CHAPTER 81: CREATING A PUPPET CITY

The entire room was lavish to the point of excess, every inch of it screaming wealth and status. The throne itself was not simply plated but forged from pure gold, its polished surface reflecting the faint light like molten sunlight frozen in place. Ornate carvings shaped like lions and vines trailed along its legs, as if mocking anyone who dared approach.

Even the paintings on the walls were masterworks—each framed in dark mahogany and depicting historical conquests—and the banners hanging high bore embroidery with threads that shimmered faintly. The fabric wasn’t local; Corven recognized the southern silk weavers’ work at a glance. Every detail here was a reminder that this city’s coffers were fattened by the shadows of its black market.

"Guards!"

The viscount’s voice rang out sharply, echoing in the chamber like a whip crack.

He was seated casually on the golden throne, posture relaxed but alert. Surprisingly, the man was lean and well-toned, a body honed rather than softened by power.

Corven had expected someone who ruled a den of crime to have the look of a bloated parasite or a schemer hiding behind layers of velvet and lies. Instead, this man’s appearance was closer to that of a seasoned duelist—sharp jawline, clean-cut hair, and the faint, practiced smirk of someone used to getting his way. Even in a city steeped in filth, he clearly cared for his image.

Yet as soon as his order left his lips... nothing happened.

Not a single guard moved.

"What are you all doing!? Move, I say!" the viscount barked again, but the air in the chamber remained still.

The guards here were a different breed from those stationed outside. Each one was better armed, better armored, and radiated the kind of calm readiness that came from years of surviving dangerous jobs. They were a mix of races and physiques—scarred veterans, towering beastkin, nimble elves—all standing like statues. To Corven’s eyes, they resembled elite mercenaries who owed their loyalty to coin, not to the man on the throne.

"Enough. As I said before, I’ve only come to bargain."

"Bargain!?" The viscount’s outrage was immediate. "After destroying the city’s most lucrative business!?" He snatched up a wine glass from beside him and hurled it to the marble floor. The glass shattered into glittering shards that skittered across the tiles.

’Is this man crazy? He isn’t afraid of me at all.’

BANG.

The sharp crack of a gunshot broke the tension. Corven turned his head just enough to see the three adventurers from earlier entering the room, drenched in blood as if they had walked through a slaughterhouse.

The gunman called out casually, rifle already reloaded. "What did we miss?"

"The hell?" the tank muttered, scanning the room. "Feels like I just walked into some kind of cultural fair."

And he wasn’t wrong—looking around, Corven noted the diversity. Warriors with the darkened, sand-scorched armor of the southern deserts stood near frost-cloaked soldiers from the northern tundra. There were elves with gilded bows, lizardmen with jagged weapons, and a few races Corven didn’t immediately recognize, all gathered here for reasons that clearly went beyond loyalty.

"Enough! Do as the vampire says!" the elven priest called out, her voice sharp but strained.

Corven caught the flicker of conflict in her eyes. She was a priest, after all—helping a vampire went against every doctrine her faith upheld. But her party leader’s blessing allowed him to judge acts as righteous or not, and she clearly trusted that judgment over her own hesitation.

"Are you three crazy!? This is an invasion!" the viscount roared, appealing to the newcomers as if they might yet tip the balance in his favor.

"What do you mean?" the gunman asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I’ve received word this man is the new baron of that cursed city! He’s here to invade!" the viscount declared, his voice steady, confident—too confident. Enough bravado to sway a few of the mercenaries who now exchanged uncertain looks.

"He’s the new baron of that place?"

"That’s sudden... I haven’t heard about it."

Corven let out a quiet sigh. Somehow, his fear factor had evaporated in the span of a few minutes.

’He has connections if he knows that already... Didn’t expect my new title to spread this fast.’

Time wasn’t on his side. His class abilities were still burning hot in overdrive, and he didn’t know how much longer they’d hold. Deciding to twist the viscount’s accusation into a weapon, he stepped forward, body language exaggerated—shoulders squared, chin high, hands moving in deliberate gestures to make him seem larger, more commanding. The kind of thing they drilled into you in high school debate clubs, though Corven had never imagined using it in a room full of armed killers.

"How perceptive. You are correct."

"See!? Help me vanquish this invading pest!" the viscount shouted, rallying the room.

The gunman didn’t move. The tank and the priest both turned to him. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

"He’s... pretending," the gunman said slowly. "My eye says his actions are still righteous... to some degree."

The tension thickened. Who would they side with? A vampire baron or a corrupt viscount? In a room full of mercenaries, morality was already on shaky ground.

’I could just kill him and be done with it...’

But Corven’s mind flicked to the political reality—every city he’d been to was ruled by either barons or viscounts. That meant higher lords, kings, or dukes might be lurking above them. And politics, in any world, were the same: a nest of vipers.

’Fantasy politics. I despise them.’

He moved.

In less than a heartbeat, Corven blurred forward, foot slamming into the viscount’s chest and pinning him against the golden throne. The sound of impact echoed, followed by a cough of spit from the man beneath him.

The mercenaries snapped to action, weapons unsheathing with a chorus of steel.

"At first, I wanted to bargain," Corven said coldly. "But now? I think I’ll just kill you."

The viscount struggled, but Corven’s strength held him immobile.

A lizardman wielding a greathammer lunged from the side, roaring, "This is outlandish!" His weapon swung in a deadly arc—

BANG.

He collapsed before the swing could land, a neat bullet hole in his temple. The gunman at the door lowered his rifle with a smirk. "We’re siding with the vampire..."

"You made the right choice," Corven replied without looking, easing the pressure on the viscount’s chest just enough for him to breathe. "I’m taking over this city. And you—will be my puppet."

The viscount’s glare sharpened. He spat, narrowly missing Corven’s face. "Meet me in hell!"

Corven’s expression flattened. ’Not the cowardly noble I expected... commendable, in a way.’

And then Quentin’s words resurfaced in his mind—he could make a progeny by force, binding them to his will.

’Been a while since I fed.’ His lips curled slightly.

The viscount’s eyes widened as he sensed the change in the air. "Wai—!"

PLUNGE.

Fangs sank deep. The taste of hot, metallic blood flooded Corven’s mouth as the viscount went limp. Around them, the room fell silent except for the sound of feeding.

"Fuck this, this is above my pay grade," an elven mercenary muttered, voice rough and weathered from years of battle.

One by one, others followed, slipping out the door. Corven didn’t stop them.

He didn’t need to.

[Sanguine Manipulation 10x]

From outside came a wet, bone-deep screech that made the three adventurers stiffen.

The mercenaries who had left were now nothing but piles of shredded meat.

"Holy..." the gunman muttered, heart hammering.

"Is he still righteous?" the priest whispered.

"...Yes," came the reluctant reply.

Corven finished feeding, stepping back from the throne with a satisfied sigh. "Fancy blood or not, feeding never gets old."

The viscount’s body slumped—only for it to twitch moments later. Limbs jerked unnaturally, bones cracking as veins blackened, then flushed red.

Corven tilted his head, watching. "So this is what it looks like firsthand... disturbing."

CRACK. SNAP.

The man’s eyes opened, glowing faint crimson.

[Objective: Obtain territory 1/1]

[Core Quest Complete]

[???]

’Really? The quest only completes now!?’