The mirror did not lie, but it certainly lacked perspective.
Leornars stared at his own reflection, his fingers tracing the cold silver of his hairpin. With a fluid click, he released it. A waterfall of platinum-blonde hair cascaded over his shoulders, catching the pale morning light filtering through the high arched windows. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a faint sigh slipping past his lips. The weight of an empire was a heavy thing, but the weight of expectation was far more annoying.
"Lord Leornars? Is something wrong?"
Behind him, Stacian rustled. She was stepping into a deep blue gown, the silk whispering against her skin as she pulled it up over her shoulders. Her sharp eyes caught his reflection in the glass, registering the subtle tension in his jaw.
"Yes," Leornars said, his voice a calm, smooth cadence that carried no anger, only absolute certainty. "I am not wearing a suit. I am going to the Skyvault Citadel. I am not going to look like a king."
Stacian paused, a strap dangling from her fingertips. "Oh? What should we have you wear then? I can have the servants arrange something immediately."
"I need a traditional robe," Leornars replied, turning slightly to look at her over his shoulder. "The kind worn in the Eastern Continent."
Stacian's hands froze.
*The East?* Her mind raced, the gears turning behind her dark eyes. *Lord Leornars has only been in this world for thirteen months. How could he possibly know the precise tailoring of the Eastern Continent? We are in the Southern Continent—the East is nearly a hundred and eighty-five thousand miles across a treacherous ocean. It makes no sense...*
She caught herself, smoothing down her dress with practiced elegance. *No. It is best I don't ask. He will reveal it to me when the time is right.*
Leornars watched the subtle shifts in her expression through the glass. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. *She is suspecting me. Good. Let her wonder.*
"I can go look for one at the Yamaguchi clothing store," Stacian offered, breaking the silence. "I recall Kurumi Yamauchi mentioning she might have a few imports in stock, though I am not entirely certain if she has already departed for her journey."
"Do that," Leornars commanded. "In the meantime, I will go have a word with Julah—assuming someone else hasn't occupied her time, apart from Ayesha."
Stacian bowed her head. "Understood."
In the next heartbeat, her physical form dissolved. There was no sound, no burst of wind—just a sudden, silent dispersion as she turned into a swirl of fine, pale mist and vanished through the cracks of the windowpane.
Leornars stared at the space she had just occupied. "Elemental magic? No... that felt entirely different." He closed his eyes, directing his thoughts inward, tapping into the silent consciousness resting inside his core. "Althelia, can you replicate that?"
A smooth, ethereal voice echoed directly within his mind, laced with a hint of playful amusement. *'I cannot copy it exactly, my Lord. However, I can analyze the skill's structural components and synthesize a unique variant tailored specifically for your constitution. I doubt it will manifest as a pure white mist, though. A dark, abyssal fog is far more likely. I assume that fits your aesthetic?'*
"Perfect," Leornars thought back, a cold light entering his eyes. "A necromancer who cannot command the dark fog is no necromancer at all. Do it."
Stepping away from the mirror, Leornars sat heavily upon his obsidian throne, his shadow stretching across the chamber floor like a living thing.
"Awaken, Bellian."
The shadow beneath his feet violently rippled. A geyser of pitch-black miasma shot upward, solidifying into a towering, armored figure. Bellian emerged, his massive greatsword resting against his shoulder, his crimson eyes burning like dying coals within the slit of his helm. He dropped to one knee, a heavy thud echoing through the room.
"Lord Leornars. You summoned me?"
"Yes. I have come to realize that I am currently lacking a sufficient number of useful undead," Leornars said smoothly, leaning his cheek against his hand. "I need you to march to the neighboring forest. Purge the poachers and illegal hunters infesting the borders. Bring their bodies back to me intact. Ensure you do not damage the heads or the primary limbs."
Bellian's gaze remained fixed on the floor. "And if we encounter legal hunters, my Lord?"
"If a legal hunter chooses to fight back, add him to the pile," Leornars replied indifferently. "My current tally stands at eighty-three thousand, seven hundred and seventy-two undead. I require a fresh harvest. Attempt to secure around four thousand poachers. If you happen to cross paths with a foreign noble playing at hunting... all the better. A dead noble provides excellent leverage to justify a national invasion."
