Loud gasps resounded when they heard their God tell them there was a spy. Though no one looked suspicious enough, no one even dared to point a finger or accuse others of being the Spy.

Dexter said it on a whim; even he wasn't sure enough if there was really a spy among the guild leaders. He did it because he didn't want to explain the details of his plan.

"We'll stop the meeting here. Also… I need Tier X materials and all rare materials that could be found in this world."

"As you command, Demon God."

Dexter watched the Guild Leaders leave the hall, yet Bright stayed by his side.

"Demon God… It'll take a week before all our forces can retreat from the Uncharted Zones. Our territories in each zone will be left empty. Even the castles we own will be attacked, and our losses will be heavy."

"There's no need to worry… All losses will come back doubled when we conquer the Crimson Tree Zone…"

"And, about the spy you mentioned… I'll find a way to find and eliminate them."

Dexter laughed. He looked at Bright and studied his mature face.

"No need for that… let them bring the news to their factions… we will feed them only what's open, confusing them… We move the day I tell all of you to move…"

Bright then stood and bowed deeply.

"Praise be to the Demon God…" With that, Bright left the hall without looking back.

…

The next day…

Thousands of raw and refined materials, all Tier VI and above, were delivered to the storage facility on the Undying Craftroach Guild Island.

From Dexter's newly created Jack-of-all-Trades workshop at the edge of the island, he began mass-producing rings designed to change someone's appearance — specifically into a Satyr kind of demon.

'The transformation won't add any enhancements or grant skills to the user; it's just a plain transformation… Damn… Should I craft a weapon instead? Or stick to this ring?'

Dexter continued crafting until afternoon. Though busy, he didn't let the Numbers rest either. He put them through a physical training regimen similar to Earth's soldiers: a thousand push-ups, a thousand sit-ups, a thousand squats, and a hundred-kilometer run around the guild island.

'Well, that Bald Guy managed it for a hundred repetitions… let's make it ten times that.'

While this training helped their physical well-being, that was never its true purpose.

Dexter was conditioning their minds as well — rewiring them for unquestioning obedience. Though they were once slaves, and fear had made them follow his commands, Dexter knew that reliance on fear was a weakness. If someday, someone instilled greater fear, they would betray him.

Leaving his workshop, Dexter watched the struggling Numbers during their hundred-kilometer run. Though some were crawling and some walking, he noticed Number Seven still running steadily without pause.

'That guy is good… After crafting thousands of Transformation Rings, I'll join the training. I need to get back in shape…'

Dexter waited until the last person, Number One, finished the hundred-kilometer run.

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" Dexter asked.

The Numbers stood in formation: six in front, five at the back, and Number One positioned alone at the front.

"No, Sir!" they shouted in unison.

"No? So you'd like another round?"

"No, Sir!"

Dexter smiled, rubbed his chin, and circled the formation.

"I thought it might be fun to send you on another run…" He tapped the shoulder of the person in front. "Right, Number One?"

No matter how much Number One struggled to maintain her composure, she trembled beneath her Master's deceptively calm tone.

"No… Sir…" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Though her face was covered by a mask, Dexter knew she was crying.

"Alright… training ends now. Crawl back to your quarters. Dinner is at 5 PM."

The Numbers didn't linger. Though their bodies felt leaden, they summoned the strength to walk briskly away.

"Halt!" Dexter's voice cut through the air. "What was my command? Crawl. Correct?"

At his final word, the Numbers dropped to their hands and knees and crawled back to their lodgings.

Dexter watched the crawling Numbers with a devilish smile.

'I didn't know having authority could be this fun… though brutal at times. Well, I'm forging soldiers — elite ones at that. This is light compared to the real thing…'

'I also need to spend a fortune leveling up their Combat Mastery… They can't even wield Tier III weapons.'

'Thinking about it… who protects them while they gather resources if they can't wield higher-tier equipment — aside from gathering tools?'

Sighing, Dexter activated the Traveller and departed for his personal island, intent on nothing more than fishing.

After a few minutes of smoking and relaxing, Dexter saw something he didn't expect: Mojomojo – who he had thought was just a simple name the Registrar added so they could form a Guild – actually existed.

(Mojomojo: uhh… Hello?)

…

The Uncharted Zone, Central Region.

Ghostblade, along with the other members of the Blackhands, was forced to kneel before the man seated on a black throne.

"Any news regarding Gridlock…?" The person seated on the throne voice echoed.

Ghostblade gulped; the sound alone iced her spine.

"W-we tried to enter 'Beyond the Fog', but we were driven out by them…" BlackPriest, Leader of the Blackhands, replied humbly.

The man on the throne tapped the armrest in a slow rhythm and sighed.

"Tsk… Hire expendable scouts to infiltrate Beyond the Fog. That loose end must be tied… Even our strength cannot challenge them."

"Yes, Lord Brelmith…"

As BlackPriest stood, Ghostblade and the others followed.

Once outside the throne hall, Ghostblade grabbed her leader's sleeve.

"Blacky… who was that?"

BlackPriest met her gaze, his smile tight.

"That power is the Ruling Faction of Eldrion — this world's true natives. Yet even they cannot oppose the force in 'Beyond the Fog'… one of the faction dominating Ludiversum." He sighed.

"You'll understand after your tutorial. You chose… poorly."

Ghostblade stood frozen, staring blankly as her guild moved ahead.

Clenching her jaw, she forced a bitter smile.

'I should've chosen Assassin's Greed…'