The study smelled of aged parchment and the faint ozone tang of magical energy as Sebastian laid the fifth and final ledger on the mahogany desk. Each tome was thicker than my forearm, their gilded pages filled with meticulous inventories that would make any dragon weep with envy.
"We have over 400 million tons of gold," Sebastian recited, his gloved finger tracing down a column of numbers without the slightest tremor. "300 million tons of silver. Approximately 200 million tons of magic-grade metals—orichalcum, mithril, adamantine, and several proprietary alloys I developed during my time in the New World."
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking softly. The sheer scale of wealth was staggering—enough to buy entire planetary systems several times over.
"That is... a lot," I admitted, running a hand through my hair.
Sebastian's golden monocle caught the light as he inclined his head. "I would have gathered more, but time constraints proved limiting."
A laugh escaped me. "Any more than this, and you might have strip-mined that planet down to its core."
"I did exhaust several continental deposits," Sebastian admitted without a hint of remorse. "Thankfully, Lord Ainz suggested extraterrestrial alternatives. The asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter proved particularly fruitful."
Of course he mined asteroids. Why wouldn't he? This was the man who'd once conquered a kingdom because their library had a 'book', I might find interesting.
I passed the ledgers to a waiting Shadow Soldier. "Scan everything into Magina's database. Categorize by material type and magical potency."
The shadow bowed, its form rippling as it absorbed the weighty tomes into its inky mass. Across the room, Magina's holographic avatar flickered to life, her fingers dancing across an invisible keyboard as data streams cascaded around her.
"Father," she chirped, "at current market values, just the gold alone could sustain a mid-sized country for seven centuries."
Sebastian adjusted his cuffs. "A modest emergency fund."
Three days had passed since Sebastian's arrival—three days spent immersing him in the chaotic tapestry of the Marvel Universe. Now, over glasses of 300-year-old elven brandy (smuggled from Nazarick's private reserves), I sought his counsel.
"What do you think about this world, Sebastian?"
The butler swirled his drink, the amber liquid catching firelight. "Tedious," he pronounced after a measured pause. "And unnecessarily populated with self-important individuals playing at godhood."
I nearly choked on my brandy. "That's... brutally accurate."
"YGGDRASIL was superior in that regard," Sebastian continued, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Power ruled unquestioned. Hierarchies were clear. Here?" His nose wrinkled slightly. "The so-called politicians spend more time debating their own pointless agendas than addressing systemic issues."
Magina's projection materialized between us, her arms crossed. *"They'd rather argue about nonsense than prepare for anything important…"
"Spectacularly said, Princess," Sebastian applauded, raising his glass to her.
I leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "And my plans? For the Meta-Humans?"
Sebastian didn't hesitate. "Appropriate and necessary. This world's disenfranchised need structure. Purpose. Protection." His monocle gleamed. "And there is no one better suited to provide it than you, Master."
"The current power structures are inefficient," Magina added, summoning news feeds of politician speeches and mutant protests. "Even if they know existential threats are out there, they use the information for political leverage rather than preparation."
Sebastian nodded sagely. "Short-sightedness masquerading as nobility."
For all his criticisms, Sebastian wasn't without appreciation for this new world. As the brandy dwindled, his tone softened.
"There is beauty here, Master. The sheer scale of unexplored space. The potential for discovery." A rare smile touched his lips. "It reminds me of our early guild days, when every dungeon held new wonders."
I chuckled, remembering. "Back when Momonga would hyperventilate over rare drop tables."
"Indeed." Sebastian's expression turned thoughtful. "This universe is... messy. But that very chaos creates opportunities we never had in YGGDRASIL."
Magina projected a star map above the desk, Earth a tiny blue dot amidst swirling galaxies. "Opportunities like Genosha?"
"Precisely." Sebastian rose to examine the hologram. "A clean slate. A sanctuary where power isn't demonized but cultivated." His finger passed through a cluster of stars. "And beyond that, who knows?"
