On my tenth birthday, the banquet hall bustled with guests, its ancient architecture glowing under candle-lit chandeliers. The king, amidst a feast, held court at a grand table.

Fawning nobles praised my achievements and commerce promises until a disturbing conversation seized my attention.

“It’s not my fault,” a drunken noble reeking of wine and resentment said, his twirled mustache wet with alcohol. “They just keep dying! All of them. Dead! Dead, I tell you. Dead!”

“You shouldn’t have extorted them so much, Count Renton,” another with black hair smirked, reveling in the man’s misfortune.

“You just wait, Count Biscoff,” Count Renton cackled, bending over and returning with bloodshot eyes. “They say it starts with a fever. Light chills. Laziness. So you’ll send your reeves and stewards to beat them and tell them to get back to work. And that’s when it all goes to hell,” he grinned, making everyone uncomfortable. “Because your reeves and stewards will stop showing up to work, and you’ll send your bailiff to check on them. Then your bailiff, oh, your trusty bailiff. That man will walk through your door pale as a sheet, mumbling and twisting and cold without the ability to speak. And then—”

“Count Renton!” my father snapped. “You’re scaring our wives and children. Get yourself together!”

Count Renton turned with an unsteady gait, looking at me, the suitors, and the noblewomen. “How excellent, Margrave. You’ve brought them all here for the brat’s birthday,” he grinned. “That means everyone can hear it—death is coming.”

“Get him out of here,” Leon snarled, beckoning the royal guards.

The royal guards, adorned with the golden phoenix insignia, grabbed the man by the armpits and began hauling him out of the room.

“Black skin that rots like teeth!” Count Renton roared. “Dead and oozing with pus while they writhe in agony! That’s what your trusty, trusty bailiff will tell you before he dies! You wait! Just wait!”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Lord Everwood,” a woman with brown hair tied in a bun said, her eyes watery and bloodshot with fear as she bowed to me. “It’s a dark time for us, and my husband is stressed. We did not mean to intrude upon your birthday.”

“Get her out of here, too,” Leon sneered.

“Please wait, father,” I requested with a slight bow. It wasn’t wise to publicly contradict your father, lest he shows weakness.

“I’ll allow it,” he replied.

“Thank you, Father,” I replied, turning to Countess Renton, the man’s wife. “Can you explain the symptoms from the start?”

Countess Renton blinked twice, shocked that a child wanted to hear something so macabre on his birthday. However, she understood her place and began recounting.

'Sudden onset of a fever. Chills and shivering. Head and muscle aches. Swollen lymph nodes, abdominal pain, and gangrene.' My mind raced, quickly eliminating potential diagnoses. Despite swollen lymph nodes, it wasn’t Tularemia, Cat-scratch fever, Mono, or Cellulitis. Necrosis hinted at the grim answer—the bubonic plague.

The black death.

In modern times, antibiotics and soap would easily combat it, but in the middle ages, Yersinia pestis was a death sentence.

However, I could do something about it, and doing so would protect everyone I grew up with. Moreover, I didn’t mind helping people so long as it didn’t harm me. So I wanted to help.

“Father, diseases that spread within a few days are serious,” I whispered. “We need your workers to use soap, and you need to set up checkpoints to check for symptoms at Silverbrook.”

Silverbrook was the largest city in the Everwood territory. It distributed most of our crops and exports alongside providing other major economic needs in the territory.

Leon furrowed his brows, his gaze serious. “Do you understand the cost of such a measure?” he asked. “Even if you implement it, it would cost a fortune.”

“It’s better than losing everything like Count Renton,” I reasoned. “Besides, I can produce soap at a few coppers a bar. I just need you to request a month's leave from the capital and a loan.”

If I could leave the capital, I could pull it off by introducing four revolutionary processes.

The first was the water wheel and pulleys, which would automate the soap cutter and press, allowing us to “print” soap bars en masse. That technology would also fuel my blast furnaces to create steel, power a water hammer to shape metal, grind grain, and prompt other major innovations. It was a game-changer.

Second, I’d need to mass-produce insecticide. Bubonic plague primarily spreads through fleas, so insecticides could suppress one of the main transmission sources.

