I raised my hand slightly.
Behind me, in thin air, a spatial distortion began to form. Particles of golden light started to gather, spin, and solidify. In an instant, a large object appeared out of nowhere with a barely audible whoosh.
The Throne of the Creator Goddess from the Ninth Floor.
The pitch-black chair landed on the Martian soil. Its gold accents glittered, and in the center of its high backrest was a large golden Sun emblem.
I walked toward the throne and sat down. Its cold leather felt familiar against my back.
I crossed my right leg over my left with a casual motion. My right hand supported my slightly tilted head, my elbow resting comfortably on the sturdy armrest.
From here, I watched Emma and Natasha beginning to assign tasks to the still-trembling crowd of humans. Emma's firm voice cut through the air, ordering them to form lines. Natasha walked among them, her sword slung casually at her waist, her gaze enough to make grown men lower their heads in fear.
"Belial," I asked without turning. "How many are there?"
Belial stood tall beside me, his shadow stretching across the Martian ground. "About six thousand, My Lord. I have filtered them according to your age criteria. No children, no elderly who are too weak."
"Good," I murmured. Six thousand. Enough for a start.
"For the first wave," I continued, my eyes still watching the lines of humans starting to form, "I want fifty thousand people. And remember, these fifty thousand are purely for mining. We need iron ore and precious metals as soon as possible."
I glanced at him.
"Once that quota is met… you may use the subsequent waves as your experimental subjects."
Belial's eyes glinted with pleasure. He bowed slightly. "Understood, My Lord. I will arrange the next shipment immediately."
"One more thing," I said, pointing to the empty expanse of land outside the human lines. "Create a permanent atmospheric bubble in that area. Build living quarters for them. Not makeshift tents. Build one large building, a vertical structure that can house thousands. Imitate the architecture of apartment blocks on Earth. Efficient and space-saving."
Belial nodded, noting every detail in his mind.
"My Lord," he said, changing the subject. "Regarding the electronic goods we ordered from Wang Lei… I have stored them in a temporary warehouse. Where should we sell them?"
I paused for a moment, weighing the geopolitical and economic map of Earth in my head. Developed markets were saturated and too regulated. But there were other places.
"Sell to developing countries," I decided. "Indonesia, Bangladesh, Thailand, India. Those are the perfect markets."
I smiled faintly.
"There, people are hungry for prestige. They are willing to go into debt just to hold that bitten apple logo. If they can buy goods at expensive official prices, imagine their reaction to our prices which are half as cheap. Our goods will vanish from the market in a matter of hours."
"As expected of My Lord," Belial praised.
Then, he remembered something. "By the way, My Lord. There is a message from Velusia. She says… she also wants to help Lord Arthur's business on Earth. She says she can't just relax on her floor while others work hard for Avanheim."
"Velusia, huh?"
I pictured the Elf sniper. Her perpetually flat face, the long-barreled magic rifle always on her back.
"What a coincidence," I muttered. "I was thinking of starting firearm production. She's talented in that field, right? Modifying and understanding the mechanisms of ranged weapons."
"Correct, My Lord. Her expertise in magic weapons is second to none."
I nodded. I placed my index finger to my ear, activating the Message spell.
"Who is it?" Velusia's cold and wary voice sounded in my mind.
"It's me," I replied.
There was a moment of pause, then her tone changed drastically, becoming respectful and slightly surprised. "Lord Arthur? Why are you contacting me?"
"Come to the outside of the castle, in the lower garden area," I ordered. "There is something I want to discuss with you. It's about a new task."
"Understood, My Lord! I will be there immediately."
The connection cut off. I lowered my hand.
I rose from the throne, then walked over to Emma.
"What's the situation?" I asked.
Emma turned, her face serious. "My Lord, I have divided them based on physical strength. Regardless of gender, those with more muscle and stamina are placed in the main mining group."
She pointed toward the line of sturdy people.
"I see," I murmured, shifting my gaze to the other group that looked thinner, older, or younger. They stood huddled together, shivering. "These weak ones… we should give them lighter tasks. Like transporting logistics, cooking, or cleaning equipment."