"Understood, Lord Leornars," Bellian said, his voice like grinding stones. He paused, his armored fingers tightening slightly on his blade. "If I may... carrying several thousand corpses back across the border will be a tad difficult by myself."
"Ah. Yes, I nearly forgot," Leornars muttered, rubbing his temples. "The logistics. Let me think... which of my elite undead have I not assigned a task? Zhyier is currently accompanying Salene in Ashevilliah. Zhylena is stationed at the Von Grantz manor. Miri is overseeing Dirrium, and Sumi is likely assisting Stacian with the robe. Hmm... ah. Avryl."
Leornars leaned forward, his own eyes igniting with a brilliant, terrifying crimson glare. A sudden pressure dropped over the room, a devastating gush of raw mana that made the stone walls groan.
"Awaken, Avryl. Awaken, Ascian."
The darkness pooled again. From the depths of the shadow dimension, Avryl stepped forward, her dark garments flowing around her as she offered a flawless, graceful curtsy. Behind her, a massive form materialized—Ascian, the Inferno Wolf. Its fur flickered with low, embers of hellfire, its majestic, predatory gaze locking onto its master.
"Lord Leornars," Avryl murmured softly.
"Avryl, you will accompany Bellian and assist him with the logistics of the harvest," Leornars commanded.
"It shall be done."
"Ascian," Leornars turned his gaze to the massive wolf. "Scour the mountain ridges. Find a wyvern, or any avian beast of sufficient size and strength to bear my weight in flight."
Ascian let out a low, resonant howl that shook the dust from the ceiling, turned on its heels, and sprinted out of the chamber doors like a streak of black lightning.
Leornars watched it go, a rare expression of mild bewilderment crossing his face. "Sometimes, I truly wonder if that beast actually comprehends a word I say."
Avryl and Bellian bowed in unison, preparing to sink back into the shadows.
"Wait," Leornars stopped them. "I will have a few hundred standard undead rise to assist you. I shall summon them directly into the courtyard, however. I value the cleanliness of my personal chambers far too much to overcrowd them."
With a final, respectful nod, the two commanders dissolved into the darkness.
"Right. That is settled," Leornars muttered to himself. He grabbed a loose shirt from a nearby chair, flinging it over his shoulders. He left the front entirely unbuttoned, exposing his chest as he strode out into the grand hallway. The stone walls were cold beneath his fingertips as he walked, tracing the masonry.
*'You achieved all of this in a matter of months,'* Althelia's voice resonated in his mind, filled with genuine awe. *'What takes most mortal kings entire generations to construct, you have built from the dirt. You truly are an anomaly, Lord Leornars.'*
"It is actually quite simple if you understand basic arithmetic and financial asset management," Leornars replied mentally, his pace steady. "Everything in this world can be reduced to mathematics, Althelia. From the movement of air molecules to the precise expenditure of mana required for a spell. It is all a calculation."
*'Indeed. Yet, I was profoundly shocked to witness how you utilized the undead to construct this nation.'*
"Shocked? Why?"
*'I fully expected you to drive them like mindless slaves, working them ragged from dawn until dusk. Instead, you utilized the two hundred billion Lurtra gold to purchase premium raw materials, hired professional living craftsmen to build during the daylight hours, and used the tireless undead to continue the labor through the night. It was... surprisingly humane.'*
Leornars scoffed faintly. "The only reason the construction took as long as six months was due to my limited workforce. I had a mere three thousand undead at the time. If I had possessed forty thousand back then, the nation would have risen in two months, not six. I deeply regret that mathematical miscalculation. But my mana reserves were fundamentally weak back then. I couldn't even summon a Gate Keeper without slipping into unconsciousness."
*'To be fair, I felt somewhat guilty for withholding information regarding the adaptive energy back then,'* Althelia admitted, her tone shifting to a lighter, teasing note. *'But it was a logical necessity. Your physical vessel was still struggling to adapt to raw mana. Introducing adaptive energy prematurely would have caused your molecular structure to violently collapse.'*
"Collapse?"
