on the cluster of weak-looking red dots representing the Demon Kings of the Noto Peninsula. "We need a new invasion team.