Two ogres carry an entire wooden house frame on their backs, speaking excitedly.

"Oi, Rug! Look at all this space!"

"Hah! We can actually build without hitting a tree!"

Farther up the street, a group of wolfkin families walk cautiously, tails low but curious.

A wolfkin father sniffs the air. "Smells strange. Humans lived here too long."

His mate elbow-jabs him. "Stop complaining. The king gave us a chance. Take it."

---

Erel'na stands on a raised platform, all four arms working simultaneously — two writing rapidly on parchment, one stamping approval seals, the last pointing monsters toward different directions.

"Next," she says, voice sharp and efficient.

A birdkin flaps nervously in front of her. "Um, housing for three families?"

Erel'na doesn't even look up. "District Three, building forty-two. Varesh's patrol will guide you."

"Th-thank you!"

She clicks her mandibles once. "Next!"

A troll approaches with a cart full of children, scratching his head. "Uh… me. Six kids. Need somewhere close to… water, I guess?"

"District Five," Erel'na says immediately, marking a map. "Near the riverway. You'll take house nine."

The troll's face lights up. "Bless you, miss!"

"Next!"

---

Varesh walks down the main street with silent grace, flanked by a dozen disciplined beast-soldiers.

Monster families step aside respectfully as he passes.

A nervous lamia girl stops him, clutching her tail nervously.

"Um… Sir Varesh? My mother… she said humans might come back. Are we safe here?"

Varesh lowers himself slightly, his eyes level with hers.

"You're safer here than anywhere in the wilds," he says gently, tail flicking behind him. "The city belongs to our king now. No human army can take it."

The girl brightens a little. "Really?"

"Really."

Her mother bows gratefully. Varesh returns to the patrol.

---

Ruk inspects the supply warehouses with a dozen minotaurs, carrying crates and barrels that would crush ordinary humans.

A group of kobolds rush toward him nervously.

"M-Mighty Ruk! W-We need help lifting the roof beam!"

Ruk grunts, steps forward, grabs the thick wooden beam with one hand, and lifts it like a feather.

The kobolds cheer.

"You owe me a drink," Ruk says, smirking.

"We'll make the strongest one we have, sir!"

---

In a quiet room on the top floor of the city lord's mansion, the atmosphere is completely different from the bustling streets outside.

Here, it's calm.

Still.

Almost serene.

A faint blue glow reflects off Alix's face, the transparent floating screen. Rows of gold coin icons shimmer softly across the interface.

Zevran lounges on the bed in his tiny dragon form, wings tucked neatly, he's busy absorbing the true dragon blood.

Mero floats in the air like some smug, drifting cotton ball, rotating slowly with no sense of urgency.

Alix scrolls through the system window, watching the numbers flicker with every tap of his finger. The blue light reflects in his eyes like a calm fire.

"Vordon should have enough to run the city for a month," he mutters.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, staring at his current balance.

152,836,728 gold coins.

"Although it's not enough to build an advanced teleportation portal…" he pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully, "it's enough for me to summon a Tier 7 subordinate."

The idea sits in the air for a moment—heavy, tempting.

Alix's lips curl slightly.

"A Tier 7 subordinate… that's basically a walking natural disaster." He taps his finger on the table slowly, rhythmically. "With that kind of power here, holding this city will be easy. Even if the kingdom reacts faster than expected."

Alix's finger stops just short of the confirmation icon.

A thought drifts through his mind—sharp enough to make him sit back.

'The problem is… I don't know what will happen if I summon without the altar.'

He narrows his eyes, running a thumb across the table.

The summoning altar sits in his kingdom—far, far from here.

"It's either the summon pops up here… or back in the altar."

He shrugs slightly.

"Either way is good."

If it appears here, he gains overwhelming power instantly—perfect for stabilizing Nam City further and preparing for the kingdom's retaliation.

If it appears back in the altar, his kingdom's defenses will grow even stronger.

Alix exhales quietly.

"Not a bad trade regardless."

He switches the screen to the list of Low-Level Tier 7 Candidates.

They appear as silhouettes first—then the details unfold.

[SIRATH VULNAR — "THE GLASS REAPER"

A humanoid wraith encased in crystalline armor.