Third: standardization. I would introduce crystalline lye to soap makers, create recipes, and streamline operations.

Lastly, I needed to introduce the assembly line and division of labor. While it seems intuitive to split a task into steps and specialize, it ran contrary to work practices for most of human history due to the guild system.

Therefore, I'd need to establish a soap production company, courting the guilds in Silverbrook to present the benefits without political backlash.

These were daunting tasks, but my father's influence and my foresight made them achievable.

Seeing my unwavering confidence, the same that earned me the reputation of a demon lord, my father conceded. “I’ll secure you a month’s respite,” Leon replied. “However, you must reassure the kingdom of your intentions.”

“That I can do, Father,” I replied.

***

Two weeks passed, and the pandemic was advancing at a disquieting pace, outstripping the expected spread of this flea and rat-borne disease. It was more than suspicious.

However, my life hadn’t changed. I was still attending nobility training and otherwise confined to my room as the kingdom reviewed my father’s request. His ask wasn’t enough, so I took matters into my own hands.

I met Alphonse under the cloak of night. "Master, I need your help," I stated.

“This sounds political,” he frowned. “I don’t do political.”

“It’s survival,” I clarified.

“I do survival,” Alphonse said. “But it depends on the type of survival.”

“This plague—this illness,” I prefaced. “My soap can counter it. It has magic, and people with magic don’t get sick.”

“People with soul mana don’t get sick,” he narrowed his eyes. “Normal mages are getting sick.”

“I disagree,” I said, meeting his gaze. “From what I see in the castle, people with magic don’t get sick.”

“Speak,” Alphonse barked. “I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with your political games. You’re a politician—I’m not. So treat me that way or bid me farewell.”

I was speaking as I was taught: you never state things directly in politics.

"This sickness is spreading too fast. I believe this is biological warfare, with enemies sending sick people into our walls to kill us from within," I replied. "And if there's one thing that all the sick people have in common—it's that they're dirty. Soap eliminates dirt."

This was a common form of biological warfare during sieges in the Middle Ages. When a kingdom shut its walls during a siege, the opposing side would use catapults to send infected bodies over the walls.

"That's speculation; are you trying to get people to agree with it with something they already believe in?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. "The kingdom thinks it’s expensive to make soap, but it's actually very cheap with the right procedures. Ideally, I need a few months to create the soap at home, but I can do it in a month. Everyone there will survive, and then the kingdom will adopt it."

"You're oddly confident," Alphonse said. "Do I need to burn you again to ensure you're not body hopping?"

"What's worse?" I began. "This kingdom collapsing from sickness and starvation with me in this castle, or me leaving and having a chance to save it?"

Alphonse sighed. "I’ll hint at biological warfare and say that I suggest your soap, but I won’t back you up. Do you understand?"

"Thank you," I nodded.

***

A week later, despite the growing crisis, my father and Alphonse managed to sway the king to let me return home.

"I know we don’t have to worry about them anymore, but is it really okay to relax?" Thea asked, sitting on the carriage floor while I kneaded her furry teal cat ears with my fingers. She was thirteen now, and her sense of responsibility and adulthood had increased significantly. That said, it was unlikely that our stress relief ritual would ever change after years of doing it nightly.

-

-

Lyssa watched us with a hidden jealous expression. Not toward me, but yearning for a close and trusting relationship that was pure and uncomplicated. Still, it was soothing just to watch us. This was important because she still had lingering trauma from our last trip down the road.

"Yes, we'll be okay," I said, rubbing her ears in micro circles. "I’ll make sure of it. Not just us, now, but also our family and serfs."

"Really?" Thea asked, clutching her chest.

"Of course," I smiled, ruffling her teal hair. Then I looked up. "You needn’t worry about the trip home, Lyssa. You're safe this time."

"Is my concern that obvious?" Lyssa asked, gracing me with a wry smile.

"It is," I grinned. "But things aren’t the same this time. I promise."

An icy chill crawled down the woman’s spine, and she took a sharp breath. "What’s that smile for?" she gulped.

"It’s knowing I’ll get payback today," I casually said. "Why do you think I’m kneading Thea’s ears? She's a beast tamer. There's no reason to be worried when you have a bird's eye view."