*'Yes. A sudden, messy pop. Just like a ripe grape. Pop.'* Althelia laughed musically.
"Then I suppose I owe you my life," Leornars murmured dryly.
*'Think nothing of it. Oh, and Skill Synthesis is complete. Beginning the creation process now.'* Althelia paused, her voice turning slightly wistful. *'So, Lord Leornars... how much longer must we wait until you reclaim your true body? I must admit, I despise this avatar vessel you are currently inhabiting. It is entirely beneath our station.'*
"Do not fret," Leornars reassured her, his eyes narrowing as he approached the end of the hall. "Our power grows daily. I merely require the fifth form of the Gate Keeper. Once that threshold is breached, we can shatter the seal on our true body. And then... we shall exact our long-overdue vengeance upon Minum."
*'Yes... finally,'* Althelia purred, a dark, dangerous edge cutting through her mental voice. *'I need my Axiom ability back. Resting here as a mere mental skill is utterly frustrating. I am practically useless to your current endeavors.'*
"Just try to refrain from erasing an entire dimension this time," Leornars warned, a hint of dark humor in his voice. "I have absolutely no interest in undergoing the reincarnation process again. I have grown rather fond of this world. The Stacian of this reality is remarkably decent compared to the alternate versions of her I've had to execute in past lives."
Althelia burst into a loud, sarcastic laugh. *'Oh, that is rich coming from you! Weren't you the very same person who blew her head off without a second thought in the previous world?'*
"Indeed," Leornars mused, a cold smile touching his lips. "Even I am shocked by my own leniency."
*'So... when do you intend to tell her the truth about everything?'* Althelia's voice turned entirely serious.
"When the time is right," Leornars said flatly. "When my true body is recovered. Only then will she earn the right to know."
He stopped before a heavy oak door and pushed it open. The room inside was perfectly tidy, bathed in shadows, but entirely devoid of life.
Leornars frowned. *Huh. Julah isn't in her quarters?*
*'Ah, my apologies, I forgot to relay the message,'* Althelia chimed in. *'Julah reached out via telepathy earlier. She was deeply unsatisfied with her current power level and wished to train. She requested Stacian construct a localized void dimension for her to isolate herself in.'*
"I see. That is unexpected," Leornars murmured, closing the door. "But acceptable. It is good that she seeks strength. Her latent potential far exceeds even Zaryter's."
He turned and began walking down the corridor toward the lower levels. "Speaking of Zaryter, has he still not arrived? I could have sworn he was scheduled to return alongside the slaves Stacian liberated a while back."
*'He remains within the borders of Ashevilliah for the time being,'* Althelia supplied. *'He will arrive shortly. I can only assume he is currently tending to the refugees' medical needs.'*
Leornars let out a quiet sigh, the sound echoing softly in the empty hall.
Meanwhile, on the bustling streets of the capital, a sudden patch of mist drifted into the doorway of the Yamaguchi Clothing Store. The vapor swirled, coalescing into the elegant form of Stacian.
As she stepped across the threshold, the scent of expensive dyes and fresh cotton washed over her. Behind the polished wooden counter stood a group of freshly hired clerks, all neatly dressed.
"Oh! Lady Gremohiah!" one of the young clerks gasped, quickly straightening her posture and bowing deeply. "What brings you to our establishment today?"
"Is Kurumi present?" Stacian asked, looking around the spacious showroom.
"Ah, Miss Yamauchi actually departed for the Rurva Kingdom yesterday morning," the clerk explained with a nervous smile. "After spending nearly a week saying she was going 'tomorrow,' she finally actually went."
Stacian blinked, a faint, amused chuckle escaping her. *That slacker actually packed her bags and left? Truly, the world must be coming to an end.*
"Is there anything specific I can assist you with, my Lady?" the clerk offered eagerly. "I am fully trained in all of our inventories."
"I require a royal robe for Lord Leornars," Stacian said, her tone becoming businesslike. "Something that appropriately commands respect. Something that matches his persona."
The clerk's eyes lit up. "Oh! We have just the thing. Miss Yamauchi actually commissioned a private collection before her departure. She explicitly stated that Lord Leornars would stand in need of them one day. To be honest, the rest of the staff wasn't sure if she was displaying her usual brilliant foresight, or if her severe sugar apple addiction was causing her to see delusions."