"That is a good idea, My Lord," Emma agreed.
My eyes swept over the "weak group." Among the weary faces of the locals, a small group of teenagers stood out. Their skin was pale white, their hiking clothes conspicuous with bright colors amidst the red dust. They were trembling, cold sweat pouring down their temples even though the air inside the dome was cool enough.
I walked toward them.
The sound of my footsteps made them even more tense. They held their breath, their eyes wide with fear, trying not to look at me directly but failing.
There were seven of them. Three women, four men. All young, probably college students.
"You," I asked, my voice breaking their silence. "Which country are you from?"
Silence.
No one dared to open their mouth. Only the sound of chattering teeth could be heard.
I frowned.
"Answer Lord Arthur's question, you lowly humans!" Emma shouted from behind me, her voice sharp as a whip.
The shout made the entire crowd flinch. Some people in the back row fell to the ground.
"It's… we… we are from Germany," answered the woman standing at the front. Her voice trembled violently, barely audible. She had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes wet with tears.
"Germany, huh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Then, why are you in Congo?"
"We… we all wanted to climb Mount Nyiragongo," she stammered.
Mount Nyiragongo? Ah, the volcano with the largest permanent lava lake in the world.
I almost laughed at the irony.
"That is indeed a good tourist attraction," I said flatly. "But I don't understand. Congo is in a civil war. You flew all the way from safe Europe to a conflict zone just to climb a mountain?"
I shook my head, looking at them with a mix of pity and disbelief.
"The risk of being shot by a stray bullet or kidnapped by militia is far higher than the risk of falling into that mountain's crater. You really were asking for death."
I sighed.
"If you hadn't gone to Congo, you might still be living normal lives, going to college, working, and aging peacefully in Germany for the next few years."
They looked down, tears dripping onto the red soil. Regret was clearly etched on their faces.
"Never mind," I cut in. "I don't care either. Just consider yourselves very unlucky."
"Um…"
A voice cut through my monologue. One of the young men, with light black skin—perhaps of mixed descent—dared to look at me. His face was pale, but there was a hint of firmness in his eyes.
"Actually… who are you? And why make us mine?"
I smiled.
"I am a Fallen Angel. The Absolute Ruler of Felius Castle floating above your heads." I pointed up, toward the giant shadow of the castle blocking out the sun.
"And why do I make you mine?" I spread my arms.
"Isn't it obvious? For precious metals. Gold, silver, iron."
I looked him straight in the eye.
"You humans… there are so many of you. You are smart enough to take instructions, strong enough to hold a pickaxe."
I turned, intending to return to my seat. Then I remembered something.
"Ah, yes. Later there will also be monkeys or chimpanzees joining you. They are miners too. So, get along well, okay."
I left them frozen in new confusion and horror.
I returned to Emma.
"My Lord," Emma whispered as I approached. "About those monkeys and chimpanzees… I haven't heard about that?"
"About that," I answered casually while sitting back down. "That was an idea I thought of last night. Modifying chimpanzees and monkeys using Alchemy or mind control magic to do the rough mining work."
I turned to her.
"What do you think?"
Emma was silent for a moment, imagining the sight of enslaved humans and apes working side by side. Then, a beautiful cruel smile blossomed on her face.
"That is a very good idea, My Lord," she replied, accompanied by a cold chuckle. "Let those lowly creatures work together. They deserve to be on the same level."
Suddenly, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps from behind me.
"Lord Arthur!"
The hoarse, deep voice belonged to a Dwarf. I saw a group of people, about twenty—jump down from the castle balcony nimbly, landing on the red soil without a sound. They wore dark blue classic fantasy mage robes, adorned with silver embroidery in the shape of complex runes that glowed faintly. Their faces were diverse: Dwarves with neatly braided beards, graceful Elves, and cat-eared Demi-Humans.
They were members of the Magic Department.
Behind them, several large stone golems jumped down with a heavy thud, each carrying a large wooden crate bound with iron chains.
