Chapter 98: A Kingdom of Knives

Chapter 98: A Kingdom of Knives "They will exterminate every last one of your soldiers. They will hunt down your Bloodkin. They will tear your pretty little kingdom apart, crystal by crystal." "And as for you," I said, my thumb gently stroking her throat, "I will personally, very slowly, and with great enthusiasm, break every single bone in your beautiful, elegant body before I finally grant you the mercy of a quick and painless death." I let the threat hang in the air between us, a promise as solid and as real as the shattered marble beneath our feet. "So, what’ll it be, Your Majesty?" I purred. "A long and prosperous career under new management? Or a very short, very messy, and profoundly disappointing end?" I loosened my grip just enough for her to speak. She gasped for air, her chest heaving. The defiant fire in her eyes was still there, but it was now mixed with something else. Calculation. She was a queen. A player. She was analyzing the board, looking for a move, any move, that wasn’t a checkmate. And she was finding nothing. I could see the war in her eyes. The pride wrestling with the instinct for survival. "My subordinates," she finally rasped, her voice a dry, broken sound. "You will guarantee their safety? All of them?" It was a test. A last, desperate attempt to seize some small measure of control, to frame her surrender as a noble sacrifice. I saw right through it. "I will guarantee the safety of any who swear loyalty to me," I corrected her coolly. "Any who resist will be reclassified from ’personnel’ to ’raw materials.’ My alchemy forges are always in need of high-quality monster cores." The last of the fight seemed to drain out of her. She had lost. Utterly. Completely. She closed her eyes for a moment, a single, perfect tear tracing a path down her twilight-hued cheek. Then she opened them again. The fire was gone, replaced by a cold, empty resignation. "I accept your terms," she whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "I, Sarah, Demon Queen of the Onyx Spire, surrender my Domain, my True Core, and my life to you." I smiled. A true, genuine, and utterly triumphant smile. "I knew you’d see it my way," I said, and gently set her back on her feet. I held out my hand, and the familiar, shadowy form of the Blood Chalice materialized in my palm. "A formality," I said, filling it with a few drops of my own vampiric blood. "To seal the deal." She took the chalice, her hands trembling only slightly, and drank. The moment she did, I felt the connection snap into place. A new, powerful, and deeply resentful mind, now bound to my own. A flood of triumphant, glorious notifications filled my vision. [You have defeated Demon Queen Sarah!] [You have gained a new Bloodkin: Sarah Vhagar!] [You have gained 20,000 Experience Points!] I felt the surge of power, the satisfying warmth of a hard-won victory. But then, another notification appeared. A new one. An unexpected one. [System Alert: Subordinate Contract with a Demon King has resulted in a Domain Abandonment Protocol.] [The Domain ’Onyx Spire’ and all its sectors are now classified as ’Unclaimed Territory’.] [All non-Bloodkin subordinates of the former Demon Queen Sarah have been returned to a neutral, unaligned state.] I stared at the screen, my triumphant smile freezing on my face. Abandoned. Not annexed. Not conquered. The territory, the resources, the entire army I had just fought a war to win... they were gone. Slipped through my fingers because of a single, infuriating line of cosmic fine print. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. I had won the battle. But I had just made a catastrophic, kingdom-losing strategic blunder. I looked at Sarah, my new, powerful, and unbelievably expensive subordinate. I had traded an entire kingdom for a single, resentful chess piece. A slow, furious, and deeply frustrated growl began to rumble in my chest. This was going to be a logistical nightmare. ------------------ The silence in the library atrium was heavy. It was the silence of a finished fight, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint, ozone scent of spent magic. I stood over the spot where the Demon Queen Sarah had knelt, the memory of her surrender a sweet, satisfying warmth in my cold, vampiric chest. Victory. It was a good feeling. Then, the universe, in its infinite and infuriating wisdom, decided to piss on my parade. [System Alert: Subordinate Contract