Lyssa looked down and saw the cute teal-haired cat teen’s ears twitching, turning left and right. "Who’s here?"

"It’s mercenaries," Thea said. "However…."

"Shhhhhhh…." I softly shushed. "We don’t speculate. Only speak if confirming. We don't know who's out there."

Thea's eyes widened, and she nodded quickly, making Lyssa’s pulse race. However, there was something soothing in my evil smile.

My eyes locked with Lyssa’s. "One lesson from Master Gurrig's endless beatings: I can't persuade anyone I'm not the demon lord’s reincarnation," I grinned. "But here's a promise, Lyssandra Meara."

"What’s that?" Lyssa swallowed.

"If I am the demon lord," I declared with a wicked grin, "then I'm your demon lord."

This was my piss-poor attempt at expressing emotion. At least it was a start.

BOOOM! Boom! Boom, boom, boom! BOOM!

“Spell bombardment from the west!” a knight roared. “Phalanx formation around the carriages!”

“HAROOH!!”

Trained by me, the knights roared, positioning themselves shoulder-to-shoulder around the carriage. Their shields, strengthened by soul mana, formed an impenetrable shell against magic and iron, with spears protruding from between them.

“Don’t worry, Lyssa,” I smiled, opening the door and revealing the shields out front. “The phalanx is a highly limited form of combat. However, it’s good for one thing: keeping one area safe.”

“W-Where are you going?!” Lyssa cried.

“Does the word 'sage' mean nothing to you?” I chuckled, vaulting over our protective phalanx.

---

Thea grabbed the woman’s hand and moved it to her kitty ears.

Upon first contact, the stressed Lyssa’s eyes welled with tears, and she put her other hand on the other ear. “I don’t think you’re the demon lord, Lord Everwood.”

“No~pe,” Thea sang. “You can’t compare him to anyone so pathetic.”

---

The sight of me leaping into the fray and my relaxed grin tripped the mercenaries’ fight-or-flight response. Three bolted for the woods, while two in leather armor charged head-on.

“Cum terra hac, voco Athenam Troianam, ut per campum impetum faciat,” I smiled as both got within my range. The moment I finished, a massive stone javelin shot from my right and skewered both of the men from their sides like a shishkabob.

The world moved in slow motion until—

BOOM!

—their wooden road barricade exploded from the impact, sending splinters everywhere and causing the horses to buck in a frenzy.

I took two steps forward to survey the woods and the sides. The mercenaries and my offensive guards were still, holding their breaths.

We were on a large dirt road leading to the capital, surrounded by large crimson trees adorned with green leaves on each side. There were hills on either side, providing the archers and mages with protection and stealth while the sword-wielding mercenaries rushed in.

Fifty of them were already on the road, swords brandished. Twenty of my knights surrounded the carriage in a spear-out phalanx formation. Ten more stood ready to strike at my command.

Everyone was waiting for my next words.

“If I weren’t here, you’d have killed the people I care about or worse,” I told the mercenaries. “So if you think I’ll let any of you live, you’re wrong. O Hermes, concede—”

Providing doomed people with a futile warning was my attempt at “honor,” as Alphonse called it. When I began chanting, a male mercenary pulled out his throwing daggers.

“—mihi alas tuas.”

I vanished from the man’s sight, and as he searched for me, his world turned upside down as his head hit the ground and rolled, followed closely by his body.

No one saw my omnipotent blade materialize before his head disconnected from his body.

When I reappeared, I was beside a female archer in the woods. ‘Water, myelin, phosphatidylcholine, phosphatidylethanolamine, phosphatidylserine.’

The brunette turned and saw me reaching out. “When did you—”

Before she finished, I touched her head. ‘Separate.’

Blood spurted out of the woman’s eyes and ears as her brain ruptured in her skull, the fats and membranes making up the brain separating.

A man dropped his longbow, shouting in disbelief, "W-What did you just do?!" He immediately reached for his sword, as we were now in close combat, but he was slow.

‘Who talks to their enemy?’ I internally scoffed, summoning the omnipotent tool as a steel-throwing dagger and flinging it into his forehead. A split second later, I sidestepped.

BOOM!