Law Power: Law of Shattering

Anything he touches can fracture, split, or destabilize—physical, magical, even spiritual structures.

Ideal for battlefield disruption and breaking fortified structures.]

[MORGRU THE WARDEN — "THE UNMOVING TITAN"

A colossal stone giant with runes carved across his body.

Law Power: Law of Fortification

Absolute defense, barrier creation, immunity to displacement.

Perfect for guarding cities or holding chokepoints alone.]

[SYVELLA NIGHTGROVE — "THE WHITE THORN MATRON"

A dryad-like woman with pale bark skin, vines coiled around her arms.

Law Power: Law of Growth

Accelerates regeneration, spreads roots, and can overrun landscapes with flora.

Provides massive territorial control and healing support.]

[KALGUUN — "THE HOWLING VOID SERPENT"

A massive serpent with transparent scales shimmering like space.

Law Power: Law of Gravity

Manipulates gravity and atmospheric force; can crush armies or lift them helplessly into the sky.

Excellent siege and anti-army weapon.]

Alix scrolls slowly through the list, eyes passing over each silhouette and description.

He remembers all of them clearly.

Subordinates who was not that popular in the game, each with laws so bizarre and unique.

He remembers.

Alix always favored the strange ones, the ones who held laws no one could counter because no one understood them.

Though… he has plenty of element type of law users too.

His gaze stops on one name.

MORGRO.

Alix taps the silhouette, and the window expands.

[MORGRO THE WARDEN — "THE UNMOVING TITAN"

Race: Eternal Stone Giant

Tier: Low-level Tier 7

Law: Law of Fortification

Notes: Two forms — Normal Form (6 meters), Titan Form (30 meters). Absolute loyalty.

Personality: Steadfast, calm, speaks little but obeys every order without question.]

Alix leans back in his chair, staring at Morgro's expanded profile.

"Two forms… normal and titan." He nods to himself. "Six meters is big, but manageable. Thirty is absolutely not happening inside a city."

A slow grin pulls at his lips.

"As far as I remember… Morgro knows to stay in his normal form unless ordered otherwise. Good."

Alix's thumb hovering over the confirm icon.

He thinks for a moment longer—about Morgro, about the Law of Fortification, about the absolute defense that could anchor a city against armies.

Then he taps.

The screen flashes gold.

A sound like glass cracking echoes through the room.

CRRRRKKKK—

Zevran's wings snap open in an instant, tiny dragon form jolting upright.

"Master, what is that!?" he hisses, hopping to the edge of the bed.

Mero's round body stops spinning mid-air. "U-uh… Master? Master!? Why is the space splitting!?"

The floor vibrates.

The temperature drops.

A thin line appears in the space Infront of Alix, like someone took a knife and cut reality itself.

The line widens.

The sound grows deeper.

CRRRRRRROOOOMMM—

Zevran flattens himself against the bed, eyes wide, pupils slitted in alarm.

Mero drifts backward until he bumps into the wall, trembling.

Alix doesn't move from his chair.

His voice stays steady.

"Don't panic. I'm summoning one of my subordinates."

Both of them freeze.

Zevran stares at him like he didn't hear correctly.

Mero's mouth opens… then closes… then he just nods stiffly, choosing silence over trying to understand.

The crack in space widens into a jagged oval—like a wound torn through the world.

Rumbling pressure leaks out of it.

Stone. Earth. Weight.

A defensive, immovable force that presses on the lungs with sheer density.

A heavy, slow heartbeat pulses from beyond the crack.

Thoom.

Thoom.

Thoom.

The crack tears fully open.

A massive stone hand pushes through first—gray granite skin carved with glowing blue runes.

The runes pulse once.

Then the rest of him steps out.

A six-meter figure, shoulders broad enough to block half the room, though the portal itself stretches to accommodate him.

His chest is engraved with ancient fortification sigils.

His eyes burn with quiet, unwavering loyalty—a soft, deep-blue glow.

As soon as both feet land on the floor, the pressure in the room stabilizes.

And he kneels.

The six-meter titan kneels like a knight before a throne, lowering his massive head until it nearly touches the floor.

The entire mansion shakes from the motion.

"My king…"

His voice is a deep rumble, like boulders grinding.

"…thank you for reviving me once more."