with a Demon King has resulted in a Domain Abandonment Protocol.] [The Domain ’Onyx Spire’ and all its sectors are now classified as ’Unclaimed Territory’.] I stared at the screen, the triumphant smile freezing on my face. "Unclaimed?" I whispered, my voice dangerously quiet. "Pixia." My tiny, flying encyclopedia of all things annoying and statistical zipped to my shoulder. "Explain," I commanded. "Now. Use small words. My A-Rank Body is currently contemplating punching a hole in reality, and I don’t want you to be in the splash zone." "It appears, my Lord," she squeaked, her tiny glasses askew, "that when a Demon King willingly becomes a Bloodkin, they forfeit their claim to their own Domain. The System registers it as an abdication. The territory becomes... a free-for-all." A slow, furious, and deeply frustrated growl began to rumble in my chest. I had just fought a war. I had bled minions. I had risked my own magnificent, un-dead ass. And for what? A single, powerful, and probably very high-maintenance new commander, while her entire kingdom was now up for grabs? "So you’re telling me," I said, my voice a low, threatening purr, "that any two-bit Demon King with a handful of goblins and a dream can just walk in and claim the territory I just bled for?" "Statistically, yes, my Lord," Pixia confirmed, wisely hiding behind my ear. "The land-grab protocols are quite clear." BOOM! The crystal floor of the atrium exploded as I slammed my fist down. The wind shrieked, a vortex of displaced air and my own incandescent rage. A massive shockwave of pure force blasted outwards, shattering the few remaining intact bookshelves and sending a rain of singed paper and glittering dust across the chamber. CRACK! A web of fissures spiderwebbed across the floor from the point of impact, the very foundations of the library groaning in protest. "This is unacceptable!" I roared, my voice shaking the entire building. I looked at my commanders. They were battered, they were bloody, but they were victorious. And they were looking at me, waiting for their next order. The rage receded, replaced by a cold, hard, and deeply pragmatic focus. "Isabelle," I commanded, my voice now a blade of ice. "Assemble the Wrecking Crew. Your rest is cancelled. You will march into the ’Unclaimed Territory’ of the former Onyx Spire. You will plant my banner in every sector. You will kill any hero, monster, or overly ambitious squirrel that tries to stop you." "We will make it a graveyard, my Lord," Isabelle replied, her voice ringing with a cold, professional confidence that was both terrifying and deeply attractive. "No one will set foot in your new lands without your permission." She and her team departed, a whirlwind of grim, efficient purpose. With the land-grab crisis momentarily averted, I turned my attention to the larger, more chaotic problem. My army. It was a glorious, powerful, and profoundly disorganized mess. I had Orcs from Gorgon. Goblins from Kevin. Dark Elves from Sarah. And my own, home-brewed collection of werewolves, demons, and one very confused kobold who was probably, at this very moment, trying to start a blood feud with a particularly shiny puddle. We were not an army. We were a demonic potluck, and everyone had brought a different, probably poisonous, dish. "Yori. Pixia," I commanded, striding back towards the Transfer Array. "To the throne room. Now. We are having a corporate reorganization." The Crystal Spire was a hub of activity. I stood before the holographic map table, my remaining commanders assembled before me. Yori, the old gacha addict. Sarah, the newly minted and deeply resentful Bloodkin. Chloe, my beautiful, fanatical shadow. And the others, a rogue’s gallery of monstrous power. "This is a mess," I declared, gesturing to the chaotic swirl of green icons on the map. "We have no structure. No cohesion. We are a blunt instrument, and I prefer a scalpel. From this moment on, we are restructuring." I began to issue orders, my voice the only sound in the vast, silent chamber. "Our forces will be divided into three distinct corps," I announced. "Each with a clear purpose and a dedicated commander." I pointed to Isabelle’s icon, which was already making bloody progress in Sarah’s old territory. "The First Corps, the ’Wrecking Crew,’ remains under the command of Isabelle Vhagar. They are our main assault force. Our sledgehammer. Their job is to break down the front door and smash the furniture."