The leader of the group, an old Dwarf named Borin, walked quickly toward me and immediately knelt.
"My Lord, we from the Magic Department have come as ordered by Lady Emma," he reported, his head bowed respectfully.
"Good," I said. "Open the crates."
Borin signaled. The golems set the crates down heavily. The mages stepped forward, their hands glowing, and the iron chains released as if melting. The crate lids opened with a heavy creak.
I looked at the contents. The first crate contained thousands of the blue crystal necklaces we discussed earlier. The second crate contained piles of glittering pickaxes and shovels, clearly made with reinforcement magic. And the third crate… contained piles of work uniforms—simple white clothes with bright blue accents on the sleeves and collar.
"Emma," I called.
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Explain to them."
Emma stepped forward. "Listen closely!" her voice echoed. "Inside these crates are magic necklaces that will allow you to breathe. Each of you will get one. Don't try to break it. If the necklace breaks, you die."
She paused, then pointed to the crate containing uniforms. "You will also receive work uniforms. Take off your dirty clothes and wear these. After that, you will receive mining equipment."
Murmurs of protest and confusion immediately spread through the crowd.
"Change clothes? Here?" a European woman whispered in horror to her friend.
"I don't want to! I won't take off my clothes in front of everyone!" a man shouted, his voice breaking with panic and shame.
Emma narrowed her eyes. "I don't care about your lowly modesty!" she snapped, her voice as cold as ice. "I don't care about your disgusting bodies! Do you think any of us are interested in seeing them?! Now, change your clothes or die!"
To emphasize her point, the Death Knight beside me growled low, the sound of death escaping its helmet making the ground tremble slightly. It raised its large flamberge sword, its serrated blade reflecting the bleak Martian light.
The threat worked.
With faces red from shame and anger, the humans began to move. The Undead and Skeleton Army walked among them, distributing necklaces and uniforms. The process was awkward and full of humiliation. Women tried to cover each other, turning their backs, changing their clothes quickly amidst the blank stares of thousands of men. Some men also looked hesitant, but one glance from a passing Undead was enough to make them hurriedly strip off their clothes.
The air was filled with the sound of tearing fabric, stifled cries, and harsh commands from the Undead. Within minutes, the once colorful sea of humans had turned into monotonous white and blue uniforms. Their old clothes were piled on the ground like trash.
After they all changed, the Undead distributed pickaxes and shovels.
I turned as I felt a new presence beside me. Velusia. She landed gracefully, her magic long-barreled rifle slung over her back. She said nothing, only kneeling for a moment before standing beside Belial.
"Velusia," I said. "You've come."
"Your orders, My Lord," she answered briefly, her ice-blue eyes staring straight ahead.
"I have a task for you," I continued. "I want you to design and produce firearms. Weapons that can be used by ordinary humans. Assault rifles, pistols, maybe even grenades. We need them to sell."
"We can arm Opposition Factions or separatist Movements in Developing Countries to start civil wars; the more chaotic the world, the more profitable for us."
I saw her eyes widen slightly with interest.
"Am I allowed to modify the designs, My Lord?"
"Do as you wish," I replied. "Take some of the weapons dropped by these humans as reference. You can work with Monica."
"Understood, My Lord," she said. A slight satisfied smile etched on her thin lips.
The equipment distribution process was finally complete. The thousands of humans now stood awkwardly in their new uniforms, holding pickaxes and shovels with unaccustomed hands.
"Natasha," I ordered. "Start."
Natasha, who had been standing still like a knight statue, smiled broadly. This was the moment she had been waiting for.
"YES, MY LORD!" she answered with a loud, spirited voice. She raised her right hand into the air.
An intricate golden magic circle began to spin on the ground in front of her, its light so bright it made some humans squint. Wind blew strongly from the center of the circle, blowing red dust in all directions.
From within the circle of light, a giant head emerged. Its jet-black scales glittered like obsidian, and its glowing yellow eyes stared at the crowd of humans with cold predatory intelligence.
Stifled screams were heard from the line of humans.