A fire mage who had been chanting hurled an incendiary spell into my area, setting the forest ablaze. The heat licked at my clothing, and the smell of sulfur and charcoal assaulted my nostrils.

‘Thanks,’ I smiled. ‘Gaia, ausculta vocem meam et confer protectionem populis meis.’

With a flick of my wrist, a thin radiant wall appeared before the phalanx, and I began my next chant. ‘Evoca sphaeram aquae.’

A simple chant for a simple, weak spell—for most people. A water bullet the size of a beach ball hurtled into the fire and exploded, creating steam that instantly masked my position.

“Where is he?!” a man yelled, blinded by the steam.

Thud!

The person near him heard a resounding thud and turned. “Mark?! Where are—”

Thud!

All they saw as I summoned my omnipotent tool and slit their throats was a black blur and the sensation of wind magic leaving a slight breeze as I appeared.

One after another, I dispatched the mercenaries. It happened so quickly that one of my knights whistled when the steam cleared. “That’s a sage for you,” he laughed, looking at the dozen bodies that had piled up in mere seconds.

“God, this is the easiest job I’ve ever had,” another joked, eliciting more laughter.

Their eyes, however, never left the road, which was still teeming with mercenaries. They were hyping themselves up like Leonidas’ Spartans as they stared down the Persians. Arrows couldn’t penetrate their shields; swords couldn’t slash them. They perfectly demonstrated how 300 spartans halted 300,000 Persians in Thermopylae.

‘Omnipotent tool: thin silver tungsten carbide arming sword,’ I commanded. I sprang into the battle without further thought, joining my ten knights.

To the mercenaries’ horror, every slash I made landed between the joints in their armor, cutting through their legs, elbows, and necks. It wasn't even a contest.

These people were amateurs. A simple diversion—for the people on the east side.

“Are you good here?” I asked the ten knights, who were fighting the remaining mercenaries alongside the guards in the phalanx.

“HAROOH!!” The phalanx roared, making me grin. The knights followed suit.

“Okay, I’m checking the east side,” I said, skirting around the carriage and running into the forest. “Don’t follow me. Protect my women like the princesses they are!”

Some guards whistled as I dashed into the woods, grinning while picturing Lyssa’s twisted expression. But my smile quickly vanished.

“You came, after all,” a smooth voice called out.

A quarter-mile into the woods, a few dozen knights filled a clearing. Real fighters.

“I did,” I confirmed, my voice steady.

The girl’s silver hair shone in the clearing, a twisted smile on her lips. “How do you like our tactics?” Stella mused. "Impressed yet?"

“That depends,” I chuckled. “Is this your declaration that you’re the one who planned this, that you’re here playing a shady game behind your father’s back?”

“Well, I suggested it,” Stella grinned. “As for why I’m here, I’m on a diplomacy mission with an antidote for the sickness. Talking to you is just… a detour.”

‘So it was you spreading the disease,’ I silently spat. ‘You make me sick.’

“Interesting, tell me about your future plans,” I smiled, starting my chant as she discussed her strategy, trying to win me over.

8th-tier chant—Iron Dust.

“Iron, iron oxide, iron sulfate, keratin, heme, ferritin, collagen, calcium phosphate, hyaluronic acid, melanin, sebum, ceramides, cholesterol, lactic acid, glycerol, actin, myosin, adenosine triphosphate, creatine phosphate, glycogen, acetylcholine, calcium, potassium, sodium, hydroxyapatite, osteocalcin, osteonectin, osteopontin, osteocalcin, proteoglycans, glycoproteins, osteoblasts, water, myelin, phosphatidylcholine, phosphatidylethanolamine, phosphatidylserine, glucose, albumin, hemoglobin, platelets, leukocytes, erythrocytes.”

“The solstice will bring chaos,” Stella warned. “It will shake the kingdom to its core, but my people stand ready. We already have a plan to unify and seize control during the disorder.”

‘Separate,’ I concluded with a frown. ‘Don’t forget your position. You’re not a hero, so don’t get baited. Stay focused and eliminate the one bringing death and suffering to your people.’

With that thought, I surged forward.

“Foolish!” Stella laughed. “All these men are spirit knights of—” Her words caught in her throat as she watched a knight in silver armor counter my strike and then disintegrate in a chain reaction, scattering white, red, and yellow particles into the wind.

