The sun hung like a heavy gold coin over the Azure Sea, casting a shimmering path across waves that lapped gently against the pristine white sands of the Private Sector. This wasn't just any beach; it was a carved-out paradise on the edge of the Southern Continent, a place where the air smelled of salt and expensive jasmine incense.
Leornars lay back, his head pillowed by the soft, firm warmth of Stacian's lap. Above them, a massive silk parasol—dyed in the deep violets of his house—snapped rhythmically in the ocean breeze.
Nearby, the peace was punctuated by the rhythmic slosh of water. Ayesha Truelah, the succubus whose beauty was a literal hazard to the weak-willed, floated lazily on an enchanted lounger that drifted a few inches above the tide. Beside her, Shullah leaned back, her eyes hidden behind dark-tinted glass lenses.
"Shullah, darling, pass the nectar," Ayesha murmured, her voice like honey.
Shullah didn't even open her eyes. With a flick of her finger, a pitcher of chilled, enchanted star-fruit juice rose from the ice bucket, pouring itself perfectly into Ayesha's crystal glass. "Drink it slowly, Ayesha. That vintage costs more than a manor in the Dirrium Kingdom."
Ayesha took a sip, a wicked smirk crossing her lips. "When you serve the man who owns the sun and the moon, why count the copper?"
Leornars listened to their banter, his eyes half-closed. It was true. His personal ledger was a thing of myth. With a net worth exceeding five trillion gold coins, the concept of 'cost' had become an abstract thought. He wasn't just wealthy; he was the economy.
"You don't have to stay with me all day, Stacian," Leornars said softly, looking up at the silver-haired woman looking down at him. "The rest are enjoying the water. Go. Have some fun."
Stacian's fingers, cool and steady, traced the line of his jaw. Her eyes, which had seen two millennia of history rise and fall, softened only for him. "And leave the center of my world alone on a beach? I'd rather not. What would be the point of the scenery if the view in my lap is better?"
Leornars let out a short, dry chuckle. "I see. Your loyalty remains as stubborn as ever."
"It isn't loyalty, Lord Leornars," she whispered, leaning down so her hair shielded them from the wind. "It is preference. By the way... the 'Vacation Project' is moving along perfectly. I assume you've already mapped out the endgame for our stay here?"
Leornars' expression shifted. The relaxed youth disappeared, replaced by the "White Devil"—the man who held 75% of the Southern Continent under his iron-clad grip.
"You've solved it, haven't you?" Leornars asked.
"Naturally," Stacian replied, her voice turning tactical. "This 'resort' is positioned perfectly. By burning the Church of Liverra nearby, we don't just destroy a building. We strike the Holy Kingdom of Rurva in their pride. It is the perfect insult to repay them for sending Luke to Vurnam. We show them that their 'holy land' is nothing more than kindling for our hearth."
Leornars sat up, the sand falling from his clothes like gold dust. "Exactly. It's Manipulation 101: The Sin Evil Code. We don't need to march an army to their gates yet. We let them collapse from their own delusions. They will issue propaganda, they will call me a demon, and they will try to soil my name. But they forget—the citizens of Avangard don't eat prayers. They eat the grain I provide. They wear the clothes I manufacture."
He stood up, his gaze scanning the horizon where his hidden fleets patrolled.
"Let them launch a crusade," Leornars said, his voice dropping into a cold, predatory register. "I'll let them exhaust their treasuries and their zealots. Then, I will buy what remains of their ruins."
He turned his head toward the far end of the beach, where a chaotic energy was rising. Salene was standing near the water, her hand twitching toward the hilt of her blade as a group of local nobles wandered too close.
"Miri," Leornars called out. A shadow detached itself from the shade of a nearby rock. "Watch Salene. Make sure she doesn't kill anyone. At least, not until the sun goes down. It would spoil the aesthetic of the afternoon."
Miri nodded silently and vanished, trailing the volatile warrior woman.
Leornars began walking toward the island's main inn, a structure of white stone and gold leaf that he had purchased on a whim the previous week. As he approached the entrance, his ears caught the shrill, grating voice of a young noblewoman standing by the heavy oak doors, flanked by a sweating butler.
"Why am I touching the door? Eww!" she shrieked, pulling her hand back as if the polished wood were covered in plague. "Why am I even doing this? Isn't that your job as the butler of this inn? The handle is... oily!"
Leornars didn't slow his stride. As he reached the door, he shot her a look of pure, unadulterated sarcasm.
"Oooh, eww," he mimicked, his voice a perfect, mocking falsetto. "Why are you complaining about touching a door handle when you'll just be touching your own butt to clean it later?"
The girl froze, her mouth agape in shock. Before she or her butler could process the insult, Leornars pushed past, entered the cool interior, and slammed the door shut, locking it with a satisfying click.
"Bitch," he muttered to the empty hallway.
He made his way to the private lounge, cracking open a bottle of glacial water. He looked out the window at the sprawling maps laid out on the mahogany table.
"I wonder if they've begun," he mused. "The Skyvault Citadel is under my thumb. Seraphim and the Durmount Kingdom are effectively my vassals. But it's not enough. The map still has too many colors that aren't mine."
"Perhaps it's time for a different kind of investment?" Althelia suggested.