The study had transformed into a war room overnight. Maps of Genosha and New York's underground tunnels covered the walls, dotted with colored pins marking strategic points. Sebastian stood at the center of it all, his golden monocle glinting as he reviewed the latest intelligence reports.
"How about the kids, Sebastian?" I asked, leaning against the mahogany desk.
Over the past three days, Sebastian had taken complete control of the teenagers' education with the precision of a veteran general marshaling his troops. He'd dismissed my initial involvement with a polite but firm, "This sort of menial labor is beneath you, Master."
Now, he handed me a tablet displaying their progress charts. "They are growing steadily. A bit soft, but that is to be expected—they were raised in privilege." His tone carried no judgment, only factual assessment.
The data was impressive. Kwannon's psychic blade precision had increased by 37%. Melancon's clone control duration had doubled. Even Clarice—who'd been struggling with portal accuracy, now maintained stable apertures for over fifteen minutes.
"You've worked miracles," I remarked, scrolling through combat footage showing Forge taking down three training drones simultaneously with customized taser rounds.
Sebastian adjusted his cuffs. "Merely adequate instruction. Had I been here from the beginning, their growth would be exponential by now."
I smirked. Only Sebastian could make "merely adequate" sound like a personal failing. Then again, the guy actually comes from essentially a medieval dark world, a world where everyone that born into existence were immediately thrown into a survival battle.
Sebastian Wilfred was the ultimate educator—a fact I'd engineered deliberately during his creation. In YGGDRASIL, I'd designed him to be the perfect retainer: scholar, warrior, and polymath rolled into one impeccable package.
"On day one," Sebastian explained, "I consumed the entirety of Earth's educational databases. Elementary to postgraduate curricula. Two hundred and fourteen martial arts disciplines. Quantum physics. Even," his nose wrinkled slightly, "postmodern literature."
Magina's hologram flickered to life beside us. "He scored 100% on every MIT Open Courseware exam. Then redesigned their nanotechnology syllabus."
"The existing material lacked practical applications," Sebastian sniffed.
I shook my head in amusement. This was the being who could have been Nobel laureate, Olympic athlete, and Michelin-starred chef—had he not devoted eternity to polishing silverware and decapitating dragons.
I tapped a pin marking the Morlock tunnels beneath New York. "Sebastian, I need you to recruit them."
"The Morlocks?" His monocle gleamed as he accessed the dossier. "Ah…. Those poor souls languishing in the dark." A rare flicker of emotion crossed his face. "They would benefit greatly from your light."
"They've been dealt the worst hand imaginable," I agreed. The Morlocks were Marvel's perpetual victims—mutants so visually "unacceptable" they hid in sewers, only to be massacred whenever a writer needed cheap pathos.
Sebastian studied the tunnel blueprints. "Callisto as field commander. Leech for power negation. Caliban for detection." He nodded approvingly. "An optimal recruitment list."
"Seventy souls," I said. "The Warehouse can house them temporarily until Genosha is secured."
Sebastian's gloves creaked as he clenched a fist. "They shan't spend another winter in filth. I'll have them bathed, fed, and armed within forty-eight hours."
I didn't doubt it. This was the man who'd once relocated an entire dwarven kingdom because their ale cellars were "substandard."
Magina projected geopolitical maps over the desk. "Father's already destabilizing Genosha. Funding insurgent groups through shell companies tied to Prince Sai Morvayne's accounts."
"France, the Netherlands, and Britain have recognized your claim," Sebastian noted, reviewing diplomatic cables. "A masterstroke—legitimacy through international pressure."
I smiled. "The current regime is hanging by a thread. A few more pushes..."
"And the throne will require its rightful occupant," Sebastian finished. He straightened his tie, the motion sharp as a drawn blade. "Shall I prepare your coronation wardrobe, Master? I presume black and gold remain your preferred palette?"
"With armored lining," I added.
"Naturally."