While everyone was trying to process the fact that I had essentially deleted a person from existence, I had already slashed another two of them, disintegrating them into elemental building blocks.

Stella’s eyes widened in horror. “W-What is happening—” Before she could finish her sentence, my sword nicked her armor in a black slash, and Stella disintegrated.

No dramatic closing lines. No declarations. No pathetic excuses for why she was committing genocide against both our peoples to win me over.

Stella just turned to dust and was swept into the wind, disappearing into the dark pages of history where all those who commit genocide eventually end up.

Horror clouded the minds of her guard detail. They couldn't believe that their duty as knights had ended so suddenly and unceremoniously.

Shiiiiink!

Another man disintegrated, reminding everyone of what had happened. They were unprepared. They were horrified. They knew they would die if they returned and announced that the princess was dead. So they stood around dodging my attacks, trying to figure out how to win.

However, there was no winning without ranged weapons, and merely touching my sword caused them to disintegrate. So within a few more gruesome seconds, only a handful were left.

One attempted to run but found a dagger lodged in his spinal cord and dropped to the ground.

“Y-You’re not going to get away with this!” a female knight proclaimed as I took down the only other guard.

I responded with a mocking chuckle as I looked at the piles of dust arranged like multicolored sand dunes in Moab. “Flatus venti.”

With a flick of my wrist, a gust of wind swept through the area, sending all evidence of the battle into the forest and leaving no trace that it had ever happened.

“If you’re referring to your three scouts, my maid killed them before your mercenaries stopped us,” I smirked. “Beast taming is a truly terrifying power.”

Before she could respond, I cut through her and swept away her ashes. I then looked over to where Stella had been and saw her jewelry in a pile. I collected all of it, including her precious locket bearing the Ironfall insignia.

7th-tier chant—Irony.

‘Gold, silver, platinum, palladium, rhodium, ruthenium, iridium, osmium, rhenium, titanium, diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald, amethyst, topaz, opal, pearl, aquamarine, garnet, alexandrite, tanzanite, peridot, morganite, tourmaline, citrine, zircon, spinel, jade, onyx, jasper, lapis lazuli, turquoise, moonstone, agate, amber, coral, hematite, malachite, obsidian, pyrite, quartz, rhodochrosite, sardonyx, serpentine, sugilite, tiger's eye, labradorite, azurite, chrysoprase. Separate.’

All her jewelry crumbled into a heap of dust, which I then scattered to the winds.

“You and your wealth mean nothing to me,” I declared, letting out a chuckle caustic enough to eat through steel. “I wouldn’t use your fat to make soap. But trust me, I thought about it. It would’ve made a great gift to your father when this plague kills all your people.”

After scoffing in disdain, I saw a raven flying to the south. “I suppose I should get back to work.”

Navigating the forest, I hit my next target—a hidden road known only to my family.

Upon spotting the Ironfall carriages, I disintegrated the vehicles within minutes, then shared a triumphant smile with the blood-soaked raven tilting its head at me. "Ironwall can blame us, but Veridia will never know. It's one of the perks of having the best beast tamer around."

The raven ruffled its wings in gushing excitement before taking flight.

‘You’re my favorite person ever, Thea,’ I thought, rushing back to our carriages at high speed.

***

When I rejoined them, I reported that I had found no one in the forest. It was officially safe.

Lyssa’s eyes grew cold when she saw me enter the carriage with a nonchalant expression. Her gaze darkened further when I opened my arms to accept Thea, praising her for killing the scouts as she purred in delight. It was a sweet moment.

Despite Lyssa’s cold demeanor, she couldn’t help but feel gratitude. Of course, she wouldn't express this sentiment aloud, so instead, she retorted, “I’m never going to forgive you for calling me your woman.”

“Hmmm? You didn’t like it?” I inquired, feigning confusion. Then I glanced down at my beloved cat girl. “Did you like it?”

Thea blushed furiously, her ears turning a bright red, and she buried her face in my chest to hide her embarrassment.

“Thea doesn’t count….” Lyssa sighed. “Whatever, let’s go.”