Leornars didn't even look up. "Investment? Althelia, I control the entire trade flow of the Southern Continent. Nothing is bought, sold, or even smuggled without my ledger recording the tax. What more could I buy?"
"A future," Althelia said softly. "Leornars, you are seventeen. Look at your circle. Stacian is an immortal. Zaryter is a Dragonian of seventy years. Shullah, Ayesha... even Salene. You are surrounded by legends and monsters. The only one who was even close to your age was Zhyelena, and she was eighteen."
Leornars gripped his water bottle, his knuckles whitening. "And what is your point, Althelia? I don't need playmates. I need assets."
Althelia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The Dirrium Kingdom. They pride themselves on their 'Academy of Excellence.' They think they are the bastion of the next generation."
Leornars' eyes darkened. "Those fools... they torture demi-humans in their dungeons and then have the gall to seek an alliance with me? They want my gold to fund their bigotry."
He looked at the map of Dirrium, his finger tracing the capital.
"I've been thinking about it," he admitted, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Going to school there. Not as a student... but as a spy. A wolf in a scholar's robes. I'll find every crack in their foundation, every secret debt their nobles hide."
He crushed the water bottle in his hand.
"I'll crush them until nothing remains. I'll turn the Dirrium Kingdom into a footstool for my throne."
The air in the stone-walled inn was chilled by cooling enchantments, a stark contrast to the humid salt air outside. Leornars stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the beach where his subordinates and servants were enjoying themselves.
Althelia spoke."The Dirrium delegates will arrive at the neutral port. They are desperate, Leornars. Their famine is worsening, and they know only your grain silos can save them."
Leornars didn't turn around. He was watching a crane lift a crate of spices. "Desperation is a loud emotion, Althelia. It makes people sloppy. They think they've come here to negotiate a trade treaty. They don't realize they've come here to hand me the keys to their kingdom."
"Simply you use despair as a tool, I'll feed them ,feed my people and have them on my palm" Leornars said calmly
"You truly intend to enroll?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and fascination. "A man with five trillion gold coins sitting in a classroom with children who argue over pocket money?"
"I'm not there to have friends,I have enough already. Trust is important but dangerous since it can be manipulated to slavery " Leornars said calmly
Leornars turned, a cold, predatory light in his eyes. This was the side of him that felt less like a teenager and more like a primordial force.
"Think of it as a psychological autopsy," Leornars said, walking toward a table covered in diplomatic dossiers. "Dirrium is a kingdom built on the myth of 'Human Purity.' They torture demi-humans, treat them as livestock, and yet they seek an alliance with me a man whose empire is built on the labor and genius of every race they despise. They are hypocrites. And hypocrisy is a structural flaw I can exploit."
He tapped a map of the Dirrium capital.
"I won't just 'enroll.' I will be invited as an act of diplomatic necessity. Here is the play: I will offer them a grain contract at 20% below market value. To a starving nation, I'll look like a saint. But there will be a rider in the contract—a 'Cultural Exchange' clause."
"You'll demand a seat at the Academy," Althelia realized.
"Not just a seat," Leornars corrected. "I will enter as an International Scholar of Merit. Stacian will accompany me as my personal 'Academic Advisor.' In reality, she will be my eyes in the capital's high society while I am in the halls of the Academy. While those noble brats are learning history, I will be rewriting their future."
Leornars picked up a chess piece—a white knight—and crushed it in his palm. The wood splintered with a dry crack.
"The Dirrium delegates are led by Duke. He is a proud man. He hates the fact that he has to bow to a seventeen-year-old commoner-turned-king. I will use that pride. I'll act the part of the arrogant, wealthy youth. I'll let him think I'm easy to manipulate, a boy with too much money and not enough sense."
He leaned in closer to Althelia, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper that would have made a seasoned general shiver.
"I want them to think they are 'handling' me. I want them to feel smug when they 'trick' me into signing the enrollment papers. But the moment I step foot in that kingdom, I will begin the harvest. I'll map their ley lines, identify the weak points in their city walls, and more importantly, I will identify which of their young nobles are disgruntled enough to turn traitor."
"And the Holy Kingdom of Rurva?" Althelia asked.
"They are the anvil," Leornars smirked. "Dirrium is the hammer. I will bait Rurva into attacking my trade routes near the Dirrium border. Dirrium will be forced to defend their 'new benefactor' to keep the grain flowing. I'll watch from the Academy as my two greatest enemies tear each other apart, all while I'm taking notes on 'Introductory Magic Theory.'"
Leornars walked back to the window, his reflection ghostly against the glass.
"Those fools... they dare seek an alliance with me while the blood of demi-humans stains their soil? They think my gold is a shield for their sins. They are wrong. My gold is the pyre."
His eyes flashed with a terrifying, quiet rage.
"I will crush them until nothing remains. I'll dismantle their economy, ruin their bloodlines, and when I am done, the Dirrium Kingdom won't be a sovereign state. It will be a province under my foot. They wanted a student? I'll give them a masterclass in extinction."
"Where are you even getting these information about leaders,areas and people? It's mildly terrifying " Althelia said
"I had to sent Avryl to Dirrium the second I felt that Dirrium might be either dangerous to us since it's a mercenary nation or an ally, I had to be sure so I sent her after the commission in vurnam city" Leornars said calmly
" That's over 5 months " Althelia said
" Yes ,I had to be sure I'm not missing anything important " Leornars said calmly