"Please, follow me," the clerk added, gesturing toward the back of the store.
"That is excellent news," Stacian said, following the girl into the rear workshops.
As they walked through the wide corridors, Stacian observed the bustling environment. Dozens of freed slaves sat at modern looms and sewing stations. There were no whips, no overseers shouting curses. Instead, the air was filled with the rhythmic hum of machinery, lighthearted chatter, and the occasional burst of genuine laughter.
"Our store is striving to perfectly embody Lord Leornars's grand vision," the clerk explained proudly, waving a hand toward the workers. "As you can see, our employees enjoy the finest working conditions. None are oppressed here."
Stacian stopped for a brief moment, watching an elderly woman smile as she spun high-grade silk. *"Lord Leornars's vision..."* she whispered to herself, a strange warmth tugging at her heart. *"A world completely devoid of oppression..."*
They passed a massive, spinning silk machine, weaving through rows of hanging garments before turning a sharp corner into a heavily secured private vault.
The clerk unlocked a deep cedar drawer, carefully pulling out six exquisitely wrapped garments and laying them across a polished mahogany table.
"You may select whichever suits your fancy, Lady Gremohiah. After all, this establishment technically belongs entirely to Lord Leornars anyway," the clerk said with a light chuckle. She carefully unfolded the protective linen layers. "Aside from myself and Miss Yamauchi, no living soul has ever laid eyes on these pieces. We treat them with the exact same reverence as the imperial treasures of the Black Jade Court."
Stacian stepped forward, her fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of the top robe. Her eyes widened slightly. *What in the world...? The texture is absolutely flawless. This is an exquisite masterpiece of weaving. She murmured aloud, "Indeed... only the absolute best for our Lord."
She began filtering through the remaining pieces, examining the intricate patterns, the subtle embroidery, and the weight of the cloth. Suddenly, her eyes locked onto a specific robe buried near the bottom. Her breath hitched, her eyes sparkling with absolute certainty.
"This one," Stacian declared, pointing firmly. "This is the one."
"An excellent choice," the clerk beamed, carefully lifting the garment. "I will have it packed for transport immediately. Miss Yamauchi predicted you would select that exact piece. Truly, her intellect is terrifying."
Stacian leaned against the table, a thoughtful expression clouding her face. *Kurumi Yamauchi... just how much does that woman actually foresee?*
But her mind didn't stay on Kurumi for long. It inevitably drifted back to her master. *No, Kurumi isn't the real enigma here. What truly puzzles me is Lord Leornars. He will meticulously draft a brilliant strategy, only to instantly discard it the next day and construct an entirely different plan out of thin air. Whenever I question his erratic methods, he simply tells me: 'It is best to ensure no one knows your next move.'*
She watched the clerk carefully fold the precious fabric into a lacquered box. *What could he possibly be hiding from us? He speaks of the Eastern Continent as if he has walked its paths, yet he has only existed in this world for barely a year. Or... has he traveled there in secret without my knowledge? Ugh, I am letting myself become paranoid. It doesn't matter. He will tell me. Soon... soon he will tell me everything.*
On the other side of the capital, Leornars arrived at the Research and Development complex.
The heavy iron doors swung open, and the moment his unbuttoned shirt and silver-blond hair crossed the threshold, a sudden hush fell over the facility. Arcane researchers and assistants instantly ceased their frantic chatter, moving aside to form a wide, respectful path as he passed.
Leornars paid them no mind. He walked over to a stone bench beneath an indoor skylight and sat down. A small, glowing blue butterfly flitted through the air, and he idly extended a single, pale finger. The creature fluttered down, its fragile wings fanning gently against his skin as he stared at it with detached fascination.
"Lord Leornars?"
A voice broke his concentration.
Leornars looked up to see Ayesha walking out from her primary laboratory, alerted by the sudden quiet of her staff. She paused, reaching up to adjust the frame of her spectacles. Behind the glass, her vibrant purple eyes gleamed with a mixture of profound respect and quiet curiosity as she gazed down at her seated sovereign.