***

We vacated the scene and headed home, arriving ahead of schedule. Upon our entrance, I announced that there were mercenaries to be cleaned up on the side of the road, which earned me a hearty hug from my father.

I love my dad.

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their rooms, I entered my father’s study with a candle. As expected, he was still working at this hour.

Once I sat down and exchanged a few pleasantries and stories, we got down to business.

“I need a loan; I can pay you back within two months,” I announced.

“What do you need the money for?” Leon asked.

“I need to establish a carpentry and blacksmith guild, acquire tree cutting permits, secure building rights along the Chimereed River, gain compliance from all regional butcher shops, and enlist the assistance of multiple soap-making guilds," I answered.

My father frowned. "The labor isn’t an issue, but building near the Chimereed? Especially blacksmiths? That's risky. That river is our cash cow."

Chimereeds were unique reeds that grew along a renowned river near our estate. When the wind passed over the chimereeds, they produced enchanting melodies, making them a desirable commodity among the wealthy, thus generating considerable income for our territory. If iron contaminates the water, it could poison the chimereeds and kill them.

“The blacksmiths won’t get near the water,” I assured him. “I guarantee that the Chimereed River will not be compromised. In fact, I can use magic to enhance its vitality if you allow me.”

Leon furrowed his brows and rubbed his temples. “What exactly are you planning to do there?”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain, but essentially, I’m building a water wheel. The river's flow will spin the wheel, activating a lever to press down a soap mold,” I explained. “With this setup, we can produce a thousand bars of soap daily with a team of ten, and eventually scale up to five thousand.”

My father’s expression tightened when I casually mentioned the prospect of producing a thousand bars of soap daily with only ten people. It was an outrageous proposition! However, he eventually sighed and gave his consent.

With his approval, it was time to expand my soap-making operation while craftsmen built the water wheel. This meant that I needed to build relationships with the carpentry and blacksmith guilds and the butcher shops in Silverbrook, the principal city in my father’s territory.

After breakfast, with my mother gushing and treating her murderous son as a cute ten-year-old, Lyssa, Thea, and I traveled to the city by carriage.

“I’m glad my father created the disease checkpoints, but it does make it inconvenient,” I muttered, eyeing a lengthy line of carriages stretching for miles. “Thea, can you tell me how they’re conducting the checkpoints?”

The bubonic plague exhibited conspicuous symptoms. The best strategy at a checkpoint was to don a mask and examine a person’s armpits for enlarged lymph nodes. Additional signs to look for included fever, shortness of breath, or groaning from abdominal pain.

“I can’t hear very well through the bird’s ears,” Thea replied. “But I can take a look.”

"Good enough," I replied. "What's happening?"

After a few minutes, her eyes widened as she neared the hawk. "They aren't checking anyone for sickness," Thea stated. "They're just extorting people."

My eyes flashed with rage, and I sprung out of our carriage, casting a wind spell to soar down the road, overtaking countless wagons as I sped towards the city's gates.

Silverbrook stretched a few miles long, encased by wooden walls built from hundred-foot crimson trees. Despite its foreboding appearance, it was a bustling hub that thrived in the region. Numerous butcher shops, trade guilds, and marketplaces for artifacts, military equipment, expensive magical texts, and restaurants made their home here. Although it was hard to break in, my father granted a certain degree of financial freedom to the region's people per my understated, albeit threatening, requests.

This world was where trade workers were rare due to the highly secretive guild system, so most people were serfs, selling their farm crops to the capital. Most of the wagons I passed were laden with vegetables, with a few merchant caravans and a handful of travelers interspersed.

Upon my arrival, the area was on lockdown, per my request. However, there were no checks; three guards idled around, each brandishing a sword as they approached the carts.

"It'll be one silver to get in," a guard declared. His long brown hair was tangled and greasy, and his body was emaciated and deformed from previously broken bones. Coupled with his damaged, jagged teeth, he was an uncomfortable sight.

"A silver?! That's a hundred coppers!" a female farmer exclaimed. "It's usually five!"

"I don't make the rules, lady," he replied, licking his blade as the other guards snickered. "But I like that pretty face. So, why don't I give ya a permit to get in for five minutes together?"

