CHAPTER 125: A MOST INCONVENIENT GRANDFATHER

The Crystal Spire was quiet.

Too quiet.

It was the kind of silence that gets under your skin, the oppressive calm before a storm you know is coming but can’t yet see.

I, Ragnar Vhagar, the big-dicked bastard Overlord of this entire godsforsaken prefecture, was starting to get an itch.

The peace was boring me. And a bored Demon King is a dangerous Demon King.

My private chambers were a testament to my good taste, all smoky quartz and sheets that felt like woven moonlight. It was a proper king’s bed, and I was making proper use of it.

Chloe, my beautiful, fanatical shadow, was currently demonstrating a level of devotion that went far beyond simple battlefield command. Her head was nestled in my lap, her silver hair a silken river against my thighs. Her amethyst eyes, usually so cool and composed, were wide with a raw, desperate pleasure that was for me, and me alone.

Her tongue was a work of art. A masterpiece of demonic fellatio.

"My Lord," she murmured against me, her voice a muffled, breathless whisper. "You are... magnificent."

"I know," I replied, my voice a low, satisfied growl. I leaned back against the headboard, a king on his throne, enjoying the spoils of war. This was the life.

It was, of course, too good to last.

A sharp, professional knock echoed from the massive crystal doors of my chamber.

Chloe froze, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in her throat. Someone had dared to interrupt her. Someone was about to have a very, very bad day.

"Enter," I commanded, my voice laced with an irritation that was only slightly feigned.

The doors slid open with a soft, humming sound.

Isabelle Vhagar stood there. My First Sword. My secret lover number two.

She was clad in her dark, practical armor, her hand resting on the hilt of Dáinsleif. Her expression was a mask of cool, professional competence, but her eyes, which now held a faint, divine light, immediately flickered to the scene on the bed.

They lingered on Chloe, who was now kneeling beside the bed, her head bowed in a perfect picture of subordinate loyalty, though her lips were still suspiciously moist.

The temperature in the room dropped by about thirty degrees.

"My Lord," Isabelle said, her voice a blade of ice. "The patrol reports. Is this an inconvenient time?"

"Not at all, Commander," I lied smoothly, trying to project an aura of kingly authority and not one of a man who had just been caught with his demonic dick in the elven cookie jar. "Commander Chloe was just giving me a... detailed... oral report on the readiness of the Shadow Strikers."

Chloe’s eyes met Isabelle’s from under her silver bangs. The look that passed between them was a silent, beautifully vicious declaration of war.

"Of course, my Lord," Isabelle said, her voice dripping with a sarcasm so perfect it was almost a work of art. "I’m sure her report was very... thorough."

I decided to change the subject before they started trying to kill each other with their minds.

"The human city of Suzu," I announced, my voice booming with a newfound, desperate purpose. "It remains a thorn in my side. We require intelligence. A show of force. A reconnaissance mission to probe their defenses."

I looked at my two top commanders, at the simmering, homicidal tension between them.

This was a problem. A very big, very sharp, and very, very pointy problem.

"I require a commander for this mission," I continued, a terrible, beautiful, and profoundly stupid idea blooming in my mind. "A commander who is disposable, but who will project an aura of overwhelming, idiotic power."

I summoned a new subordinate. A Dhampir, freshly created. A blank slate. I named her Vex.

"Vex will lead this mission," I declared. "She will be supported by a hundred of our finest, dumbest Orcs. And one Giant Bat Bloodkin, for aerial reconnaissance. Her orders are to approach the city, engage any patrols, and report back on their strength. Do not, under any circumstances, engage the main fortress."

The plan was set. It was a suicide mission, and everyone knew it. Vex was a lamb being sent to the slaughter. But she was a necessary sacrifice to gauge the enemy’s true strength. And, more importantly, it gave my two main lovers something to focus on other than castrating me in my sleep.

An hour later, I was in the throne room, watching the live feed on the main holographic display.

Isabelle stood at my right. Chloe stood at my left. The space between them was a no-man’s-land of pure, unadulterated sexual jealousy.

On the screen, Vex and her army of Orcs stood before the walls of Suzu. They were impressive walls. High, thick, and studded with what looked like magically enhanced ballistae.

"They look disciplined," Isabelle commented, her professional’s eye analyzing the human defenders on the walls.

"They look like meat," Chloe countered, her voice a cold whisper.

Then, the gate opened.

A single figure emerged.

An old man.

His face was a roadmap of a hard life. His back was slightly stooped. But in his hands, he held a simple, unadorned katana. And he radiated an aura of power so immense, so absolute, that it felt like a physical pressure, even through the screen.

"The Sword King," I breathed.

Vex, my brave, foolish Dhampir, did as she was commanded. She drew her blade and charged.

BOOM!

The ground exploded under her feet as she transformed into a crimson-streaked blur of motion. The wind shrieked as she closed the distance, her speed a testament to her high-rank stats.

The old man, Sayama Kotetsu, did not move.

Not until the last possible second.

The world seemed to blur.

He was not there anymore.

He was behind her.

His blade was a whisper of steel in the dim light.

CRACK!

His katana met Vex’s back. The impact was not a slash. It was a detonation. A visible shockwave of pure force erupted from the point of contact, and my powerful, B-Rank Dhampir Bloodkin simply... ceased to exist. She was bisected, her body dissolving into motes of dark energy before she even hit the ground.

The force of the blow ran through the very bones of the earth, and the ground for fifty feet around him cracked and splintered.

The Orcs froze, their charge faltering, their brutish minds struggling to process the impossible.

The old man looked up at the sky, where the Giant Bat Bloodkin was frantically trying to gain altitude.

He raised his katana, his old, gnarled hands gripping the hilt.

"[Sky Blade]," he whispered, the words carrying on the wind.

A blade of pure, white-hot energy, a hundred feet long, shot from his sword.

BOOM!

It tore through the air, a lance of divine punishment. It moved faster than thought.

The Giant Bat let out a single, terrified shriek before it was annihilated, vaporized into a fine black dust.

The old man sheathed his sword with a soft, final click.

He turned and walked back into his city, the gate closing behind him.

The entire battle had lasted less than ten seconds.

My reconnaissance force was gone. Two Bloodkin, dead. A hundred Orcs, standing in a field, leaderless and terrified.

The throne room was silent.

I stared at the screen, at the static where my live feed used to be.

The silence was broken by a single, sharp intake of breath.

It was Isabelle.

She was staring at the old man’s retreating back, her face a mask of pure, dawning horror. A single, tear traced a path down her cheek.

"Grandfather," she whispered, the word a broken, hollow sound.

The air grew heavy.

My gaze flicked to Chloe, who was watching Isabelle with a new, sharp, and deeply suspicious intensity.

A weakness.

A connection to the enemy.

The thought was a cold, sharp blade in the back of my mind.

My perfect, brilliant, and beautifully brutal invasion plan had just become a catastrophic, emotionally charged family reunion.

And my two secret lovers were at the heart of it.

This was a new, fresh, and exquisitely painful kind of hell.

I loved it.