"Th-that's… a dragon?!" a man whispered, his voice trembling violently.
"Impossible… this must be a hallucination…" muttered the young American soldier, his face full of confusion.
The creature continued to crawl out of the magic portal. Its body was enormous, perhaps the size of a double-decker bus, with muscular muscles visible beneath its scales. It had no wings, but its four strong, large-clawed legs planted firmly into the Martian soil. Its long, spiked tail swept the ground, leaving deep scratch marks. It was a Drake, an Earth Dragon, one of Natasha's Pets.
Natasha leaped nimbly onto the dragon's back, landing steadily between two protruding bone plates like a natural saddle. From atop her terrifying mount, she now looked like a war goddess from ancient mythology.
She raised her sword high, its gleaming blade catching the Martian light.
"FIRST GROUP!" she shouted, her voice now amplified by magic, echoing throughout the dome. "FOLLOW ME OR DIE HERE!"
The Drake let out a deep, low growl, a sound that felt like a vibration in the chest. A faint smell of sulfur wafted in the air.
That was more than enough.
The fear of the real monster before their eyes outweighed the fear of the unknown outside. The first group of humans—the physically strongest—began to move forward in a panic. They ran, stumbled, pushed each other, trying to follow the giant dragon as fast as possible.
The Undead moved on their flanks, herding them like cattle. The line began to form: a giant dragon in front, followed by thousands of humans in white-blue uniforms, and guarded by an army of Skeletons, Death Knights, and Undead Mages.
I watched them. As soon as they crossed the dome boundary, their white uniforms began to be covered in a thin frost. Thanks to the magic necklaces, they could still breathe and move.
A strange sight. An exodus of slaves led by a dragon-riding knight, walking on the surface of the planet Mars. A scene not even the wildest sci-fi movie director could have imagined.
"My Lord," Belial's voice broke my reverie.
"I have obtained preliminary information on potential targets in Africa," he reported. "There are several large refugee camps near conflict zones. Tens of thousands of humans. No one will notice if a few thousand of them disappear overnight."
"Good. Do it when night falls," I said.
"Understood, My Lord."
"Emma, come here," I called. My voice cut through her conversation with Borin.
She turned immediately, her face beaming. "What is it, My Lord?"
Emma glided closer, her movements graceful. She leaned her body toward me, too close. The plain white dress I had just bought her—this one without the black rose motif—clung perfectly to her curves. Her medium-sized breasts hung in front of my eyes. Her black dragon tail moved left and right with a cheerful rhythm, almost like a happy dog's tail.
I took a step back, creating a little distance, then looked straight into her eyes to maintain focus.
"It's about those slaves," I said, my tone serious again. "I want to establish some protocols."
"If any of them get sick or injured—minor wounds, broken bones, even severed hands or feet—just heal them. I don't want to lose labor over trivial things. I think Third-Sequence healing magic is more than enough, right?"
Emma nodded. "Of course, My Lord. That is easy."
"Good. Then, the second thing…" I paused. "…I want you to make them sterile. Use a curse spell, or your Visionary ability, I don't care. I don't want their population to increase beyond our control. I don't want to take care of human babies here."
"And the last thing," I continued. "If anyone is lazy… torture that person. Then heal them. Let them be a living example to the others of what it means to disobey orders."
Emma nodded, her eyes flashing with agreement.
"Understood, My Lord."
"In that case," I said. "let's see how these slaves mine."
I snapped my fingers. The Throne of the Creator Goddess behind me began to glow, then shattered into thousands of beautiful golden light particles before disappearing back to the Ninth Floor, leaving an empty space in the air.
I turned to the side.
"Velusia, you come too."
Velusia, who had been standing silently beside Belial with an expressionless face, changed instantly. The corners of her lips lifted to form a thin but genuine smile, and a glint of happiness appeared in her usually cold eyes.
"Yes, Lord Arthur," she answered.
I started walking, leading this small entourage. Behind me, I could hear the sound of their steady footsteps. Emma began talking to Velusia, her voice low and serious, discussing the details of the firearms I had just ordered.