"This isn't legal!" she protested, her body shaking. "This is against the law!"

"Hoh?" the guard grinned. "Do you make the rules?"

"No, I make the rules," I interrupted in my youthful voice, stepping forward.

The man laughed, turning and seeing no one. Then he looked down and saw me, a solitary child wearing a mask and cloak. Soon, everyone would don a mask and long sleeves to ward off flea bites and prevent pneumonic plague transmission.

“You got some balls, kid,” he sneered.

"H-Hey Rodney, I-I think you should apologize," another guard stammered, noticing the insignia on my cloak.

"You afraid of this kid?" Rodney mocked. "He's—Ack!" He looked down and saw my hand wrapped around his windpipe, pulling him to the ground to meet me at my level. "Y-You can't do this…."

CRAaaaCK!

Ignoring his plea, I propelled him twenty feet away with a swift kick, cracking his ribs before he crashed into another guard and then into the crimson wall, raising a cloud of dust in its wake.

Immediately, a dozen guards flooded out of the gates and stared at Rodney, gasping on the ground.

"I AM MICHAEL UNDERWOOD, HEAD OF THE SILVERBROOK GUARDS!" the guard's leader, a massive man with a neatly trimmed beard and dark circles under his eyes, bellowed. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!"

He didn't immediately attack because self-defense was a justified response in a world where violence was commonplace.

"Lord Everwood, don't leave your guards behind!" A strained voice called from behind. "The King won't be pleased if you're out of sight."

Blood drained from Michael's face as he recognized the Everwood insignia on my cloak and immediately kneeled. “My apologies, Lord Everwood!” he stammered. “We couldn’t recognize you with that mask on!”

The drivers and farmers in line, their wagons brimming with vegetables, froze and bowed in unison.

“The order to create checkpoints was to prevent the spread of sickness and espionage,” I said, stepping forward. “So, can you explain why your guards are taxing people instead of checking for sickness?”

Michael shook at my cold tone. “W-What? This is the first I’ve heard about this!”

I chuckled, took a bag from Rodney’s gasping body, and dumped its contents of silver and copper coins onto the ground for added effect.

“So, are you blind?” I asked. “Incompetent? Or are you in on it?”

Michael shuddered, dropping to his knees, and pressed his forehead against the ground. “Please understand, Lord Everwood!” he pleaded. “We’re stretched thin due to the illness! There are not enough guards to manage the situation inside. I haven’t slept in two days.”

'I can see the dark bags under his eyes,' I thought before speaking up. “In light of the circumstances, I will spare you. However, if this happens again, I'll have your head.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Michael complied.

Following his words, I climbed onto a guard shack near the towering gates and surveyed the guards and citizens.

“They say this is a world where the strong make the rules,” I declared. “Well, I’m the strong, and I proclaim that the strong don’t prey on the weak in my city!”

Confusion rippled through the crowd as they sensed the significant shift.

“My name is Ryker Alexander Everwood, scion of Margrave Leonard Everwood," I announced. "From now on, this city is a beacon of commerce, not a den of violence or exploitation. If you choose violence to solve problems—"

I raised my hand and chanted a real fire spell. ‘Infernus super terram descendit, raptum et flammas damnatorias adferens. Nullus peccator evadet flammis eius, antequam terram in cinerem comburat.’

A massive ball of red fire shot into the sky like a firework, sending a powerful message to the entire city.

“—you'll be met with real violence,” I warned. “I’ll be training guards, starting with this man, to ensure economic extortion, assault, theft, violence, and racketeering are shut down. Follow the rules or die; that's all there is to it.”

The bewildered commoners began clapping. Once they confirmed that my words were in their favor, a joyous celebration erupted amongst the beleaguered commoners.

“Can't I leave you for ten minutes without you causing an uproar?!” Lyssa yelled, running up with Thea. “You ran five miles, FIVE MILES, and there’s already broken bodies, submissive guards, and celebrating commoners.”

I scratched my cheek awkwardly. “Let's get inside, okay?” I suggested, feeling all the eyes on me. Before the exasperated woman could retort, I vaulted through the gates as the crowd watching from inside cleared my path.

With my tumultuous homecoming over, it was time to initiate mass soap production.